Let’s see: believe we left off a week ago? Ah, yes…
Monday night two members of the other installation team wanted dinner together, and I had suggested a Vietnamese restaurant not far from where I had done my laundry over the weekend. The reason for suggesting this spot is a picture of one of their plates looked appealing. Turns out it was pork, and being not particular to that nor chicken (both were coming out of my ears in my youth) there was some minor personal disappointment; nonetheless beef was on the menu. Having asked for it to be prepared well done, with the end result having pink within lead me to top it off with some merlot. (I chose not to have them cook it more as the kitchen was out of view, and who knows what they do with a return…
That night sleep escaped me by enlarge, and the next day I was feeling off, and ended up skipping dinner altogether in favor of a light entrée of familiar refried beans at the International Market Place. I did feel better after some fresh pineapple, though that was short lived.
Oh: the two other guys raved about their plates. Thanks, guys.
Wednesday the crew of electricians wanted off work early, saying they intend to drive one of their rental cars – a jeep with 4-wheel drive – along the dirt road to the lighthouse at Kaena Point. It seemed like a good idea to me, since we were close, on a mountain ridge at the extreme west end of the island, up from the end of Farrington Highway. I asked go along as there was a spare seat.
At the time it did not occur to me unwise to ride in a vehicle with someone I have not witness driving before, something I did not have to regret as he managed to keep the rubber side down for the most part. There were times on short sections when his burying of the throttle seemed a bit on the edge; perhaps by doing so he relived his high school days of old, and that not to our amusement. Overall he proved his off-road smarts along with some minor rim-and-skid-plate banging. The lack of aggressive tires was not a handicap as most of the surface was lava rock and common red Hawaii soil. At one place I spotted a blowhole or two; turns out they were man made. Shortly thereafter we came to an impossible pass-point, being washed out by the sea, and turned around. As such we did not reach the point but could see it from a distance of another mile or so – we had traveled four and double that made the round trip.
At Kaena Point I had noticed a model of a YZ450F in our sponsor’s office. Turns out he’s had one for over a month now; his sister owns a Kawi and separate Yamaha shop – I suppose you could call her a Yamaha mama despite the fact both shops also have *gasp* Harleys. Any who, prior to kids he raced MX and trail rode; now he put-putts with his growing son, who rides a YZ125. Although he likes the F, he prefers 250 2-strokes. Either way, he’s a few inches shorter than me, and it is a surprise to hear him not complain about seat height, moreover how the red dirt soils everything permanently.
Leaving work early Thursday, I went back to Wheeler Airfield (site of some Pearl Harbor attack bombing) to secure materials for Friday’s rework there. That night a larger group of coworkers met at a fancy northern Eye-talian restaurant. One of them was already partially pickled, and a comedy act with his slurring of words. I had bruchetta and breaded veal (no dessert) and varietal fermented grape juice. Slurry words was shocked with his bill, until I explained he had three - count them – glasses of similar juice, and his slurring did not turn to the worst! I retired to more Aussie Open action.
Friday’s rework was completed in short order, therefore I left my customary mid-day, this time heading north to finish a drive around the island. A friend of my wife suggested a chain of Hawaii-only coffee shops called Zippers (weird name, eh?). Nothing appealed to me, feeling better from my ooziness but not 100%. There happened to be a bakery in the same building, and my eyes said buy a slice of carrot cake (it wasn’t that good, either: so don’t be jealous, sweet-tooth warriors) and a large donut – bigger than my spread hand! The latter was a local special, with coconut filling and sprinkling; better than the former but – oh, no: here comes a sugar high…I feel sick; gimme some protein ASAP as I remember that is what my wife said she does to cap this high. All I could find in the Haleiwa Market was a corn dog, but that was lukewarm – where’s my luck? And wouldn’t you know it was a chicken dog, not beef. After buying another bag of macadamia nuts at a nearby stand, the drive along the shore resumed.
My next destination was Waimea Valley, where my wife spent a few years as a little girl, so I thought. Turns out I had the wrong island, and now a set of un-applicable pictures - so much for surprising her with some childhood landscape on film.
The sugar high was still hitting, therefore I pulled into another market and bought a piece of chicken breast, and took it to Pupukea Beach Park for a picnic. Now that was a sight for sore eyes. There’s this huge tide pool, with the water so clear, and any depth was genuine aqua-colored.
Parking along Sunset Beach was not available because body surfing competition was underway, and by the looks of it quite popular.
Now further along, to my delight, there were several fruit stands, it was a tremendous disappointment to pass them by, with enough sugar already in my bloodstream. The rest of the loop was uneventful though plenty scenic with a continuation of the aqua theme. Uh: that hot dog gave me heartburn. Then it came to me why I don’t do dogs; haven’t in decades until recently, and won’t do so again. Ug.
Common hand gestures amongst the drivers here is a “hang loose”, though the more traditional was displayed to me upon reentering the middle of the next large city, Kaneohe. My only speculation is I was inadvertently blocking someone from coming from the fast lane into mine and subsequently making a turn into a business. Well, not only did she flip the bird to signal their turn (a simple signal flash would have done), but her “man” gave me a “look” as I passed by; hope they get over it. Strange, as most folks have been more than friendly.
Rounding the Hawaii Kai was met with driving fatigue; not stopping for Hanauma Bay no disappointment. It was joy to see the hotel for some shuteye. Another round of laundry, and it was time for a light feeding of onion rings on my way to the International Market Place. One of the larger rings was saucer shaped, and inside the batter not cooked; into the dumpster it went (where’s my luck?)
Tonight’s goal at the market place was to find a necklace for my wife and a red-dirt t-shirt. She gave me specifications: coral, 16 inches, and reasonable priced. Turns out the one I bought was puca (sp?) (phonetically poo-kah; so sorry: I avoided that 70’s fad and my spelling is thus as a result.)
On the way back to the hotel the corn dog-induced heartburn was diminishing yet present. Lets see: okay - now I remember. Me remembers me wife saying something caustic, like milk, cheese or cream. Da-ding! Ice cream it is, and that’s what did it.
Next morning three of us met at 8am to go to Diamond Head State Monument: a crater, and hike up to the lookout/observation. It had begun to rain heavily. I decided to stop at a Portuguese (Port-ah-ghee) bakery to buy some malasadas, a fresh donut-like pastry. When they say fresh they really mean it – almost hot to the touch. They can be had in regular sugar sprinkled, cinnamon, and filled with four different fillings. Of course mine were plain (no mo sugar high!), while the other guys had the various layered coatings.
I managed to get us almost lost, with the help of my navigator of who wasn’t up the task either. Once we had our bearings, entering through the tunnel into the volcanically formed crater-proper took no effort, as was parking for the hike to the summit. There were many spaces available due to the morning’s downpour, although it let up for the duration of our hike.
The hike is a short 1.5 miles but becomes laborious due to the steepness of the final climbs and the still used spiral staircase. The trail ends at a military fire-control station, which affords near 270-degree observation and triangulation for the former gun emplacements, originally installed in the early 1900s. There’s a fine view to be had of Waikiki. Ph: turns out my hike mates may not have been the best of company: turns out one has had a previous heart attack, and the other is greatly overweight. Am I dumb or what?
Following the hike the overweight fellow wanted a burger, and the other some oriental dish; we ended up at the Ala Moana Mall. Yes, they have all the high-end shops there too, though our reason to go there was solely the food court – something we could all agree upon. Well we ended up ordering from the same place: a Mexican one! I wanted to save some appetite for dinner, so it was refried beans again – makes me feel like home even though I do not make them nor my wife –perhaps I’ve been in California too long? They wanted some adult beverages to top it off, and for that we went to an open bar for expensive low-quality brew.
After a nap, we regrouped with another coworker who joined us for dinner. The latter wanted to go to Ruth Chris Steak House, yet he lost the vote and we went to a Japanese buffet place called Todai. It’s an upscale chain, coming to your city. They practically forced me to eat the raw fishy stuff yet I held my ground: no uncooked flesh! I made a glutton of myself with two rounds of battered shrimp, crab legs, steak x2, eggplant, and carrots and mushrooms (gotta have veggies!) Now eating the seafood is a big step for me, especially knowing they do eat things that drift like fish – uh – waste (droppings), and things that settle on the bottom of the sea. But hey: this is kinda like a vacation: how often do I do the risky things? And thus far no problems with that meal – I may even go back. Retiring to the tube afforded a full viewing of the Aussie Open Final, with one of my favorite is-he-about-to-erupt Marat Safin, one of the top men vs. Australia’s own Leyton Hewitt. Amazingly, Safin broke only one racket in anger. It ended at 2:30am with Safin as victor and $1mil richer. To my surprise they reran it on tape the next morning – I could have got my rest, but not being one to sleep in I got to see it all over again.
Next morning I packed for my trip to the island of Molokai, and made it to the Honolulu airport well ahead of time. We boarded a high-winger, and landed without incident. Molokai is an island with the highest percentage of natives, and apparently the least amount of development/visitor attractions of the islands, so it appears. From the air it looks like good riding could be had.
For a rental gar they gave me another albeit red Olds-mo-bubble; good it was that color as the interior, tires and hubcaps had permanent red stains. (Even the formerly black asphalt at the job site was dyed red!)
My accommodations were actually an apartment-conversion to condominium. And the town where it’s at is the largest, though the downtown is a mere 1 ½ block long, and almost all sleepy for a Sunday afternoon/evening. Having my doubts regarding the availability of an ATM, I did find one, and therewith was able to order dinner from the one restaurant in town; turns out everyone was calling in their order (there’s my luck), so after ½ hour my gyro made it to the pickup station. Then as the chef placed another pizza on the station, he unintentionally knocked my order on the floor (my luck x2). The owner noticed it and scuttled back; my order was allegedly redone in no time (really?) so when it came to accepting it I asked for my money back.
The only other place open was a liquor store, and of all things they had one and only one package of cheddar cheese from a familiar maker in Northern California (Landmark); that and macadamia nuts were to be my evening snack. Oh: and my new friend ice cream, just in case that Port-ah-ghee sausage I ate wrapped in the pan doce that morning acts up like the corn dog (it didn’t).
That night while unwinding, I killed nine mosquitoes with my own hands! – haven’t had to do that since my youth. And it’s good there are ceiling fans in each room, as I employed those to disrupt their dive-bomber, bite-my-face-in-the-middle-of-the-night tactics.
Monday the electricians were awaiting delivery of their tools and materials via FedEx. Ze plane! Ze plane! comes in one a day on weekdays only at this tiny airport, and that at noon. Therefore we needed to fill in the day, so we went to the one market to buy victuals. While walking in I asked the checker where were the tortillas – she did not know what they were. Again slowly “tortillas”; since I couldn’t speak her native Pacific-rim tongue, we were at a stand still. (Was she playing dumb or?) A kind lady-shopper pointed off in the right direction, whereupon I loaded up on both whole wheat and corn tortillas, made in Honolulu; the latter for breakfast. By checkout I had stir-fry beef - yes, it IS for dinner; green onions; a banana for lunch; minus salt; yep: that’s right: no salt as all they had was that Morton stuff with sand in it – read the label if you don’t believe me.
We dropped off the groceries at our respective places, then met the FedEx guy at the airport and took the electrical materials and tools to the work site. Later the electricians left early, and I did likewise. Going through another community, another market was found – your typical corner grocer, and another restaurant was across the street. The nearby macadamia farm-store was closed (open tomorrow), and I continued on to the Molokai Mule Ride station (closed), then the vista point for the leper colony; only invitees are allowed to this isolated community.
The map showed a dirt road to an island high point accessible via a dirt road. It seemed prudent to do it before the incoming storm hits. It was difficult to find since there were no signs whatsoever. By process of elimination and guessing its location was found. On my way in there was a “four-wheel drive required” sign but continued on since I was up for rental car abuse. The road was smooth and bottom was scraped only once until I eventually had to pull over for another 4x a few miles in; he rolled his window down like me and I asked if it was crazy (sure it was) to continue. He concurred as there was one spot were clearance is a challenge.
On our way out he motioned, wanting to stop and chat. He said it’s a long walk out if I do get stuck, and we covered many other subjects about the island, like how domesticated animals were introduced, and subsequently ate all the vegetation. Turns out he used to work at the leper colony. The sea cliffs were described as the highest in the world at a few thousand feet. And the falls are nice but access not advisable due to trail complexities mixed with rugged terrain, besides the few local crazies on this island of 7,000 folks.
Back at my hotel/condo dinner – carne asada burritos – was cooked, eaten, and this latest report written.
Monday night two members of the other installation team wanted dinner together, and I had suggested a Vietnamese restaurant not far from where I had done my laundry over the weekend. The reason for suggesting this spot is a picture of one of their plates looked appealing. Turns out it was pork, and being not particular to that nor chicken (both were coming out of my ears in my youth) there was some minor personal disappointment; nonetheless beef was on the menu. Having asked for it to be prepared well done, with the end result having pink within lead me to top it off with some merlot. (I chose not to have them cook it more as the kitchen was out of view, and who knows what they do with a return…
That night sleep escaped me by enlarge, and the next day I was feeling off, and ended up skipping dinner altogether in favor of a light entrée of familiar refried beans at the International Market Place. I did feel better after some fresh pineapple, though that was short lived.
Oh: the two other guys raved about their plates. Thanks, guys.
Wednesday the crew of electricians wanted off work early, saying they intend to drive one of their rental cars – a jeep with 4-wheel drive – along the dirt road to the lighthouse at Kaena Point. It seemed like a good idea to me, since we were close, on a mountain ridge at the extreme west end of the island, up from the end of Farrington Highway. I asked go along as there was a spare seat.
At the time it did not occur to me unwise to ride in a vehicle with someone I have not witness driving before, something I did not have to regret as he managed to keep the rubber side down for the most part. There were times on short sections when his burying of the throttle seemed a bit on the edge; perhaps by doing so he relived his high school days of old, and that not to our amusement. Overall he proved his off-road smarts along with some minor rim-and-skid-plate banging. The lack of aggressive tires was not a handicap as most of the surface was lava rock and common red Hawaii soil. At one place I spotted a blowhole or two; turns out they were man made. Shortly thereafter we came to an impossible pass-point, being washed out by the sea, and turned around. As such we did not reach the point but could see it from a distance of another mile or so – we had traveled four and double that made the round trip.
At Kaena Point I had noticed a model of a YZ450F in our sponsor’s office. Turns out he’s had one for over a month now; his sister owns a Kawi and separate Yamaha shop – I suppose you could call her a Yamaha mama despite the fact both shops also have *gasp* Harleys. Any who, prior to kids he raced MX and trail rode; now he put-putts with his growing son, who rides a YZ125. Although he likes the F, he prefers 250 2-strokes. Either way, he’s a few inches shorter than me, and it is a surprise to hear him not complain about seat height, moreover how the red dirt soils everything permanently.
Leaving work early Thursday, I went back to Wheeler Airfield (site of some Pearl Harbor attack bombing) to secure materials for Friday’s rework there. That night a larger group of coworkers met at a fancy northern Eye-talian restaurant. One of them was already partially pickled, and a comedy act with his slurring of words. I had bruchetta and breaded veal (no dessert) and varietal fermented grape juice. Slurry words was shocked with his bill, until I explained he had three - count them – glasses of similar juice, and his slurring did not turn to the worst! I retired to more Aussie Open action.
Friday’s rework was completed in short order, therefore I left my customary mid-day, this time heading north to finish a drive around the island. A friend of my wife suggested a chain of Hawaii-only coffee shops called Zippers (weird name, eh?). Nothing appealed to me, feeling better from my ooziness but not 100%. There happened to be a bakery in the same building, and my eyes said buy a slice of carrot cake (it wasn’t that good, either: so don’t be jealous, sweet-tooth warriors) and a large donut – bigger than my spread hand! The latter was a local special, with coconut filling and sprinkling; better than the former but – oh, no: here comes a sugar high…I feel sick; gimme some protein ASAP as I remember that is what my wife said she does to cap this high. All I could find in the Haleiwa Market was a corn dog, but that was lukewarm – where’s my luck? And wouldn’t you know it was a chicken dog, not beef. After buying another bag of macadamia nuts at a nearby stand, the drive along the shore resumed.
My next destination was Waimea Valley, where my wife spent a few years as a little girl, so I thought. Turns out I had the wrong island, and now a set of un-applicable pictures - so much for surprising her with some childhood landscape on film.
The sugar high was still hitting, therefore I pulled into another market and bought a piece of chicken breast, and took it to Pupukea Beach Park for a picnic. Now that was a sight for sore eyes. There’s this huge tide pool, with the water so clear, and any depth was genuine aqua-colored.
Parking along Sunset Beach was not available because body surfing competition was underway, and by the looks of it quite popular.
Now further along, to my delight, there were several fruit stands, it was a tremendous disappointment to pass them by, with enough sugar already in my bloodstream. The rest of the loop was uneventful though plenty scenic with a continuation of the aqua theme. Uh: that hot dog gave me heartburn. Then it came to me why I don’t do dogs; haven’t in decades until recently, and won’t do so again. Ug.
Common hand gestures amongst the drivers here is a “hang loose”, though the more traditional was displayed to me upon reentering the middle of the next large city, Kaneohe. My only speculation is I was inadvertently blocking someone from coming from the fast lane into mine and subsequently making a turn into a business. Well, not only did she flip the bird to signal their turn (a simple signal flash would have done), but her “man” gave me a “look” as I passed by; hope they get over it. Strange, as most folks have been more than friendly.
Rounding the Hawaii Kai was met with driving fatigue; not stopping for Hanauma Bay no disappointment. It was joy to see the hotel for some shuteye. Another round of laundry, and it was time for a light feeding of onion rings on my way to the International Market Place. One of the larger rings was saucer shaped, and inside the batter not cooked; into the dumpster it went (where’s my luck?)
Tonight’s goal at the market place was to find a necklace for my wife and a red-dirt t-shirt. She gave me specifications: coral, 16 inches, and reasonable priced. Turns out the one I bought was puca (sp?) (phonetically poo-kah; so sorry: I avoided that 70’s fad and my spelling is thus as a result.)
On the way back to the hotel the corn dog-induced heartburn was diminishing yet present. Lets see: okay - now I remember. Me remembers me wife saying something caustic, like milk, cheese or cream. Da-ding! Ice cream it is, and that’s what did it.
Next morning three of us met at 8am to go to Diamond Head State Monument: a crater, and hike up to the lookout/observation. It had begun to rain heavily. I decided to stop at a Portuguese (Port-ah-ghee) bakery to buy some malasadas, a fresh donut-like pastry. When they say fresh they really mean it – almost hot to the touch. They can be had in regular sugar sprinkled, cinnamon, and filled with four different fillings. Of course mine were plain (no mo sugar high!), while the other guys had the various layered coatings.
I managed to get us almost lost, with the help of my navigator of who wasn’t up the task either. Once we had our bearings, entering through the tunnel into the volcanically formed crater-proper took no effort, as was parking for the hike to the summit. There were many spaces available due to the morning’s downpour, although it let up for the duration of our hike.
The hike is a short 1.5 miles but becomes laborious due to the steepness of the final climbs and the still used spiral staircase. The trail ends at a military fire-control station, which affords near 270-degree observation and triangulation for the former gun emplacements, originally installed in the early 1900s. There’s a fine view to be had of Waikiki. Ph: turns out my hike mates may not have been the best of company: turns out one has had a previous heart attack, and the other is greatly overweight. Am I dumb or what?
Following the hike the overweight fellow wanted a burger, and the other some oriental dish; we ended up at the Ala Moana Mall. Yes, they have all the high-end shops there too, though our reason to go there was solely the food court – something we could all agree upon. Well we ended up ordering from the same place: a Mexican one! I wanted to save some appetite for dinner, so it was refried beans again – makes me feel like home even though I do not make them nor my wife –perhaps I’ve been in California too long? They wanted some adult beverages to top it off, and for that we went to an open bar for expensive low-quality brew.
After a nap, we regrouped with another coworker who joined us for dinner. The latter wanted to go to Ruth Chris Steak House, yet he lost the vote and we went to a Japanese buffet place called Todai. It’s an upscale chain, coming to your city. They practically forced me to eat the raw fishy stuff yet I held my ground: no uncooked flesh! I made a glutton of myself with two rounds of battered shrimp, crab legs, steak x2, eggplant, and carrots and mushrooms (gotta have veggies!) Now eating the seafood is a big step for me, especially knowing they do eat things that drift like fish – uh – waste (droppings), and things that settle on the bottom of the sea. But hey: this is kinda like a vacation: how often do I do the risky things? And thus far no problems with that meal – I may even go back. Retiring to the tube afforded a full viewing of the Aussie Open Final, with one of my favorite is-he-about-to-erupt Marat Safin, one of the top men vs. Australia’s own Leyton Hewitt. Amazingly, Safin broke only one racket in anger. It ended at 2:30am with Safin as victor and $1mil richer. To my surprise they reran it on tape the next morning – I could have got my rest, but not being one to sleep in I got to see it all over again.
Next morning I packed for my trip to the island of Molokai, and made it to the Honolulu airport well ahead of time. We boarded a high-winger, and landed without incident. Molokai is an island with the highest percentage of natives, and apparently the least amount of development/visitor attractions of the islands, so it appears. From the air it looks like good riding could be had.
For a rental gar they gave me another albeit red Olds-mo-bubble; good it was that color as the interior, tires and hubcaps had permanent red stains. (Even the formerly black asphalt at the job site was dyed red!)
My accommodations were actually an apartment-conversion to condominium. And the town where it’s at is the largest, though the downtown is a mere 1 ½ block long, and almost all sleepy for a Sunday afternoon/evening. Having my doubts regarding the availability of an ATM, I did find one, and therewith was able to order dinner from the one restaurant in town; turns out everyone was calling in their order (there’s my luck), so after ½ hour my gyro made it to the pickup station. Then as the chef placed another pizza on the station, he unintentionally knocked my order on the floor (my luck x2). The owner noticed it and scuttled back; my order was allegedly redone in no time (really?) so when it came to accepting it I asked for my money back.
The only other place open was a liquor store, and of all things they had one and only one package of cheddar cheese from a familiar maker in Northern California (Landmark); that and macadamia nuts were to be my evening snack. Oh: and my new friend ice cream, just in case that Port-ah-ghee sausage I ate wrapped in the pan doce that morning acts up like the corn dog (it didn’t).
That night while unwinding, I killed nine mosquitoes with my own hands! – haven’t had to do that since my youth. And it’s good there are ceiling fans in each room, as I employed those to disrupt their dive-bomber, bite-my-face-in-the-middle-of-the-night tactics.
Monday the electricians were awaiting delivery of their tools and materials via FedEx. Ze plane! Ze plane! comes in one a day on weekdays only at this tiny airport, and that at noon. Therefore we needed to fill in the day, so we went to the one market to buy victuals. While walking in I asked the checker where were the tortillas – she did not know what they were. Again slowly “tortillas”; since I couldn’t speak her native Pacific-rim tongue, we were at a stand still. (Was she playing dumb or?) A kind lady-shopper pointed off in the right direction, whereupon I loaded up on both whole wheat and corn tortillas, made in Honolulu; the latter for breakfast. By checkout I had stir-fry beef - yes, it IS for dinner; green onions; a banana for lunch; minus salt; yep: that’s right: no salt as all they had was that Morton stuff with sand in it – read the label if you don’t believe me.
We dropped off the groceries at our respective places, then met the FedEx guy at the airport and took the electrical materials and tools to the work site. Later the electricians left early, and I did likewise. Going through another community, another market was found – your typical corner grocer, and another restaurant was across the street. The nearby macadamia farm-store was closed (open tomorrow), and I continued on to the Molokai Mule Ride station (closed), then the vista point for the leper colony; only invitees are allowed to this isolated community.
The map showed a dirt road to an island high point accessible via a dirt road. It seemed prudent to do it before the incoming storm hits. It was difficult to find since there were no signs whatsoever. By process of elimination and guessing its location was found. On my way in there was a “four-wheel drive required” sign but continued on since I was up for rental car abuse. The road was smooth and bottom was scraped only once until I eventually had to pull over for another 4x a few miles in; he rolled his window down like me and I asked if it was crazy (sure it was) to continue. He concurred as there was one spot were clearance is a challenge.
On our way out he motioned, wanting to stop and chat. He said it’s a long walk out if I do get stuck, and we covered many other subjects about the island, like how domesticated animals were introduced, and subsequently ate all the vegetation. Turns out he used to work at the leper colony. The sea cliffs were described as the highest in the world at a few thousand feet. And the falls are nice but access not advisable due to trail complexities mixed with rugged terrain, besides the few local crazies on this island of 7,000 folks.
Back at my hotel/condo dinner – carne asada burritos – was cooked, eaten, and this latest report written.
