Hawaiian Times
We visited Kaanapali soon after the Lahaina fires.
I was hungry 20 years ago so I went to Sam’s Sushi in Seattle.
At the table next to me was a 90s icon only few of us will remember.
Susan Powter, famous for abrasively helping people to lose weight (“Stop the Insanity!”) — a left-right combination of Pink meets Tony Robbins — talked with a friend over sashimi.
A guy she’d recently met expressed interest in seeing her again, but she did not approve of his methods.
“I DO NOT ‘hang out,’” she said, with exquisitely ripped finger quotes.
I’ll never forget it.
I both admired her perspective and also thought she was pretty obnoxious.
20 years later, though, when it comes to taking a relaxing family vacation, I feel exactly that same way:
“I DO NOT ‘hang out.’”
Historically speaking, in “BHS vacation mythology” terms, hell is a nice resort or a quaint little beachside town.
Give me a city, action, work, any day.
Our family, unfortunately, seems to love this type of “relaxing” vacation.
Sunshine. Water. Sand.
…
Just people on the earth.
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This is attempt #4 to enjoy Hawaii.
Attempt #1: I visited Oahu in 2006, for the last Magic Pro Tour event that I would attend as a Magic maker, but was incapable of enjoying much. I’d just burned too hard, too long.
I visited Pearl Harbor with some friends, ate Hawaiian foods, but Honolulu felt more like Miami or Vegas than picturesque Hawaii.
I never touched the water.
I never thought I’d be back.
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Attempts #2 & #3: Morgan’s family has taken vacations together for over 70 years, and there’s a real sense of tradition in keeping the group together for a Tahoe trip in the summer & a resort-style trip in the winter.
Tahoe is nice, but has never made sense to me as a repeat destination unless you’re an avid skier.
I am not.
Add in that it takes between 3-8 hours to get to-and-fro based on traffic…
When someone from the bay area tells me they went to Tahoe for the weekend I just think they’re bad at making life decisions.
In the summer, the beach is rocky and the water is cold.
You can go on a boat and jet ski or water ski or maybe take out a kayak but did I mention the water is cold?
Hiker, biker, swimmer… sure?
You really can’t do that closer to home?
Morgan’s mother, Nancy, swims for hours in the cold water.
Big smile on her face the entire time.
Morgan’s father, Joe, bicycles and takes in the lake as he rides.
Big smile on his face the entire time.
Morgan looks forward to this Tahoe trip every year.
It feels like her entire extended family is there at some point or another.
It’s nice to see everyone, but…
I do not understand.
Now’s a good time to add that Morgan’s family has a unique take on vacation which differs a bit from my own:
They actually like to work harder on vacation than they do at home.
Much, much, harder.
There will not be a housekeeper cleaning up your hotel room.
There will not be a hotel restaurant downstairs.
That’s because there’s no hotel.
(And, to be clear — they like to work hard at home, too. After a communal meal, much as in basketball, each of us jockeys for position to be the one who gets to do the dishes. After a decade, I’ve been fully indoctrinated: if I tell you to “look over there,” in Tiburon or Larkspur, watch out for the box out. Those dishes are mine.)
On this type of Tahoe trip you will buy and unload groceries and you will make meals and you will manage trash and you will help do the dishes and you will mop up the mess and you will help lift the kayaks out from storage and then you will help put them back and you will do all relevant laundry and you will make sure the kids respect the space & etc. without any of the supports of home.
You’ll basically run a hotel managed by your in-laws.
Now let’s spice up the pot a bit.
Let’s add that you have two small children along with you on your travels (the older one I call Please Live, and the younger one Death Wish) — two tiny omni-poopers with questionable self-management skills and no sense of what a gigantic body of water can do to them.
This type of trip really keeps you on your toes as a parent, as a husband, and as a human being.
For the most part, Morgan’s family “hangs out” in a beautiful, but mostly uncomfortable, setting and celebrates how much they enjoy the experience.
Breathe in that Tahoe air.
This feels like a good time to remind you, like our friend Susan above:
“I DO NOT ‘hang out.’”
For trips #2 & #3, we visited Kauai and Kona in a setup fairly similar to that of the Tahoe trips mentioned above.
Condo, cold pool, rocky beach, hotel to run, children to keep alive.
Hoping for a little action, I joined my same-generation in-laws and their kids on a trip to see an active volcano — and my nephews listened to an audio book (“The Trumpet and the Swan”) for four hours while we adults drove in utter silence.
Uncomfortable beauty. Mmm…
As my wife is fond of saying on these types of vacations, “it’s just life.”
…
Just people on the earth.
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This is implied but unsaid to this point, but we usually travel to see family and/or travel with family, so this trip was an anomaly.
For attempt #4, our first family trip to Maui, we were down to our core four.
On the flight to Maui, I sat next to Micah, soon-to-be-8, and a spiritual woman from Gainesville, FL.
You never know who you’ll fly with on Christmas Day.
Just as we took off, she asked really personal questions about us and our trip, as if she was somewhat removed from reality.
Then she said (without considering the small child listening in next to me), “corporations burned down Lahaina on purpose,” and talked about a holy woman in Hawaii she followed on the internet and was hoping to track down in Hilo. She wanted to join some protests about the corrupt corporations while on the big island, then continued adding point after point from her list of conspiracy theories pertaining to the island.
Merry Christmas to me!
I didn’t want Micah to hear anything further (for fear of further misinformation or scariness), and gave the woman a kind enough but firm enough “uh huh” signal to try and cut the woman off at the pass.
Catching the drift, she put her black winter coat over her head and fell asleep.
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I remember this kind of vacant, zombie-type character from Ghost World (the book) that seemed too weird to be real.
Big grin, few thoughts, eyes still, just waiting for something — anything — to happen, completely disconnected from reality.
I thought this was a fictional character (“a Daniel Clowes character” in my mind) until I moved to the Bay Area.
But it’s not just fiction.
Just after I moved to SF, I rode a bus with the intention of riding it to the end of its route to better understand the city.
With me to the end was a benign-enough seeming man with an empty grin that seemed to have as little intention of getting off at a stop as I did.
I don’t think he had a place to be or go.
I never rode the bus to a route’s end again.
*********************
Our neighbor woke up.
She kept fumbling and losing her carry-on items, and her left arm started to shake a bit uncontrollably.
She seemed like a mess.
She asked me if I was going to visit Lahaina, which we discussed visiting to volunteer.
(Note: you can’t just visit to volunteer.)
Then she told me that I should be extra careful as 2,000 children have gone missing on the island and that she really wanted me to know.
It’s a conspiracy.
Down the rabbit hole.
Again in front of my young daughter.
Again the awkward “uh huh.”
She changed gears trying to find less shaky conversational ground, trying to find normality, and asked Micah about what she was excited about this trip, and Micah talked about her history of travel birthdays (she’s late-December) — which drew a little venom out of our lost soul.
“You’re such a Princess,” she kept repeating, sounding more and more like a Disney witch.
My daughter didn’t feel the lashings, but I did.
The more my life has solidified, the less tolerance I have for folly.
I didn’t tell the woman my nickname for her.
…
Just a person on the earth.
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It’s a strange world, and it can be hard to know what to believe sometimes.
I get that.
So many rabbit holes.
So many issues seem to draw out this hard-to-believe, 50/50, full-throated, binarism.
Is this who we really are?
Is this who we’ve always been?
It makes me wonder if half of those alive were rooting for Pontius Pilate at the time of Christ, too.
Who were those people?
Is it really a merry Christmas?
Maybe it’s just half-merry.
…
Just people on the earth.
*********************
Many I knew felt real sadness with the Lahaina fires, which I couldn’t relate to before (outside of the obvious human loss), but can now.
Driving past (as Kaanapali is right next to Lahaina), it felt very obviously like a once-lived-in town was just plowed and gone.
A stretch was still full of charred artifacts like cars and buildings.
The ride to the resort was a sober one.
Many lives were uprooted or destroyed, and it was hard not to feel this.
…
Just people on the earth.
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You could feel the community trying to rally on all fronts.
Helping others was a constant refrain.
Condos housed those displaced by the fire, as they tried to find some sense of normalcy.
Ads on the TV asked for more condo owners to do the same.
The American Red Cross was situated downstairs in the lobby, there to help Hawaiians in need — and there were still quite a few.
We learned pretty quickly that Honua Kai, in Kaanapali, is a perfectly situated condo rental-style resort for us.
We had a full-suite apartment, with a kid-friendly resort downstairs.
A “good enough” restaurant, safe pools, and the beach right there.
And a washer/dryer.
And infinite towels to wash.
It was a vacation for all.
Blums and Schneiders could both be their truest vacation selves.
Just people on the earth.
*********************
On our second day, it was raining where we were, but not in Kihei.
Morgan tried to convince me that it could be raining in the parking lot but not at the beach…
You can take the girl out of San Francisco…
So we drove towards the south side of the island.
Standing across from a farmer’s market, a smiling activist held a sign that read, “No Poison!”
Activists don’t always make the best marketers.
Definitely not going to that farmer’s market, I thought to myself.
A half hour later, we got to Kihei and found a beach and swam in it.
In Kaanapali (where we were staying for the week), when you put your feet in the ocean, all the skeet that ever had the misfortune of being shot down get their revenge.
The more we swam, the more our toes looked like Gashlycrumb Tinies.
As we dance to the masochism tango…
I am haunted by waters.
In Kihei (and other southern beaches), I still had toes left after a swim.
It was nice.
Rainbows appeared overhead.
Afterwards we ate at a cafe where chickens roamed the place.
Just chickens on the earth.
*********************
Pro tip: If you’ve been swimming for a while, and you need to go to the bathroom, forgo the sanitary napkin.
You can thank me later.
*********************
On our way back, we passed the farmer’s market again.
This time a different activist held a sign that read, “No Toxic Waste!”
…
Really not going to that farmer’s market, I thought to myself.
*********************
At night, we went to one of Morgan’s favorite Maui restaurants.
It was a nice restaurant in an upscale mall.
I ordered gnocchi with kalua pork.
I tend to feel guilty when I’m on vacation.
It’s because I’m guilty.
The joy of vacation is both real and tainted.
As we ordered, the song Karma Police began to play overhead, and I mentioned it was a curious song to play at a place like this, and the waitress eyeing me smirked and didn’t deny it.
Leaning into said guilt, I asked Micah if next year maybe we should donate the money we use to take vacations to help people in need, and she was not amused.
Too soon.
Maybe it’ll always be too soon.
These vacations are important for her.
The moment passed, and Karma Police reached its crescendo.
For a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself…
Moments later, the song changed over to Everybody Wants to Rule the World.
A very friendly-faced server with a mohawk sang along, enjoying the vibe.
The food arrived.
The gnocchi was divine.
*********************
I started to meet more of the people at the resort.
Google counsel.
CEO of a private equity firm.
Venture capitalist.
Displaced former residents of Lahaina.
I met a local guy named Chris, who’d been staying at the resort since the fires, and learned more about how things had changed and the true reason people had been protesting at the farmer’s market.
(Hint: the fruits and vegetables are absolutely fine to eat, if you can somehow muster the courage to buy them.)
There’s quite a lot of toxic waste from the fires that must go somewhere, and there are limited resources to make them go somewhere else, so there is an added sadness that the remains of Lahaina must get stored, which, as this is Maui, must be somewhere beautiful.
Chris missed his daily routine, but he wasn’t having as hard a time adjusting as many displaced folks he knew.
He estimated it’d take 10-15 years to rebuild the town – in whatever form that takes.
Sorry about your village, I felt.
Just people on the earth.
*********************
Pro-tip: Without fail, after 4.5 days on a family vacation, I implode.
On day 5, the ocean is half-empty.
*********************
You run out of soap.
Your wife takes the children and goes to the store called ABC Market to buy more.
She is away for a curiously long window of time.
You approach the market.
She hands you a bar of soap with a cat pictured on the front.
The soap is a rose and mint varietal.
She tells you it’s the only one they had, in hushed tones.
The words “Filthy Pussy” appear on the packaging.
Stunned, as a family man, you put the soap in your pocket.
You’ve kept a lot of straight faces in your time, but this is one tightly-held face.
The gauntlet has been thrown.
When the time comes, you have a decision to make.
Forgo good hygiene, or gamble on what may or may not be soap.
In a moment of need, when the moment strikes, you take the plunge.
The soap tingles in a way that soap doesn’t normally tingle.
The soap burns where soap doesn’t normally burn.
You will not talk to your family about this, and if they try the soap, you hope they will not talk to you about this.
Is this really soap, you may wonder.
I can’t tell if this feels good or if it hurts, you may feel.
You wonder if the algorithms will start advertising inappropriate cat-themed soaps to you based on this excerpt’s inclusion.
I do not need this in my life, you may think.
Take care of your algorithms.
*********************
A few days later we drove to Makena Beach, which was easily the best beach we visited for swimming with kids.
Our feet felt safest here.
I had a coffee cup with me while we rode waves (I like to bodysurf in an exceptionally leisurely way), and accidentally dropped it into the ocean.
Morgan, being a Marin-ite defined by the categorical imperative, implored that we chase the cup down to protect the fish no matter what the cost.
Micah, being more of a utilitarian sort, surmised that there were easily a billion fish and how much damage could one cup really do?
Morgan advocated her point, Micah argued hers…
Kant and Mill just don’t know when to stop.
Suffice it to say, we did rescue the cup and thereby rescued all the fish in the ocean that would have come into contact and suffered from accidental ingestion.
You’re welcome!
*********************
At lunch we asked each other what our “rose and thorn” were for the trip.
Mira said her rose was “everything” and that her thorn was “nothing.”
It’s pretty magical to keep seeing the occasional whale, rainbow, chicken or sea turtle.
Hawaii may be her new bestie.
Everyone else agreed.
*********************
After a week I’d say we’d gotten into our groove.
At Leodas, an older woman with a fun energy wanted our table and I told her she had to stare me in the eye to get it.
(I can stare for a long, long, time if sufficiently caffeinated.)
She was happy to play along.
Just humans on the earth.
With a joyful stare down, the table was hers.
Maui has a fun vibe, once you let it in.
If you’re an adult version of Baymax and want a nice place for human children to direct you around, to keep them safe, and to swim with, there are few places I’ve found that compare.
*********************
Pro-tip: When your significant other asks you, “do you trust me, or do you trust the internet?” don’t answer.
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Our Micah did turn 8 on the trip.
Her one request for her birthday was that we not use our phones, and stay present with her all day.
We swam, shared two birthday cakes, enjoyed each other’s company.
Micah wasn’t a princess, nor a distraction.
She was a happy kid in her happy place.
Just a person on the earth.
Happy birthday, kiddo.
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Mahalo.
Happy birthday indeed kiddo. Beautiful