Vacation

So here I am in the most remotest part of the most remotest place. 

I have wanted to make this drive for years. I am not sure why exactly. It’s kind of scary. It is very hot and intensely sunny here. It’s just like that kind of brain-melting sun you get at the very most southern part of America where the stupid Big Island ends. Speaking of which, I can see it in all its centipede-infested glory just across the water. Stupid Big Island, so annoying. But back to here.

The slightly paved road we have just driven down was closed in 2006 after a big earthquake out in the water. I would appreciate no seismic events at this time, please. There are huge rocks above us that could come crashing down. The unstable lava shelf we are standing on appears to be getting undermined by the sea as I can see holes in it down the road a bit. The ocean itself is dark and menacing with giant swells that seem ready to jump up and grab us. Why the hell am I here again exactly? Something to do with my unnatural and very expensive addiction to Maui I believe. Partly I just feel the need to see and touch every bit of this perfect place. But also it’s just the thrill of seeing something new, and this is quite thrilling. So thrilling in fact that we are scared now. Time to zoom back up the road to the Surfing Goat Dairy to buy goat cheese. Enough of this high-risk exploration crap! We need something to spread on taro crackers to go with the wine we just bought at the winery back up the road several miles ago.

Oh Maui, my love. So good to be back walking around on you. You are as lovely and perfect as ever. If I had a soul it would be fulfilled and happy and stress-free right now. But everything is not all ono here on the best place on earth. The recession has had an impact. Roy’s is closed. The little shop in Makawao that sold squid rubbings is gone. The Kirsten Bunny Gallery is hanging on by a thread and they are begging for cash sales, “Good price if you buy two and pay cash!” I do buy two. I do pay cash. A restaurant sign says, “Eat here or we will both starve.” I don’t eat there but I do have crab pizza at Hali’imaile. How can this be happening here? Here! This is all wrong, so wrong.

What can a boy to do to help? Well, you can go stimulate the economy with your Hawaiian Airlines Bank of America credit card! Crab dip? You bet! Buy art? Of course! Spa day at the Grand Wailea? Doink! 

Spa day at the Grand Wailea, and there are new pools to soak in! The pools are named for, surprisingly, Hawaiian Islands. Here is your Grand Wailea spa pool summary for 2010:

I start off by soaking in the stupid Big Island pool. It’s kind of brown, too hot, and smells of insect repellent. I don’t like this one.

Next is the Lana’i pool. It smells of pineapple, I think. The temperature is neither hot nor cold. I don’t remember. I was so bored I fell asleep. 

The Kaua’i pool is green. I accidentally got some of the water in my mouth and it tasted like chicken. 

The Oah’u pool is kind of silver and has an energetic buzz about it. I like this pool. A lot. I could live here. But then...

Then...the Maui pool. Hints of turquoise water and bamboo green forests. The temperature? Perfect. All stress leaves my body. I am transported to my own special place. I am in a sugar cane field. There is an old building. Someone hands me a mango margarita. A small magic pizza arrives. Then a tower of raw tuna and little orange fish eggs. I wake up a little bit and I am in this magic blue green pool again. Then I doze off and there is more crab pizza. I am locked in some kind of perpetual space-time loop of sheer joy and utter bliss. Did I die and this is heaven?

No, no, snap out of it. There are more pools to be had, then a massage, then a facial, then some skin care products to buy, then some Tommy Bahama shirts to buy, then lunch.

Suffice to say, I did my part for the Hawaiian economy today. 

Later, in an ongoing attempt to stimulate the economy, I am in a limo drinking Prosecco. I have never been in a limo before. I have always thought of limos as ostentatious and kind of white trashy, but this does facilitate alcohol consumption while not worrying about getting a DWI.

Nope, all things considered this is ostentatious and white trashy. I am bruising my karma. To make up for this I spend the next morning buying little Buddha statues in the surfer town of Pa’ia. This after the requisite visit to Ho’okipa to watch the surfers.

Most of my traveling companions refuse to even try walking on the beach at night. This hurts my feelings as I think it’s one of the best parts of being here. You know the drill: the water is as warm as a bathtub on your feet, all the stars in the sky make up little dippers and big dippers. The moon is out and it’s so bright you could read a book by it. Blue glowy things twinkle in the sand. Fishermen have their lines out and call out “Howzit?” from the shadows as you walk by. This has not changed. This is perfect. This is Maui. 


















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