I don't know how my pale, French/English descent self is so drawn to the Islands. Even when you throw in the 1/8 Cherokee, that still takes me to the mountains or plains. Not true, though. This woman thinks of, wishes for, gets lost in dreams about an Island paradise at least once a day.
I have two favorites so far. First, as mentioned in the previous post, would be the Florida Keys. Next and probably by far the winner for the view as the plane descends, is Hawaii. It is absolutely breathtaking. However, I had an aisle seat, so no photos of that. When I was walking from the plane into the terminal, I was impeding the foot traffic flow, because all I wanted was to do was absorb the air, the breeze, the idea that I was in Hawaii.
When I went there, it wasn't a purely pleasure trip. There was serious business I had to do. But, there was fun and a week with my best friend and her family. I was completely surprised as I went to baggage claim and my very own Army soldier stood there in fatigues with leis to welcome me. I was overwhelmed anyway and that just threw me over the edge. I'd left at 5:30am for a 10-hr non-stop flight. I'd lost five hours in-flight. All the emotion, the lack of sleep, the beauty and that welcome just opened my flood gates. It was not the happy, laughing scenes from Magnum, P.I. It was goofy me.
Driving from Honolulu toward the North Shore was an event. It's a little like Atlanta traffic with fantastic views. Look to your left and there is Pearl Harbor. There are a lot of little moments like that which I remember.
Wandering on a near-empty part of Waikiki while waiting for a Luau; walking down the busier part to get to a submarine tour launch; driving by the pineapple fields...getting asked firmly to leave the Dole plantation by their security guards. It was closed, but not by long. I just wanted to see!
The most beautiful, majestic truly paradise-like experience happened the pineapple night. We drove up to the North Shore. It was nearing sundown. There are mountains on the left and pineapple fields on both sides of the road. The North Shore is famous for surfers. This was mid-February and there was only one guy out there. There was a small mountain jutting out to my left. There was a cove up to my right. The light misty fog, was visual poetry.
|the desolate Waikiki beach|
|The North Shore at sunset|