I am glad to be offline, without the distraction, to really be unavailable to the cares of the daily grind and the holidays. It was a combination of work, life and Christmas that drove me out here, an escape from choices.
I'd forgotten how maddeningly loud it is inside the plane, a constantly surging white noise, clouding my attempts at concentration and knocking me into dozing. There's a 5 hour time difference between Hawaii and Toronto -- I wonder how I will manage.
It seems that we are not to be served a meal, which is a pity as I take a certain, perhaps peculiar, delight in prepared meals. Something about the compartmentalisation, the miniaturising, of food appeals to me.
I'd neglected to note it anywhere (I think) but on the flight to Vegas I sat beside a salesman for Josten's, the portraiture company. He was an ex-CFL player, which I thought neat.
It might be folly to recall dim memories when suffering from a lack of sleep, but I remember having a dream about a woman with deep sky blue eyes.
I brought Carl Sagan's The Demon-Haunted World as my reading material. I am already an atheist and, I like to think, a practising skeptic, so reading the book is more for me to see how great a book it really is, rather than to have it influence my opinions or character. Though it may yet do that.
It is interesting to think of the world in 1996, the year the book was released : I was between my second and third year of university, and my mind was closed to anything outside of school, computers and women. I believe that I was working in Ottawa, for the National Research Council, a fun work term. But indeed, I was a credulous agnostic, willing to delve into the spiritual and mystical. What effect would Sagan's words have had on me then? Could I have digested and grown? Hard to say.
Back at TAM9, I had an interesting chat with the cab driver, who apparently believed in UFOs and cover-ups and the like. And since then I've anecdotally heard and read of similar accounts; drivers discussing their belief in flim-flam with a skeptical passenger. I suppose the taxi experience is a fertile ground for such a thing, being such a common activity and allowing people of different worlds to interact.
Due to the last-minute nature of my travel plans, I did not get an accommodation near my friends -- I was staying some 15 minutes north, near the hotel where the wedding ceremony was to take place. And as I did not rent a car, I was even more isolated -- I depended on rides, and the local bus route.
Day two: On the bus, I noted the family-focused advertising, as well as some environmental awareness ones. Apparently they have two different varieties of fire ants here(!).
Without a plan, Kendrick and I leisurely drove halfway along the road to Hana. We tried some of the local fruit, and the banana I had had an incredibly intense flavor, like a sweetened gum or cake. The road itself was quite arduous -- densely packed with tight turns and single lanes for both directions, it made for some exciting driving. But amazing, simply awesome views, we like ants on a verdant fractal cliff.
That evening we ate at another small family restaurant, plates of fresh fish and large bottles of beer. I had begun to enjoy myself, and to forget my troubles back in Toronto.
Day three: I checked out the local grocery store, with its thinly stocked shelves, dusty in places. I refrained from indulging too greatly in snacks, returning in time to get picked up by Hoi for our sailing excursion to Lanai, fair island with a sad history. The boat ride was superlative -- bright and warm, with dolphins and whales sighted over and over. On the island I participated in snuba, swimming with a tether to a canister of air on a raft, allowing one to dive fairly deeply. Just off the beach one could see coral and many varieties of fish, like swimming in a screensaver.
That night we joined up with the Seto clan for dinner, then to an early sleep.
Day four: An early rise, picked up for a trip up Haleakala, taking in the majestic views from the top, peering across the volcano and the clouds rolling about it. We were some 10,000 ft above sea level, the air brisk and chilling. How long would I hold this memory, I wondered? And in so doing a flood of others rushed in, pulling at my heart. Would these new experiences help me heal?
The ride down was done at a very leisurely pace, and I noted the marked change in temperature as we descended. On the stop for lunch one of our guides collected some chameleons that were otherwise hanging out in the trees and bushes.
With much of the day still available after Haleakala, Hoi drove us to some museum that used to be a schoolhouse and later an office for a sugarcane business. Bought some souvenirs, petted a cat. Then to Iao valley or some such, with roosters but no active waterfall. It seems that Hawaii, or at least Maui, is this natural wonder playground, cleanly paved so that we mammals can, from the luxury of a car or a railed path, can take it in without inconvenience. Not that I'm exactly well-travelled but that's how it seemed to me.
For dinner we tried the traditional fare from Aloha Mixed Plate, a restaurant in Lahaina -- pulled pork, poi, seafood salsa, macaroni salad, rice. I found most of the food to be fresh and simple, with seasoning limited to salt and pepper.
In the evening we hung out with the Lius and listened to their father's stories, drinking Black Label.
For lunch I tried the fish taco plate from Maui Tacos, which seemed little better than fast food fare. But as with other places the fish itself was tasty.
Day six: Got out of bed around 9, broke fast, Skype'd my parents and wished them a merry Christmas. Rode the rental bike up the ranch trail I looked up on Google Maps, noting the "No Trespassers" signs. Surreptitiously then up the brown red dirt and mud trail, half-expecting a vehicle chasing me down. I made it a fair ways up, and the only activity was some field construction some distance away. The ride down was bumpy enough, and I didn't notice my missing water bottle until after I stopped to eat.
On a bicycle food choices were scarce, and so I found myself having some McDonald's, observing the other tourists and locals.
That evening the clans got together for a BBQ to which I was kindly invited, and gorged on a variety of flamed meats. The BBQ turned into a picnic of sorts as the feast was followed with frisbee and tennis.
Day seven: Surfing lessons, finally. I'd waited so long to try, it seems. The beginner's area was crowded with students, with some minor mishaps -- I can see why surfers don't want to share their secret spots. I can also see why they are so buff -- the act of swimming out to meet the waves is a great arm, shoulder and core workout! A summer of surfing, ah that would be quite the thing.
Met up with Kendrick and Gina for some shopping, so I got to check out the mall. In the food court I had a spam musubi, which I was surprised to find was really quite delicious. Surfing and spam musubi, two treasures I'd like to meet again.
Today was to be Jenning's second day of bachelor festivities (his first being some time ago in Toronto), and the day activity was a snorkeling trip to a coral garden, a blustery but otherwise fine weather for it. I think the pictures pretty much speak for themselves -- we had a blast! Indeed, there was plenty of fish to keep one's attention, and we had fun with the rented camera.
Dinner was Ruth Chris' Steakhouse, a hefty, beefy meal. Kendrick hired some hula dancers to surprise everyone, and they taught Jenning a move or two. We dragged Jenning out for drinks, but the evening was short, the bars all but empty on a Monday after Christmas.
How could I not be? Maui was beautiful, and I drank deeply from its riches. I was allowed to forget my troubles for a while, a living dream, beyond the cares of daily life.
And now I'm back, attempting to carry that momentum of energy and zest forward. We shall see.