For the first time in many years, your humble blog-master is missing Vancouver’s Powell Street Festival. It was time for a badly-needed family vacation and circumstances dictated the timing. So here we are. In Kona, on the big Island of Hawaii. We travelled yesterday from Seattle, landing at our rented home last night–the Newman/Greenaway clan (Amy, Emiko, Kaya and me) along with Amy’s folks Bonnie and Joel. So maybe today is Day One, but I’m going to call it Day Two anyway. That’s me at breakfast this morning. On the beach.
It’s my first time in the land of the hapa (memo to self, ask someone here if it’s OK to use the term hapa) and there surely are a lot of folk who vaguely resemble me. It’s the first place outside of Japan where Japanese names aren’t routinely mangled beyond recognition.
So far, I’ve seen more incredibly beautiful and exotic froliage than I’ve seen in my life, been serenaded by dozens of birds at 5am, been tumbled head over heels by a wave that I foolishly turned my back on, seen wild parrots for the first time, seen my first wild gecko, had my first Hawaiian beer (haven’t tried the Big Wave lager yet, that’s next), and have felt more relaxed than I have in a long, long time . . .
And now, the sun has gone down in a blaze of glory, the swordfish has been barbecued, the bottle of Hawaiian wheat ale (with passion fruit) has been finished and the crickets are starting up their nightly serenade . . . and tomorrow? Snorkeling with the fishes!
