Kauai mon amour

Six months ago my husband said he wanted to go to Hawaii for spring break, and I shrugged 'maybe'.   

The flight was booked that instant. 

I had missed another baffling subtlety of the English language: maybe is yes when it comes to him wanting to do something. I was furious . He tried to appease me by saying that chocolate flows in rivers there.  Yeah, right.

This gave me six months to worry about the trip.  I am a terrible pre-travel worrier.  Had he told me about the trip the day before I would have thrown a fit, yes, but at least I would have saved myself all the useless anxious thinking.   

Worries ranged from an irrational fear of under-packing combined with a compulsion to over-pack (I literally packed in my head for sixth months, it was horrible), to being physically incapable to settle on a place to stay, to skin cancer, to being mistaken for a humpback whale while on the beach -- it can happen--, to checking our reservations again, and again, never remembering the airline, time and airport.   

Oh but put me on a beach and all is forgotten.  

No one can appreciate sitting in shallow, crystal-clear ocean water the way I do.  We hiked, we let the waves bobble us up and down, we walked miles on deserted beaches.  Whoever said Hawaii is crowded has never been to Kauai in the spring.  The quality of the air there is incomparable, it's rich and warm and it caresses all the pores of your skin at once, and it so fragrant, a mix of ocean richness and tuberose. I could live there.  And I could definitely blog there.

 

This was a sensory experience, a respite from being cooped up inside my head.  The apartment was five steps away from miles of deserted beach. I had tragically over-packed, and so what. I may have looked like a whale but no one tried to harpoon me. 

I loved all the trekking, the discoveries, the hidden beaches at the end of secret trails.

I loved being sandy, salty, wet, then sandy and salty again.  I did not mind my butt eating my bathing suit constantly. I loved seeing nothing but green and blue.  I loved the wind and I loved the fishies, the chicken and roosters everywhere, the palm trees loaded up with coconuts.

Nothing that usually mattered immensely mattered at all.  Just the four of us in Paradise.

 This is a taro field.  Locals grow taro to make something called poi. I wonder if it tastes as good at it looks.  It was never served at any of the restaurants we visited.

And you know what?  On Kauai, chocolate does flow in rivers: I'll be.

 

Comments

[anne]

Wow Corine ..such a wonderful trip.. :-) I think I could get over pent up feelings there too!

[mlle paradis]

What a surprise! You had a nice time! Glad for you!

[Angelina]

Fabulous!

[susan]

your mental thinking about trip is so like mine! glad you had a wonderful adventure and glad to have you back!

[Angie Muresan]

Glad you got to enjoy yourselves and that you weren't harpooned, Corine.

[suzanne]

i love reading your words...!
sounds like your vacation did exactly what it's suppose to do... :)

[Katy Allgeyer aka fishgirl]

What!? No bikini shots?! And we know you've been starving yourself for 6 months...but seriously, hope you get to go again real soon :)

[Canada Flowers]

I'm officially declaring my surfing blog time for this site. Because such lush meadows and shots. Also, your wording reminds me of Alan Furst and 6 Children Hamako Killed bisaya short film on youtube.

[muralimanohar]

Ha..I DO blog from here. At least, Hawaii, anyway. :p It seems like that is ALL I am blogging lately, too...that and sewing. And poi is a very acquired taste. VERY acquired. I love it, though. My kids, not so much. :p

Next time, swing through Oahu, hey?