Snapshots from Paradise

Sandcastles:

Over the past month, I have watched an old man in a speedo repeatedly build a sandcastle. After the elements and kids destroy it, he starts again.  

His tan skin is leathery and saggy, and there’s a lot of it… on account of the speedo. He makes multiple trips to the ocean back and forth, pail in hand. He scoops up water, returns to the mound, pours, shaves, sculpts, pats. Even though he’s old enough to be someone’s great-grandpa, to me, he looks like a little kid.

After watching him one morning from my lanai, (that’s Hawaiian for balcony), I decided to walk down to the beach for a closer look. I said, “This is a surprise. I thought you were building a sandcastle.”

 Full of indignation, he spits out, “sandcastle,” as if the words taste bad in his mouth. He excused my absurdity and decided to forgive me after showing an appropriate amount of respect and reverence for his talent. We chatted for a bit, and he told me all about his hobby. He explained that the last “sandcastle” was a dragon and his current project is a tiger: both in honor of the Lunar New Year. And then he confided that his wife doesn’t like all the attention he gets. “Oh,” I said, “but you must meet interesting people from everywhere?” 

“Yes,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye, “like flight attendants from San Francisco.”  

It seems the “old man in a speedo” is a flirt. I guess his wife has a point. 

So, the sandcastle wasn’t a sandcastle at all. And grandpa turned out to be a boy trapped in an old man’s body. And the tiger? Well… it looks more like a liger to me. 

Suntrip: 

I must be getting senior because I held 24-hour Lihue layovers in January. I didn’t trade any of them. Why would I? 

On several trips, I encountered flying partners who didn’t bring a bathing suit. What! Who goes to a beach resort without a suit? Flight attendants who think they’re too heavy to wear one.   

Watch out, reader, I am about to quote myself. 

I always say: “I will never be too old or too fat to wear a bathing suit.” Because I care more about enjoying my life than I do about pleasing your eye. I figure only about 0.05% of the world’s population has perfect bodies. But they can’t have 100% of the world’s beaches and pools. This isn’t a photoshoot or a beauty contest; this is my life. 

We only get so many trips around the sun. My advice: don’t waste those trips to the sun. 

Roadtrip:

Okay, now for the travel part of the blog. Your tour begins here: at the Thrifty car rental. 

After laying around on the beach all month, I decided to rent a Ford Fiesta and venture beyond the resort. I invited my flying partners to join me and, thankfully, they did.

Have you ever seen a group of people who seem to have nothing in common? They’re probably flight attendants. 

Meet my crew: a fascinating Indian woman who speaks 7 languages, a hysterical southern gay gentleman, a young Korean reserve who was literally thrown onto our trip at the last minute. In fact, she’d only packed winter wear. That’s my dress she’s wearing. 

Thinking I was going to be by myself, I had downloaded a driving tour on my phone. Thank God I wasn’t by myself because I could not figure out how the damn thing worked. We literally drove in circles for the first half-hour, passing the same strip mall three times. To hell with the tour. Let’s just drive. 

Our first stop was Poipu Beach. According to the Travel Channel, this is “America’s Best Beach.” I agree, especially for young kids, weak swimmers, and snorkelers. It’s like an ocean pool with clear, calm water. 

When you drive into the entrance, you pass this sacred site. 

I wish I could tell you what you’re looking at, but I can’t. The signs were in Hawaiian. 

Not far down the coastline from there, we stopped at Spouting Horn Park to watch the ocean shoot out of ancient lava tubes.  

Next, we took off to Waimea Canyon State Park. (“The Grand Canyon of the Pacific”) We drove all around the rim and up into the clouds until we realized we’d better start down the winding road before it turned dark. 

On the way down, we pulled over to watch the sunset behind Nihau Island. This Hawaiian island (73 square miles) is owned by the Robinson family and occupied by about 250 natives. I learned that it’s the only place left in the world where the predominant language spoken is Hawaiian. It got its nickname, “the Forbidden Island,” during a polio outbreak in the 1950s. But the name suits it because it’s only accessible by invitation. To visit, either a native resident or a member of the Robinson family has to invite you. We had a few members of the Robinson family onboard a flight earlier in the month, but alas, that encounter did not result in an invitation. Incidentally, the island has been in their family since 1864 when it was purchased by their ancestor from Kamehameha V: fifth monarch of the Kingdom of Hawaii. 

After a full day of touring, we were starving. Another flying partner (not pictured) picked us up from the car rental return and took us out to dinner. He’s Hawaiian and had spent the day visiting his parents. Afterward, he took us to a local noodle shop. 

Before I even tasted the noodles, I loved this place. It’s old-school authentic with a no-nonsense waitstaff. (The kind you try and win over but know you never will.)  

After hand-made wonton saimin and homemade lilikoi chiffon pie, he drove us up another mountain to his high-school lookout. The road was pitch black, but the sky was brilliant and bright. We all stood around looking at the stars, listening to the soundtrack of the ’80s, reminiscing about our own high school lookout, and appreciating yet another view we can’t get in San Francisco. 

Time to head back to the hotel. We piled back into the car and drove on, singing every word to Pandora’s 80’s mix -except for my young flying partner, who had never heard any of the songs. Jammed into the backseat, I asked her if she liked hanging out with us, old flight attendants. She said, “This is the most fun I’ve ever had on a trip.” I laughed because I know she has a long career ahead of her with many more adventures. 

But I agree; this was a fun one.   

The Other Side of the Island:

On my next, seventh, and final layover of the month, my Hawaiian flying partner offered to continue the tour. He showed me what I hadn’t yet seen: the island’s North Shore. 

He and I flew together all month with me as purser and him as the first-class galley. We work well together. Serving is like a dance. When you click with your partner, the service is smooth and graceful. We clicked …during the service. 

But he’s quiet, and I wasn’t sure if he liked me. Turns out -he’s just quiet. 

He is also proud; proud of his heritage and his island. In fact, before every landing, he gets on the PA and points out sights to our passengers. “For those of you seated on the right-hand side….” “And for those on the left….” Passengers love it. 

When he saw that I was interested in his hometown, he graciously offered to show me around. Of course, I jumped at the chance to hang out with a local boy. 

We covered a lot of ground partly because he’s a super-fast walker. I felt like a little kid scampering to keep up. Maybe he’s been in San Francisco too long because his internal clock is definitely not set to island time. But that was fine with me; it just meant that I saw more. 

Like…

The Fantasy Island waterfall (for those old enough to get that reference) 

Poi fields

Beautiful beaches

Sacred ruins

Lava caves

A gorgeous sunset

Lots of chickens (and one peacock)

Are you wondering why there are so many wild chickens roaming around the island? It’s because there are no snakes. These grounded birds have no natural predators. Speaking of which… 

On our grand tour, I saw two separate women hitchhiking. I even watched a car pull over and pick one of them up. I haven’t seen that in America in years, decades. 

So, apparently, Kauai is an island both full of natural beauty AND devoid of predators. 

Paradise!