the hidden place and the other time

[wrotten while on the road.]

Oh my goodness, Kauai.

Kauai is amazing. A lush piece of paradise set in the middle of the Pacific. It is so beautiful, more so in some ways than Maui, if you can believe that. The cliffs rise dramatically inland, the coast tends toward the wild and rough, and the pace of life is leisurely.

I had a condo on Kauai that was larger than I needed but amazingly beautiful, in a complex at the north of the island in a town called Princeville. (It came with its own family of geckos, who I occasionally got glimpses of as the adults chased each other around at night, chirping.) Princeville's close to Hanalei (the place where Puff the Magic Dragon is from, only it's pronounced ha-na-LAY), but it's a far haul from everywhere else on the island.

In contrast with Maui, Kauai isn't nearly as built up, and the people here pride themselves on not being Maui. I had a shopkeeper tell me that she thought that as soon as the white people became the majority on an island, the character of it changed, because "white people are really good at rushing around." Note that this was coming from a resident white person.

I did a lot of wandering around. One day I set out without a destination in mind, going as far as my wheels would let me; it's really difficult to get lost on an island this small. I ended up on Koloa, and then driving up to one of the Waimea Canyon overlooks a bit before sunset.

I ate a huge avocado, and some of the best bananas ever. If you go, stop by Pohaku T's in Old Koloa town, buy a Kauai-made t-shirt, and get a copy of their guide to their favorite places. It's got all kinds of recommendations for places to go on the south shore.

I had no Internet access on the island, which meant that for the first time I really felt like I was on a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific. It was a weird, very isolated feeling, and about Sunday or so I started really missing my sweeties, with whom I'd had only brief phone contact for a few days.

The thing I noticed on Kauai was the greater diversity of birds I saw. I saw the native cardinal, the Japanese white-eye, about a million wild chickens. And you know the nene, the endangered and very rare Hawaiian native goose, who you only see on Haleakala on Maui? There was a resident flock of three that would come in and hang out on the lawns at my condo most mornings and evenings. (Noisy-ass birds!)

The winds are pretty constant, and I found that after a couple of weeks in the islands I'd adapted more or less completely to the weather here. Kauai’s a bit less muggy than Maui tends to be. The beaches aren't quite as nice, or as numerous, and swimming in the winter here is a dicey proposition, but if you're not a beach potato, you probably won't mind.

Kauai is made for laying back and contemplating the universe. The stars are amazing, even at sea level. Everywhere you look, it's beautiful.

A couple of caveats about the place: one, there's a high cop-to-citizen ratio, and the populace seems more or less law-abiding (other than the number of drug violations in Hanalei), so the cops spend their time enforcing the arbitrarily changing and ridiculously low speed limits on what passes for the highways there. They especially like to hang out near the entrances of the popular beaches.

Two: it's pretty rural, except for Lihue. Like all the other islands, everything except fresh island fruit is expensive. (The huge, wonderful avocado I had? $1 at a roadside stand.) The answer? Eat a lot of fruit.

(I also interviewed for a job while I was here, one back home. We'll see if that comes to anything.)

Home!

More later.

(so so happy to be back.)

(Also, if there's been anything interesting going on, let me know; I'm way behind on LJ reading.)

These mostly from my Waihe'e Ridge hike this morning.

My favorite from today being this fellow (girl? the sign didn't say), taken at the Marine Center.

I am here!

Stood in line. Stood in line. Stood in line some more. Then was on a six-hour flight with a screaming child. However, it wasn't a total loss. I read the entirety of A Feast For Crows and Wings to the Kingdom.

I got there, and the airport smelled like a combination of jet fuel and orchids. It's been raining here today. Hard. As in, I had to sit down with a map and plan a new route to my condo, because the main route was all kinds of flooded. It's like Seattle here right now, only like forty degrees warmer. I have a snorleking trip planned for tomorrow morning--cross fingers for calm waters and maybe even a little sunshine.

The car place was all out of compact cars, so they gave me a convertible. It is the New Hotness! If the sun comes out (and it should), this should be a lot of fun. I've never driven a convertible, and I haven't ridden in a convertible for ages. I may actually do the road to Hana all by myself, especially if it gets dry next week. (Right now...not so much fun.)

I should go to the crocery store I passed on the way here, then go fall over.


[oh, yes, and I nearly didn't get here tonight. Our first pass by the airport saw us getting down to 100 feet above he runway and suddenly gaining 30 knots of speed dur to a gust of wind. Second time was the charm, but we were going to get diverted to Oahu until the weather calmed if the plane didn't make the second landing.

When we touched down, the whole plane burst into applause.]

I have always been good at traveling alone.

Don't get me wrong, I do like traveling with people. Especially if I'm going somewhere I've never really been before, and *especially* if it's somewhere that's going to be miles outside of my comfort zone. It really helps, when one has a combination of no direction sense and an inability to understand language in stressful situations, to have someone along with both those things.

However, if I'm going somewhere that's very likely to be within my comfort zone, I really enjoy traveling alone.

I'm a high-energy traveler, as a general rule. I'm not big on lying around on beaches or at swimming pools, though evenings spent writing are always appreciated. I'll eat just about anything strange I can find, I go on random hikes, I walk everywhere I can. (I walk, and I walk, and I walk. If I can walk there, I generally won't take a car.) I ignore the weather; temperatures that would send me scurrying for the shade at home are somehow more tolerable on vacation. I don't sleep very well in new places, so I’m usually up at the crack of dawn, ready to shower and take off for the day.

(A big exception to this is the writing retreats I do; but those are a vacation of a different sort.)

It's interesting to talk to Laura and Bryan about this; for them, a big part of the appeal of travel is having someone to talk to about it, to say, "Did you see that?" and "Wasn't that so cool?" That's something I never even thought of as part of the appeal of travel. I go, I stuff my head full with new things, and then I take some silence to process everything.

It turns out that I am very likely (as in, about 90% sure) going to Hawaii by myself this fall. I've been there once, when I was in high school, and I loved it and have wanted to go back ever since. When the opportunity came open, I decided I was going to be self-indulgent and return to the islands.

I really want to do some hikes while I'm there, but hiking by myself in a state far from home is a different prospect than doing a hike near home; one of the first rules of hiking is to always tell someone where you're going, the route you'll be taking, and when you are going to be arriving back. Not exactly possible when I'm by myself. So I'll bite the bullet and go out with a group or two, I think, which provides a safety net and also means that I don't have to pore over topo maps and plot routes.

But I will go, and there will be plants to commune with, an egregiously twisty road to navigate, good food to eat and utterly wringing-wet air to breathe. My skin will probably love me, a lot. (Right now, it hates me; it is in a nasty dry post-winter funk right now, and no amount of Aveda Hand Relief will stop its sulking. I have promised it a salt scrub in a couple of weeks.)

And it will be good.

*****

My dad turned 60 on the 9th. I meant to call him but I didn't manage to get to it on the day itself, and so last night he called me. I happened to be in Party City shopping for silver paper plates when he called, and for whatever reason (temporary insanity?) decided to actually take the call and get it over with.

So we chat for a few minutes, and I say happy birthday, and then he starts telling me about the cat that lives with him and my mom, Patches. Evidently, he's ill. He was lovingly describing exactly what was coming out of both ends of the cat when I managed to head him off with a well-timed, "Dad, the cell phone battery is dying, I'll talk to you later."

It was even true. Never was the chirp of a battery going flat so welcome.

*****

By the way, behind the cut is my playlist I use when I'm writing Tiamat's Kittens, slightly annotated.

( Read more... )