Jenni

Saturday morning, we metroed our way over to Malá Strana, or the Little Quarter. The sun came out!!

tram

We had the option of climbing up to the castle or taking the tram. Hello, tram. We’d only walked about 4,000 miles already. In the cold.

st vitus’ cathedral

We got there right as the castle (Pražský Hrad) opened. We would discover later that this was a most excellent plan.

The centerpiece of the castle is St. Vitus’ Cathedral. It’s too monstrous for photos. I’ve never see a church that big. It was begun in 925 by St. Wenceslas. 1,000 years later, it was completed.

st vitus’ cathedral

We bought tickets for the tour, because that was the only way to get into the crypt. How could you not go into the crypt? Well, it included other important things, too, but mostly the crypt.

altarpiece

As with all the churches we had visited, no photography was allowed. Hence the crappy quality. It’s not like that really stops me, but I have to be quick.

st vitus’ cathedral

We saw the tomb of Good King Wenceslas. The book even pointed out the ornate door handle to which he clung while being murdered by his own brother. Hey, at least he didn’t get tossed out of something. Most others did, from what I hear.

crypt

The crypt was very quiet, but not terribly spooky. They had some of the pieces of the original church there, and also the tombs of the royal people not important enough to get a spot on the main floor.

royal tombs

stained glass window

tomb of st john nepomuk

We saw the tomb of the little man we rubbed for good luck. You’re not allowed to rub his solid-silver coffin for good luck, though. The guards would defenstrate you with a quickness.

rose window

While surreptitiously taking photos in the cathedral, I tried to blend in with a busload of Japanese tourists. Then I realized I was a head taller than all of them. I fail at blending.

st vitus’ cathedral

royal palace

gold mosaic on st vitus’ cathedral

The south-facing side of the cathedral is the most interesting. One face of it has a giant gold mural, that seems not in keeping with the rest of it. Even the windows have gold accents, whereas they don’t on the rest of the building. Also, there’s a large gate decorated with the signs of the zodiac.

gemini!

This is the side that faces the palace, which pretty much takes up the whole south wall of the castle.

golden lane

Our tour included Golden Lane, which was also critically important to me, because Kafka had lived there for a few years. It was originally built for the palace guards, but became a slum until they cleaned it up and made it all nice and touristy. Now it’s a series of souvenir shops. It’s very cute. The houses are painted in a rainbow of colors, and don’t seem like the kind of thing you’d find in a castle.

franz kafka lived here

ego

I’m not sure what this sculpture is about. It doesn’t really fit, and I can’t find anything about it. It’s right outside Dalibor Tower, near the back of the castle.

We had coffee and went to the bathroom with the Japanese tourists, then saw Dalibor Tower, where they would lock prisoners in a deep underground dungeon to starve to death.

view of the little quarter from the castle

I haven’t mentioned yet that Prague has an Eiffel Tower, too. It’s on the hill in the distance, hiding behind those trees.

looking south

looking east

looking northeast

I’ve heard Prague is always hazy like this. There’s definitely a lot of air pollution. By the end of the trip, I thought I was getting a cold. I was coughing, sniffling, and my throat hurt.

In the far-off distance in this photo is the Soviet-era TV tower. A modern artist was hired to spice it up; it now sports gigantic babies crawling up and down the legs. It’s really freaky. [here’s a movie of the view]

vladislav hall (royal palace)

Of course we had to check out the palace, if only because it had stairs specially-designed for horses. This hall supposedly looked like a giant market in the olden days. In fact, I bet it was exactly like the Christmas Festival in Old Town Square. I hope, at least. Wait, we haven’t gotten there yet.

horse stairs!

My favorite spot in the palace (besides the horse-stairs), was the site of the DEFENESTRATION. I’ve always loved that word. Hell, I’ve always loved that concept. They have a term for tossing people out windows!! Turns out that word originated here, with the infamous defenestration of 1618. The dudes survived by landing in a dung heap. Just FYI.

Wait, can we just review why Praha is the coolest? Golem, defenestration, Kafka, horse stairs, people being tossed from bridges, Pilsner, and Squash-brand cherry vodka for, like, $4. Granted, Budapest did have a holy hand. That’s nothing to shake a stick at.

crowd outside st vitus’ cathedral

We walked back up towards the front gates of the castle, and holy crap. There were a million people there. We were really glad we got there early.

We bought a ton of stuff at the castle gift shop. I got a tarot deck with Prague scenes on it, and a bunch of gifts.

us, reflected

my favorite photo: restaurant on hradcanske námestí

We walked up the hill through Hradcany, the little town that had sprung up around the castle. It’s mostly tourist-oriented now: fancy hotels and restaurants. And also a famous pilgrimage site, the Loreto.

the loreto

The Loreto was specifically built to attract people on pilgrimage, so it’s way over-the-top. I had to really sneak photos in this place, because the guards were vehement.

santa casa

The centerpiece of the place is the Santa Casa. It’s supposed to be a replica of the house the Virgin Mary lived in when visited by the angel. I didn’t really understand it until I went inside: it looks like a little cottage on the inside, as opposed to the weird Greek monument it appears to be externally.

At the Loreto, we had one of the creepiest moments of the trip. In the main chapel, the Church of the Nativity, they have several relics, including skeletons that are fully clothed and have wax faces molded on. While I was being consumed with horror over those, Bertine was having a panic attack over the cherubs. They were evil, demonic-looking cherubs. They were unbelievably scary.
There was a guard standing at the back of the chapel, yelling at people with cameras. I had mine up my sleeve, but didn’t dare. It absolutely killed me that I could not photograph one of the scariest things on Earth.

[Note: I have this described as such in my journal: scary² cherubs! Also, here’s a fascinating movie of me writing in my journal]

statues outside the loreto

looking toward the castle from the loreto

changing of the guard

We got back down to the castle in time to see the changing of the guard. There was a huge crowd there. Afterwards, we decided to walk down the massive staircase to the Little Quarter.

view from the castle gates

archbishop’s palace

bundled up

steps to little quarter

looking up towards the castle

We were really glad we’d chosen not walk up. There’s a limit to how much two people can move in a week’s time. Not surprisingly, even with all the awesome food we ate, I lost weight in Europe. So much exercise!

puffy!

We explored the little quarter, which is mostly shops and restaurants and a very steep hill. There’s a cute little Italian neighborhood there. We stopped for lunch at an overtly-touristy place that cost way too much, but the food was great as always. I had blini-like pancakes with spinach, garlic, and cheese, and Bertine had broccoli gratin. We had Pilsners, because finally we had made one critically-important realization about the dehydration situation: drink beer. It’s even cheaper than pop by volume, and you get a glass so large you’ll be lucky to be able to drink it all. Problem solved.

near the church of st. nicholas

plague column

statue of st. cyril in the church of st. nicholas

old engraving in the wooden railing upstairs

We toured the baroque Church of St. Nicholas, which was quite a change from the gothic cathedral we’d seen that morning. It was all gold and (fake) marble, and warm colors. The dome is one of the best-known landmarks on the west side of the Vltava River.

church of st. nicholas

nerudova street

We shopped in the Little Quarter. It was much like shopping in Old Town. We stopped at a little shop to buy a tiny bottle of absinthe. How can you be there and not try it?

beethoven plaque on the house at the golden unicorn

We got a little confused by the Wallenstein Palace and walked into some highly-secured building. The guards looked at us funny and directed us to the right place. There was a line outside, and we’d kind of seen enough in terms of palaces already. We decided to cross the river back to Old Town.

charles bridge

little quarter and castle

old town bridge tower

old town hall

We walked all the way back to Old Town Square, which felt like quite a ways. We were thrilled to see that the Christmas festival had begun!!

the christmas festival

The booths had either food or crafts and souvenirs. The very first booth we saw had roasted chestnuts. I was ecstatic.

choir in old town square

jan hus monument

We circled the festival, checking it all out. There was a raised bridge in the center, so people could climb up and see the whole thing from above. There was a little nativity-like petting zoo, a giant Christmas tree, and a choir performing all day. We nearly died of excitement when we saw the carp pond on the map. However, it was too early in the season to buy your Christmas carp. We missed out.

jan hus with the church of st nicholas in the background

potato pancakes, sausages, and such

We tried everything there. I had potato cakes kind of like latkes, with fennel in them. Bertine had a sausage wrapped in a potato pancake. I finished up the chestnuts and had a cappuccino. Our very favorite thing, though, was a grilled pastry they were making on round rollers. (We just called it ‘circle’, as in, “Where are people getting those circles?”) They were so good.

grilled pastries

I wanted to come back and see the festival after dark, so we had an hour to kill. We decided to take our stuff back to the hotel. On the way, we discovered to our vast delight that Humanic had indeed opened just for us.

Bertine bought a pair of shoes. I bought boots and clogs. They’re fabulous, and also cheap. I really wish we had that store in America.

church of st nicholas

We went back out around 7:30 to see Old Town Square lit up. It was just starting to snow big, puffy flakes. It was beautiful.

old town square

The choir was singing Carmina Burana. I made a little video of the scene.

old town hall

We walked around for a while, and I discovered that delayed flash takes good snow-pictures! And then we headed back to the hotel.

church of st nicholas again

staromestská metro station [here’s a movie of this same thing]

We went back to the Turkish place for dinner again. I had a falafel sammich, and she had gyros. We stopped at the Target of Prague again lest we have missed anything exciting before we left. I was sad that we were wrapping it up so soon.

We went back to the hotel, determined to try the absinthe. We split the little bottle (one should be careful with supposed neurotoxins, I hear), watered it down, and added fake sweetener in place of the sugar. It tasted horrible. Like Jagermeister, but worse. It really didn’t do anything for us, but I suspect that was the very small quantity. Hey, we tried it!

Sunday morning, we got up at 6:30 and finished packing up. We had awesome bread and cheese and muesli with yogurt for the last time. Sad. We checked out and headed to the metro. Flaunting the rules yet again, I did not buy a 10Kc ticket for my suitcase. I’m a scofflaw.

Because it was hard to find this information anywhere, and the travel guide says to take the shuttle to the airport, I’m here to tell you it’s easy to take public transportation. Take the green line to Dejvická, then the 119 bus from that stop to the airport. Technically it should be two 20Kc tickets, but we were stupid tourists and just had one. It only takes about 20 minutes to get to the airport from the end of the metro line.

We checked in at the airport, and for some reason, they could issue me a boarding pass for the connecting flight in Amsterdam, but not Bertine. We were pretty early, so we bought snacks in the airport, and sat and had coffee. Near the gate, I was picking through my coins and bills, and realized I had one of everything but the 50Kc bill. Bertine ran and bought me a sudoku book, and paprika chips for herself, just so I could have that bill.

As in Budapest, we got to take a fat bus to the plane out on the tarmac. I almost started crying as I walked up the steps and got on the plane.

praha airport

The flight was late, and we only had an hour layover in Amsterdam to begin with. Captain Dykstra got on the intercom and said, “We do our very best to fly as fast as possible to get you to Amsterdam on time.” I loved Captain Dykstra. The flight on Czech National Airlines was supposed to be 1:30, but we made it in an hour and ten minutes.

We went to the transfer desk at Schipol to get Bertine’s pass and were told that the place was already boarding, an hour early. That seemed strange. We went through security at the gate and were interrogated by the agents there, as expected. They examined our passports twice, and then right as I was supposed to board the plane, they pulled me aside and checked my passport again. I figured that meant I was flagged at customs in the US, the bastards.

The DC-10 was booked full. Bertine and I were seated far apart, both in the annoying center 5-seat section, but the guy next to me agreed to trade with her. At least we got to sit together. We went through the same snack, pop, dinner, pop, coffee routine, but it didn’t do much to pass the time. We watched Fantastic 4 and The Honeymooners, which made me want to slit my throat twice. It was hot, and felt like the longest flight ever. Finally, the giant map popped back up on the screen, and we were over Michigan. In less than an hour, we were home.

We really had no trouble with customs in the US. The guy asked me if I had any liquor; I told him I had an empty absinthe bottle. In the meantime, Bertine was carrying through a big bag of Czech and Hungarian liquor, and they didn’t even ask her about it.
The first thing we did after the baggage claim was stop at Starbucks. Europe ain’t never heard of ‘grande’.

[Thanks to Bertine for all the movies!]

So here’s the Vegas stuff I have decided to tell you about! The rest you will have to imagine with your twisted little minds, amigos mios.

• It’s not that I didn’t lose the money I gambled, but I took a really really long time doing so on video poker. I make up in luck what I absolutely lack in card-counting ability.
  The people around us didn’t seem as amused by us yelling, “FIVE OF A KIND!!” as we were.
• I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard in my life as I did playing Dance Dance Revolution. I was out on the street hopping around like an idiot, trying to devise a communication system based on arcade game dance moves.
• Aerial acrobats are freaky, but still not as freaky as buskers. Or giant clowns.

  

• I screamed my fucking head off on the rollercoaster at New York, New York. LOVED IT.

  

  I also went on the Big Shot on top of the Stratosphere, the thing that catapults you up a pole like you’re going to shoot off the top of the building. I didn’t scream like I wanted to on that, because I was with three drunk fratboys:
  Attendant: Check your pockets for anything loose. Is that a cellphone, man?
  Drunk Fratboy #3: Dude, that’s my DICK!

• Paul took us to tapas at Cafe Ba Ba Reeba at the Fashion Show Mall, which apparently used to be superghetto but is now fantastically equipped with stores like Diesel, Quicksilver (see my Hawaii travel journal for my feelings about surf shops), and Paul Frank (the Julius monkey is way old, but the skully and Wienermobile and pirate shit rocks hard).
  Two things of note:
  1. I’ve never been able to go out for tapas. It’s usually 100% meaty. This was unbelievable. The drinks were just ok, but I’m not complaining because I take 4 sips of a martini and I’m good. to. go. Cheap drunk!
  2. I LOVE PAUL. You don’t realize how much you miss someone until you spend time with them again. We reminisced like a couple of old-timers. He remembered all the stupid jokes we used to have, even some I’d forgotten. It was so awesome to see him again.
• I think we saw all the casinos on the strip except the trashy ones I’d seen before, like the Boardwalk, the Frontier (free bikini mud wrestling!), and the Barbary Coast.

  

  My favorites are the Aladdin (the shopping), Caesar’s (the shopping), the Wynn (the most insanely opulent and miraculously least-tacky), New York New York (the entertainment), Paris (the insane gaudiness), and Mandalay Bay (the restaurants).

  

  MGM struck me as the stupidest, but maybe because I had to walk something like two miles through its vast cavernousness to a Starbucks that was technically right across the street from my hotel.
  Have you ever really noticed casino carpet?

  

• BTW, Americanos cost $4-5 in Las Vegas. Fuckers.
• We had a great view of ass from our room at the Tropicana.

  

  Also, Tom Jones on the giant video screen at MGM. He wasn’t there til next week, though. SIGH.

• Walking around in 100-degree weather after dark is disturbing. It’s fine during the day in the sun. One day we walked from the Tropicana, at the south end of the strip, to the Stratosphere and back. Ouch.
• The Fremont Street Experience would be most excellent if you were totally baked, dude. Otherwise, it’s just bizarre.

  

  I’m a little sad that the cowboy is under that gigantic big-screen-TV-canopy-thing now, too.

• On Monday, we went to rent a convertible. They were out of Mustangs, and only had Sebrings. Shudder. David the Budget Man pointed at the parking lot and said, “What about that one? It’s a V8.”
  “We’ll take it,” I answered.
  Two hours later, Hot Park Ranger Man found us in the middle of the Mojave Desert, our Bright Red 50th Anniversary Edition Thunderbird Convertible parked half on the road, half on the sand, just past a wash-out, with both doors and the trunk open, music blasting, roaming in the scrub looking for scorpions (me) and taking photos of the approaching storm (her).

  

  He said, “I seriously hope you girls are turning around and heading back.” Perhaps we seemed a little unprepared for desert survival?
  Was it the flipflops?
  He hung out for a while and told us the travails of a park ranger, which are basically that he wants them to mark more hiking trails in the park (there are currently two, even though the reserve is something like 90 million square miles of nothingness), and that his job is mainly to keep people from dying in the heat. Which apparently they do at an alarming rate.

  

  It was actually only in the 90s in the desert that day, due to the occasional rain. We wandered not too far from the road on the hiking trail closer to I-15.

  

  

  I spooked jackrabbits and white chipmunks from under fallen Joshua tree branches as I crept up to this broken-down shack at the intersection of the railroad tracks, near the Cima Store (WE ARE OPEN! KNOCK LOUDLY!).

  

  There was rusted sheet metal and old pre-pulltab cans scattered around it for a hundred feet, and a pile of untorched kindling in the middle of the crumbling floor.
  We raced through the desert from Baker, California to Las Vegas, never going under 90. It was so Fear and Loathing, minus the beat-up sun hat.

  

  And the ether.

Stephanie and I went to Hawaii and visited three islands: Oahu, the Big Island, and Maui. We saw volcanoes and beaches and rain forests and many amazing things. I love Hawaii and want to go back as soon as possible. You can see the entire Flickr photoset here!

Read from the beginning below, or jump to each day:

• 6/30: Arriving in Oahu
• 7/1: Waikiki, The Big Island
• 7/2: The Big Island (Volcanoes National Park)
• 7/3: The Big Island (Volcanoes National Park)
• 7/4: The Big Island, Maui
• 7/5: Maui
• 7/6: Maui (Haleakala)
• 7/7: Maui, Oahu
• 7/8: Oahu
• 7/9: Oahu (Pearl Harbor)

Thursday morning, I went to work bright and early, then headed to the airport at 1pm. Our flight left at 2:30, but we sat around on the tarmac for an hour because apparently the plane was fatter than expected, due to some overbooking and general poor planning on the part of Northwest Airlines, as is their tradition. I set to work on my sweater, and found myself with a fully complete body by the time we arrived in Honolulu 8 hours later.

We landed at 7, which was midnight for us. We did not get lei’d, although the people with limos awaiting them did, the jerks. We took a long shuttle ride to our hotel in Waikiki, and found ourselves in a gigantic, very cold suite.

We ordered pizza and went to bed around 9:30, although we were so exhausted from the long day that we stayed up for another hour giggling hysterically, and finally passed out.

I woke at 4:30am, and we were up and wandering around by 6:30. We got coffee across the street at our hotel’s other complex, and cut through the building to the ocean. We took off our shoes and started walking up the beach. There were a bunch of old folks taking hula lessons at the south end. Plumeria littered the ground and smelled amazing; I spent the day with flowers in my hair.

Even at 7 in the morning, there were people out surfing and laying in deck chairs at their hotels. Near the breakwater, we met a guy who said he’d come from LA to Hawaii a year ago. He told us about the events on the beach, and directed us toward Diamond Head. We started off towards that hike, but once we got passed the zoo and about 20 different gardens, we realized there was no way we’d be able to walk there and climb it, see the sights, and get back to the hotel before the noon checkout time, since it was 10 already. We headed back and, of course, we had walked far more than we realized.

We checked out of the hotel, stashed our stuff there, and headed back out to find lunch, then shop. Waikiki is gaudy and amusing, and has insane amounts of shopping, even though it’s a very strange blend; they have very high-end designer boutiques intermingled with regular clothing stores, souvenir shops, and ABC Stores (a sort of tourist convenience store), which are located on at least every other block. There are endless malls, but the restaurant variety kind of sucks, unless you’re wanting seafood or a gigantic steak. But that is the way with the tourist locales.

waikiki beach

Everyone we talked to was so friendly and talkative. I was charmed by all the ‘aloha’ and ‘mahalo’. I always forget how different that is from the upper midwest, where some people are inclined to flinch when spoken to.

I managed to restrict my shopping to a few tshirts, since I didn’t want to break out the spare suitcase until I really had to. We laid in the sun for an hour at our hotel pool, and spent more time at the beach. Then we went back to the hotel and caught the shuttle back to the airport. We left at 4:45 and reached the airport at 6pm; it’s ten miles away. Thus is the very VERY annoying traffic situation in Honolulu. (I’m amused by the fact they have interstates. There’s maybe 50 miles of highway total, and they’re usually packed like a parking lot).

We took our first inter-island flight on Aloha Air. I was far too excited at the concept of open seating, having never flown on anything smaller than a DC-9. I was even more thrilled by the fact they had beverage service on the 30-minute flight to the Big Island. The plane is at altitude for 10 minutes at the most; they barely have time to pass out cups and collect the trash before landing.

We arrived at the Kona airport and got to deplane right onto the tarmac. I nearly peed with excitement. It was so oldschool and amusing. We walked the two feet to the baggage claim, waited 5 minutes, then walked another 2 feet to the rental car shuttle. The Kona airport is seriously a small group of tiki-style huts on a giant lava field. It was really starting to feel like Hawaii.

We picked up our first car, a champagne-colored Cavalier named Captain Cook. We drove the ten miles to the hotel in Kailua-Kona (I still can’t figure out which of those is the actual town), and checked into our alarmingly 60s-style hotel. It was after 9pm, so we went out in search of food in the tiny town, but shortly gave up because everything in town was closed or packed-full of drunk people. We decided we just wanted sleep instead. In true me-style, I woke up screaming around midnight, and jarred Stephanie so badly she was up most of the rest of the night.

I got up at 7 and felt like maybe I had already adjusted to the time change. Stephanie and her sunburn (which was substantial enough to constitute another entity) got up and we headed off down “Highway” 19 (highways in Hawaii are something entirely different than in the rest of the universe. They could conceivably term a cattle track a highway, from what I saw there.) We were in search of food, and soon discovered nothing was open, not even the coffeeshops. The whole town of Honaunau was without power. We finally found a grocery store in Oceanview, and bought fruit and snacks. In the midst of the lava-dust parking lot, they were hosting some kind of weird outdoor flea market thing, with fruits I’d never seen before.

old lava flows

The Kona Coast is all trees, ferns, flowers, and coffee farms. About 40 miles to the south, the lava fields begin. The first time I saw them, I wondered why all the earth was plowed up like that. It looked like a freshly-tilled field in Wisconsin, only with scrubby plants. The colors range from brown to grey to black. I thought it was what it must look like on the moon.

We drove through a cute little town with a classic car parade and a giant sea turtle painted on the roof of the main building, very close to the southernmost point in the US. We stopped to see a black-sand beach along the south coast of the Big Island; it was incredible. The sand is very gravelly and hard to walk on until you’re close to the water, and then it’s fine and powdery and warm from the sun. We climbed over lava flows and watched black and red crabs scrabbling over the rocks. I was really smart and wore flip-flops to do this. Also, we very quickly discovered that one cannot spend a single moment outside in Hawaii without sunscreen. Within 10 minutes, I could feel my nose burning.

We got to Volcanoes National Park, made the obligatory stop at the visitors’ center to pee and see if the rangers were hot, then set off for some hiking. We saw steam vents, which made walking around in the heat extremely unpleasant, and then the sulfur vents like one sees at Yellowstone.

steam vent

sulfur banks

kilauea crater

offerings to pele

We saw the crater at a couple different overlooks, then spent time walking around the gravelly lava rock. I was fascinated by these piles of rocks I saw everywhere; at first I thought they were trail markers, but there were way too many. I still can’t figure out what they were about, but I fell in love with them.

We hiked up Devastation Trail to the other big crater, then toured the Thurston lava tube. The lava tube portion of the park was the first real rain-foresty environment I’d ever seen in my life. It was amazing.

devastation trail

kali-kilauea crater

thurston lava tube

By 2pm, we were exhausted from the hiking and not having much to eat. We decided to drive to Hilo, which was the opposite direction from our hotel, and the other “big” city on the island. It was probably the lack of food that made us extremely cranky, but we were immensely pissed off at Hilo. We couldn’t find the downtown. We could only locate fast food and Wal-Mart and a crappy mall. We drove in circles until finally the guidebook led us to the Hilo Bay Cafe, one I had originally chosen.

The food was excellent, and we were both reminded of Real Food Daily in L.A. at the exact same time. Our faith in Hilo was restored.

We asked our server girl if it would be faster to take the loop around the top of the island from Hilo back to Kona, becase it seemed it might be quicker that way (technically, there’s the Saddle Road that cuts across the middle of the island, but apparently it’s only passable half the time). She said it was a nicer drive to go that way, so we did. On the way out, we discovered the real downtown Hilo, and our faith was doubly-restored. It wasn’t the industrial, boring city I had read about at all. It had a cute little downtown, an awesome farmer’s market, and a natural foods store where I stocked up on healthy treats like a crazy person.

Eleven miles north of Hilo, we turned off to see Akaka Falls. The route led us through a tiny town of maybe six buildings, with a very cute cafe where we stopped for coffee. We drove up the hill through bamboo farms, then hiked in to Kahuna Falls, then Akaka Falls.

akaka falls

This was even more rainforest than it had been at the national park. I couldn’t get over it. Monstrous trees, ferns, and dangling vines everywhere. It was so humid it was painful to breathe. It had its own little local rainshower.

It seemed as if there were hundreds of birds singing in the trees, but I couldn’t get a glimpse of them at all. It was beautiful.

We drove up the coast over valleys, each with their own waterfall. Near Waimea, we took the exit and drove up to see the Waipio Valley, along the north coast. The travel guide warned us three times to not drive Captain Cook down into the valley, as he would likely never come out. Just the walk to the overlook was so steep I was worried about falling down the hill. We got to see the sun starting to set over the ocean.

waipio valley

We drove back to Kailua in the dark, which pretty much sucks on those Hawaiian “highways”. We decided to give in to the ridiculous touristy aura of the tiny main drag in Kona, which was all bars and restaurants on second-floor decks over ABC Stores and the like. We went to Lulu’s, because the book said they were offbeat and their servers had horrible attitudes; it screamed Luce to me. Of course, no place can ever be Luce but the real thing. The main lesson of the night was do not make eye contact with drunk guys at any cost!

But the nachos were awesome.

We arose mas early, got coffee, and headed back to Volcanoes National Park. Stephanie made the drive in about 2 hours, which is remarkable; it’s only 90 miles, but then it’s also Hawaii. We took Chain of Craters Road 20 miles down to the southern coast, where Kilauea is still actively producing lava.

On the way, I called the 800 number to get the lava update. They tell you where red lava was last sighted in the park, and give you about a million safety precautions. You drive down to the ranger station at the end of the road (it used to be a much longer road until it was buried in lava), you hike in a half-mile, and then you start climbing. They tell you to come fully prepared for a hardcore hike, and not to even think about it if you’re any kind of pussy.

The park ranger at the station explained to us where the lava was sighted: they had four beacons set up, three following the coast to mark the do-not-cross-or-fall-in-the-ocean-and-die line, and then the fourth inland near the furthest reaches of the safety zone. He said the lava could be found somewhere around the 3rd and 4th beacons, somewhat inland. We set off on the hike.

I’m having a very hard time explaining the hike through the lava field. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, and nothing I ever expected to see in my lifetime. It was the most surreal, barren, and beautiful landscape. It makes me cry to think about it now; it was completely unbelievable.

lava spilling into the pacific

As we climbed lava hills along the coast, we could see the steam plume rising from the ocean. We had been warned that the vapor from the plume contained hydrochloric acid and bits of lava glass. To get out to the fourth beacon, however, you kind of have to spend some time near the plume. It made me nervous.

The route out to the first beacon was marked with little glow-in-the-dark tabs to lead the way. People hike the route at night, because it’s easier to see the red lava. (Having done that hike during the day, I think anyone who does it at night is either insane or suicidal.) Once you get there, you’re on your own… you know the general direction of the beacon, but it’s way too far away to see it. You just walk and hope to find it. We managed to find 2, then completely missed 3 somewhere near the coast. As we were about to collapse from fear of being lost in the lava field, we found 4, and took triumphant photos with it (involving rock hands, as usual).

pahoehoe

I was pretty worried at that point about the steam plume. I licked my lips and had the most horrible taste in my mouth. In addition, the lava out that far was a lot less stable. There were big collapsed holes where gas bubbles had burst. I’d walk over areas that were much, much hotter than the rest. We knew there had to be fresh stuff nearby, but didn’t know how much longer we should be out there. Finally, we saw a couple walking back from much farther out; they said they saw some red rocks about 45 minutes away, but no flowing lava or anything. We didn’t want to die and were running low on water, so we decided to head back. It was a hell of a long hike, and it was hot.

fresh lava – still glass

Halfway back to the ranger station, Stephanie slipped and slid down onto a rock. Well, lava being like glass, it did some damage. She had blood running down the back of her leg like crazy. We did our best to clean it up with Kleenex, and she had to limp the last couple miles back to the ranger station. By the time we got there, we were out of water, covered in this strange volcano dust probably consisting mostly of acid, and exhausted.

We went to Volcano Village and found nothing of use, so we drove into Hilo for supplies to patch her up. We then drove back around the top of the island (which is now known as the ‘fast route’), and arrived in the Kona area around six.

We drove south 20 miles or so to the national historic park of Puuhonua o Honaunau. It had been a sacred site and place of refuge in the 16th century for warriors and people who had violated kapu (taboo). [Note: kapu quickly became one of our favorite words of all time.]

the big’un was about 6″ long.

We arrived at the perfect time. The sun was starting to set, and the place was beautiful and serene. It was a salt-and-pepper sand beach around an inlet, with ceremonial huts and tiki idols. We climbed on the lava rock amongst tidepools and and looked for sea turtles.

puuhonua o honaunau

We both spent time wandering around by ourselves, and I felt like it was one of the most perfect, calming places I’d ever been. I took almost 40 photos there, just trying to capture it.

We stood with the tiki statues at the mouth of the little inlet and watched the sun disappear into the ocean. It’s a place and time I’ll never forget.

After dark, we drove back to Kona Town and the touristy strip again for dinner. This time it was enchiladas at a Mexican place. I realized as I was sitting there overlooking the street that I had become completely accustomed to that constantly-sticky feeling one gets from excessive heat and humidity. It’s something that drives me crazy at home, but in Hawaii it just seemed to fit.

We got up early and stopped at Starbucks for coffee before heading to the airport. I was way too excited to buy the special edition Hawaiian Starbucks card, to complement my superspecial ‘original’ card from Seattle. If I was also supersmart I’d have bought extras, because baristas always try to buy them off me. Alas, I am not supersmart at all.

rock graffiti

We had discovered the night before that the Big Island has some of the most fascinating road-graffiti I’ve ever seen. North of Kailua-Kona, it’s all black-rock lava fields. People take white rock and leave messages all over. They’re everwhere, and must look amazing from a helicopter.

The Kona airport, as I’ve mentioned, is a series of tiki huts. There’s the long building with all the check-in counters, and once you get past there, it’s a few huts for gates, and restaurant/bar hut, and a shopping hut. We spent 5 minutes in the shopping hut buying tacky postcards, and the rest of the time in one of the gate-huts writing them out. Luckily, I had about 30 of them to send, or I’d have been bored to death.

kona tiki-huts

We arrived at the usual pre-flight time, which meant way too early for such a little airport. It took about 5 minutes to return the car, get the shuttle back (the shuttles at the Kona airport are completely unnecessary), and check in. This time we were flying Island Air, and the people were just as friendly. The flight was barely half an hour long, but we still got beverage service.

haleakala

We flew to Maui on a turboprop jet that was smaller than a tour bus. I loved it. We could see both of the islands at the same time from the air. I saw the huge resorts around Wailea, Haleakala, and sugar cane fields as we landed.

wailea resorts

As before, we got to climb right out onto the tarmac. The Maui airport was much bigger, though; jets are allowed to land there.

Since it was only 9:30, we decided to set out on the road to Hana, which the book described as an all-day drive (it’s 52 miles). We got the exact same car in silver and named him Captain Hook. We stopped at what was soon to become one of my favorite natural-foods markets (Down to Earth) for picnic fare, and set off on our way from Kahului.

surfers at Hookipa Beach

The road to Hana begins in Paia, a town which quickly became a favorite. It’s on the windward side,
so it’s all about windsurfing. Full of cute shops and restaurants, it’s the kind of place I love to wander. Past Paia, we wandered around Hookipa Beach at the overlook, watching the surfers and gawking at the color of the water in the tidepools. It seemed that the ocean along the beaches in Maui looked a lot different that it did on the Big Island; much more clear and turquoise.

The drive up the road to Hana is amazingly slow. There wasn’t even much traffic at that time of the morning, but it’s a tiny 2-lane ‘highway’ that turns into a single lane on bridges, of which there are more than fifty. You round a switchback at the edge of a cliff, drive down into a gulch, stop at a one-lane bridge, wait til it’s clear, then cross. Then up out of the gulch, around another tight cliff-switchback, and repeat. Each gulch had its own stream and/or waterfall coming down from Haleakala. We saw gigantic groves of bamboo, dense hanging vines, and the road was littered with flowers. We saw banana, pineapple, sugarcane, coconut, and papaya farms. It smelled like eucalyptus the whole route.

We turned off to drive down to the Keanae Peninsula, a tiny old village on a lava flow. The coast was lava rock and tidepools, with waves slamming up over the rocks. I couldn’t believe how picturesque Maui was. It was almost too much to absorb.

Outside Hana, there were roosters running around all over the road. I was a huge fan of Hawaiian Road Cock (not so much of the Hawaiian Road Weasels we saw in both living and flattened form… apparently they were some kind of mongoose). We made it to Hana close to lunchtime, and visited the famous Hasegawa General Store. I tried Maui potato chips and was unimpressed (they also made me sleepy). We considered driving the 20 miles past Hana to the 7 Sacred Pools entrance to Haleakala National Park, but the road was tiny and I later read that we weren’t actually supposed to take our rental car out there. We went back to Hana and had our picnic lunch at the beach in town, which had reddish-brown sand. After lunch, we headed back down the way we had come.

waterfall and pool

Right as we left Hana, it started raining. It was mostly heavy mist, which didn’t prevent us from getting out of the car and hiking around by a waterfall, even though we came back drenched. Then the rain really began, and we all of a sudden knew the meaning of rainforest. It was insane driving on that tiny, winding road in a downpour. I also started to understand why they said those little streams could turn into raging rivers within seconds.

bamboo grove

As we turned out of one gulch, we saw a giant rainbow. Even though we saw them daily in Hawaii, it was still amazing. We drove back to Kahului and checked into our hotel. It was another of those tacky 60s-style a-frames on the outside, but the rooms were awesome. We changed into bathing suits with our regular clothes over the top, and headed over to the other side of the island, to the resort beaches.

The western side of Maui is the leeward side, and Lahaina is the biggest town (it’s 22 miles from Kahului to Lahaina). North of there, it’s mostly beach resorts. We drove to Kaanapali and found the well-hidden public beach access. For late afternoon on the fourth of July, it wasn’t terribly crowded. The beach was a few miles long with golden sand, and we could see both Lanai and Molokini Crater from there.

kaanapali beach

Now, I haven’t gone swimming since I was in high school, and my skin crawls at the mere thought of putting on a bathing suit. But, dammit, I was in Hawaii, and I was going to swim in the ocean. We laid out our towels and bags, and as Stephanie stood there telling me how she really didn’t want people there to see her in a bathing suit, I ripped off my clothes and ran into the ocean.

It was wonderful. There were big waves coming in, so we jumped around in them and fought against the current. I didn’t like walking in the seaweed that was 20 feet out from the shore, so I started swimming up and down the beach. Stephanie got caught by a big wave and yelled at the top of her lungs, “IT’S PULLING ME OUT TO SEA!!!” I laughed so hard I almost drowned.

We watched the sun set over the ocean again, then decided it was time to head to Lahaina for fireworks. We showered and rode back into town wearing our towels, then got dressed in a parking lot. We went to a little outdoor taco place with 800 varieties of salsa, and took turns going to the bathroom on the other side of the strip mall to wash up. While we were at Starbucks getting the critically-important evening coffee, we heard the fireworks starting. We walked a block down to the main street and found an open spot from which we could see them being fired from the harbor. The fireworks were OK; they were the same standard seen in most places in the country, set to painfully-cheesy patriotic hits such as Born in the U.S.A.. However, it was incredible being there in a huge crowd of people from all over the world, gathered in that little town on Maui.

As the fireworks were ending, a couple teenagers tossed a big firecracker into the middle of a bunch of people. A woman yelled, “MY BABY!!!” exactly in that way panicked women yelled, “MY BABY!!!” in superhero cartoons of my youth. Apparently, it went off too close to her kid’s stroller for comfort. She set her husband on the teenager, and a fight started. Then the shrieky lady was crying, trying to hold her husband and his flying fists away from the stupid kids. The whole group of them had had way too much to drink. Then the cops became involved, and the fun ended.

We wandered in and out of shops along Front Street. I liked Lahaina for its touristy but not-too-tacky atmosphere; it reminded me of a clean version of New Orleans. There were a bunch of surf shops, 10 or so ABC Stores (about 5% of what Waikiki has), various galleries and souvenir shops, and lots of restaurants. I bought some clothes and a bamboo purse. We decided to come back to Lahaina during the day to see the rest of the sights, so we headed back to the car. On the drive back to Kahului, we noticed THE STARS. I had never seen the sky like that before. It was late and we were tired, so we decided to save that for another night as well. We went back to the hotel, showered sand out of our butt cracks, and went to sleep.

Our first full day on Maui was dedicated to relaxing, which is sometimes a challenge for us on vacation. We put off volcano-climbing til the next day, and headed out to see what else was going on around Maui.

We drove south to the resort areas of Kihei and Wailea. Wailea appeared not to have a real town at all; we drove around on the winding drives through resort complexes for miles before finally finding a gas station (in Kihei, conveniently attached to an ABC Store).

We drove back to the superfancy mall in Wailea right as it opened, because Stephanie wanted to go to Tiffany, and also (this may come as a surprise), we’re fans of shopping. I was vastly amused at Tiffany, because we got some attitude presumably because of how we were dressed. If there’s anything snobby salespeople should have learned from the tech boom, it’s that sometimes even slobs have a lot of cash to spend. It’s funny.

The mall had pretty good shops, at least of the chain variety. There were the usual surf shops, souvenir stores, 8 or 9 ABC Stores, and a store selling tons of Paul Frank merchandise. I found the new version of my black skull flipflops, and purchased them with great excitement.

We had read in the travel guide about a highly-rated restaurant called Seawatch, but had trouble finding it in the maze of resort-streets (they’re not like real streets, they’re meant to confuse you into giving up and staying there forever). After two phone calls, we located it in the clubhouse at the Wailea Golf Club. Now that was some funny shit.

We sat out on the veranda, totally out of place and amused. The server had never heard the word ‘vegetarian’, so I got a not-very-good salad, but the view of the ocean was worth it. I had never in my life spent time at a golf course like that, let alone an exclusive one on Maui. It was too entertaining.

We drove back up the coast, stopping in Lahaina for coffee and to visit Hilo Hattie, because it’s the most famous tacky tourist shop in the universe (well, barring maybe Wall Drug and South of the Border), and I felt, after seeing no fewer than a million ads for it, that we should visit. I later discovered that Hilo Hattie is also located in places like Orlando and Las Vegas (as are ABC Stores), still selling Hawaiian souvenirs. I kind of love that.

We drove further up the coast, past Kaanapali Beach and the man still standing on the side of the highway dressed as a cow, complete with a giant rubber udder. We were in search of the top-rated beach on Maui, along the north shore. Kapalua is another resort community, but they’ve provided public access from one area, if you’re lucky enough to find it. Well, we’re determined, so we did.

kapalua beach

We cut through the resort, speedily evading the Jesus-freak who told me I was beautiful and should not be afraid to touch him. We snuck into the bathrooms at the resort and changed into our beach gear, then headed through the pool area and down to the beach. The resort lawn had a giant pool complex with waterfalls, pool and other game tables on the lawn, two bars, a massage booth, and beach chairs, umbrellas, and cabanas everywhere. It was pretty amazing. The beach was a smallish c-shaped inlet, with perfect-colored water and warm sand. We laid out for an hour or so, and I spent a lot of that time staring up through the palm trees at the sky.

the world’s largest banyan tree

We headed back down the coast and stopped in Lahaina again to get drinks and to witness the most gigantic banyan tree ever. It was so large that I hadn’t realized it was just one tree when I drove past it before; I just thought the courthouse had a grove planted in front of it. It’s one tree that takes up an entire city block. There was no way to fit it all in one photo.

On the way back across the island to the Kahului side, we stopped at a roadside fruit stand so I could buy papayas and a pineapple. The man there barely spoke English, and would yell, NO CHEMEEKAL! in response to whatever question I asked. By the time I returned to the car, I had adopted his bizarre accent, and couldn’t stop talking that way. I still catch myself doing it constantly. Do not do this. It ees kapu. It gave me a really bad headache, and still amuses the hell out of me.

pineapple transport

We drove back down to Paia to check out the shops I had put on the mental must-visit list the day before. A lot of them had already closed (since stores and restaurants in Hawaii open and close whenever they feel like it), but I found one awesome one with a maneki neko sarong in the window. It was pretty expensive and I have little use for a sarong in Minnesota, so I decided to pass. I got a glass neko ornament for my xmas tree instead. This didn’t stop me from obsessing about the sarong, however, because it was beautiful.

west maui mountains

Back in Kahului, we pored through the travel guide in search of restaurants that looked promising for vegetarian folks. Usually I have trouble at Italian restaurants, but the menu at Marco’s Deli seemed awesome. We arrived and found this very popular place that looked straight out of 30’s Chicago. It was awesome, and the food and service were great. I ate too much of an Italian vegetable sandwich, and returned to the hotel wanting to die of fullness.

We stopped for picnic fare at Down To Earth and headed up the side of Haleakala. The route between Kahului and the volcano takes you through upcountry Maui, which is another term for ‘Wyoming’. It’s truly bizarre to see cactus and cattle farms in the middle of a tropical island.

It’s a 25-mile drive up the side of the mountain, and we encountered several bike tours coming down. People pack in vans and shuttle to the top of the volcano to see the sunrise, then get outfitted with bicycles and ride down. Seeing those guides, I seriously considered the possibility of moving there and taking up that career. Damn web development for being so lucrative.

silversword

We drove up to the summit, at over 10,000 feet. It took me a few minutes to lose the altitude-dizziness. From the top, you can see 360 degrees around the whole island; the West Maui mountains, the valley in the middle, Lanai, Molokai, Molokini, and even the Big Island far off in the distance. I was cold in my hoodie and capris, but figured I’d warm up while hiking.

We saw the extremely rare silversword plant, which can take up to 50 years to bloom, and is only found on Hawaii. The leaves are truly silver. We were glad to see a single plant in full bloom.

haleakala

We drove down a little ways to the vistor center and trailhead. Both of our travel guides had advised us to avoid the Sliding Sands Trail, but we’re not always great at resisting a challenge.

sliding sands trail

One can take the trail all the way across the park; it’s a two-day hike, so most people pack camping equipment. We just wanted to go down into the crater, so we brought our food and tons of water (having learned from the last volcanic adventure). We had warm clothes and even a first-aid kit.

The first part of the trail, we had to pick our way around horse poop, so the beginning of the hike was alarmingly stinky. Descending into the crater, the trail was fine volcanic gravel and dust, just slightly less difficult than walking on sand. I had the sense that if I stepped off the trail, I would go sliding down the steep hill into a crater and never be seen again.

The thing I like about this kind of adventure (i.e. the kind of thing not everyone in the world gets to experience) is how other people act when you encounter them. Everyone says hi. Everyone is friendly. Everyone wants to talk about what they’ve seen just a mile down the path, or to encourage you with ‘you’re almost there!’ When a pack of horse-riders passed going uphill, every single person greeted us. It’s something you don’t see very often, which is sad.

cheaters!

We walked and walked and sometimes slid our way down the trail, constantly aware that the climb back up was infinitely harder, and supposed to take twice as long. After about three miles, we decided we should probably start heading back. We only had so much water. As we decreased in altitude, it had warmed up somewhat.

above the clouds

The climb back up was brutal. I discovered that if I walked at my usual hiking pace, I’d be painfully out of breath within a matter of 20 paces. It was a combination of the altitude, the steepness of the climb, and the fact that it was like walking on sand. I finally figured out that if I climbed really slowly, at a very constant pace, I could focus on keeping my breathing regular and not feel like I was about to have a stroke.

It’s a lot easier for me to keep moving constantly than stop and rest at regular intervals, so I’d do as long a walk as I could manage, then stop and wait. I noticed that even the people who appeared to be really seasoned hikers, totally tricked out with all the right gear and walking poles, were still moving at a snail’s pace up the mountain. That made me feel a lot better about the fitness I was starting to question. It was one of the most physically demanding things I’d ever done, second only to the Breast Cancer 3Day.

more of those stone-stacks

It was fascinating to see the differences between Haleakala and Kilauea. We had walked on new lava — not just new in terms of geologic time, but fresh lava, still cooling. The terrain around Haleakala was completely different, having had eons to weather. Half of the Big Island still looks very much volcanic, with little vegetation, and huge fields of lava. Everything except the actual crater is fairly overgrown on Maui, and the lava flows in the ocean are eroded into sharp rocks forming tidepools along the shore.

no spectre of the brocken

We were pleasantly surprised to actually survive that hike. We dragged ourselves back to the parking lot, and changed into more comfortable, not-lava-filled shoes at the car. I squatted to stretch my thighs, pulling my arms up behind me, and promptly got a massive cramp between my collarbones, something I’ve never had the joy of experiencing before. We washed volcano dust off our faces and arms in the bathroom, then drove back down the mountain to the another overlook.

The Leleiwi Overlook is one of three places on the planet (the others are in Scotland and Germany) where the Spectre of the Brocken can sometimes be witnessed. If the clouds roll into the crater valley close to sunset, you can sometimes see your gigantic shadow on them, surrounded by a rainbow.

i’m convinced nene are a myth.

We drove back down to Kahului, and went to check out Queen Kaahumanu Center, the big mall that was described in the book as looking like something out of Star Wars. We had trouble with the name, so we just called it Queen Kamehameha Center. Stephanie had a fascination with Hawaiian Macy’s; I expressed my feelings by suddenly having an overwhelming need to vomit, presumably from having eating vegetable chips an hour before. I’ve never rushed through a store to the bathrooms so quickly. That was some excitement I surely didn’t need.

i take this photo on every vacation. unsexy hiking hair.

The mall was, well, eh. It did have a cool futuristic canopy-thing, but the stores were traditional and, on reflection, I believe it was absolutely lacking in ABC Stores, which explains a lot. It didn’t have any decent restaurants, either, so we came up with another plan: we’d go back to Lahaina. We’d been joking constantly about Cheeseburger in Paradise since we’d first seen it, because I assumed from the name that it was another Jimmy Buffett restaurant like Margaritaville, which fills me with rage for no good reason except for the whole parrothead thing. But we knew they had two kinds of gardenburger there, and some goofy touristy entertainment on that order is always amusing. (Later we found out it had nothing to do with Jimmy Buffett at all except for the name. Whew.)

the a-frame hotel

We stopped at the hotel to shower first, because we were nasty. I didn’t even realize how filthy I was until I scrubbed and scrubbed and still managed to get black dirt all over the towel when I dried off. There was volcano dust in our eyes, ears, and noses. Yuck.

For the big Cheeseburger moment, I decided to wear a skirt. This probably amuses only me, but it was funny. We drove to Lahaina and waited in line outside along the ocean for half an hour, eavesdropping on the very very annoying east-coast family, praying we wouldn’t have to sit near them. We ended up seated at a shared table between a group of four who did a lot of staring but not talking, and a couple who talked a lot.

They were from Philadelphia, and were supposed to have arrived in Maui two days before, but had instead gotten in the previous night. They told us the horror story of their flight: layover in New York, layover in Texas, emergency landing for a sick passenger in Phoenix, long refueling, then finally reaching Maui. The girl told us she was terrified of flying, and actually screamed when they encountered turbulence. All of a sudden, I didn’t mind our hour-long delay at all. (Not that it made me hate Northwest Airlines any less).

We had dinner and talked to them for a long time afterward. On the way back to Kahului, we stopped at the overlook to see the stars. They were unbelievable. We could clearly see the Milky Way, and were able to pick out constellations we wouldn’t see that time of year in the north. I saw two shooting stars, three planets, and some airplanes I tried to convince Stephanie were really slow-moving comets. We went back to the hotel, packed our bags, and I showered again to remove the rest of Haleakala from my hair.

We got up and checked out of the hotel, then drove north five miles or so to the Iao Valley. Every morning up til then, the valley had looked dark and cloudy compared to the rest of the island. This was unusual for Hawaii, which is 99.5% sunny with the occasional brief monsoon. This morning, however, the valley was sunny.

coconuts and papayas

The valley is a rainforest in what used to be a caldera in the West Maui Mountains. We drove to the hiking area and went up to the overlook, then went down and walked along the stream in the valley. It occurred to me that for a place so humid and tropical, Hawaii has hardly any bugs. In that kind of weather in the midwest, we’d have contracted West Nile Virus ten times over from all the mosquitoes.

Hawaii has relatively little wildlife at all, actually. There were Hawaiian Road Cock and Road Weasel and many, many birds, but the rest of the animals we read about were most likely mythical. There is no nene. I’m convinced of it.

iao needle

The Iao Valley has its own giant phallic symbol, which the natives used to worship. They also had an exhibit about native agriculture, so we got to see all manner of fruit plants and such. I don’t know why I think banana trees are so fascinating, but they are. Also, I forgot to mention that bananas taste completely different in Hawaii. Good stuff.

iao valley

Near the mouth of the valley, there’s a large park called the Kepaniwai Heritage Garden. It’s divided into four sections, displaying Hawaiian, Japanese, Korean, and Filipino architecture. I spent a long time in each of the temples. It was beautiful.

iao valley

We drove through Wailuku, a cute old town north of Kahului, and stopped at another famous general store, the Takegawa Market. One of the things on my must-do list for Hawaii was to try poi, even though everyone is horrified of it. I had to do it. The market was the first place I’d even heard mention of poi while we were there; they had a big case, and a sign telling us to take only one package per customer, due to the shortage. The case was empty.

A POI SHORTAGE. I was heartbroken.

We drove around the dodgy areas in Kahului, then wound our way back to Paia. I had decided after much obsessing that I couldn’t live without the neko sarong. I got that, then we visited the rest of the stores we had missed, including an amazing shop full of Japanese antiques.

We got back on the road and headed upcountry to Makawao. It was here we learned about the phenomenon of the Aloha Cowboy. It was so charming. They had little Western/Hawaiian shops, and a ton of art galleries. They had a small Down to Earth and a mystical crystal shop; it was hippie central. In one of the galleries, I found the most amazing little carved box. It looked like ivory but wasn’t; it had a unique smell to it that I figured was some kind of wood. I carried it around the store with me, in love, then finally brought it up to the counter. I asked the woman there what it was made of. She said, “Well… it’s cow bone.”

That was the end of my love for that.

We followed the travel guide to the much-recommended Cow Country Cafe in Pukalani, and had a lot of trouble finding it, due to Hawaiians’ immense dislike for street signs. We finally found a closed restaurant where we figured it was supposed to be, only it was called something completely different. We called them and were informed that that was the place, but they were closed due to a plumbing disaster. Ack.

We went back to Makawao and dined at Casanova Restaurant, which doubled as a gigantic Italian nightclub in the evening. I’m not sure what the deal was with the 30s-gangster-style Italian places, but I loved it. Our server was awesome, and the food was excellent. After lunch, we went back to Lahaina one last time so Stephanie could finish her souvenir shopping. We walked around for a while, but it was painfully hot. Since we still had four hours to kill before our flight back to Oahu, and because it’s a huge pain in the ass getting into Waikiki at night, we decided to call Hawaiian Airlines and see if we could get onto an earlier flight. It was easily arranged, and we were on our way to Kahului Airport.

Airport security was stepped up somewhat. We didn’t know at the time that there had been bombings in London. As we got to the scanners, they pulled us out of line to tell us we had to be screened. As Stephanie realized afterwards, our boarding passes were flagged, presumably because we switched flights at the last minute.

I waited while they wanded her, and I knew I was going to have some trouble when they paused over items like the clasp on her bra, and the zipper on her shorts. The TSA girl was extremely thorough. I stepped up for my turn, and she checked my bra clasps and earrings. When she got to my front, the wand beeped and she stopped. She tried again and it beeped. She looked confused. I said, “They’re pierced.” She looked very, very uncomfortable.

She told me to wait there, and disappeared. Then she came back again and told me to follow her. She wandered aimlessly around the secured area, obviously unsure of what to do. She finally flagged down an older female officer and whispered to her. The woman asked me to follow her, and we went into the little guardroom area where they changed clothes. The older officer apologized and explained that they had to have proof of everything that set off the scanner. I said I understood. She stammered and started apologizing again. I said, “Um, I’m kind of in a hurry.” I pulled up my shirt and bra and gave them proof. The old lady winced and apologized two or three more times. I laughed hysterically all the way to the gate.

rainbow over pearl harbor

The flight back to Oahu was on a much bigger plane with assigned seats. Sad. We were at the Honolulu airport by 6:30, and had picked up our car (Captain Crunch). We checked into our hotel in Waikiki, cleaned up, and headed back out to find dinner and wander around. We were back at the hotel by 10, and we crashed.

Only one of the two elevators at our 15-story hotel worked, so I felt like I was riding in a Japanese-tourist clown car on my way to get coffee. The elevator was packed full when we stopped on the 5th floor and were presented with a family pushing a stroller. And they managed to fit in. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been there, gasping for oxygen.

At Starbucks, an old southern lady behind me asked me for coffee advice. She said, “The drinks here are all so different than they are in the states!” I thought, It’s Starbucks! Bastion of homogeneity! I recommended she get a latte. Skim, for her health.

This was our day to explore Oahu, since now we had a car and weren’t trapped in Waikiki. Or so we thought. It’s nearly impossible to find your way onto the H1 heading west from that area; east appeared to be completely kapu. We ended up taking local streets until we got very near the south shore.

BLOWHOLE.

It was fairly overcast that day, for the first time since we’d been there. We saw Sandy Beach, the most dangerous windsurfing beach in Hawaii. We stopped to see the Halona Blowhole, which spawned infinite amusement. I’m not sure why I was surprised to find that the windward coast was just as rainforest-y as on Maui, but it was. The mountains dropped off very sharply about 2 or 3 miles inland, so there was a larger plain between the cliffs and the ocean.

We got irritatingly lost in Kailua, and I’m not sure if it was the travel guide or the street-sign thing or the fact that there are only 12 letters in the Hawaiian alphabet, so most of the words sound exactly the same, and some of them actually are the same. Kailua? Wasn’t that where we stayed on the Big Island? Didn’t we just come from Kahului? It was confusing.

valley of the temples

very hungry koi

North of Kailua, we found our way to the Valley of the Temples in Kaneohe, hidden at the back of a gigantic cemetery on a hill. It’s an exact replica of the Byodo-in Temple of Equality near Kyoto, and it was beautiful.

We rang the three-ton gong, walked all around the grounds, lit incense in the temple, smashed pennies at the gift shop, and bought bags of food for the hundred billion koi that lived there. We also fed the swans, a few varieties of ducks, and woodpeckers.

inside the shrine

I don’t know why I love temples and Chinese and Japanese gardens so much. There’s something about the sense of calm and serenity there that’s absolutely unique.

chinaman’s hat (hey, i didn’t name it)

We continued on our drive around the island, heading north. We had tried to get reservations for ATV rides into the valley where they filmed Jurassic Park, but they were booked, and it was kind of rainy anyway. We stopped and walked around Kualoa Beach, from which Coconut Island is visible, i.e. Gilligan’s Island. Ha.

more stone stacks!

There was a long series of little beach towns after that, each with about 10 vowels in their names. I yelled when we drove through one with hundreds of stacked stones all piled along the edge of the beach. I have no idea what that was all about, but I loved it.

this happens a LOT in hawaii.

We rounded the northeast corner of the island and found ourself in true surfer country. Also, shrimp farms, which were kind of bizarre. Outside Haleiwa, we turned off the “highway” and headed up the bluff to Puu o Mahuka Heiau (yeah, you go ahead and try to pronounce that), a sacrificial site overlooking the ocean. The road in was a half mile of single-lane dirt path with very tight curves, so anytime we encountered a vehicle, we’d both go inching off the sides of the road into the grass. It was kind of ominous.

puu o mahuka heiau

The little sign there warns that it is kapu to move the stones.

offerings

The sacrificial site itself is about two football fields long. It consists of a rectangle of lava rock, sloping downhill. At the top, there’s a wooden altar covered in fruit, flowers, and leis. I expected it would have a similar feel to the place of refuge at Honaunau, but it was fairly vacant. It was creepier knowing it was out in the middle of nowhere, and obviously we were easy prey for sacrificial-site serial killers.

there’s a car in there. scary.

Haleiwa is the ultimate surfer town, even though the waves aren’t very high during the summer. I was excited by the shops, of course.

cholo’s, haleiwa

We had lunch at an awesome Mexican place with Dia de los Muertos stuff covering the walls. I had a spinach quesadilla and considered taking a long nap. I realized that I was starting to tire out. We shopped for a while, then headed back to Honolulu.

surf shop in haleiwa

It was later in the afternoon, so we thought we could probably fit in Pearl Harbor, but then discovered it closed at five. We decided to do the hike up Diamond Head instead, so we drove all the way through Waikiki (it sounds a lot easier than it is), to discover that closed at six. On the way through Waikiki, we saw several rainbows, including my favorite, the lazy rainbow, which appeared to just be laying across the road. I could relate.

We headed over to Ala Moana Center, because, like Hilo Hattie, I had seen about 500 ads for it. Also, it has a Japanese department store, but I had completely forgotten that by the time we got there. We parked and took some time figuring out how to actually get into the mall (this is a strange trend I’ve discovered in California and Las Vegas as well… malls have very few, very hidden entrances, apart from the anchor stores). She was excited by Sephora; I nearly peed my pants with delight to find they had a Shanghai Tang. We explored the whole mall, and I found Shirokiya last of all.

I crept around the store, wide-eyed and gawking. It was better than Japantown in San Francisco, even. It was the store of my dreams.

Honestly, I can’t even remember what we did that night. I’m sure it involved dinner and then sleeping. I was fairly exhausted by then.

We got up early, checked out of the hotel, and went over to Pearl Harbor as the monument was opening. There was already a line of a few hundred people waiting. We went in, got our (free) tickets for the 11:30 shuttle, and went back to the car.

Stephanie has a sports stadium fetish I don’t really understand, but I liken it to my love of Japanese department stores. We went over to Aloha Stadium, and it was a win for the both of us: in the parking lot, they were holding the Aloha Flea Market.

The flea market had about 95% crap, but it was still entertaining. She took photos of the stadium, and we headed back to Pearl Harbor.

u.s.s. arizona memorial

Before you board the shuttle, you watch a 20-minute documentary about the attack. I didn’t really know much about the history of that event, and it was appalling. We were a bunch of sniffling fools heading out of that theatre.

We got on the boat for a 5-minute ride to the memorial. It’s mounted atop the sunken U.S.S. Arizona, which is also the grave of its entire crew. They asked for silence while on the memorial, but people were there gabbing away. That bothered me a lot.

sunken ship

The ship still leaks oil from a couple locations; we could see it floating on the water.

We took the shuttle back, then drove back into Waikiki. In search of a fast lunch, we stopped at the gigantic food court in Ala Moana Center. At the Hawaiian food booth, past the point at which I had abandoned all hope, I found it: POI.

I ordered a serving of it for $1.75. The cashier gave me a very strange look and handed me a little styrofoam cup and a spoon. I pried off the lid and found a greyish-brown substance inside. I worried that perhaps it had some kind of meat gravy on it, even though it’s supposed to just be taro. I took a bite.

That stuff is nasty.

I tossed it and we found food elsewhere. Then we headed off to climb Diamond Head, rushing to get it in before our flight.

looking west from diamond head

The book made it sound like the hike was pretty easy compared to anything we’d already done. It said something about a bit of a walk and some stairs. That book is full of crap. Yeah, it was nothing compared to the volcanoes, but still. It’s a gradual climb up the inside of the crater, which really wasn’t too bad, but it was long. Then there were stairs. The second set of stairs was 100 extremely-steep steps. Every single person who reached the bottom would stand there and stare up at them in disbelief. It was kind of funny.

waikiki

After the stairs, there were a couple tunnels through the rock, then a spiral staircase up to a strange enclosed concrete room. We climbed out the window of the room and onto the bottom of the lookout. From there, we took metal stairs up to the top platforms. It was a hell of a climb. It probably woudln’t have been that much at the beginning of the trip, but it hurt at the end. It was really hot, too.

hawaii kai (south shore)

The view was totally worth it. To the west, we could see it raining over the ocean.

On the way back down, we encountered two women who were running the hundred steep steps. One appeared to be training the other. She was incredible, and had awesome tribal-marking tattoos around her (monstrous) thighs. She was taking the steps by twos. As she reached the top, I said, “You’re so hardcore. I think you’re my idol.” She said, “Thanks! That’s the fourth time I’ve done that so far.” Holy shit.

It was painfully hot on the way down, I could feel my sunburn, and Japanese tourists kept laughing at me. Well, at first I thought they were laughing at me, then I realized they were laughing at my shirt (it says ‘perfect angel massage parlor’). I was seriously paranoid for a while.

king kamehameha (downtown honolulu)

We started off in the direction of the airport, stopping downtown to see King Kamehameha in his cute little skirt, and the palace. The capitol building supposedly looks like a volcano, but it’s a stretch. We saw Chinatown, too; I’d had greater expectations for Chinatown in a place so heavily Asian, but it was quite small.

We figured the H1 would be a parking lot, but it wasn’t bad at all. We returned the car and got to the airport fairly early. Then our flight was delayed another hour and a half; we killed time in the bar, in every single store in the airport, in the bathroom, and sitting at the gate. My knitting was nearly complete, but I was too tired to continue it by the time we got on the plane.

The flight sucked in a huge way, because I can’t sleep on airplanes. It was a DC-10 and we were in the center section of a totally-booked flight. I’d doze off every 10 minutes and wake up crabby, seeing flashes of the stupid movies they were showing. We arrived in Minneapolis around 10:30am on Sunday, stumbling blinkingly out of the airport. I came home, fed the panicky animals, then went right to bed.

the aftermath

I’ve had some bad luck with Northwest Airlines. After some time spent on the de-icing pad at MSP International (it was 70 and sunny), a drunk-sounding head flight attendant, and a pilot who regaled us with fascinating details about turbulence, we made it to LAX pretty much on time. We hopped the shuttle to the rent-a-car place, where we found them out of the basic mid-size cars. We were excited about maybe getting a hot car in California. We were so wrong.

We ended up with a Chrysler 300, the pimpmobile for the geriatric set. My dad loves this car. Us, not so much. Before even leaving the lot, Stephanie declared her undying hatred for it. I hoped it had ‘I AM A RENTAL’ stickered all over the back so people wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking we owned it. We promptly named it ‘Dick’.

It was sunny but too windy and cold to head right to the beach per the original plan, so we decided to drive up the beach to Santa Barbara, one of my favorite sights on my west-coast roadtrip. We got lost on Sepulveda Boulevard (I preferred ‘Sepultura Boulevard’ instead, which meant that I had to mention the band every single time we saw that street after that, no less than 50 times). We finally found our way to Santa Monica, and from there, the PCH. I wanted to take that up the coast, since that was the only stretch I missed when I drove down from San Francisco.

We stopped for burritos at a little place on the side of the road in Malibu, and sat out on the patio in the sun with the too-stereotypical surfer kids. I was thrilled to be having my first perfect California moment of the trip. In Zuma Beach, we were slowed by a movie or TV show; cops were escorting a trailer up and down the highway past film crews in a parking lot. We stopped at Starbucks for iced coffee, and I knew I was in California because the soymilk was out on the counter. It doesn’t happen anywhere else. Also, I love all the crazy beach vehicles in SoCal. It sucks that dune buggies are so impractical in Minnesota.

After the beach towns and naval bases, highway 1 heads inland towards produce farms and industrial-looking towns. We stopped at a roadside stand for fresh strawberries, then drove like crazy to Santa Barbara. I was hoping to get to the beach there, but it was so windy it hurt, and the sun managed to go away the second we arrived. I still love Santa Barbara for the cute little downtown and tall, skinny palm trees lining the beach. Stephanie was unimpressed; we decided to head back to Santa Monica.

After our first run-in with the huge mess that is LA traffic, we made it to the 3rd Street Promenade. I had been there before and was kind of unimpressed with the shopping (although the crazy street-performers and people-watching and dinosaur topiaries make it worth the trip). However, I knew they now had a Kid Robot there, so I had to visit. Also, I really wanted a pretzel, and Wetzel was happy to sell me one.

We wandered for a while, but were tired from all the flying and driving, so we went to check into the hotel. Priceline had secured me a very swank room for a very very low price, right on Century Boulevard near the airport. After unpacking, we decided we needed pizza, but didn’t want to pay $11 to get the car out of the lot. Stephanie had seen a CPK sign nearby, so we set out wandering down Century to find it. We finally stopped into a hotel to ask, and were told it was actually their training center, not a restaurant. We went back to our hotel and ordered room service instead, delivered by a little guy named Pinkey. Then we crashed.

Saturday morning, I had trouble with the time change thing and woke at 4:30am. I forced myself to go back to sleep til 7, lest I encounter a beating from my sister. We were on the road around 8, in search of coffee and then tourism, in order of importance. We drove up to Griffith Park, having heard the observatory offered the best view of the city.

We found the path up the hill and figured it’d be a short hike to the overlook. I had put heavy-duty sunscreen on my new tattoo but had neglected the rest, figuring we wouldn’t be spending much time outdoors until we got to the beach.

Well, the hike was a lot longer than we thought. And steeper. And incredible. Halfway up the mountain, you have excellent views of the whole city to the southwest, as well as the Hollywood sign. Closer to the top, you can see the mountains to the north, and at the summit you have a 360-degree view.

Stephanie kept swearing she wasn’t going to make it, and I was doing my best with the irritating persistence: there’s a path up a mountain. Getting to the top is like winning. It’s inconceivable not to make it. So we did.

There were a lot of people getting their daily workout on that hill. I was marveling at the joggers, some of whom were moving at a pace not much faster than our walk. I couldn’t believe people would run up that path, so I had to try it. It was exhausting, but somehow not as bad as I thought. I spent the rest of the hike wanting to run a lot, but knowing I might get a) yelled at or b) dehydrated.

We sat on a table at the top for a long time, enjoying the sun and the view and the amazing luck of a fairly un-smoggy day in Los Angeles. There were people on horses up there, people being in love, sweaty half-naked guys showing off doing pushups on tables, old Chinese men singing as they hiked, kids scrambling around, and a couple garbagemen who totally cheated by driving their truck up to the top. We finally decided to walk back down; the whole hike took about 2 hours altogether. The view is not to be missed.

We got Dick (the maturity level is high with us, yes indeed) and found ourselves a Trader Joe’s near the park. We bought fresh fruit and such for a picnic, then headed back to the beach at Santa Monica. The place was crazy, with the people on the promenade and the pier. It was sunny and would’ve been pretty warm if it weren’t for the wind. We crossed to the pier, went down to the beach, and had lunch, and then I laid on the blanket for a while. When it got too cold, we headed up to the pier, walking down to the end where we were nearly blown off into the ocean.

The pier was the same as the last time I was there: tacky gifts, people fishing, and stray street performers from the promenade. Also, I found about 10,000 potential boyfriends for Stephanie, and I don’t even think she appreciated it one bit. We decided to head back into LA to cover the obligatory touristy stuff, hoping we’d get more time at the ocean when the wind wasn’t quite so intense.

One of Stephanie’s favorite things about LA is KROQ. Even if they’re not playing great stuff constantly, it’s at least listenable 99% of the time. I was happy to hear them playing Hysteria by Muse, even if it kind of sucks when a song you like a lot becomes a radio single. But there there were two songs that began to plague us within 24 hours: that one about Beverly Hills by Weezer (which was funny for all of 10 minutes because of the novelty of being there), and this song by Pepper that goes, ‘why won’t you have some dirty hot sex with me?’ Which was funny for probably 2 seconds, and then became the worst song ever to be played over and over and over on the radio.

We stopped for coffee before heading to the La Brea tarpits. Stephanie was amused at the Chinese businessmen in Starbucks who kept reading my hoodie; I was just hoping it didn’t say something offensive.

The tarpits surprised me. See, you walk through the gates next door to LACMA, and you smell tar. I didn’t know they were active! I thought it was all prehistoric and such. But no, even to this day, you could stumble right into a tarpit and in hundreds of thousands of years, the robots of the future can excavate you and put you in a museum, too! That’s some exciting shit, if you ask me.

After the tarpits, we went over to see Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. We parked a few blocks away, one car in front of a guy who looked exactly like Johnny Knoxville (but looked lost enough to not be Johnny Knoxville), and two cars in front of a burnt-out car, which was pretty awesome. The insides of the windows were all black. I don’t think there were bodies inside, but we couldn’t have known for sure.

There was some big event going on at the Kodak Theatre, the whole red carpet/limo bit, and the impersonator-folks were out in force. We saw Darth Vader and a Stormtrooper, Superman, Catwoman with her ass exposed, Beetlejuice, a fat Spiderman, and various others. Grauman’s was mobbed as always. We took a look at the footprints and the stars on the street, and were generally unimpressed. Hollywood celebs don’t do a whole lot for me.

We wandered down Hollywood Boulevard, trailing Beetlejuice. There was a couple sitting on the street holding a sign saying they were pregnant and stranded from Pennsylvania. We walked past a booth full of geeky-looking folks and I heard the familiar beep of AIM; it cracked me up that a dude was sitting on the street IMing. I just now looked up what they were all about: liningup.net. Hahaha.

We took Sunset Boulevard into Beverly Hills, and spend some time driving through the neighborhoods gawking at stars’ homes. Again, not so impressive. We drove way up in the hills, and then down again, and could smell Dick’s brakes. We decided to let him rest for a while, so we drove down to Rodeo Drive to check out the shopping. I didn’t expect I’d find anything to interest me there, but then I found the Taschen store. I love their books. I didn’t see anything different than what Amazon could sell me for cheaper, but it was cool to see all their stuff in one place. We went up to Via Rodeo and saw the really high-end stuff. I admit it’s an irritating habit of mine to get pissed off about it, but I do. God knows I can shop, but there’s a level at which spending that amount of cash on something becomes really obscene. Anyway. My sister pointed out a Maserati on the street, which I guess was a big deal. We’d been seeing Bentleys all day, so I wasn’t sure how it was different.

We needed food and still wanted pizza, and were beyond trying to drive around and find something with all the vegetarian healthiness I needed and the general goodness of pizza (I have found this place; it’s in Minneapolis, and it’s called Pizza Luce). So we went for what we knew: CPK. We found one at Beverly Center, quite possibly the most irritating mall ever invented. We were amused at the other patrons waiting for tables: there was a very friendly boy-band, and a woman named Sammi with her passel of kids, who was so Beverly Hills it wasn’t even funny. Throughout dinner, we could hear her smoker’s-voice reverberating in the restaurant as she referred to herself in the third person. LA is awesome like that.

Sunday morning, I started flopping around again at 4:30, but stayed in bed til 7. I got up and headed off down Century Boulevard in search of coffee. It was awesome outside, and finally not windy. I walked past a bus stop with a homeless guy on the bench, and was pretty sure he was jerking off. I walked faster.

I found Starbucks at the Marriott about half a mile down the road. The lobby was packed full of teenage girls in town for a dance competition. I got the hell out of there quick, too.

We were on the road to San Diego around 8:30. Our first stop was San Juan Capistrano, my favorite of the missions I saw the first time around. The gardens there are incredible.

I’m not sure why I have such a thing for missions. I’m not a religious person, and am fairly disgusted by the history of missions in general; I think it’s the combination of the creepy and beautiful that’s fascinating. Also, I’m drawn to the bizarre trinkets in the gift shops.

Right as I walked into the mission, my camera informed me that the memory card was full. I spent too much time going through and deleting duplicate photos so I’d have some space for the many pictures I was compelled to take there. On the way out of town, I told Stephanie we’d have to find us an electronics store so I could get another memory card.

In La Jolla, we found a store called Good Guys, which wasn’t so much good as merely sufficient. I got myself 256MB of photo-storage happiness, and we were on our way to Old Town for lunch.

Last time I was in San Diego, I thought the Gaslamp District and Old Town were the same thing, and I disliked the Gaslamp District a lot, mostly because I couldn’t find a vegetarian restaurant, and the stores sucked. Old Town was at least something more to look at. The parking was a horror, but Stephanie exercised remarkable skill in navigation. She had already successfully backed out of a miniature parking lot that wouldn’t allow the world’s largest car to turn around, and then she was about to back into the tiniest, most cramped spot in the city when Dick died. Just shut off. I may have mentioned how much he sucked.

We had lunch outdoors at a Mexican place recommended by the parents (the second they knew we were on our way to San Diego, they were inundating us with travel-advice-filled phonecalls), which was pretty touristy, not terribly authentic, but good for what it was nonetheless.

Because Old Town is so touristy, it features excellent people-watching. We spent lunch trying to figure out what the deal was with all the people around us. I told Stephanie that she had to be sure to look at this girl behind us on the way out, because ‘she has a certain completely non-charming innocence.’ She laughed really hard at me and declared that ‘a patented Jenni Ripley diss’. I was proud.

We wandered around Old Town in a post-burrito coma, examining all the crappy souvenirs we could’ve been buying in Tijuana for a quarter of the price, but ten times the hassle. It didn’t seem much like a state park, because it’s so damn commercial. It’s strange to have shops in all those historic buildings. They had some cool gardens, though, and I kept threatening to toss my sister’s ass in a cactus. Then I made her take my picture in front of the largest aloe plant I’d ever seen in my life, after which I examined the photo about 50 times, saying, ‘THAT’S THE HUGEST CACTUS EVER!’

I am so easily amused.

Leaving Old Town, we got some sugar-free ice cream. It was awesome and made me really sleepy and goofy. We were in such hysterics on the way to Cabrillo that she was begging me to stop laughing so we didn’t get in an accident; I wasn’t even driving.

Per the parents’ recommendations, we drove out to Cabrillo National Monument, which had an awesome view of the city, the harbor, and the ocean on the other side of the peninsula. We walked up to the lighthouse, then drove to see the tidepools.

After that, we drove through downtown San Diego, got caught in cruise-ship-loading-and-unloading traffic at the Embarcadero, then found our way to the Coronado Bridge. You see, my sister has a fetish involving the Hotel Del Coronado, the legendary Hotel California, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it involved Don Henley in some way. I don’t ask.

We parked along the beach and walked around the hotel. It has a mall for rich people in the basement! I admit I got a little crabby again, just like I did on Rodeo Drive. It’s just so much. So much money, just to get away from poor people. I got a kick out of wandering around there looking like a total slob. It’s what I’m good at.

We went in and enjoyed the very swank marble bathrooms. We saw the atrium and the multiple pools and tennis courts and patios and restaurants. I had a really bizarre moment when I rounded a corner, caught of a glimpse of someone, thought, ‘hey, that girl looks interesting,’ and realized I was looking at myself in the mirror. I swear to god, I’m losing it.

On the way back to the beach, we passed a 7-person tandem bicycle contraption. I really really want to see one of those in use, but we were not so lucky. We spent a long time laying on the beach in the sunset. I wandered along the water, which was so cold it numbed my feet. While she stood on the shore watching the ocean, I tried to warm my feet by burying them in the sand. Then I had an excellent idea and set to work making myself a new foot. I took a bunch of pictures and sat there giggling, hoping someone would come along to see it.

It was getting late, so we decided to head back to LA and hopefully find dinner along the way. Stephanie drives like I do (although with less phone-talking and text-messaging), so it only took a little over an hour. We decided to pull off for dinner in Huntington Beach. As she dodged cars on the exit ramp, she yelled, ‘DICK, DON’T FAIL ME NOW!!’ Which of course began the driving-off-the-road-laughing routine again.

We froze at dinner; the sunburn seemed not to help. We ate half our food and headed back to our hotel for the night.

Monday morning, we went to the farmer’s market on Fairfax. It’s confusing because the outside looks like a cross between an outlet mall and a regular mall. I figured there had to be some kind of farmer’s market action in there somewhere, just based on the name, and we did find that at the center. They had a bunch of booths; some of them were actual produce stands, but mostly it was all manner of different foods and souvenir shops. It would’ve been awesome for lunch, but it was a little early in the day.

By now, the sunburn had reached the painful stage, and no amount of sunblock seemed to be preventing further scorching. I could feel my arm burning as I drove. We spent a lot of time in the car, just getting around the rest of LA; we decided to go see Chinatown, so I headed off in the direction of downtown, not realizing how monstrous that place is.

We drove through a business district on Melrose I thought was downtown, until we happened upon the real downtown. We found the original pueblo, so we stopped and walked around there for a while. They had another large array of Mexican-trinket shops there as well, so of course I had to look at them all. We thought the pueblo would be a bigger deal (or perhaps one specific building), but it was interesting anyway. We decided we wouldn’t have time for Chinatown, and I wanted to dine at my favorite LA restaurant from last time around, so we headed over to Real Food Daily on La Cienega.

I love this restaurant not only because it’s next to Trashy Lingerie, but because I can eat every single thing on the menu. That never, ever happens. I had a bigass bbq tofu chop salad, and she had a bean and tempeh burrito. She didn’t seem thrilled by the weird food, but I was loving it. After that, we drove down 3rd, drooling over all the shops I really needed to go to, even though I knew I shouldn’t. We passed them all except for one irresistable one: the Paul Frank store. I’m not a huge fan of Julius the monkey, but dude! I got skull flipflops, a Wienermobile hoodie, and another sweatshirt with amps on it. Stephanie got a pink skull purse. It’s impossible to not love that store.

Sadly, it was then time to head to the airport. In true Dick form, our rental car almost got himself backed into in the parking lot right as we returned him. He made the most horrible noise as I slammed on the brakes. I’m pretty sure it caused me a mild heart attack.

At the airport, we waited in security for the hour that felt like three days. We finally got to our gate, and found a rather small plane awaiting us for our totally-booked flight. We both had middle seats on opposite sides of the aisle; Stephanie got to spend some quality time with the extremely angry dude who talked to himself a lot. I talked to a nice lady about her son, the doctor in Wisconsin, and then every single person on the plane stopped by to examine the flames sweater I was knitting. Or it felt like it, at least. I was a little weirded out when the flight attendant held up beverage service for a long time just to talk knitting with me; later when I went back to use the bathroom (I always use the bathroom on planes, because I enjoy the novelty of peeing at 35,000 feet), she grabbed me again and made me grope her yarn and the scarf she was knitting. Dirty.

Apparently Northwest Airlines has some Dick-service of their own, because we landed on time and then had to sit on the plane waiting for a gate, because some other plane forgot to leave or something. After they finally loosed us upon the terminal, we all sat waiting for our luggage to be vomited out onto the carousel for another hour. They have really excellent service.

My parents were nice enough to drive my car to the airport, so all I had to do was rush on home, whereas Stephanie got to ride back with them, and listen to my dad complaining about the flight delay. Lucky girl.

[Note: I didn’t want to be all duplicative here, so you may find ten different favorite photos from this trip (in larger format) on my journal.]

Our trip got off to a good start. We arrived at the airport early, and found the flight delayed an hour due to conditions in San Francisco. We boarded and discovered that we were on a brand new A330, with the new-plane smell and everything. The thrill of that realization wore off the second the captain came on the intercom to tell us that they weren’t quite ready to fly yet; there was still some paperwork that needed completing before SFO would allow them to land. A while later, he told us they were awaiting an engine check: they had to run the engines, shut them down, check for oil, and then start them up again. It would probably take another hour or so. People on the plane got a little uptight about that, but we were trapped. And I was a little concerned maybe they had just assembled the airplane right on the tarmac, and which case it hadn’t even been checked for airworthiness yet.

We passed the time arguing about whether the airplane left the planet when it flew. She said that the atmosphere was part of the planet, so technically no. I maintained that she was full of crap. An hour and a half later, we were flying. They passed out headphones and switched on the back-of-seat entertainment for free, to quell our collective crabbiness. Stephanie announced, ‘Dude! They totally pimped this ride!’ and started watching The Notebook, even though I told her I’d make fun of her if she started bawling over that movie again.

I didn’t want to be in-seat entertained because I was knitting, but I did switch on the map. Man, that map is awesome. It told me where I was flying. Like South Dakota and the corner of Wyoming and Utah. Finally California. It told me we were averaging 550mph, how far we had come, how far we had to go, and that it was -60 degrees outside. And then all of that again in metric, as if I cared. It showed the entire western hemisphere, in case we got hijacked to Venezuela. If it involved the Middle East, we were on our own.

We arrived in SF around noon, and took the AirTrain to the BART. Being the awesome travel planner that I am, our hotel was located about 20 steps from the BART station at Powell Street. We checked in and then wandered through the Metreon and Yerba Buena Gardens on our way to find us some Pad Thai.

After lunch, we took the trolley to Fisherman’s Wharf. I was so less-than-charmed with Fisherman’s Wharf the last time I was there than I had missed the sea lions, so I was on a mission to see them. They were awesome, as long as their smell wasn’t wafting in our direction. They reminded me of my cats. I even made a movie of them.

We wandered through Fisherman’s Wharf, down to Ghirardelli Square. I don’t really get the whole chocolate empire thing, but it seemed to be a big draw. For some reason, we had already managed to do a ton of walking, even though I swore I was going to lay off and take public transport as much as possible (I was still having trouble with my ankle from the 3day in September). So we hobbled over to the cable-car turnaround nearby and waited to go up Russian Hill, one of the steepest in the city. Last year, I climbed it. This year, I was riding.

We dismounted at Powell Street and walked through Chinatown on the way back to the hotel. It was getting cold, possibly even colder than in Minnesota. On the way back, we discovered that the hotel strike has just begun. The sound of bullhorns, whistles, and banging on overturned buckets was to become the soundtrack to our stay there, together with the much-more-charming ‘dingding!’ of the cable cars.

Back at the hotel, we put on warmer clothes and headed over to meet Jay for dinner at the ‘fake-meat Chinese place’ in the Tenderloin. The tamarind beef was so good, I considered replacing my usual fantasies with memories of dinner. Tired as hell, we made our way back to the hotel, weaving our way through street people and hotel strikers. I promptly passed out because I can sleep through anything; my sister stayed awake most of the night listening to cable cars (we were right above the Powell St turnaround), the resident street preacher, and sirens.

On our trip, I promised Stephanie she could sleep til 8. Saturday morning, I couldn’t sleep past 6, so I got up and went for coffee. I chose The Barbary Coast, figuring one couldn’t go wrong with a pirate-themed coffee shop. I was actually very wrong; there was nothing pirate about it but the prices.

I went back to the hotel to pester her awake, and we jumped on a bus to Haight-Ashbury, for breakfast at The Pork Store. How could a vegetarian not like the idea of a restaurant called The Pork Store? We got there early enough to avoid the lines at the un-greasy spoon. The server girls were awesome. So was the food; we split a veggie scramble with salsa and biscuits and veggie-gravy. Also, it must be noted that I love eating with people like my sister, who is not vegetarian but doesn’t mind eating that way at all.

After breakfast, the shops had not yet opened, so we went to wander around Golden Gate Park. We figured we’d go see the Japanese Tea Garden and the buffalo herd. But our map, it wasn’t quite accurate. It said that the scale changed past Divisadero, but didn’t say how much it changed. After walking what felt like 20 miles, we found a map that told us we were not even close to those sights, which were located near the other end of the park. Like, by the ocean. So we turned around and went back, and by the time we reached Haight Street and wove our way through the street people sleeping in the park, the shops had opened.

I found a Buddhist jewelry store and got myself a spinning prayer ring for my thumb. It had my favorite mantra on it, although I admit that reading Sanskrit is a personal failing. We stopped at one of my favorite stores in the world, no, the universe: Kidrobot. I fell in love with gloomy bears, although the last thing I need is a new collection. The girl behind the counter was so enthusiastic and loveable it was hard to leave. She told us to check out the reggae festival in the park (which we had wandered past on our trek), and the Love Parade.

Only SF could have an event called the Love Parade.

We went to more shops. The guy at Yak Pak insisted we go to the Love Parade. We said OK! in that we’re-totally-lying-just-to-make-you-happy kinda way. And bought our stuff and left.

With really good intentions about not walking so damn much and taking buses instead, we walked up and down the hills of Haight Street towards the Store for Working Pirates. We stopped at Flax Art, which is also on my top-ten list of best! stores! ever! We were both trying very hard to not spend a million dollars on our trip, being all newly budget-conscious and responsible (at least, that was my excuse). It was a huge challenge. I think we both did pretty well.

Though 826 Valencia was only 8 blocks away, they were eight of the longest blocks possible. We stopped for lunch at a taqueria with the magic word on the front: I yelled, ‘HEY! HEALTHY!’ and that was enough for me. But holy crap! It was good. Healthy Mexican food is a near-impossibility in the friendly midwest.

Refreshed, we made it to the pirate store. They were selling way more pirate-themed merchandise than before, which was both gratifying and goofy. I was hoping Dave Eggers’ new book was out, but no. So I lusted over McSweeney’s books, and then we left.

We got on a bus and rode up to Japantown. Because apparently, Saturday was all about my favorite places to shop. I’m not thrilled with Chinatown in San Francisco, but Japantown is the best. I could spend weeks in the bookstore alone, spending all my hard-earned cash, as well as some future savings. I bought a ‘tofu: the better white meat’ tshirt, which means my vegetarian tshirt collection has reached ridiculous proportions (I have three). I also added to my ridiculously-cute stationery collection at the paper store. And got the required netsuke and such. All good.

We took the bus back to the hotelish part of town. Powell and Market is near all the expensive boring shopping, like Nordstrom and Armani and crap. For some reason, Powell Street was insane that time of day, crawling with shoppers and strikers and people carrying signs that meant something to someone, I’m sure. The preacher at the cable car turnaround was on a roll, and would continue until late into the night.

We went upstairs and Stephanie laid down for a nap. I was going to scribble in my notebook (it’s like analog blogging) and knit, but I ended up dozing off and drooling on the bed for 20 minutes. Then I got up and speed-walked to two different Starbucks, as the first one had a line out the door. Since there were 10 of them within a three-block radius, it was pretty easy.

I have to note that I love my tourist-walking in big cities. I think it’s the only way to really get to know a place: walk out the door of your hotel by 7am, walk all day long, and walk back in sometime that night, completely worn out. Do that for a full week, and you might as well have lived there for months. This trip, it wasn’t as possible due to the ankle and the fact I wasn’t traveling alone. Which ended up being really good, too.

I called and pestered Jay for directions, and we set off on the MUNI train to see SBC Park, per Stephanie’s request. She’s not so much a sports enthusiast as a sports freak. The park was very cool, though, and we’d have seen a game there if they were playing. We did, however, get to see the remnants of the Love Parade. All I can say is that San Franciscans like to get either fuzzy or naked. Sometimes both.

We found our way to the California Street cable car and stood, freezing our supposedly cold-prepared asses off waiting. The cable cars like to taunt you by sitting on the opposite side of the street forever, and then creeping very very slowly in your direction. It finally arrived, and we rode over to the other side of Chinatown, to the Dar Bar Indian Restaurant, which I loved so much the first time around. Dinner was great, as expected. And as usual, we should’ve taken the bus, but wandered our way back through the Tenderloin to our hotel instead.