I know on some level it's true that the best experiences are the ones that leave you wanting more and not having completed everything on your to-do list, but Hawaii, I feel, is the exception to that rule. It all started like this...
Sometime in early February, I was on the subway and noticed a Metro newspaper on the floor, folded open to the travel page. There was an ad for a roundtrip to Hawaii for only $600, so I chatted to my mom about it because she'd been before. She was telling me all the fabulous things that happen there, like how it's sunny all the time, their idea of "rain" is a mist that refreshes you with the sun still shining, it's incredibly safe just about all over, and how their catering to tourists means there's always something to do.
I was half serious when I said I wanted to go, but then I found myself buying a ticket not even 48 hours later. As much as I googled everything (and lemme tell you did I ever; I must have spent the equivalent of a full-time week's worth looking stuff up), nothing prepared me for the actual experience. Do you ever have that feeling before something happens where you just know how it's going to turn out? I did, and my feeling was that Hawaii was going to be beautiful, ethereal, serene, sublime, a tad spiritual, and completely unforgettable.
And it was.
The first hint of that came on the second plane ride in, from Denver to Honolulu. I was sitting beside a woman who grew up on Oahu at Kailua/Lanikai, and my heart leapt into my throat as we started nearing Oahu. It's not a big area at only 1,500 square kilometres (about two times the size of the Greater Toronto Area), but I could see it all from my window seat and what a view it was! Waves were crashing in white foam against gold sand beaches, the water was a ridiculously fairy tale-like blue (I still can't believe that colour actually exists in real life), and the realization that it was going to be all mine for two weeks was pretty hard to believe.
I did a lot of learning while I was there, such as to stay away from camping on west Oahu because it was "locals only"; there's only one shady company on Oahu (see below); all people are inherently fascinating if you can tap into their inner selves and learn what they're about; you may never know you were in a tsunami evacuation zone until you see a sign telling you you're exiting it; homelessness exists everywhere and I think it was the warm weather that made it seem out in the open on Oahu; it's better to read about how dangerous stuff is until after you do it; and that voice in your head that tells you to not do something is something that should almost always be ignored.
Along with a great deal of learning, I also never felt so much in the moment as I did in Hawaii. Crying baby on an airplane? That's cool, babies need to cry and it's not like they choose airplanes on purpose. Slow and overly cautious driver? Hey, we've all been in new and uncomfortable driving situations at some point in our lives. Missing piece of food from a restaurant? No shredded cheese on the spaghetti won't suddenly make it taste like non-spaghetti.
At first, I had to consciously put my phone down and pay attention to what was around me but after a while, it became second nature to me. I suppose that's what foresight is, having a dual understanding of the future and the present. On multiple levels, I knew that my future self would be looking at my present self and saying, "Soak everything in and pay attention to as many details as possible; it'll be gone before you know and you'll only have memories left to keep you warm". It was like this hyper-awareness that I almost never experience, and I was conscious of just about every second that ticked by on the clock. It's amazing how much you can soak in when you look at how the light from a headlamp travels in a straight line in the wind, or how this planet can hold so much varying life on it and be so relatively small. Oh, and it's also incredibly cool taking an outdoor (hot!) shower with an adorable gecko perched on the lightbulb for warmth.
But I also got to pat myself on the back for teaching others a couple things, like the employee at Mauna Kea how to convert Fahrenheit and Celsius; the woman of the couple who drove me down from the top of Mauna Kea how to use Hipmunk; and the woman I shared a drink with at the Sheraton Waikiki the astral story of Orion, Taurus and Pleiades.
But no matter how hard I tried, I just could not trade Rob Ford to anyone I met, no matter what I threw in with the deal.
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