01-08-2007, 03:07 PM
There I was, alone at the end of the world, in Kapoho at the Tortoise and Frog, Bed and Tidepool Establishment. The lights were off. You could hear the sound of the spring water gurgling up into the tidepool, passing through the magma who knows how far below. Behind the tidepool is a jungle that overhangs the pool. The leaves in the jungle would occasionally rustle of their own accord. In a tree outside the window, a coqui sang a song that sounded a lot like “I’m want to put a power drill to your temple, flip off the safety, and drill until I reach air on the other side”. But there was another sound. The sound in Puna carries. You can whisper “Hand me the remote” in Volcano, and they can hear you in Kalapana Seaview Estates. But the sound I was hearing had carried from no further than the deck. It sounded like footprints. A steady, but occasional thumping. The deck on the Tortoise and Frog is an enormous, elaborate creaky affair.
The kitchen is marvelously equipped at the Tortoise and Frog. It has every imaginable kitchen implement. That's where I got the samurai sword sized knife. I am not quite sure how I came to be afraid in Hawaii—not the most fear inducing state in the union. But there I was lying there on my bed at the very end of the Hawaiian Island chain (having flown down from the Princeville, at the very top), in a house over a gaseous vent that occasionally belched sulfur, backed by a tidepool that was heated in a way I was pretty sure I didn’t want to understand. I could hear the rustle of every leaf, I was all alone, and I kept imagining and old wrinkled woman with fiery eyes coming to the door, begging for a sandwich. And I kept hearing what sounded like footsteps on the deck. With the lights on inside, and the deck so dark, I felt like I had a bullseye on my head.
The thumping came again. The house was basically open to the world. The windows were louvred and hadn’t been closed since Reagan was President. I finally could stand it no more, got out of bed and crept over by the window, and looked out to see who or what was crawling out of the tidepool to drag me down into the underworld.
I held my breath, knife gripped in my right hand. I heard a rustle, heard the thump and saw what caused it.
It was some kind of plum. They fell off of the tree above the deck and when they hit the deck, the sounded just like footfalls on the stairs.
The next day, John and I looked at properties. I fell completely in love with a one story, Hawaiiana house on one of the higher numbered streets in HPP. Fruit trees everywhere, fenced for the dogs (over Christmas,. we made the mistake of giving into a sad little Dalmatian girl who was imprisoned at the Humane Society. Our current Dalmatian has already told us what he thinks of her by biting her on the ear. She is wondering why in the hell we “rescued” her.) I loved that house. It had superhigh ceilings, the kitchen was open to the living room, which was large enough for a pretty nice party, the bedrooms were on opposite ends of the house, so guests would have privacy…and the yard of the house next door was littered with machinery and old rusting farm implements. They appeared to be in the process of establishing an outdoor museum dedicated to washers and dryers, from the hand crank type, to more modern versions.
I also fell in love with a three story house near Kalapana where cobalt blue ocean views filled nearly every window. Easy care concrete floors. Great, high end kitchen. But then I realized how very far we were away from everything, and I came back down to earth. My partner really couldn’t commute to work from there.
I didn’t find exactly what I wanted in Puna, but much to my amazement I had a great time. What impressed me most were the tidepools and the people. I met so many people so quickly in Puna, and I liked all of them. The fact that I came to Puna after staying in Princeville, Kauai in a friend’s condo accentuated the contrast. There were things about Puna that I did not like very much: the kids that hang out by the firestation, someone tried to run me over, someone brought their baby into one of the tidepools while I was snorkeling, I got food poisoning from something I ate at a health food store (and blamed my nausea on the volcano until I figured out what happened), the ohia trees seem so very ugly, and those friggin’ frogs are an ongoing disaster. But the experiences I had in my short time there were rich, the liliokoi margaritas took me to a very nice place, you get more than a postage-stamp sized property for your money, if you don't mind drinking rainwater that drips off your roof. But the people are what impressed me the most. I was very lucky to run into mostly nice people. And that's what I will remember more than the killer plums that stalked me at the Tortoise and Frog.
The kitchen is marvelously equipped at the Tortoise and Frog. It has every imaginable kitchen implement. That's where I got the samurai sword sized knife. I am not quite sure how I came to be afraid in Hawaii—not the most fear inducing state in the union. But there I was lying there on my bed at the very end of the Hawaiian Island chain (having flown down from the Princeville, at the very top), in a house over a gaseous vent that occasionally belched sulfur, backed by a tidepool that was heated in a way I was pretty sure I didn’t want to understand. I could hear the rustle of every leaf, I was all alone, and I kept imagining and old wrinkled woman with fiery eyes coming to the door, begging for a sandwich. And I kept hearing what sounded like footsteps on the deck. With the lights on inside, and the deck so dark, I felt like I had a bullseye on my head.
The thumping came again. The house was basically open to the world. The windows were louvred and hadn’t been closed since Reagan was President. I finally could stand it no more, got out of bed and crept over by the window, and looked out to see who or what was crawling out of the tidepool to drag me down into the underworld.
I held my breath, knife gripped in my right hand. I heard a rustle, heard the thump and saw what caused it.
It was some kind of plum. They fell off of the tree above the deck and when they hit the deck, the sounded just like footfalls on the stairs.
The next day, John and I looked at properties. I fell completely in love with a one story, Hawaiiana house on one of the higher numbered streets in HPP. Fruit trees everywhere, fenced for the dogs (over Christmas,. we made the mistake of giving into a sad little Dalmatian girl who was imprisoned at the Humane Society. Our current Dalmatian has already told us what he thinks of her by biting her on the ear. She is wondering why in the hell we “rescued” her.) I loved that house. It had superhigh ceilings, the kitchen was open to the living room, which was large enough for a pretty nice party, the bedrooms were on opposite ends of the house, so guests would have privacy…and the yard of the house next door was littered with machinery and old rusting farm implements. They appeared to be in the process of establishing an outdoor museum dedicated to washers and dryers, from the hand crank type, to more modern versions.
I also fell in love with a three story house near Kalapana where cobalt blue ocean views filled nearly every window. Easy care concrete floors. Great, high end kitchen. But then I realized how very far we were away from everything, and I came back down to earth. My partner really couldn’t commute to work from there.
I didn’t find exactly what I wanted in Puna, but much to my amazement I had a great time. What impressed me most were the tidepools and the people. I met so many people so quickly in Puna, and I liked all of them. The fact that I came to Puna after staying in Princeville, Kauai in a friend’s condo accentuated the contrast. There were things about Puna that I did not like very much: the kids that hang out by the firestation, someone tried to run me over, someone brought their baby into one of the tidepools while I was snorkeling, I got food poisoning from something I ate at a health food store (and blamed my nausea on the volcano until I figured out what happened), the ohia trees seem so very ugly, and those friggin’ frogs are an ongoing disaster. But the experiences I had in my short time there were rich, the liliokoi margaritas took me to a very nice place, you get more than a postage-stamp sized property for your money, if you don't mind drinking rainwater that drips off your roof. But the people are what impressed me the most. I was very lucky to run into mostly nice people. And that's what I will remember more than the killer plums that stalked me at the Tortoise and Frog.
. That was inconsiderate and dangerous.