For a week I wore no pants. My makeup was the slight burn of the sun turning to tan. My hair was dried by the air and styled by the salty sea breeze. We only went indoors to sleep.
But now, it has come time to return to reality. To a world of work and preschool, where pumpkin spice lattes replacing the sweet juices of pineapple and watermelon.
Did you miss me? The Streams ventured forth on a summer vacation.
Search and Destroy were going to spend a week at Camp Cosaro (their grandparents house in SoCal), while Jon and I ventured forth to the gorgeous garden isle of tropical paradise. The map abbreviates this name to Kauai – Hawaii’s oldest island.
After a rather uneventful flight (given my travel history, this nugget is worthwhile to share), we checked in to our hotel on the sunny south side and were promptly leid. We headed to the pool and kicked off our week of relaxation with a fruity adult beverage.
Jon and I spent the next day taking in the breathtaking views of the Napali Coast. More importantly, I snorkeled with the honu – my turtle pals.
When visiting the local equestrian center I grew up next to, the muppets kept with the theme by socializing with a showering horse named Fish. (I do not know why someone would name their horse Fish so I can only assume Fish’s owners also have a dog named Turtle. Thank you to the seven of you who got that reference.)
Destroy figured out how to go vertical (climbing things that could only lead to an untimely crash and ER visit) before dealing with more mundane horizontal skills (like walking). In his spirited honor, we went ziplining. “An amazing tree canopy zipline experience that combines zipping high above the treetops with unique and exciting tree bridges.”
I do not fear heights. But I do not deal well with the feeling of falling. How bad could ziplining be? Not at all actually; those “unique and exciting tree bridges”? flimsy, swinging, swaying tightropes with 2x4s loosely tied on.
At one point, as I stepped down to make the leap of faith into the sturdy, ground-free hands of my gear, our guide stopped me saying, “Hang on. Let me check one more thing.” No need to tell me to hang on twice. Because I’m clearly now going to die. (I didn’t.)
The next day we stayed close to the ground with a leisurely kayak up the Wailea River and “strenuous” hike toward a gushing waterfall of beauty. The guidebook got the description wrong. We paddled two miles upriver, against the wind before sauntering along a sidewalk-width dirt trail.
Jon caught a rotund yellow-fin tuna. The muppets had an assisted catch of Gramma’s hat – which blew off her head and needed to be rescued by the nearby Lake Patrol, much to the delight of the adventurous preschool passengers aboard.
Me? I spent that day sleeping in, reflecting on life, drinking coffee and thinking about friends and family back home. (Love you AuntJ. I promise you were with us in paradise in spirit.)
While Jon and I lounged by the beach and made friends with Hawaiian Monk Seals, Search and Destroy headed to the Santa Barbara Zoo. Their favorite was the giraffe and peeing gorilla. But as they passed the Pacific Ocean, my sons asked, “Is that the ocean? Can we go to the ocean and see mommy and daddy?” With that (not-so-little) tug on my heart, I accepted that we had only one day left in paradise.
A luau it would be. I was fully prepared to do the hula as instructed for audience participation. Excited even! (An open bar was involved. Along with a ninja waiter who reappeared with a fresh beverage should my Mai Tai ice cubes show.)
Woefully, as it turns out, my hips very much do lie.
But vacation wasn’t over yet. To be continued…