So Christina and I observed some things about Maui that I didn’t expect. Because honestly I never thought I would ever go to Hawaii … I just didn’t have an interest. But now that I’ve been, I am in love, and I’m indebted to Christina and Kat for that. Maui helped me get back into a rhythm, and shook me out of my aimless wandering.
Maui Observations (Part One):
– The song “Bubble Butt” is topping the charts, upcountry at Kat’s …
– Hawaiians love SPAM.
– Hawaiians talk about the winds a lot.
– I love to eat delicious things like pineapple banana bread and passion fruit jam. Er ma gawd.
– There are hot lifeguards with six packs at Big Beach, that certainly just go for little jogs every 20 minutes or so. I’m not sure how this is saving lives, but I’ll absolutely accept it as a Hawaiian truth of life.
– When a local tells you she lives “off the grid”, she might actually mean it. Then when you decide to go to her place, you park your sedan at the bottom of the jungle road/driveway and hop into the back of her pick-up truck; after which, you proceed up the bumpiest road you’ve ever been on, to end where the cute little house generates its own electricity.
Before this, as you get situated in the truck, you avoid the GIANT spider web in the tree above and the Back-of-Truck-Hostess sitting in a lawn chair asks you, “Do you like today’s hits?”
When you reply with a yes, she begins to play Lady Gaga.
– Windchill and ice exist on Maui. They live at 10,000 feet, on top of Haleakala (el volcano). When you force your friends to get up at 4:30am to drive up a windy road for an hour to see the sun take its first breaths of the day … your karma, I guess, is “fucking cold”. My hands were so extremely numb, that for a moment I didn’t think I had hands … but it was totally, totally worth it.
– Hawaiians have to mow their lawns more in the winter. And they complain about this … because … wait. What’s that? Oh right, I don’t feel sorry for you AT ALL. It was -29C last night. So you will tend to your lawn, and you will like it.
– Sand. It’s cool and all, but sometimes I don’t want sand up in there. Or down over there in my back pack. Or inside my camera lens. Go away sand, stay down in my feet where you squish deliciously between my toes and melt yourself into the warm, teal ocean. Red sand, black sand, white sand … Hawaii has it all. Can I go back please?