VACATION REPORT (JUST ONE MONTH LATE!!)
So, last you all heard from me I was heading off to Hawaii. Sadly, I didn’t stay there, but returned some time ago. I took some photos and am prepared to share the epic adventure of nearly missed planes and an even more narrow brush with drowning at sea with those of you interested.
I am also hereby vowing to be a better LJ friend. To read and comment a lot more, even if that means scheduling in “official” LJ time. I love you people, dammit, and don’t want you to forget about me while I’m busy being a depressive recluse.
Ahem:
I really knew I should have filled up my gas tank the night before my flight…
But I did not. I left the apartment all packed and with time to spare planning on heading over to inksheddings place, as she lives near the airport and was going to allow me to leave my car parked with her and even give me a lift to the airport. I managed to get my case into the car (tricky, since the trunk won’t open and it is a two door) and everything. But the car wouldn’t start. It just made that grinding noise they make when one has a dead battery. Thinking that maybe it was a dead battery and that if I could get it rolling, it might catch (this actually sometimes works with standard transmissions - I don’t know why. It didn’t work in this case, however, because there was nothing wrong with my battery. I was out of gas). So now my car is stranded in the middle of the apartment complex parking lot and I don’t have the strength to push it back into its spot. There is no one I can call, and the one neighbor I’m on speaking terms with is not responding to my frantic door pounding (it is 4:45 a.m.) So I take off at a terrified sprint, heading for the nearest convenience store and praying (sometimes I suddenly forget I am an agnostic in times of dire need) that the car really is out of gas and that I don’t need to replace the engine (again).
I arrive at the convenience store, limping, sweating and breathing heavily (television remote lifting is typically my most strenuous form of exercise) and somehow through the hyperventilating, tears and slight language barrier make the 711 guy understand my situation. He takes my I.D. and credit card as collateral and hands me a gas can. I am turning to limp rapidly to the gas tanks, when a Friendly and Pleasant Looking stranger asks me if I need a hand. I whimper affirmation at him and he smoothly takes the can from my hand and heads pump-ward. I pay the attendant for the gas while Friendly Stranger fills the gas can. Friendly Stranger drives me back to my apartment complex (during the drive I learn that he is divorced and has children he rarely sees even though they live just a block away because his divorce attorney sucked and killed himself halfway through his custody case. I also learn that he always looks on the bright side of life, and that he is just getting off work. I did not learn where, but am assuming due to the hour, that it was a casino). Friendly Stranger fills my car up for me and JOY OF JOYS the little bugger starts. I leap into Friendly Stranger’s arms for a grateful embrace and, upon request, give him my business card. I definitely owe him a beer. Then I race back to young Jose, return the gas can, retrieve my I.D. card and head straight to the airport; there is no longer any time to take darling Inky up on her kind offer.
Fortunately the rest of the trip is a dawdle. I meet my parents at LAX and we fly together to Kauai from there. There is a bit of unfortunateness over lunch as my mother has apparently forgotten that I don’t care for ham or mayonnaise (she’s only known me for 41 years) and has taken to buttering sandwiches, but there are chips and I am tired, so I mostly sleep.
We stayed on the military base at barking sands which offers military personnel (active duty and retired) beach-side cottages for a pittance. The cottage was far bigger than my home. It had a huge kitchen, a living room with cable television and a DVD player, two massive bedrooms, a bathroom and, best of all, a huge balcony looking over the sea. We had three miles of beautiful sandy beach pretty much to ourselves the whole time we were there. The most crowded day was Sunday; I saw seven other people on the beach that day. At first I’d thought my parents and I would butt heads over vacation plans. I hadn’t been to Hawaii since 1977 and wanted to see stuff. But I soon realized that the more time we spent in the car, the less time we would get to spend on the sand and in the water, and quickly came round to their way of thinking.
Our lovely beach (and my mom)
Me and mom on our lovely beach! We took long walks before breakfast every morning and I couldn’t stay out of the water. I always arrived home wet!
We did take a sea cruise (with a hot guide) around the coast, which was beautiful. We saw spinner dolphins, sea turtles, a monk seal, and flying fish. We stopped for a picnic lunch which involved sammiches that were NOT ham and did not have butter or mayo on them, but included sprouts, which always add to the deliciousness of a sammich. And we snorkeled and swam with the turtles and mostly had a great time. There was a fairly annoying wedding party from New Jersey and they thought they were very, very funny when in actuality they were really, really loud, but I stat on the stern with my legs over the edge for the entire return trip. It was awesome. We were airborn many times and my knees got really sunburned.
Turtle buddy!
My lovely parents in front of the Napali coast (can you believe my dad is 70? It boggles my mind. And I hope I look as good as my mum at 69!)
We also saw the village that the animators used as inspiration for Lilo and Stitch (my favorite Disney film) . I saw some cats there.
Cat!!!
We ate lots of yummy fish and had this yummy shaved ice concoction that was about as far from an icee as one can get. Mine was full of fluffy shaved ice, chunks of coconut, coconut cream, ice cream and coconut syrup. My mom’s was more tropical and had pineapple and something red. They were luscious. I’ve never had anything quite like it before.
The first time we went swimming, I decided I wanted to get out past where the waves were breaking and just drift a bit, which is what I’ve enjoyed in Florida, Georgia, California and other civilized beaches. It wasn’t a good idea on this beach. I didn’t make it past the waves and after being pulled down and nearly drowned I headed back to shore, stopping once or twice to say “fuck” as a wave loomed over me and pulled me down, under and back again. I was scared. I had sand in my ears and my vagina. Not. Fun. But did I learn? NO. I thought a boogie board would be the solution, so on the second to last day, managed to get one of them from the rental office. I strode into the tide, cuffed at the wrist to a small piece of Styrofoam and feeling invincible.
Something to note is that I am not in the best shape of my life right at the moment. I used to be quite a swimmer, but that was 20 years ago. The last time I’d been on a beach was probably 10 years and 30 lbs ago back before I was a confirmed chain smoker. Another thing to note is that this was one of the beach’s fairly uncrowded days. I was the only person in sight. At all. There was no life guard and my father and mother were at the cabin tending their sunburns.
I dashed into the surf clutching my boogie board and tackled a few of the smaller waves (the second wave of breaking waves, as it were). I experienced something I later read described in a book by Bill Bryson about Australia (In a Sunburned Country - another great Whymzycal rec!). I did not surf; I sank. More sand in more orifices. But I thought that farther out the waves would be bound to be more buoyant.
Something really strange happened. I must have somehow slipped through the crashing surf on a side current, because suddenly I was past where the waves were breaking, sitting on calm-seeming water, completely unable to touch the bottom. I was looking back at the shore which seemed a long, long, long way away and I could tell that I was being pulled out and sideways. Toward not-the-beach. In fact, toward not-the-beach-at-all. I became very uneasy and started to kick and paddle toward shore. When I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere, was winded, and was still being floated away, very uneasy turned into very frightened. I jumped off the board and started to seriously swim for all I was worth. When I pulled myself back onto the board, panting from exertion and starting to see spots, I could tell I’d made some progress. I was turning to hop off the board again and check the depth, when I looked over my shoulder. My heart sank. I think I probably screamed. Then I resigned myself to holding on and holding my breath. Three million pounds of watery death descended.
I was conscious of the cord connecting me to the boogie board snapping. I was conscious of being upside-down and of scraping the sand. I was knocked down and pulled under twice more while trying to gain my feet but I was at least being pushed into shallower water.
Finally, finally, finally, I dragged myself onto the sand, nearly weeping with relief. My bathing suit was all askew. Both breasts were sticking out and my swim skirt was tangled around my thighs. I had sand everywhere. I was gasping for breath. The boogie board was gone, gone, gone. But I was not. I was ALIVE!!!! ALIVE!!!
It all sounds rather silly, but for about 20 minutes, I had really, really thought I was going to die. When I saw that wave, my demise was an utter certainty in my mind. On the up side, just as there had been no one to rescue me, so there was now no one on hand to witness my mortifying condition. I napped on my towel for a bit (once I’d walked the half-mile back to it) then rinsed as best I could and splashed about in the mostly unthreatening shallows and headed home to tell my tale to my nearly-spared-the-expense-and-worry-of-at-least-one-perpetual-child parents. We had some mai tais and watched the sunset.
The last day was great though (the part before the airports). My mother made pancakes which we ate with coconut passion fruit syrup and I played in shallow water (I really had learned my lesson) . I did get nipped by a crab, which hurt a bit, but was more of a shock than anything else. One sees the claws, but one doesn’t really expect them to use them on one. I won’t say it was rude, however, since I did step on him.
Oh, and we stopped for supper on the way to the airport. My mum had discovered a Japanese tea-garden/restaurant. It was really, really beautiful and the food was excellent. You took your shoes off and sat at a table in this room with a sliding door which opened onto the garden and coi pond. The table looked like it was on the floor, but there was a hollow beneath it for your legs (or my mother’s knees couldn’t have handled it!!) It was a pre fixe menu with about six courses. It included everything from sushi to sukiyaki. I had to explain what most of it was to my parents, but they enjoyed it.
I kept being thrown off by the servers perfect English though. I’m so used to going to Japanese restaurants in Vegas where we sort of communicate through a kind of sign language using the photos on the menu. These gals spoke English fluently and it was very likely their first language. Also, there were some very cute kittens playing in the garden. And once it got dark some MASSIVE frogs in the coi pond. I promised myself I was going to buy me some matcha powder when I got home because green tea in tea-bags just isn’t the same at ALL.
Us eating at the tea garden, which you unfortunately can’t see in this photo. You can, however, see my breasts from orbit. Diet. Seriously. It's happening.
Then I came home and the airport was crowded and I had to sit next to a girl whose boyfriend was finger fucking her under the blankets and my ankles were swollen and work was waiting and so was my car - which really did have a dead battery this time as, in my haste, I’d managed to leave the dome light on. But these things do happen.
I really, really, really need to take another vacation before another seven years has passed. It was really nice to get away. And my parents really are fantastic company, but it would have been a lot of fun with a friend as well. Maybe next time.
The other big news (and part of the reason I’ve been so absent): I’m buying a house. SCARY!!! Please send your good thoughts to me on that one! I’ve put in an offer and it’s been accepted so now we just have to finish up the inspection and get that sucker appraised. It is all quite new and frightening and there are ants in the kitchen, but that is a small thing, right? Because the floors are mostly wood laminate, except for the bedroom, which is real wood and one of the living room areas would look really sweet with tatami mats and a low round table and a few Japanese screens and I’ve got my dad working on building me a kotatsu, so I really hope that once I’m settled some of you will come visit in the winter so we can have homemade meat buns and sukiyaki at the kotatsu!!!
Mwah! To all!!
I am also hereby vowing to be a better LJ friend. To read and comment a lot more, even if that means scheduling in “official” LJ time. I love you people, dammit, and don’t want you to forget about me while I’m busy being a depressive recluse.
Ahem:
I really knew I should have filled up my gas tank the night before my flight…
But I did not. I left the apartment all packed and with time to spare planning on heading over to inksheddings place, as she lives near the airport and was going to allow me to leave my car parked with her and even give me a lift to the airport. I managed to get my case into the car (tricky, since the trunk won’t open and it is a two door) and everything. But the car wouldn’t start. It just made that grinding noise they make when one has a dead battery. Thinking that maybe it was a dead battery and that if I could get it rolling, it might catch (this actually sometimes works with standard transmissions - I don’t know why. It didn’t work in this case, however, because there was nothing wrong with my battery. I was out of gas). So now my car is stranded in the middle of the apartment complex parking lot and I don’t have the strength to push it back into its spot. There is no one I can call, and the one neighbor I’m on speaking terms with is not responding to my frantic door pounding (it is 4:45 a.m.) So I take off at a terrified sprint, heading for the nearest convenience store and praying (sometimes I suddenly forget I am an agnostic in times of dire need) that the car really is out of gas and that I don’t need to replace the engine (again).
I arrive at the convenience store, limping, sweating and breathing heavily (television remote lifting is typically my most strenuous form of exercise) and somehow through the hyperventilating, tears and slight language barrier make the 711 guy understand my situation. He takes my I.D. and credit card as collateral and hands me a gas can. I am turning to limp rapidly to the gas tanks, when a Friendly and Pleasant Looking stranger asks me if I need a hand. I whimper affirmation at him and he smoothly takes the can from my hand and heads pump-ward. I pay the attendant for the gas while Friendly Stranger fills the gas can. Friendly Stranger drives me back to my apartment complex (during the drive I learn that he is divorced and has children he rarely sees even though they live just a block away because his divorce attorney sucked and killed himself halfway through his custody case. I also learn that he always looks on the bright side of life, and that he is just getting off work. I did not learn where, but am assuming due to the hour, that it was a casino). Friendly Stranger fills my car up for me and JOY OF JOYS the little bugger starts. I leap into Friendly Stranger’s arms for a grateful embrace and, upon request, give him my business card. I definitely owe him a beer. Then I race back to young Jose, return the gas can, retrieve my I.D. card and head straight to the airport; there is no longer any time to take darling Inky up on her kind offer.
Fortunately the rest of the trip is a dawdle. I meet my parents at LAX and we fly together to Kauai from there. There is a bit of unfortunateness over lunch as my mother has apparently forgotten that I don’t care for ham or mayonnaise (she’s only known me for 41 years) and has taken to buttering sandwiches, but there are chips and I am tired, so I mostly sleep.
We stayed on the military base at barking sands which offers military personnel (active duty and retired) beach-side cottages for a pittance. The cottage was far bigger than my home. It had a huge kitchen, a living room with cable television and a DVD player, two massive bedrooms, a bathroom and, best of all, a huge balcony looking over the sea. We had three miles of beautiful sandy beach pretty much to ourselves the whole time we were there. The most crowded day was Sunday; I saw seven other people on the beach that day. At first I’d thought my parents and I would butt heads over vacation plans. I hadn’t been to Hawaii since 1977 and wanted to see stuff. But I soon realized that the more time we spent in the car, the less time we would get to spend on the sand and in the water, and quickly came round to their way of thinking.
Our lovely beach (and my mom)
Me and mom on our lovely beach! We took long walks before breakfast every morning and I couldn’t stay out of the water. I always arrived home wet!
We did take a sea cruise (with a hot guide) around the coast, which was beautiful. We saw spinner dolphins, sea turtles, a monk seal, and flying fish. We stopped for a picnic lunch which involved sammiches that were NOT ham and did not have butter or mayo on them, but included sprouts, which always add to the deliciousness of a sammich. And we snorkeled and swam with the turtles and mostly had a great time. There was a fairly annoying wedding party from New Jersey and they thought they were very, very funny when in actuality they were really, really loud, but I stat on the stern with my legs over the edge for the entire return trip. It was awesome. We were airborn many times and my knees got really sunburned.
Turtle buddy!
My lovely parents in front of the Napali coast (can you believe my dad is 70? It boggles my mind. And I hope I look as good as my mum at 69!)
We also saw the village that the animators used as inspiration for Lilo and Stitch (my favorite Disney film) . I saw some cats there.
Cat!!!
We ate lots of yummy fish and had this yummy shaved ice concoction that was about as far from an icee as one can get. Mine was full of fluffy shaved ice, chunks of coconut, coconut cream, ice cream and coconut syrup. My mom’s was more tropical and had pineapple and something red. They were luscious. I’ve never had anything quite like it before.
The first time we went swimming, I decided I wanted to get out past where the waves were breaking and just drift a bit, which is what I’ve enjoyed in Florida, Georgia, California and other civilized beaches. It wasn’t a good idea on this beach. I didn’t make it past the waves and after being pulled down and nearly drowned I headed back to shore, stopping once or twice to say “fuck” as a wave loomed over me and pulled me down, under and back again. I was scared. I had sand in my ears and my vagina. Not. Fun. But did I learn? NO. I thought a boogie board would be the solution, so on the second to last day, managed to get one of them from the rental office. I strode into the tide, cuffed at the wrist to a small piece of Styrofoam and feeling invincible.
Something to note is that I am not in the best shape of my life right at the moment. I used to be quite a swimmer, but that was 20 years ago. The last time I’d been on a beach was probably 10 years and 30 lbs ago back before I was a confirmed chain smoker. Another thing to note is that this was one of the beach’s fairly uncrowded days. I was the only person in sight. At all. There was no life guard and my father and mother were at the cabin tending their sunburns.
I dashed into the surf clutching my boogie board and tackled a few of the smaller waves (the second wave of breaking waves, as it were). I experienced something I later read described in a book by Bill Bryson about Australia (In a Sunburned Country - another great Whymzycal rec!). I did not surf; I sank. More sand in more orifices. But I thought that farther out the waves would be bound to be more buoyant.
Something really strange happened. I must have somehow slipped through the crashing surf on a side current, because suddenly I was past where the waves were breaking, sitting on calm-seeming water, completely unable to touch the bottom. I was looking back at the shore which seemed a long, long, long way away and I could tell that I was being pulled out and sideways. Toward not-the-beach. In fact, toward not-the-beach-at-all. I became very uneasy and started to kick and paddle toward shore. When I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere, was winded, and was still being floated away, very uneasy turned into very frightened. I jumped off the board and started to seriously swim for all I was worth. When I pulled myself back onto the board, panting from exertion and starting to see spots, I could tell I’d made some progress. I was turning to hop off the board again and check the depth, when I looked over my shoulder. My heart sank. I think I probably screamed. Then I resigned myself to holding on and holding my breath. Three million pounds of watery death descended.
I was conscious of the cord connecting me to the boogie board snapping. I was conscious of being upside-down and of scraping the sand. I was knocked down and pulled under twice more while trying to gain my feet but I was at least being pushed into shallower water.
Finally, finally, finally, I dragged myself onto the sand, nearly weeping with relief. My bathing suit was all askew. Both breasts were sticking out and my swim skirt was tangled around my thighs. I had sand everywhere. I was gasping for breath. The boogie board was gone, gone, gone. But I was not. I was ALIVE!!!! ALIVE!!!
It all sounds rather silly, but for about 20 minutes, I had really, really thought I was going to die. When I saw that wave, my demise was an utter certainty in my mind. On the up side, just as there had been no one to rescue me, so there was now no one on hand to witness my mortifying condition. I napped on my towel for a bit (once I’d walked the half-mile back to it) then rinsed as best I could and splashed about in the mostly unthreatening shallows and headed home to tell my tale to my nearly-spared-the-expense-and-worry-of-at-least-one-perpetual-child parents. We had some mai tais and watched the sunset.
The last day was great though (the part before the airports). My mother made pancakes which we ate with coconut passion fruit syrup and I played in shallow water (I really had learned my lesson) . I did get nipped by a crab, which hurt a bit, but was more of a shock than anything else. One sees the claws, but one doesn’t really expect them to use them on one. I won’t say it was rude, however, since I did step on him.
Oh, and we stopped for supper on the way to the airport. My mum had discovered a Japanese tea-garden/restaurant. It was really, really beautiful and the food was excellent. You took your shoes off and sat at a table in this room with a sliding door which opened onto the garden and coi pond. The table looked like it was on the floor, but there was a hollow beneath it for your legs (or my mother’s knees couldn’t have handled it!!) It was a pre fixe menu with about six courses. It included everything from sushi to sukiyaki. I had to explain what most of it was to my parents, but they enjoyed it.
I kept being thrown off by the servers perfect English though. I’m so used to going to Japanese restaurants in Vegas where we sort of communicate through a kind of sign language using the photos on the menu. These gals spoke English fluently and it was very likely their first language. Also, there were some very cute kittens playing in the garden. And once it got dark some MASSIVE frogs in the coi pond. I promised myself I was going to buy me some matcha powder when I got home because green tea in tea-bags just isn’t the same at ALL.
Us eating at the tea garden, which you unfortunately can’t see in this photo. You can, however, see my breasts from orbit. Diet. Seriously. It's happening.
Then I came home and the airport was crowded and I had to sit next to a girl whose boyfriend was finger fucking her under the blankets and my ankles were swollen and work was waiting and so was my car - which really did have a dead battery this time as, in my haste, I’d managed to leave the dome light on. But these things do happen.
I really, really, really need to take another vacation before another seven years has passed. It was really nice to get away. And my parents really are fantastic company, but it would have been a lot of fun with a friend as well. Maybe next time.
The other big news (and part of the reason I’ve been so absent): I’m buying a house. SCARY!!! Please send your good thoughts to me on that one! I’ve put in an offer and it’s been accepted so now we just have to finish up the inspection and get that sucker appraised. It is all quite new and frightening and there are ants in the kitchen, but that is a small thing, right? Because the floors are mostly wood laminate, except for the bedroom, which is real wood and one of the living room areas would look really sweet with tatami mats and a low round table and a few Japanese screens and I’ve got my dad working on building me a kotatsu, so I really hope that once I’m settled some of you will come visit in the winter so we can have homemade meat buns and sukiyaki at the kotatsu!!!
Mwah! To all!!