1.29.2008

Travels with Sunshine, Friends and Surf.

I love continuing education! Once again it took us to Maui, Hawaii.

We have it down: land at the airport, rent convertible jeep, rent snorkel gear, throw our bags in our condo in Wailea, tear off our Northwest winter attire and put on shorts, flip flops and tank top and begin the ten day feasting at Buzz's Wharf (mmm... steak and lobster).

When you travel (share the cost of the condo) with our friends Tim and Sarah...

you find yourself eating your way around the island as opposed to sunning yourself on beaches around the island, or shopping your way around the island.



Tim and Sarah are wonderful tourists, and if you think we have it down to a system you should see their travel approach. First, talk about what to do the next day but don't really plan because you don't want to lock yourself into one thing and miss an opportunity to do something else. Second, leave the floor wide open for everyone's ideas and opinions about doing everything imaginable the next day. The one person that talks the loudest commands the most floor time. Third, (two hours later and taking your fingers out of your ears) never resolve anything absolutely about plans for the next day. Fourth, on the next day embark on an idea from an unknown "friend" on the island that leads you to a promising snorkel spot (if indeed you can manage to hike the mile across a lava field to said promising snorkel spot).

And fifth, after the 12 year old son of Tim and Sarah slips and gashes his knees and hands on the lava...

decide to snorkel in the bay that you always have on previous trips (which happens to be a reserve for wild fish so you know you won't lose going there). I can speak this way of Tim and Sarah only because we have known them for so many years. Our friendship began when Bruce and Tim were roommates in college.

Bruce and I like spending a good portion of the trip in Hana, on the East side of the island, because his conference is over and this is where we really relax in the less hectic area of the island.

The housing is always a surprise in Hana.

Did I mention the view from our cottage?

The outside wall that looked out at the ocean (50 feet from the house) was all window. So the "Oh"s and "Ah"s upon first entering the abode were quieted when we realized we were looking through the equivalent of shower scum on the window. There was no overhang that protected the glass from the Pacific's rage as the wind blew the surf's mist all over the glass. The furnishings looked so comfortable and cozy-tropical and then Bruce sat down on the wicker couch and it swallowed him. All I could see of my fine mate were his hands and feet groping for something life-saving above him, which was me. The bed was quite comfortable, and then the winds started. This year our little getaway goodie came with a roof that lifted and slammed back down when the gale force winds blew just right. Sleep evaded us. And what does that little electronic box do, in the kitchen, that is labeled "Rodent Ex"? We turned it on and were surprised that the little red light came on. Nothing ever looks as good as it does on those tiny pictures they use to advertise on the internet.
The plant life on Maui has always interested me.

The flowers are big, waxy and brilliantly colored.

I always buy an armload of them on "The Road to Hana" for only $7. As I rinsed them, placing them into the automatic blender contaniner (the house did not have a vase big enough) I suddenly become aware of the inch long, shinny black, earwigs slithering from the flower's pockets, that catch water when it rains in the wild. I look a bit closer and see the other little blessed creatures I have released in the house, miniscule ants that look like mites, at first glance. So now, my gaze moves down the blender jar to the counter top where I find that my small infestation is nothing compared to what is emerging out of cracks in the counter top.
Speaking of "The Road to Hana", it is 30 miles of one lane, hairpin turns on bridges. The year we took our children I felt it was a smart idea to give them over-the-counter, anti-nausea medication so they would not be miserable on the drive. All our photos of them in front of the picturesque places along the road find them with their eyes half shut and barely able to stand on their own. Hmm, sweet family memories. We claimed that we drugged and dragged 'em to Hana. Presently, on our journey back to the populated side of the island, we set out to see how fast we could make the 30 miles without making ourselves sick (if you ever have the pleasure of meeting Tim and Sarah, ask them how long it takes to drive the 30 miles, in a rush to a very important engagement of which they were honored guests, with a vomiting child in the back seat). We are pleased to report that it takes us one hour and 15 minutes in the torrential rain, while encountering other drivers far less civilized than anyone we have seen driving on the Mainland. Upon approaching one of the hairpin turns on a one lane bridge I look ahead for oncoming traffic and see a small sized pickup approaching us. We proceed knowing we will make it to the two lane portion of the road by the time the truck reaches the bridge. The truck all the sudden speeds up and meets us head on on the bridge and the male driver gives us a brushing aside hand motion telling us to back up to allow him by. By this time my road rage knows no bounds, but my sweet, patient and kind husband backs up while the truck remains on our nose. Now in observing this couple in the truck, as we viewed them as gold fish in a fish bowl, I was trying to determine why they felt more entitled than us to cross that bridge first. He, tall, blonde curly headed with blue eyes (that's how close we were). And she, with her perfect sophisticated facial features, with harvest gold hair that flowed and shimmered in the jungle light, also, with blue eyes, seemed to me that they had mistakenly escaped the outlandishly ornate world of a resort and somehow ventured onto this road with no idea of what was ahead of them. I could only wish for them, that they too would enjoy a lovely little cottage like ours (with bugs, the promise of rodents and a wavering roof to keep them awake all night) when they arrived in Hana.
We visited the Red Sand Beach, as we had years ago with Tim and Sarah and our girls. On our past trip, I was looking at the travel brochure that described how it was a great snorkel spot with a nice gentle slop of sand to slip into the sea on. Instead of clamering over rocks while walking backwards so as to not trip in you fins. It was the teeny tiny little sentence at the bottom that caught my eye: "Clothing is optional". So, I pointed this out to Tim and he remarked that in all his time there in the past he had never noticed any nudity on that beach.

So trusting him, we paraded our chilldren with all our snorkel gear on the trail to the beach. Rounding the last corner we looked at this promising piece of paradise and see that, indeed, it looks like a well populated garden of Eden before Adam and Eve felt it necessary to wear fig leaves. We walked, with eyes turned downward, to the less populated part of the beach and I tell the girls to get in the water, convinced this would be a far better option for their viewing. I was wrong. I think every male on Maui decided to enter the water at just that time to allow my children their first glimpses of the male anatomy, as gravity and floatation played a big part in this underwater extravaganza. Fast forward to our present trip ... I insisted that we expose Tim and Sarah's little darlings to this rite of passage as they did ours and they vehemently disagreed. Tim and Sarah left Hana earlier than us to come home (or to protect their children from us). So, when we did visit Red Sand Beach it was done without minors. On the hike in we viewed the bay from above and noticed that if anyone was in the water they were being pummeled and thrashed upon the rocks, for the surf was sending in 20 foot swells that boiled and brewed in this serene snorkel (all that is required attire) haven.

I did, however find a calm tide pool to float in as the sea belched and churned around me.

We pride ourselves in the fact that we don't require picture perfect accommodations that make us feel comfortable or make us feel good about ourselves that we can spend oodles of money on a pristine palace with marbled floors and open lanais that lead to the outside where there is a pool, with a jacuzzi, that look as if they run right into the ocean . We rather enjoyed the primitive and eccentric air of a less grandiose cottage. I will stop short, however, of recommending this little love nest to any of you, or of booking it again.

1.02.2008

How to alienate your grandchild at an early age

When we went Christmas tree cutting with our adult children and their family I, in true and pure playfulness, started lobbing snowballs at Stella. By this time the little girl had found her affection for eating snow. Having grown up with four brothers I learned that when someone does not participate in play you keep pestering them until they do. So lobbing (as opposed to throwing) another one at her she bent down for another lick of the white stuff and on the way down she received my little gift to her ... in the face! Oh, man ... I felt terrible. She didn't cry or anything, just stood there looking a bit shocked. Apparently, I did not feel terrible enough to stop. I tried to engage her with another lob and wouldn't you know she was either on her way down or up from grabbing herself another fist full of snow and bam! Right in the face a second time. I hurried over to her as she was shrieking this time and helped her clean up and reassured her that I was done. Man, I can't wait until she is bigger, maybe then she'll want to play ... if she is still speaking to me ... if she is allowed in my presence anymore ... if I am not disowned by her parents by then ... Rae Ann? Tom?


The cordial invitation...


The challenge...


Just seconds before the ill placed lob.