My Summer Vacation: Hawaii

For my summer vacation, I went to Hawaii.   Okay, not for my entire summer vacation, but for almost two weeks!  Its preeminent reputation notwithstanding, I love Hawaii.  I loved it the first time I set foot on those volcanic islands in 2007, and I loved it this second time, too.  Maybe I will just have to live there someday!

This summer in Hawaii, I island-hopped with my friend Tammy:  Maui, the Big Island, and Oahu.  Despite being a rather nervous flyer who is very much aware of the safety statistics for airlines and aircraft, I prefer flying in the smaller planes such as those employed by the discount island-hopping airlines.  Go figure, I know; it makes no rational sense, only emotional sense inside me. The flight from Maui to the Big Island in this plane, the smallest we flew in, was amazing. Tammy and I sat in row one, right behind the pilot--a woman, by the way, with a blonde ponytail!

In further recounting of my summer vacation in Hawaii, though, no chronological or geographically meaningful structure remains intact. So, listed below, in no particular order whatsoever, are the highlights, the moments that made memories:

• All, and I mean all, beaches are public.  It doesn't matter how snazzy the resort or upscale the home hugging the beach, the beach itself has public access.  And Hawaiian beaches do carry significant weight in the setting of planetary beach standards!

• There are chickens in the yard, even in suburbia!  There are also "feral" chickens Tammy and I concluded.  "Feral"--but not in an "ew" or scary way--only because chickens will emerge impromptu, so to speak, along a roadside far away from any yard or human habitation.

• Hawaii has the best fish tacos ever!  Fish taco connoisseurs, Tammy and I sampled pert near on a daily basis.  No fish taco remained un-devoured in any circumstance, but we ultimately ranked the ones at the Hard Rock Cafe--in both Lahaina (Maui) and Honolulu--as the best.

• Continuing with the subject of island cuisine, let me also mention banana bread...as in roadside fruit stand banana bread.  YUM!  Long-time family recipes play a role here and a few attain mythical status.

• Hawaii has lots of very cool churches, ones totally worthy of "in the dell."

• The Road to Hana:  On my first trip to Hawaii, we only made it half-way to Hana, via the renowned road to Hana, before our time frame necessitated that we turn back.  On this trip, though, we ultimately arrived in Hana, an atmospheric little town on the east coast of Maui.  The lay of the land along the road to Hana is indeed breathtaking for virtually the entire journey.

• Island volcanoes generally array themselves in clouds.  We saw nary a top of one during our visit, only abundant evidence of their powers of creation and distinctive designing of the landscape.

• For a Hawaiian city, I choose Hilo.

Other random details mingling in my Hawaii recollections include (1) the fact that my hair and nails perform at a much higher standard in Hawaii.  I believe my physiology embraces the Hawaiian climate--yes, even the humidity.  (2) I have become entangled in the TV drama NCIS.  Totally Tammy's fault and the multiple nights we spent watching NCIS marathons on a channel regularly incorporated into various hotels' TV repertoire.  (3) I am also now fettered to the series (books only at this point) Game of Thrones.  Totally my fault.  Curious about all the hoopla surrounding the series, I brought the first book to Hawaii in my stash for beach reading.  Alas, I have since purchased the second book, A Clash of Kings, and the third book, I suspect, resides in my immediate future.

Hawaii commenced my summer vacation in grand style.  The rest of it has unfolded rather gloriously as well.

The Things I Threw Away

Typically I leave the country within a day--or three--of the end of school either for the stateside summer sojourn or a trip to somewhere else before the stateside summer sojourn.  Granted, this pattern did not emerge until after I departed Germany for Asian destinations; in fact, I spent entire summers in Europe several times with no stateside visit whatsoever.  After a brief review and analysis of my history and circumstances, two reasons loom for why this current pattern established itself:  (1) In Asia I have always lived in densely populated metropolitan areas, and I am not a big-city girl at heart; give me some space and empty.  (2) No one ever comes to visit me in Asia.  (WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!!)  Okay, except for Carolee, who came to visit me once in both Japan and in Korea.  But we're looking at eight years in Asia for me now, a time frame logging a statistically relevant dearth of visitors!

This summer, though, has unfolded a bit differently.  I will have spent nine days beyond the ending of school in-country before I depart for San Francisco to meet my friend Tammy.  Complete responsibility--or blame, but in a good way--for this unlikely reality of mine resides fully with Tammy who insisted that she needed at least a week after the end of school before she could head to the states and meet me in San Francisco.  (Yeah, well, Tammy lives in Germany.)  So, with all potential hang-out and/or travel buddies flown to or dwelling on other continents, I definitely had some down time to while away.  What to do, what to do?  Productivity or dilly dally?

A CONFESSION:  I have never fully unpacked all my stuff since I moved to Baalborn, Germany, in June of 2001, and I have moved three times since then!  In all four abodes, including my current one, one room's destiny fell to the designation "the denial room," and it remained a jumble of boxes--many still taped and stickered by the most recent moving company--and other clutter not immediately pertinent to my day to day existence.  Alas, with the passing years, I drift ever closer to a vagabond status.  So, in a supreme effort to circumvent a total degeneration into a "hiss and a byword" status, during this week of "unassigned leisure" I confronted my current denial room, and the ensuing struggle encompassed the better parts of three days.

In the end, I threw away lots and lots of stuff--some with relief, some with glee, and some with waves of nostalgia.  Although the neighborhood recycling center, the garrison thrift shop, and my church's pass-along table have become the appointed beneficiaries, the relief, the glee, and waves of nostalgia have moved me to bear record of some of those things I threw away. (IN KOREA, NO LESS. WHO WOULD HAVE THUNK THE END OF THEIR TIME WITH ME WOULD BE HERE?!)  Included below are only my most notable discards.

• Financial records for 2001 and 2002 (three bags-worth of shredding).  I finally did locate the box in which I stored them for safe keeping way back in the day!

• All the magazines--two different weeks' worth of issues, actually, so six in total--dedicated to Princess Diana after her death:  Time, Newsweek, and People.  (Yes, I still remember that moment when I learned she had died.

• All my books and notes for learning how to speak German, French, Japanese, and Korean.  (I did hold onto the flashcards I made for Korean, but who knows if they shall ever again be loosed from the rubber bands!)

• The poems I saved written by my third graders from way back when.  (The faded pencil made them impossible to read anymore and so much easier to let go.)

• Every last book and school file for teaching any kind of social studies--history or otherwise. 

• The hospital wristband from when I had encephalitis.

• Two match books taken from the hotel Diane and I stayed in on that Sun Valley trip when we were teenagers.

• The sand and sea sample--actual sea in liquid form long since evaporated--given to me by Carl after he went home to California for spring break.  At that point in my life--a nineteen-year-old junior because I was on the three-year plan--I had never seen the Pacific Ocean, so he brought it to me.  A zoology graduate student (I worked part-time in the zoology department my first two years in college), Carl had meticulously labeled the jar:  sand and sea sample, Newport Beach, CA.  I have loved that gift a long time and pretty much all around the world.  It is documented even if the sand will now reside on the other side of the Pacific Ocean!

This is the "after" photo, and obviously there is more winnowing to be done--photographs and personal history stuff mostly.  There is no "before" photo!

Jeju, Ambivalently Speaking

For Memorial Day weekend, my friend Pam and I checked out Jeju, a volcanic island off Korea's southern coast and often touted—to Americans, anyway--as Korea's "Hawaii."  Whether or not I ever visit Jeju again, I am technically suspending judgment on that "Hawaii" analogy for now, even if, in the meantime, I remain largely skeptical.  Yes, Jeju is an island created by volcanic activity.  However, latitude, for sure, negates a tropical designation even if it certainly has a more temperate climate than the rest of Korea.  Despite the fact that palm trees dot coastal areas and Jeju oranges are famous, the Jeju palm trees look more like those found in southern California and Arizona—two places also capable of producing citrus.  So, again, this Hawaii comparison . . . I'm not feeling it.

Granted, my mental and emotional state at the time of the visit ranked a goodly distance below optimal:  weary and school-stressed, I lacked both energy and attitude to embark on a true adventure.  We also spent inordinate amounts of time in airports on both ends of our get-away due to delayed flights.  And, to do justice to the island, one really should rent a car, which we did not—neither one of us very excited at the prospect of engaging in the act of driving, totally based on our Seoul driving experiences, of course . . . and which, to be honest, really should not be used to judge driving in the rest of Korea!

Hence, with this preface and subsequent disclaimers, I shall now present some photos of the trip and allow you to draw your own conclusions:

Here are views of Hamdeok Beach from our hotel room balcony on various days at various times.

Looking back at the seawall running in front of our hotel.

I did quite like the "stone grandfathers,” or dol hareubang, carved from blocks of basalt.  Traditionally placed outside of gates of villages and homes, these distinctive stone gods offered protection against demons traveling between realities. 

I loved this "stone grandfather" telephone booth!

On Saturday, we took a short ferry ride to the small island of Udo, just off the coast of Jeju.  Here are some of the things we saw there.

Apparently Jeju, which for centuries was quite isolated from mainland Korea, developed a matriarchal family structure, especially in Udo and Mara, two out-lying islands.  Haenyeo, or "sea women"—usually the heads of their families who controlled the income-- earned their living from free diving, often all year round in quite cold water without scuba gear in order to harvest abalones, conchs, and other marine products.  Because of their superior ability to resist cold, women were believed to be better at spending all day deep-water diving.  Even if rapid   economic development and modernization have greatly diminished the numbers of haenyeo still actively working, we spotted some in several different places off the coast of Udo.  

Next are bangsataps, towers made by stacking or piling stones, which were believed to ward off evil, provide protection, and promote prosperity.  Quite large ones can be found on certain beaches, in cities and towns, and out in the countryside.

These last photos are from Hamdeok town, where our hotel was located.

So, do tell:  Are you catching a Hawaiian vibe here?!!

Traveling Solo

Generally, I don’t travel on my own; I am a fan of travel buddies.  One—or more than one—travel buddies add dimension and alternative perspectives to the travel experience.  Travel buddies allow the opportunity to share and the opportunity to debrief.

Now, I’m not talking about having someone with me at every moment and juncture of my travel time.  These days, more often than not, I actually meet my travel buddy in the airport or hotel of our first destination city.  Often, during the span of our travels together, we will separate to pursue an individual interest or activity and then connect again later . . . usually for a meal!  For instance, rarely do I have a travel buddy who wishes to accompany me on a morning run!

Although I have spent two or three days on my own at the beginning or end of a travel experience, I have never planned and then partaken of an entire travel adventure solo.  Until my spring break travels in April, that is!  For spring break I returned to Vietnam for a week, this time ALL BY MYSELF!

And I survived.  And I had quite a good time.

So, with one week of practical experience in my repertoire, I hereby offer—in no particular order—what I discovered to be some of the perks of traveling solo:

·         Both complimentary bottles of water in the hotel room are yours.

·         All the mango slices on the welcome fruit plate at the hotel are yours.

·         You can eat dinner at 4:30 or 5:00—no explanations or justifications necessary.

·         You can forget your dirty clothes in the bathroom after a shower minus the risk of grossing out the travel buddy.

·         The Swiss gentleman who checks out of the hotel just ahead of you invites you to share a taxi to the airport with him and then, once at the airport, refuses to split the fare because his “company will be happy to cover the expense.”

·         You can opt for the motor scooter day-tour—less than half the price and more story-worthy!

·         Two German guys  will momentarily amuse themselves on this gorgeous beach taking a brief photo shoot of you using your camera.

·         The couple from Australia you meet on the Mekong Delta boat will talk politics—Australia, USA, the world—with you.  Then she will be your comrade-in-arms for purchasing Vietnamese-style hats, and he will make the requisite photo documentation.

So, yes, this first trip traveling solo I would consider successful, even pleasurable, and certainly memorable.

Did I miss having a travel buddy?  Absolutely . . . pretty much every day.  And there are things I would have done with a buddy that I did not do on my own.  Like . . . on my motor scooter day-tour, my guide would pull up at a lovely deserted beach and ask if I wanted to take a swim.  Although I did have my swimsuit and all, I just didn’t want to swim there by myself.

So, would I travel solo again?  Maybe.

Dressing Up Is Over Rated

Sometime back—as in years now—I passed through the interval of time where I actually carried within me the “female” penchant to dress up, to “look good” in that notice me kind of way.  Confession . . . I haven’t purchased an actual dress in over a decade.  Granted, I occasionally experience a time travel moment backwards:  Four years ago I bought a pair of stilettos.  Except for a wedding and one or two church attempts, those shoes have resided in their box on a top closet shelf.  A month ago I examined the current state of false eyelashes and the application thereof.  NOPE, not going to happen!

At my school, the Korean teacher—who is Korean, by the way—is somewhat intrigued with me. . . maybe first of all because we are of the same generation, and she checked that fact out, too.  Koreans consider all kinds of questions polite American society would deem “personal” or “inappropriate” as fair conversation starters even with people you meet for the first time!  (I play coy, though, with her and others who ask, and I do not divulge my age, weight, etc., except in blurry general terms.)  And maybe second of all because I am more physically active than many others of “our generation” at school, and I’m not considered “fat.”  When I first arrived in Seoul, she was married, but she has since divorced.  Now she works with a trainer regularly, has the body to show for it, and she is an awesome dresser, to include footwear with noticeable height.  Kindly—but I totally know what she’s up to—she scrutinizes my appearance any time we chat at a break time or a meeting and offers positive reinforcement for anything she believes could rally me to a fuller consciousness, acceptance, and implementation of “looking good.” 

“You are a good looking woman,” she says.  “Show off what you have,” she admonishes.

So, pretty much I wear pants, and about half the time those pants are jeans. But in my defense, they are usually black jeans!  And I wear flats, or Uggs when it’s cold and nasty, or athletic shoes but mostly only on Friday.

Not sure what came over me, but this past Wednesday I wore a skirt—you don’t even need all the fingers on one hand to count the number of times I have worn a skirt this school year—and hose, and Frye leather boots with an inch and a half heel.  (My hair has looked amazingly good for the past two weeks, and I have no idea why because I have not done a thing different with it, but Wednesday it was still behaving.)  She was ecstatic!

Me—not so much.  When all the students had exited the classroom at the end of the school day, I collapsed in my cushioned chair at my desk and did not arise until my legally contracted departure time.  Before heading home, I had to make a commissary run, and, the truth is, I was not as invisible as I usually am while engaging in this endeavor.  Two different geezers—okay, they were probably of my generation—both with wedding rings, I might add, chatted me up, and there was more eye contact and glances of appraisal than the norm from work staff and other patrons.

Not enough to instill any motivation for me to change my ways, though!  Before I could even put away my freezer goods when I arrived home, I had to strip down.  I could scarcely bear to have any of those clothes on me anymore.  Although I had major grading to complete, my recovery entailed a full evening appareled in pajamas while sprawled on the couch with popcorn, Diet Coke, and Netflix.

Dressing up is over rated.

TIA--This Is Asia: Vietnam, Korea, and Ginger Tea

Apparently, Leonardo DiCaprio said “TIA” a lot in Blood Diamond—a movie I never saw—but I stumbled on the acronym while reading reviews of various hotels located in Phu Quoc, Vietnam.  The reviewer acknowledged its more accepted interpretation—“This Is Africa”—but then added that it explicates an acceptance of the Asian cultures, circumstances, and situations as well and could just as fittingly mean “This Is Asia!”  For the here and now of this particular space, it expresses THIS IS ASIA! 

(TIA, by the way, is also a medical acronym but really not applicable to this post.)

Of the cities we visited in Vietnam, my favorite was Hoi An.  The light and color, the lines and shapes, the style and countenance—all mingle here to conjure an aesthetic jewel.

TIA!

The evening after our cooking class caper—yes, that event also occurred in this setting—Cindy and I booked appointments for massages at a spa down the road from our hotel.  Upon removing our flip-flops at the spa entrance, we were ushered to sit on a couch the waiting area.  Within minutes two girls began washing our feet in small plastic tubs full of water scented with herbs and lime slices, and another brought us cups of tea.  Now for me, tea—no matter the contents or purported flavor—generally tastes like hot water flavored with leaves or grass or twigs or some combination thereof, and milk, sugar, honey, and/or lemon fail to render it drinkable beyond a sip or two.  Except for that apple tea served in Turkey, I am no fan of tea whatsoever!  Supposing I would just hand off my cup to Cindy after she finished hers, I peered into the cup and took a whiff.  Several small strips of something floated below the surface, and the aroma wafting upwards was pleasantly spicy.  “Ginger tea,” Cindy said.  Curious, I took a sip; it was good—a gingery kick and just enough sweet.  I drank at all.  TIA!

After a 90-minute “Asian Style” massage—one of my top ten most amazing even if each of my calves had screaming moments—I nestled back down on a sofa in the waiting area and sipped on another cup of ginger tea while a girl figured up my bill.  The second cup tasted just as good as the first, if not more so.  In that moment, Ginger tea joined apple tea, and my tea list became two.

When I returned to my home in Seoul, Korea, I conducted an Internet search on how one—especially someone like me—could recreate ginger tea like the two I drank one evening in Hoi An.  I jotted down notes gathered from several Internet recipes and suggestions and convinced myself I could recognize fresh ginger in the produce section.  After all, TIA!

Now, winter in Seoul is bitter.  Whether snow falls or not, temperatures drop and then insist on dwelling in the nether regions for weeks.  Twenties and thirties signal a warming trend!  This winter has been especially brutal.  The cold arrived earlier and seems to plan on hanging out a while longer.  We have also had more snow fall this winter than the combined total of what fell during both of my first two winters here put together.  Honestly, though, I prefer the days the snow falls:  those days are actually warmer, so to speak because snow does not fall when the temperature is too cold, and, of course, there is something beautiful about falling snow. 

This week while grocery shopping, I remembered to look for fresh ginger.  I found it and I purchased it.  Today, after a night where temperatures dropped to single digits once again, I brewed some ginger tea.  The ginger part right I got right, but I still need to experiment with how to replicate the right amount of sweet.  I have time and place on my side in this endeavor, though, because I am here and . . . TIA!