Hawaii, Day 7: Cold Comfort

I woke up sick.  My throat was sore, my body was sore, and my head would not stop throbbing.   Once I got the head under control, my nose wouldn’t stop running.  What do you do when you’re sick on vacation?

My answer:  Sleep late, and t hen go have fun, even if it kills you!  Tom approves.

Our plan for the day is somewhat laid back anyway.  I want to catch the last part of the road around the island that we’d missed on previous days.  I want to check out Hawi and the rest of the Kohala coast.  Then, I want to take a hike on the Petroglyph Trail at Puako Petroglyph Archaological Preserve.

I slept on the way up the coast, in between blowing my nose.  We drove past Hawi, and up to the other side of the Waipi’o Valley that we’d visited a few days’ earlier.  At a crowded scenic point, we stopped the car and got out of the car to watch the surf crash against a black sand beach that was barely visible below. Tom was interested in a hike down to the beach, but I vetoed it.  It was certainly doable.  The walk down was maybe 10 minutes, and the walk up a steep half hour trek.  Had I not been so miserable, I would have complete done it.  As it was, I was content to simply look at the view from up top for awhile.

When we had had our fill of the view, we drove back along the coast to Hawi for lunch, stopping for a sandwich at the Lighthouse Delicatessen.  I had a Cuban sandwich, which was really good, considering that my taste buds were really wasted from my cold.  I thought I would only eat half a sandwich, but I ate the whole thing… including potato chips!

It was mid-afternoon by the time we left Hawi.  We drove down the coast, and I noted several places to visit on future trips.  We made our way to the Petroglyph Park and parked in a lot next to the ocean.  I was still feeling somewhat poorly, so it doesn’t surprise me that I found the path somewhat difficult.  It was mid-afternoon, and it was warmer than it had been at Kailua-Kona earlier in the day.  After about a half mile’s walk through some pretty wicked forest trails, I came upon the Petroglyph reserve.   A quarter mile further, and we were into the brambles of this forest that had been killed by volcanic action.  The ancient Hawaiians had expended a lot of effort to say something about themselves.  The rock is hard, and the tools for etching the images into the stone would have been other rocks.

In the final clearing we saw dozens of petroglyphs, some much more easy to decipher than others.   The path wound further into the petrified forest, but it was an uncertain path….  My natural tendency to always find the end of any trail was tempered by the day’s heat and my cold.

When we returned to the car, the most amazing thing happened.  One by one, cats came up to us to say hello.  I counted thirteen in their colony, but who knows how many there were behind the trees?  What surprised me was not so much that the cats existed, but that they were willing to come out to meet us.  Tom is known as the cat whisperer in our house, so I gave him the camera.  We did not want to scare the cats away.

A couple people came up to us and said that the cats were encouraged to live in the park by the neighboring resort, but that they asked visitors not to feed them.

Tom and I could see the logic in that, and we didn’t have any cat kibble with us anyway. We did mark that there was an astonishing absence of songbirds in the area.

As we drove back to Kailua-Kona, we realized we were on our last full day in Hawaii.  Both of us were a little melancholy about that.  But we wanted to go home to our own cats, not to mention our family.

That evening, we decided to have a low key dinner in the hotel dining room.  It was a nice time.   The next day, we had a late flight, so we decided we’d go see a movie to kill the afternoon.  Never estimate the power of a vacation matinee.

We drove to the airport, where we waited for our 5:00 flight.  A group of VIP’s were coming in from the mainland, so there was a traditional Hawaiian music ban and a group of young hula dancers.  Customer service agents were there to great the group with Hawaiian leis, just like I recall the Brady’s receiving when they went to Hawaii.   That was the episode where Peter found the tiki idol and took it from Hawaiian sacred ground?  He comes to believe he was cursed by his decision, when bad things begin to happen to the rest of the family.  Okay, so one shouldn’t get one’s knowledge about the world from the Brady Bunch.  You’ll expect a lei in lieu of a bill, and you’ll offend the indigenous people by making up stories about the religion that their ancestors followed.

This is my penultimate post about my Hawaii trip.  My last post will not be part of a trip report, per se, but will be about a customer service problem we encountered on our way home.

Hawaii, Day 6

I was up most of the night worrying about work.  Remember that crisis I mentioned on Day 4?  I couldn’t get it out of my mind.  Finally, about 5 a.m., I double checked something, figured out the problem, and was able to fix the work problem.

Suffice it to say that I wasn’t too keen to do much today.  I was tired!  So, we had some breakfast, and slept in for a bit.

Around 11, we wandered over to the Hulihe’e Palace (which was a short walk from the hotel) for a tour.  We attended a concert at the Palace on our second day of vacation, and we’d walked by it many times, but we’d never walked in.

When you think “Palace”, you think Versailles or Hampton Courts.  However, the primary definition of “palace” is “the official residence of a sovereign.”  Until 1893, Hawaii was ruled under a monarchy.  The monarchy was relatively short-lived, the Islands having been united by King Kamehameha I in 1810.

The Hulihe’e Palace was built in 1838 and remained a vacation home for Hawaii’s sovereigns until 1916.  The house itself is built in the Colonial Style, with a grand entry and two side parlours on the first floor, and a family sitting room on the second floor with two bedrooms off to the side on the second floor.  It did not have indoor plumbing; nor did it have a kitchen.   The rooms are extremely spacious, but as you walk through, you never get the feeling that this was a royal residence.  Don’t get me wrong, the house is well appointed, and many of the items were original to the home.  It’s just that these were not pretentious people–at least not on vacation.  The house is presently used to house Hawaiian artifacts, as well as to teach about Hawaiian culture.

Later that day, we scheduled a sunset dinner cruise to Kealakekua Bay and Captain Cook’s monument through Body Glove Cruises.  As we went to the dock to meet the cruise, there were hundreds of people in a single file line waiting to go back to a Royal Caribbean cruise ship.   While we waited for our boat to begin embarkation, we watched the big cruise passengers get ferried back to their mega cruise ship via three tenders.   It was a very slow process, and reminded me why I avoid cruise tenders.  I think you’d get “museum feet” waiting in line that long, especially after a long day of sightseeing.

Finally, our little boat was ready for us.  We took a seat up top, mainly because I love the way you feel when you are on top of a boat…. the wind and the surf just makes me feel so alive.   Crew members came to take our drink orders, and we found our sea legs (something that can be difficult–tip: take your shoes off).

Like most of our evenings in Kailua-Kona, it was raining lightly.   It wasn’t that bad, and I figured that it would clear up in an hour or two.  I was wrong.

We were just about to cast off, when a rowdy group of ten came aboard, led (at least in spirit) by the well-beloved rogue “Captain Dan”.  Captain Dan and his wife were locals.   Their party was a group of extended family who were from the mainland.  It was Captain Dan’s birthday, and if I had to guess, he’d started celebrating a couple hours before the cruise.  Captain Dan was a bald headed squinty eyed pirate, who took tourists on whale watching and snorkel trips.  He knew all the crew members, and appeared to be friends with our Captain, who was, thankfully, sober.

As we cast off, the crew set up the hors-d’oevres, and the historical narration began.  Our guide did a fabulous job.  I learned a lot about island history. When we arrived at Kealakekua Bay, the skies darkened significantly, and it was clear that we were going to be in for a rocky ride back.   The crew put dinner out, and we all made a beeline for the traditional Hawaiian buffet.  The poke was really good (have I mentioned how much I like poke?)

By the time we got dinner, the light drizzle had turned into a bona fide downpour.  We were all a little cold, but some of the passengers were toasted.  Captain Dan was chatting up the newlyweds, and telling them they should come out to his boat the next day.  He was especially interested in the bride, who was clearly uncomfortable with the attention.  Captain Dan’s wife was bringing everyone drinks, sometimes before they’d finished their last one.

Mind you, this was not an open bar.   As you boarded, each person got two drink tickets.   I had two stiff mai tais.  I don’t know how anyone could have tolerated more with the motion of the ocean, the wind and the cold.  Something about being on the water exaggerates the effects of alcohol.  Nevertheless, the party atmosphere made the ride back to shore tolerable in the midst of a complete downpour.

We were huddled together in the cabin portion of the ship, holding on for dear life.  Walking became dangerous.  The evening’s entertainment was an amazing singer/guitarist.  I think he could have been professional.  He also was extremely good at keeping us busy singing while the boat was slogging through the storm.  (He was also really cute!)

At some point, Captain Dan ended up next to me.  His wife was lunging back and forth from the bar.  Her balance was amazingly good, considering how much she’d drunk….  Our guitarist ended up playing one of my favorite dance songs… and I decided to risk dancing a little.   Yes… I was the only one daring to dance…. and I got big props from the crew and Captain Dan for it.

It was hilarious!  And cold and miserable….  The following are some of the pictures I took.  I would have fixed some of the darker shots, but I really wanted you to see exactly how dark it was….

Hawaii, Day 5: Botanical Paradise

We woke from our Hawaiian dreams with a divided agenda.  I checked my work email, and discovered that an emergency had arisen that required me to do a bit of work.   Before I go on vacation, I do my best to wrap up work projects, but because I own my own business, something always pops up.  For that reason, I always travel with a laptop, and I make sure that we have some kind of internet connection and access to a printer.

I drafted a quick email, and Tom and I discussed what we were going to do that day.  Tom wanted to visit the Lyman Museum in Hilo, and I wanted to visit the Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden.  To get across the island, Tom and I decided to brave the Saddle Road.

The Saddle Road is a famously bad road that sits between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa.  As you enter it from the western side of the island, it is extremely narrow and winding.  In years past, the road was so bad that rental car companies prohibited renters from driving on it.  A check of our rental contract indicated that we were okay to take this road, but I was still a little hesitant.

You see, my husband Tom does most of the driving in our relationship. He is a famously erratic driver.  He does not speed, but he also does not always stay on the road (much less his lane), and while he’s driving, our cars seem to develop a stopping problem that can be quite terrifying.    Although I am a better driver, I am also a better navigator than he is.  I see signs and I can read maps more quickly.   Also, this trip, Tom and I were using GPS for the first time, and I was the one who knew how to operate the GPS programs.

Tom likes a challenge.  He also likes to go to the “end of the road”.  As soon as I showed him the map of Hawaii with the one cross-island road that was marked dangerous, he wanted to go on it.  So…

As we first turned onto the road, I noticed how narrow the lanes were, and how the side of the road led to deep ditches.   I don’t know whether I noticed the truck coming our way, the car veering into the ditch, or the cute little chicken on the side of the road first, but I know I stopped breathing and almost screamed….

Fortunately, about 10 miles east, the road improved, becoming wider.  I can’t say it was a particularly scenic road.  There was so much lava… and so little of anything else.   As we neared the high point of the road, I could feel the air getting thinner.  It was at least 20 degrees cooler than it had been in Kailua Kona.   We could see the road going up to the astronomical observatory on Mauna Kea, and within a mile or two, it felt like we were driving on top of the world.  It was really barren… and yet… compelling.

It started to rain on the way down.  The road on the Hilo side was much wider, but I didn’t relish the thought of crashing.  About halfway down the hill, we were in a lush, tropical forest.  And then… we found ourselves in Hilo.  We had a map to the Lyman from a tourist magazine, but the map did not show the turn in the road at the base of the Saddle Road.  I fired up my GPS, and we quickly righted our wrong turn, and we found ourselves in front of the museum.

The Lyman Museum is a museum devoted to Hawaiian history, both natural and geological.  Next door is the Mission House, a home owed by David and Sarah Lyman, some of the first missionaries to come to Hawaii.   The museum offered to give us a special tour of the Mission house, since we had just missed the morning tour.  While we waited, we looked at the museum’s exhibits which focused on the island’s geological and botanical development, cultural history, and immigration.  There was a special exhibit about canoes, which play an important role in the island’s habitation.  (Although, when the south pacific islanders landed in their canoes, there were already people living on the island).

Soon enough, it was time for our tour.  Our tour guide explained that the Mission House was originally built by the Congregational Church to house the Lyman’s efforts to bring Christianity to the islands.  I found it interesting that the Congregational missionaries focused on educating Hawaiians in their own language, rather than in English.  Moreover, the church was not interested in a long-term missionary occupation of Hawaii, but rather wanted to create a self-sustaining Christian culture.  In the early 19th century, the Congregationalists stopped all missionary work, having achieved its goals of a self-sustaining local church, and gave the Lymans the choice to return to their home in New England or remain in Hawaii.  The Lymans decided to stay in Hawaii, and they were given the Mission House.   They never returned to the mainland.

The house was built of Hawaiian Koa (a very hard wood), and is furnished with items that might have actually been used by the Lymans.  Sarah Lyman and her daughter managed a furniture mill that produced some of the furniture in the home.

After our tour, Tom and I were famished and hot.  The Mission House was not air conditioned, and the rain from earlier in the day had stopped, leaving a steamy oppression that battled against the brilliant sun.  Life in the tropics?

We drove north out of Hilo towards the Botanical Garden, enjoying the car’s air conditioner.  The Hilo coast is lush and wild, much more like the Hawaii of my imagination than the Kona coast.   To get to the Botanical Garden, you drive into a rain forest on the coast.   We stopped at the entrance to buy our tickets, some water, mosquito repellent, and a snack.  We sat in the car for a few minutes, to harness our energies.

And then we walked into the garden… (I’m not even going to attempt to describe it…. just take a look at the pictures….)

Hawaii Day 4: It’s Tuesday, So it Must be Volcanoes!

It’s September 20th, my birthday, a day I typically spend somewhere other than Minnesota.   Today, Tom and I have decided to go to Volcanoes National Park to see Kilauea.  I’m told the very best way to see Kilauea is by an evening helicopter tour, since even during inactive periods, you can see the lake of lava in the crater.  ve checked the National Park Service to see if there is any lava to be seen, and I discover that it’s a period of somewhat limited activity.

That’s upsetting to some tourists, because they think that the Pele is somehow insulting them by not spewing hot lava in a place they can conveniently see by road.  A few months ago, I read there was a nice lava flow that terminated into the sea.  The best way to see this lava flow was by boat, but a review of recent boat tours suggested that the ride was overpriced without active lava.

To get from Kailua-Kona to Kilauea, you drive south along the hills of the Kona region.  A drive away from the seashore, it’s mainly coffee plantations.  The region is poor, and there is precious little commerce besides the coffee plantation tasting rooms.  Once we were deep into the region, I opened the car window, and it really did smell like coffee.   I’m not a big coffee drinker, but even I like Kona coffee.  It’s rich and, when roasted properly, is more nutty than earthy, without even a hint of bitterness.  It’s really amazing stuff.  Too bad it retails for about $30 a pound.

We got to the park about 10:30.  Tom forgot his senior pass, so we paid another $10 for a National Park senior pass.  Given that we go to about two or three national parks a year, it’s an amazing deal.  We hit up the Visitor Center after we gassed up in Volcano Village (where Tom got this prepackaged bread pudding that he is still raving about).  Then, we headed to the crater.

On the way, we stopped on a very windy ridge to see some steam vents.   One steam vent was located in the parking area, and the Japanese tourists took advantage of the proximity of the steam for photo opportunities.

That’s okay.  One of my favorite categories of tourism photography is taking pictures of people getting their picture taken.  Besides, I like the guide’s hat and shirt.

A short walk away, there was an entire hillside of steam.  It was really windy, and the steam was traveling away from the hill as if it were smoke.  From here, you could see the surprisingly desolate area that makes the crater.  It looks like a moonscape, with steam coming from the ground.  It’s not particularly dramatic. Somehow, I’d imagined that you could see lava spitting out of the crater.  Although I’m told this does happen at night, during the day, the crater’s output looks more like the output from my clothes dryer.  See what I mean?  From here, we went to see a museum, where I learned the difference between a’a and pahoehoe lava.  A’a is a smooth; pahoehoe is rough.  Of course, I got it wrong, despite the fact that the museum’s displays were very clear.

After, we drove towards the Thurston Lava Tube, which I am told is an amazing site.  Unfortunately, it was cruise ship Tuesday, and there was no parking within a reasonable walk from the Tube.  Instead, we drove along the Chain of Craters Road, and were awed by the view of a 1,000 years of lava flows.  The hardscape is resistant to life, so much so that you see only the smallest amount of green in the landscape.  The ground is so hard that trail markers are made from piles of rocks.

Despite the lack of vegetation, the terrain is quite difficult to walk across.  It is hilly and rough, and even though I wore shoes designed for a tropical hike, I found myself somewhat uncertain.  There were also warnings for CO2, which can be quite hazardous to breathe.

For miles, we drove downhill, stopping at dormant craters and fields of lava.  Suddenly, the vista emptied into the sea.  The clouds marking the lava beach, just as if it were freshly minted lava.  From the top of the hill to the sea shore, it must have been a good four miles, down a winding road.  I’m told that the road originally led to a town called Kalapana, which was mostly destroyed by a lava flow in 1990.

When we got to the end of the road, I noticed a small trail leading to the edge of a cliff.  I cautiously took the trail and came upon a lava arch, which had been formed by the violent surf that forms Hilo-side of the island.

I wondered about the people who live in the volcano’s path.   What kind of house do you build if you know it could be destroyed by lava?  Do you think about it?  One of the residents of Kalapana told a reporter that “it’s very easy to outrun lava.”  But, it can’t be that easy to watch your house be consumed by it.

Maybe that’s why so much of the architecture on the Big Island seems so transient.  Here, in Minnesota, we build big houses out of brick and stone (okay, so most of our modern architecture is stick-built, but it’s meant to last, right?).   We protect ourselves from the elements, from the harshness of winter and the very real threats of tornado and lightning.   In hurricane regions, houses are built on stilts.  In Hawaii, it’s almost as if they know that no building code will protect against a volcano.  The houses are low to the ground, and they are almost featureless.  I even noticed that Big Island houses didn’t even seem to feature lanais, although it is certainly true that when you travel someplace for the first time, you tend not to see the residential neighborhoods.

That evening, Tom and I went to the Island Breeze Luau.  The Luau is a right of passage for every tourist.  I’m told there are much bigger luaus on Oahu, but I’m not sure that would translate to a better experience.  Let’s face it, the Luau is an opportunity to show tourists something about Hawaiian culture.  It’s an opportunity to see hula dancing, eat poi and drink Mai Tais (which were really tasty).  I skipped the poi, because the MC of the luau wouldn’t endorse it, but I did have some really good imu pork (a pig roasted in an earth oven), and some amazing salmon poke (raw marinated salmon).  Before the entertainment began, it began to rain, so the entire evening’s activities were accelerated.  It was hard to concentrate on the show, which seemed to be an all-Polynesian dance review that would have been equally at home on a cruise ship or a Reno casino.   We learned a few Hawaiian words, and I enjoyed listening to the newlyweds next to us tell us about their wedding.   By the end of the show, we were drenched.  But it was kind of a nice, Hawaiian drenched.  Warm.  And there was a rainbow. 

Hawaii Trip Report

Day Two:  Vacation begins

We woke somewhat early, and went to eat the hotel’s buffet.  Tom really enjoyed his omelettes (Yes, he ate two of them).  I enjoyed the pineapple.

It was Sunday morning, so after breakfast, we went back to the room to watch Tom’s talking heads.  I napped.  Both Tom and I tend to prefer keeping some of our regular habits during vacation.  We like to laze around on Sunday mornings.  We like to have quiet evenings in.

In the afternoon, we visit a monthly street fair held by the village of Kailua-Kona. There are over a hundred vendors spread over the length of Ali’i Drive, the main drag ‘o tourism in Kailua-Kona.  We stopped to purchase a box made out of koa wood. We listened to some Hawaiian bluegrass.  Tom stopped to talk to a local photographer.  We could have spent a fortune at the Village Stroll, but Tom and I are careful spenders.  We bought some locally made soap and a photography book on top of the decorative box.

It was considerably warmer and wetter than Minnesota is this time of year.  After about an hour and a half into shopping, I was really hot.  We headed back towards the hotel, only to stop for some shaved ice at the Scandinavian Shaved Ice store. It was like a snowcone, but with more flavor and bigger!  We had a pineapple, lemon-lime ice.  As we were sitting on the street people watching, people came up to me to ask about it.  Everyone wanted one after seeing mine!  I was a trend-setter for the first time in my life!

Vendors lined Ali'i Drive in Kailua-Kona

Scandinavian Shaved Ice was a welcome treat in the middle of a tropical day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After finishing our ice, we went back to the room for a mid-afternoon nap and shower.  As you can see, the day was a little over-cast, but it was also hot and sticky.  This would be a theme for our vacation.

At 4:00, we headed over to the Hulihe’e Palace for a concert on the grounds.  The Palace was closed for the day, but the Daughters of Hawaii opened the grounds for a free concert of Hawaiian music.  We sat on the ground and watched a small bank play some Hawaiian standards.  The highlight of the concert was when a local native dance ensemble came to dance.  The dancers were maybe 11 years old, but they were extremely good.  They danced to music provided by a native singer.  He was a little hard to hear over the surf, but the music was not the thing for this part of the show.

After the concert, we lingered on the grounds for a bit.  Then, we headed to Tante’s for a dinner.  I had a dinner plate with some teriyaki beef, chicken and shrimp.  Tom had a shrimp cocktail.  I know I enjoyed my meal more than Tom did, but perhaps the most interesting part of the meal was the view–located just above street level, Tante’s has an unobstructed view of the harbor, and of Ali’i Drive.

After dinner, we went back to the hotel, and noticed that hundreds of birds had taken residence in the Banyan tree on the front lawn.  Bird song combined with the ruffles of feathers, and the rustle of leaves to create a deafening cacophony.   A young father reached up to pull a branch down, only to release it, causing the birds to fly up out of the tree all at once.

Thinking back, the sound of birds was ever-present on our vacation, except when we were in Volcanoes.  There, we heard only wind.

Hawaii, Day One

It was about 3:00 a.m.  on Saturday.  I was sound asleep in my bed, after falling dead asleep before 10:00 the night before.  As an insomniac, that was a fairly amazing thing.  However, the frantic pace of the week before pretty much ensured that I would be exhausted.  And ready. For. A Vacation.

We’d set the alarm for 5 a.m.  I had not packed, and although I pack fast, I wanted to make sure we were out the door before 6 a.m. for the hour long drive to the airport.

But Tom woke up at 3 a.m.  He turned on the TV.  And then he began to pack.  Half asleep, I heard questions directed towards climate, activities, dress code.  Shorts, t-shirts, short-sleeved shirts.  One jacket and one pair long pants.  No, you won’t need dress shoes.  I have TSA approved sunscreen.  I bought you a TSA approved shaving stick.  “Boy!  I have so much room in my suitcase!”

Tom’s a small man.  He always under-packs.  He also usually brings things that are not completely climate appropriate.  In this case, he’d had a check up for skin cancer, and he wanted to avoid aggravating his ever-present patches of cancerous cells.

We’re going to the Big Island of Hawaii.  Everyone thinks of Hawaii as the land of endless sun.  There is sun here, almost always in the morning.  In the afternoon, clouds fueled by Kilauea’s eruption come to the western Kona coast, and the village of Kailua-Kona cools off just a bit with the clouds.   There is also snow here, and assuming that the bronchitis I had last week clears up, we hope to travel to the top of Mauna Kea to see the observatory.  That will have to wait until Friday, and it might not happen if I’m still using my inhaler, since we’ve been advised that people with asthma find the altitude challenging.

Still, the Big Island is home to the southern-most point in the United States, and it would be a mistake to misjudge the power of the sun here. Hawaii is a mere 1,470 miles north of the equator.  It is also the farthest place on earth from another place on earth.  So, it is not exaggerating to say that Tom and I are headed to the farthest reaches of the earth.

It’s 4:00, and Tom has come back to bed, having packed.   I fall asleep, only to wake what seems like a few seconds later with the alarm.  I instantly wish I had packed the night before.  Still, I had a packing list.  I knew what I was bringing.

Four casual dresses, one pair shorts, two knit skirts, two pair capris, four t-shirts, two sweaters, bathing suit, underwear, beach shoes, sandals and red heels (because a girl is nothing without the shoes).  IPad, kindle, and cell phone with chargers.  Brush, makeup, TSA-approved sunscreen, lip-balm, moisturizer, razor, tweezers, toothpaste, cameras and charger. Medications, including benedryl (more on this later).  Skip the shampoo and hairdryer.  The hotel will have it.  Empty my purse’s contents into my camera backpack and put the purse into my suitcase.  We’re not checking luggage, so I can’t carry both my purse and my backpack.

Did you catch what I left behind?

We were only fifteen minutes late leaving for the airport.  There was no traffic, and the drive was quick.  We rolled into the airport parking lot at about 6:50, and jumped into the courtesy van.

When I was younger, part of my life was making sure my parents had a ride to the airport.  My brother refused to do it after that time, in 1979, that we drove my parents across the old Mendota Bridge to the airport for a trip to Las Vegas.  Just as we arrived, my father realized he’d forgotten his briefcase.   We had to turn around and make a mad dash back, in rush hour traffic, to retrieve it.  I waited in the car as my brother ran the briefcase into the terminal, past security to my father, who was anxiously waiting for the last call to board.

Now, 32 years later, my parents are gone, and Tom and I live so far out of town that we really can’t take a cab to the airport.  We refuse to impose upon friends.  Tom’s daughter is not as willing as I was to make the trip to the airport.  So, we use park ‘n fly.

Our courtesy van driver asks us to bring him back a hula girl.  Tom asks, “An inflatable one?”  He laughs.  I point out that inflatable girls don’t talk back.  He drops us off, and Tom and I gather our luggage to go into the terminal.

It is then that I realize that I’ve forgotten my toothbrush.  Tom looks at me, and says that he’s forgotten to lock the car.  Once again, I’m outclassed.  We agree to meet at the gate.

I find airports stressful.  As much as I love travel, I’m still a leisure traveler.  I know that there are naked body scanners and invasive pat-downs.   The travel blogs I read are full of stories about senseless and ever-changing policies which are enforced erratically and sometimes incorrectly.  I constantly wonder if I’m going to be arrested if I forget to put my lip-balm in a sandwich baggie or if somehow forget to take a corkscrew out of my purse.  Then, there’s the fear that I’ll get bumped from an oversold flight, or get put on the no-fly list by taking a picture of an airline employee’s name tag.

Early Saturday morning flights are generally fairly easy.  The airport is quiet, and business travelers don’t usually fly on Saturdays.  This day was no different.  There was virtually no line at security, and there was also no naked body scanner!  As I was clearing security, there was a TSA agent searching a couple’s carry-on bags, lecturing them about the liquids policy.  I called Tom’s cell phone to let him know that security was a little tight.  He informed me that the parking company was locking our car for us.

I got some breakfast, and Tom met me at the gate.   We had an hour to kill before boarding.  I charged my cell phone at the charge station. Remembering that the last time I was at the airport, I’d had to search for an outlet, I was impressed.

Our flight was called.  The first leg of our trip would take us to Los Angeles.  A couple hours later, we’d board a flight to Kona.  These would be two long flights, punctuated by a horrible airport.  LAX is a nightmare. It is poorly designed.  My father, who got his Master’s in civil engineering at Berkeley, wrote his thesis on airport design.  He hated multiple terminal designs.  From a civil engineering standpoint, they don’t make sense, since each terminal serves different airlines, with separate and redundant infrastructure.  Inter-terminal transportation is often poorly designed, and passengers are inconvenienced when they have to change terminals due to a code-sharing connection, leading to multiple security checks.  See, Dad?  I was listening.

LAX has NINE operating terminals.  We’re flying Delta, which operates out of Terminal Five.  When we arrive, we discover that our next flight is leaving from the same gate, for which much thanks.  We head to California Pizza Kitchen, after standing in line for the bathroom facilities. It’s airport food, and the pizza is nowhere near as good as our local fast pizza company, Solo.  I had a salad.  Tom had his go-to travel yogurt parfait and pepperoni pizza.  We fought our way to a table, and ate.  After a while, Tom went to walk off the flight, and I read my mystery novel.

Our flight was called, and we found our way to the plane.  We weren’t seated together for this flight.  Nor was anyone else, it seemed.  We tried to get re-seated, but we were 10th on the list.  Tom couldn’t even get out of the middle seat he’d been assigned.  At least I had a window seat.

The truth about economy travel is that it is better than it was ten years ago.  The seats actually have more room.  You are less likely to have knee damage from recline.  There is better in-flight entertainment, and it is cheaper.  There are more food options, but on Delta, they’re cold, and you have to pay for it.   I skip the food, as well as most of the beverage service, which, I have discovered just annoys me.  I hate the beverage cart.  I hate the fact that I usually have to ask for the whole can of soda.

This is a long flight.  Five hours.  The people next to me barely talk.  The people behind me talk a LOT.  I hear all about being a lawyer in the Wells Fargo trust department and selling pharmaceuticals.  I hear about the joys of golf, and the joys of police procedural tv series.   I didn’t quite hear their opinions about Michelle Bachman, but I had a feeling that my opinion as one of her constituents would not be welcome.

I’d finished my mystery novel and was starting a romance.  Tom realized you can’t access the internet on a trans-pacific flight, and asked to borrow my kindle.  I took the iPad and played Collapse!  The five hours seemed like five days.  Every bone hurt, and I could not sleep.  The movie was one I had no interest in seeing.

Finally, I glanced out the window, and I saw mountain tops.  More specifically, I saw two volcano tops.  Mauna Kea and Kilauea.  I was amazed how tall these mountains were.  As the plane descended from the cloud base, I saw miles of brand new land made of black lava that transitioned to amazingly green hills.  On the north side of the island, it was sunny, but it became overcast as we traveled south.  I realized just how exotic this place was.

The Kona airport is small.  It is made out of a series of grass roofed huts, and most of the facilities are outdoors.  You leave the plane via stairs, something I have not done since I was in Little Rock many years ago.  From the gate, we took a courtesy van to pick up our rental car, and we were pleasantly surprised when we were upgraded to an SUV.

I used the TripIt iPad application to guide us to our hotel, and then we were there.  Vacation had arrived.  We were exhausted.  It was 5:00 p.m. Kona time, which was 10:00 p.m. Minneapolis time.  We hadn’t eaten since Los Angeles, and we’d been up since 5:00 a.m. (3:00 a.m. for Tom) that morning.  It was a long day.  We found our way to our room and unpacked.

Tom asked for a recommendation for a local dinner, and we were directed to Quinn’s Almost By the Sea, across the street from our hotel. Tom had a short-rib pupus, and I had a fresh fish sandwich.  We ate in a garden-like setting, and I tried to nurse my pounding headache with a glass of water.  It probably wouldn’t be fair to review the restaurant, but the tartar sauce was to die for.

There was a foursome sitting two tables over, dominated by a local lady in a mu-mu, with a flower in her hair.  She told stories about her cats and her coworkers.  There was a light drizzle, and I felt like I was in this curious mash up of the Caribbean and West Virginia.  It was a surreal moment.

After dinner, we found a toothbrush.  And then, we crashed.

In my next post, I review our hotel, and discuss our adventures at the Kokua Kailua Village Stroll.

Flash Sale!

Some good discounts available at RIU resorts through Funjet.  These deals are only good until Thursday noon.

RIU offers a good all-inclusive value.  The prices are generally far lower than Secrets or Sandals.  Generally, Trip Advisor reviews suggest that the food isn’t as good.  I’m hoping to take an all inclusive vacation next year, so I’ll let you know what I find.

I doubt I’ll be booking it during this flash sale, but it’s not because these are not some good prices.  I just don’t have time to truly research destinations right now.

I haven’t talked about the all inclusive option.  With an all inclusive resort, the nightly fee covers the cost of the room, food, most beverages, entertainment and (usually) most tips.   Extra fees usually apply for spas, transportation, and day trips.

This type of vacation’s value depends largely on the quality of the resort, especially the food options, and whether you are the type of person who will mind eating most of your meals at the resort.   The quality of all inclusive resorts vary wildly. Some resorts may have minimal room furnishings and their idea of dinner may be a taco bar.  You might have a fabulous vacation at one of these value resorts, but only if your vacation style accepts taco bars and minimal furnishings.

Similarly, back in the day, I loved to scope out restaurants that would provide me with some cultural insight.  If you eat out every night, it is unlikely that you will find much value in an all-inclusive resort.

In 1985, my parents took me to Montego Bay, Jamaica over my spring break.  We stayed at a very small, modest tennis resort on the hill.  Our room was extremely bare (think 70’s motel room), but there was air conditioning, and the room was clean.   There was a small pool, and four tennis courts.  The highlight of the vacation was the food at the resort.    I didn’t understand this was an all-inclusive resort.  It seemed weird that no one ever provided us with a bill, and I wondered how Dad was going to pay for it all.  We took a couple of side trips, and I loved learning about Jamaica.  We also ate the most amazingly hot jerk, and I sampled some Red Stripe (which is good with jerk).   Mom and I were intimidated by the market, but I did get some good deals on stuff.

It was only later that I realized that our resort had been all-inclusive.  If I told you how much we paid for this vacation,  you wouldn’t believe it.  In fact, I don’t really believe we got so much for so little.

I do know that resort no longer exists.  People want to stay on the beach.  They want luxury.  They want great food and amazing amenities.  There isn’t much room for the small family owned value resort.

Remembering Travel Before 9/11

Just before 9/11, Tom went to Florida to visit friends.  I couldn’t go with, so I walked with him through security to the gate.  I sat with him at the gate until his plane was called, and then I left the airport.

These days, I would just drop him off at the curb, since the gates are off limits to those without a ticket.

I don’t remember ever traveling without having to go through security, at all.  I’m sure my first plane vacations as a child back in the 70’s were security free, but my father, who was employed by the Federal Aviation Administration, was always somewhat concerned that one of us would make a joke about a bomb to one of the gate attendants.   It wouldn’t have even occurred to me had he not told me not to do it.  As it was, I had to engage in some serious self-censoring in order to resist the urge to defy my father.

I do remember the hot meals on planes.  They were this curious mixture of awful and delicious.  I once got bumped to first class, and had this amazing steak.  Usually, the food was just steamed chicken or some kind of pot roast.

The changes after 9/11 were alarming to me.  We were stopped at the airport to have our trunk searched.  There were armed troops in the airport, which gave way to an elaborate security apparatus, where you had to take your belt and shoes off, and worry whether your necklace would cause the beeper to go off.  We needed to carry our luggage to a separate security area, instead of simply leaving it at the ticket counter.

And the liquids.  How do you travel with less than 3 ounces of things?

Airports have always caused me anxiety.  As a leisure traveler, I don’t know the rules.  And the more rules there are, the less comfortable I am.

Our first trip after 9/11 was, ironically, to New York City in the summer of 2002.  We normally would have flown, but we could not contemplate the security.  So, we drove.  We visited the Twin Towers site, which was still being cleared.  The Statue of Liberty was still closed to visitors, and the Staten Island Ferry no longer took cars.

We’ve seen air travel change dramatically since 2001.  Lots of those changes have been security related.  There has been a financial restructuring of the industry that was partly caused by the slowdown in leisure travel after 9/11.

Oddly, I think that many of the non-security changes to air travel was caused by the deregulation of the industry in the late 1970’s, more so than 9/11.  Deregulation led to the pattern of mergers and bankruptcy that have marked the air travel industry.  It has also led to the delivery of services via a la carte pricing.

As we were taught in our 10th grade civics class, prices increase in an era of monopolization and decrease with competition.  Back in the 70’s, prices were regulated by the government, and the industry players protected, to a certain extent, from competitive forces.    Right now, we’re seeing a contraction of competition, and overall air travel prices are increasing.  Some of these price increases have been masked by the introduction of luggage fees, premium seating fees, and food and beverage prices.

So, did 9/11 change everything?  No.  Did it change a lot?  Yes.

Next weekend, we’re traveling by plane.  I’m planning on carrying on my luggage, because we’re making a lot of connections.  I bought little bottles for our liquids.  I’m using the best advice from the web for packing light.  I have a baby travel blanket, and I’ve budgeted for snacks on the plane.  I’m terrified of the full body scan.  I may wimp out and let them use the radiation machine on me.

Real Life and More and Flying vs. Driving

So, I had to take a short break from you all while I tried to make a living at my day job.  I do have a funny story about work, but it’s too long for a blog.  I may self-publish it on CreateSpace, if I can figure out how to do so without getting sued.  In the meantime, I haven’t been able to pursue my travel passion.

Now, that the stress of the situation is past, I realize that one of the things that got me through was thinking about that amazing vacation I have scheduled for later this month.  Thank goodness!  Hallelujah!

This vacation I need to spend some considerable time developing a plan for stress reduction.  My day job is a killer.   That is a topic I can probably devote some time to on this blog.

I ran across this article about flying vs. driving.  And while the author’s algorithm is different than mine, there’s some good points about driving that I might have missed in my prior post.   Enjoy!

When Best Laid Plans…

Several years ago, Tom and I went to New York.  My normal travel style is to over-plan.  Tom’s style is to plan very little.  On this trip, we were going to Tom’s old stomping grounds, so we booked a hotel for our destination (outside the City, so we could save money), and did the rest by the seat of our pants.

Everything went wrong.  And this wasn’t Tom’s fault, by any stretch of the imagination.  We ended up spending six hours in a traffic jam on I-80, the last two desperately needing to get off to find a bathroom and some food.  We finally got off the parking lot near Williamsport, Pennsylvania to find that the nearest hotel was completely booked (we did find a bathroom, however).  We drove some 10 miles in the foggy dark to pay about 30% more than we typically would for a moderate hotel.

We got into New Jersey (I did say we booked a hotel outside the city, right?)  to find that we didn’t like the location as much as we thought we might.  Tom’s memories of New York were some 20 years old by this time, and my bargain-hunting was a little too aggressive.  We made plans to see a “friend” perform in a club in SOHO, but he never showed, and the band that performed that night was not our “friend’s” band.  Oh, and the other friend we planned to meet in town was stuck in Washington DC.

I did, however, discover how Tom developed his unique driving style which was ideally suited to New York City driving.   His parking style, however, was too renegade even for  New York, a fact which was demonstrated by the parking tickets proudly displayed on our car.

By the third day of hanging around New York, I wasn’t precisely sad to take our friend up on the offer to host us in Maryland….  Although the drive down to Maryland in a rain storm that seemed to follow us all the way down the coast was pretty scary.   Once there, we discovered that our friend lived a lifestyle that was incompatible with hosting.  He had a huge fight with his girlfriend in front of us, and then left us to mind dinner while he took a nap, not realizing that Tom would leave the potatoes in the oven after they were done.

A day or so later, we headed home, where we discovered this amazing steak house in Western Maryland (probably long closed), and I was awed by the way the scenery appeared from the road.  It gave me time to think about the good things that happened during the vacation.

1)  I had my first egg cream.

2)  I learned how to understand the geography that is New York.

3)  I saw many of the places that Tom lived and experienced in his youth.

4)  I had a great beef stroganoff in the East Village.

5)  We toured the Brooklyn Museum.

6)  I stood on the remains of the World Trade Center and contemplated how much the world had changed.

Tom and I had a great adventure, even if it was not the vacation I would have planned for us.   Today’s Star Tribune has another story of a vacation that didn’t quite go as planned.  The New York Times’ Frugal Traveler has an epic story of a Puerto Rican adventure gone bad.

I think the takeaway is that no trip goes entirely as planned, unless you have very few aspirations.  Every vacation that I’ve gone on  has been waylaid by mysterious illness, sore feet, and the desire to skip whatever plans I might have.  Other causes of disturbance are poor planning, bad weather, and just plain bad luck (I’ve had restaurants that I’ve been dying to try close due to a fire the night before my reservations).

The key seems to be to plan well, be flexible, and if you are planning on visiting friends, limit your dependence upon your friends for transportation and entertainment.  You may want to establish some plans with your friends before you arrive, and then figure out some stuff that you can do without them.  Oh, and you probably will want a little extra money in your budget for unplanned emergencies.

More than once, Tom and I have had to spend an extra night on the road due to weather.  Two or three times, I’ve had flights cancelled and been forced to spend an extra night at an airport hotel.  Even when the hotel was paid for by the airline, the extra meal wasn’t.

Above all, try to find adventure in your misadventure.