10-31-2006, 02:44 PM
My journey to Puna actually started in Molokai, the first Hawaiian island I visited. I was supposed to go to Kauai, to stay at a friend’s condo in Princeville, but Kauai was deluged with rain in March, and so we voluntarily diverted to Molokai. On the way over from Honolulu, we flew past Diamond Head and I saw a double rainbow as I sipped a glass of champagne. By the time I got to Molokai, I was thoroughly intoxicated -- not by the champagne, but by the view outside the window. As I do with everything, I threw myself into learning about Molokai. I learned that it was a refuge for Hawaiians and I learned why they needed a refuge. I fell in love with the striking blue of the ocean, the wet side, the dry side, the warm water, the tiny hidden beaches, and the extreme isolation from the cares of the world. By the time I got back home, I resolved to relocate to Hawaii if at all possible. Boyfriend was skeptical. Molokai did not appeal to boyfriend. He found it just a little too authentically remote. As soon as I got home, I arranged for a return, to go to Kauai with a side trip to the Big Island. By the time the trip rolled around, boyfriend had gotten a new job as a nurse and wasn’t able to go. A dear friend from New Orleans who now lives in California accompanied me. Again, when traveling to Hawaii, the plane ride is part of the experience. Hawaii starts there. On the way from Honolulu to Kauai, I saw Molokai, which was glistening in the sun and seemed improbably large from the air. I was wistful for it all started there for me. Along came Kauai and, as advertised, it was strikingly beautiful with its tall green peaks, and mist covered mountains. Our friend’s condo was in Princeville, a mainlander enclave. The complex, Sea Lodge, was built by some United Airlines pilots in the early seventies. They wanted a swinging pad, on the ocean. So the architecture was early seventies, but the ocean view was timeless. We opened the windows and the tradewinds rushed up the bluff and into the room. There was a coconut palm on the bluff that rustled even when there was no wind. You could see all the way down the coast to the Kilaua lighthouse, and Anini Beach. Our routine was to get up for the sunrise, hit the beaches before anyone else thought to, have some macadamia encrusted ono for lunch, hit the beaches again and then home to deliriously review our day and stare out the window as the sun set beyond the coconut palm. The beaches on Kauai were so beautiful that it seemed to me that the beachgoers were actually in some form of delirium over it. I learned to snorkel for the first time in Kauai (put snorkel in MOUTH, breathe). For me that was a big deal because although I love the water, I don’t like to put my face in it. In between times, I looked at real estate, mostly on the Southern part of the Island. In my price range, teeny condotel rooms and run down plantation shacks sitting on a postage stamp of green, next to body shops. In a way I regretted coming to Kauai before going to Puna. Kauai was painfully beautiful. I am sure it wouldn't be painful if you lived there, but when you leave there, the beauty is painful.I knew I wanted to live there, but that I probably would not be able to leverage my way onto the Island unless I was willing to do some serious scaling down, and didn't mind a few ice addicts living next door. I could sell my home in California, but was that wise?
I learned that there are two Kauai’s: Hanalei and Princeville, and the rest of the Island. Transplanted, mostly wealthy mainlanders live in the North. There is a middle class clinging to Kapaa and Lihue, and a mixture of locals and military on the dry side of the Island. Princeville puts on nearly unbearable airs, but the locale is enviable. I made it a point to get to Hanapepe, mid-way around the island at the bottom, and had a ukulele lesson from a delightful and tuneful eccentric. He gave me a ukulele necklace then went off to do a wedding in Poipu.
I bade my friend goodbye after a week and she headed home to California and I headed off for my next adventure: The Big Island! I was coming with a mission – to find some real estate. But I also wanted to get in some touring. The plan was to arrive, get the rental car, check in, then drive around the Big Island all the way, returning to my accommodations in Orchidland late in the evening. Again, the plane ride helped. I looked out my window, and realized that Hawaii is immense. There would be no way I would be able to drive around this expanse in 8 hours. I wished my boyfriend were with me to comfort me in the face of the unknown, although that is really not his strong suit. I realized that it was probably not wise to attempt to find Orchidland for the very first time in the dark. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. Lee, who owned the vacation rental in Orchidland met me at the airport, even though I was only staying one night. Lee was the first touch of the intense aloha I would feel in Puna, which sets it apart from my other Hawaiian experiences. He and his very darling daughter escorted me in my rental car from the airport to Orchidland. When we left the paved road to go down the hilly cinder road, I started to feel like I was having a pretty exotic experience. Why was I surprised to see tall wild orchids running rampant in Orchidland? I don’t know. Anyway, Lee insisted on carrying my very heavy luggage upstairs. I couldn’t believe how beautiful Lee’s place was: a jewel in a lush, green setting. I was on the second floor which had beautiful green views from every single window. The vaunted Puna rain was utterly absent and the entire place was bathed in sunshine and redolent of some indescribable Hawaiian perfume. I regretted that I had arranged for more expensive (and distant) accommodations in Kapoho for the following four nights. Lee made absolutely sure I was self sufficient before taking his little girl (Nicole?) off to Hilo (which he offered to show to me) to go bowling. Lee simply radiates good vibes and I was touched that he was devoting his day off to his daughter who was thrilled about bowling,and to a misguided mainlander.
The first thing I did after Lee left was to go to the window and stare at the catchment tank. Lee had explained that the kitchen faucet was connected to a final filter, and that if I wanted to I could use that filter. Although I had brought some water, I got a glass, turn the spigot on and then dared myself to drink it. I drank it, didn’t die, and immediately got over the catchment issue.
Night fell, but before it did, I heard the first infamous chirp. At first I thought it was a bird. Then remembering what I had learned on Punaweb, I recognized it to be the call of the dreaded coqui. I braced myself. Then I heard many chirps. But they seemed like distant, slightly discordant experimental electronic music. I should say that my normally disjointed life had achieved a kind of rhythm in Hawaii. I usually have trouble sleeping, but I got into a wonderful pattern there. I started breathing more deeply (the zen of snorkeling helped!) and didn’t have to take anything to go to sleep. (I am an addict at home). Anyway, I slept the sleep of the dead to the distant din of tiny invasive frogs.
The next morning was glorious. I made some Kona coffee (no Sharkeys yet). After puttering and talking to some others who were staying at Lee’s, I drove over to HPP. I should say that unlike other Hawaiian islands, I did not immediately take to the topography and foliage of the Big Island. The ohia trees which I had heard so much about did not seem pretty at all. They seemed, in fact, pretty ugly. I know that they flower, but they were not in flower. Although they are very Hawaiian, they didn’t fit my preconception very well.
I expected HPP to look more like a subdivision. I had trouble categorizing what I was looking at. Kit house, vacant lot, vacant lot, fantastic country estate, questionable abode of no determinate architectural style right next to it. Roads that tested the design capacity of my rental car. I drifted down near Kaloli Point – the Blue Hole.I got out of the car to look at a vacant lot I had coveted. It is very hard to look at a vacant lot and make much sense out of it. You have to have more imagination than I possess. I stared, and tried to imagine a beautiful house there that would not cost me much money. I heard something behind me and saw a guy wearing nothing but a sarong walking out toward me from the gates of his house. He looked a little like Richard Branson. I jokingly told him to put some clothes on! He asked me if I was looking for a lot, and I said yes, but I would accept something less than a lot. He talked to me about the area and how much he loved it. I talked to him about coquis, lumber thieves and tsunamis and he candidly answered all my questions. He then offered to show me his house. I accepted, and walked through the gates in the glorious sunshine of the blue hole. Behind artfully arranged foliage was a wonderful house that I will not describe so as to maintain this man’s privacy. I was thinking to myself, I can't imagine being invited into a stranger's house this way in Southern Calfornia. But my Puna host wasn't afraid of me. Maybe it was the ukulele necklace that put him at ease. He escorted me up to the top floor where the lanai off the master bedroom had a soul-gripping view of the ocean. I turned back to the master of the house in disbelief. He had blue eyes. I wondered for one strange, split second if staring at the ocean had turned them blue. I caught myself, fingered my ukulele necklace, remembered my boyfriend and wished he had come. I felt unmoored. Richard Branson offered me a beer. The sun was brilliant and the trades were coming off of the water. I said to myself, "Hawaii starts here" and I felt like I was falling into a big, blue hole.[Perhaps to be continued].
I learned that there are two Kauai’s: Hanalei and Princeville, and the rest of the Island. Transplanted, mostly wealthy mainlanders live in the North. There is a middle class clinging to Kapaa and Lihue, and a mixture of locals and military on the dry side of the Island. Princeville puts on nearly unbearable airs, but the locale is enviable. I made it a point to get to Hanapepe, mid-way around the island at the bottom, and had a ukulele lesson from a delightful and tuneful eccentric. He gave me a ukulele necklace then went off to do a wedding in Poipu.
I bade my friend goodbye after a week and she headed home to California and I headed off for my next adventure: The Big Island! I was coming with a mission – to find some real estate. But I also wanted to get in some touring. The plan was to arrive, get the rental car, check in, then drive around the Big Island all the way, returning to my accommodations in Orchidland late in the evening. Again, the plane ride helped. I looked out my window, and realized that Hawaii is immense. There would be no way I would be able to drive around this expanse in 8 hours. I wished my boyfriend were with me to comfort me in the face of the unknown, although that is really not his strong suit. I realized that it was probably not wise to attempt to find Orchidland for the very first time in the dark. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. Lee, who owned the vacation rental in Orchidland met me at the airport, even though I was only staying one night. Lee was the first touch of the intense aloha I would feel in Puna, which sets it apart from my other Hawaiian experiences. He and his very darling daughter escorted me in my rental car from the airport to Orchidland. When we left the paved road to go down the hilly cinder road, I started to feel like I was having a pretty exotic experience. Why was I surprised to see tall wild orchids running rampant in Orchidland? I don’t know. Anyway, Lee insisted on carrying my very heavy luggage upstairs. I couldn’t believe how beautiful Lee’s place was: a jewel in a lush, green setting. I was on the second floor which had beautiful green views from every single window. The vaunted Puna rain was utterly absent and the entire place was bathed in sunshine and redolent of some indescribable Hawaiian perfume. I regretted that I had arranged for more expensive (and distant) accommodations in Kapoho for the following four nights. Lee made absolutely sure I was self sufficient before taking his little girl (Nicole?) off to Hilo (which he offered to show to me) to go bowling. Lee simply radiates good vibes and I was touched that he was devoting his day off to his daughter who was thrilled about bowling,and to a misguided mainlander.
The first thing I did after Lee left was to go to the window and stare at the catchment tank. Lee had explained that the kitchen faucet was connected to a final filter, and that if I wanted to I could use that filter. Although I had brought some water, I got a glass, turn the spigot on and then dared myself to drink it. I drank it, didn’t die, and immediately got over the catchment issue.
Night fell, but before it did, I heard the first infamous chirp. At first I thought it was a bird. Then remembering what I had learned on Punaweb, I recognized it to be the call of the dreaded coqui. I braced myself. Then I heard many chirps. But they seemed like distant, slightly discordant experimental electronic music. I should say that my normally disjointed life had achieved a kind of rhythm in Hawaii. I usually have trouble sleeping, but I got into a wonderful pattern there. I started breathing more deeply (the zen of snorkeling helped!) and didn’t have to take anything to go to sleep. (I am an addict at home). Anyway, I slept the sleep of the dead to the distant din of tiny invasive frogs.
The next morning was glorious. I made some Kona coffee (no Sharkeys yet). After puttering and talking to some others who were staying at Lee’s, I drove over to HPP. I should say that unlike other Hawaiian islands, I did not immediately take to the topography and foliage of the Big Island. The ohia trees which I had heard so much about did not seem pretty at all. They seemed, in fact, pretty ugly. I know that they flower, but they were not in flower. Although they are very Hawaiian, they didn’t fit my preconception very well.
I expected HPP to look more like a subdivision. I had trouble categorizing what I was looking at. Kit house, vacant lot, vacant lot, fantastic country estate, questionable abode of no determinate architectural style right next to it. Roads that tested the design capacity of my rental car. I drifted down near Kaloli Point – the Blue Hole.I got out of the car to look at a vacant lot I had coveted. It is very hard to look at a vacant lot and make much sense out of it. You have to have more imagination than I possess. I stared, and tried to imagine a beautiful house there that would not cost me much money. I heard something behind me and saw a guy wearing nothing but a sarong walking out toward me from the gates of his house. He looked a little like Richard Branson. I jokingly told him to put some clothes on! He asked me if I was looking for a lot, and I said yes, but I would accept something less than a lot. He talked to me about the area and how much he loved it. I talked to him about coquis, lumber thieves and tsunamis and he candidly answered all my questions. He then offered to show me his house. I accepted, and walked through the gates in the glorious sunshine of the blue hole. Behind artfully arranged foliage was a wonderful house that I will not describe so as to maintain this man’s privacy. I was thinking to myself, I can't imagine being invited into a stranger's house this way in Southern Calfornia. But my Puna host wasn't afraid of me. Maybe it was the ukulele necklace that put him at ease. He escorted me up to the top floor where the lanai off the master bedroom had a soul-gripping view of the ocean. I turned back to the master of the house in disbelief. He had blue eyes. I wondered for one strange, split second if staring at the ocean had turned them blue. I caught myself, fingered my ukulele necklace, remembered my boyfriend and wished he had come. I felt unmoored. Richard Branson offered me a beer. The sun was brilliant and the trades were coming off of the water. I said to myself, "Hawaii starts here" and I felt like I was falling into a big, blue hole.[Perhaps to be continued].
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