USA

I am sitting in our room at Dave and Uma’s upcountry home listening to the sweet sound of soft falling rain hitting the ti plant leaves right outside our window. It is a sound I wake up to most mornings, a sound which is soothing and lulls one back to sleep. It is a sound of Maui in winter which I will carry with me. There are other sounds which characterize our island’s stay. Very early in the mornings, really still in the dark of the night, the roosters start crowing. Here upcountry, they belong to every house and dwelling and most wander freely down the roads. Too many to count and they must be in strong competition on who can make the first sound-off for the approaching light and they cheat! Then there are the fighting roosters who are shackled to their own little crate on large fields with many other crates. I will not even attempt to find grace in the cruel activity called cock fighting which is another ancient, popular event on the island. On my morning walks through the valley I hear birds sing and dogs bark. Somehow I believe that the sounds of the guard dogs have changed from a hysterical frenzy to a friendly morning bark. I may be wrong but after all these mornings the neighbors have gotten to know me and we exchange friendly greetings so why would their dogs not have come to the same understanding? I pass by “our” home twice during my walk and hear the sound of Tom cracking macadamia nuts. He wore out the nut cracker and found two very fitting stones which do the job equally as well. While I am out meeting and greeting in the valley Tom finds projects like changing a mound of dirt and concrete dumped years ago into an aesthetically pleasing flowerbed. At Jan’s house Tom has spent many hours this past month adding another room to her house and taking care of other handy man’s jobs inside. When I hear the sound of the Mac.Cracker, I am reminded that I am married to a man who in his very own quiet and unpretentious way leaves there where he has been, always a better place. All over the island there is the sound of water. The gentle surf by which a beach nap can be taken or the wild pounding surf which whitewashes the rocks below where our tent is pitched and keeps us awake. This same surf gives great joy to many. I loved hearing the whooping of the surfers’ screech when catching a monster ride and listening to the cackle of laughter an elderly woman made over and over, each time her boogie board hit the sand after gliding in on baby waves. The sound the water makes when the whales slap the ocean with their tails and fins and the eerie, magical songs heard under the water from these huge mammals communicating down the coast. Spouts generate sounds whether it is a blowhole made from traveling whales or from underwater lava tunnels. The nibbles we can hear from the parrot fish eating their meal from the coral reef. Hearing the washboard when the surf leaves black sand beach and jostles and smoothes all the lava pebbles on its downward journey. The difference in sound our paddles make from the kayak it moves through the water. The sound of the wind moving through the trees and recognizing the rustling palm fronds from the banana trees. The rapture of standing inside a dense bamboo forest when the wind kicks up and hearing all the chimes chant, simultaneously. The vocals of a strong winter Kona storm and the sounds of fruit falling on the roof and the breaking of eucalyptus tree branches before crashing down. The sing song of the Hawaiian language. It is a language made up of vowels with a sprinkling of consonants and I have learned that the secret in pronouncing this language is by sounding out every letter, even the silences in between the identical vowels. The state fish goes by the name of humuhumunukunukuapua’a and is that not a much more colorful sound than Hawaiian triggerfish which it is. Since 1949 until the present there has been a rightful gradual increase in promotion of this Austronesian language and a public Hawaiian language immersion started through the Puana Lea pre-schools in the 1980’s and continues on. It is a language which should not become lost.
The blow in the conch shell which heralds both the daily rising and setting sun. The Sunday drum circle and cycle at Makena beach which sets the tone for either the week’s ending or beginning. The flapping of wings heard while hiking through the misty crater floors and learning later they belong to ring-necked pheasants living there where not expected. The spitting and hissing from the Hawaiian monk seal whom I did not know was endangered and should immediately have granted her much needed rest. The sound of laughter we share with our friends while playing board games at night. The only television we have seen this past month was our new president’s inauguration and that has been good. Gecko’s chirps and I think back of the moment when I walked in our bathroom and saw this beautiful statue of a great lizard on a stack of towels and wondered who placed it there to please me, only to remember that no one but Tom and I walk in our bathroom and the statue was real. Tom gently carried the gecko outside. While in Hawaii I dress more like the natives and can often be seen in a sarong and tank top. Outfits I do not wear while in court in Faulkner County or at the CASA office. One morning while checking on the laundry outside on the lanai (porch) where often the washing/drying machines are found here, I met the weekly garbage pickup crew and while I was taking care of my job they were doing theirs and then I heard the whistle. I felt my ego soar. I am being whistled at, at my age, an age where I qualify for senior discounts. I truly must look hot in my Hawaiian outfit. The garbage men went on, and on down the street and over and over again I heard the whistle. Should one let go of the inflated ego feeling when realizing that the whistle is there only to let the truck driver know that the job is done and move on to the next ? Nay, hold on to that sound which makes you feel good..
The most cacophonic island sound happens at sunset when thousands of local mynah birds settle down at the same roosting tree for the night. The Banyan Tree in Lahaina shades more than two-thirds of an acre, measures nearly one-fourth of a mile in circumference and reaches upward to a height of 60 feet. The tree has spread over this area via aerial roots created by many caring members of the Lahaina community for over 12 decades. The Lahaina Banyan tree is the largest in the State of Hawaii and is a member of the fig family and originates from India. At every sundown, the tree comes alive with the raucous tunes of the island’s birds sharing their daily adventures and the sound is both deafening and thrilling for a short time before all becomes quiet with only an occasional peep heard.

We have loved our time in Maui, its sounds of all and now are ready to hop over to Honolulu early on Friday morning before departing for New Zealand later that night.
From now until we arrive in Greece the middle of May, Tom and I will be in new and never before chartered for us territory and we are ready and excited to move on.

Tot ziens Amerika ,
Tom and Els

It is amazing how one can be here for a month and initially believe in having the time to do and see all and now realizing that with our time here nearing an end, we do not. We have been busy though. Last Saturday we enjoyed the day ocean kayaking and attended a surprise birthday party for our friend Jan. Tom and I have spent the past couple of days at the Hana side of the island and loved our time there camping at Ohe’o Gulch. It can be found past Hana and it is a wonderful, quiet place to pitch a tent and hike up the Pipiwai Trail to see the water cascading from the backside of the crater at Waimaku Falls. Years ago, Ohe’o Gulch was not very well attended by the tourists. Most turned around in Hana for the drive back to the sunny side of the island. There was a meeting of the minds on how to attract the tourists to this beautiful spot created by the rain waters high up. Suggestion was made of changing the name and so Ohe’o Gulch became known as “seven sacred pools”. Sacred worked like a magnet and the tourists started coming to see these terraced pools from the mountain down to the ocean side, pools fed by both fresh and salt water, depending on rain and surf. It makes for a very cold, clean and refreshing swim after a steep hike up to the water’s origin. The tourists still leave at the end of the day, not many like to camp at a wild shore without any amenities or basic luxuries. Sacred is as sacred does and for us the place is sacred and meaningful for the many memories created there with our children and good friends. One of my favorite pictures inside our house is our son Tony at age three sitting by one of the pools looking at his reflection. This time the night was special since with the new moon there was no light pollution standing in the way of a magnificent star blanket. The drive around the back side of the island was as always spectacular, lonely and an ever changing landscape. Throughout Maui, even at the loneliest, most deserted places churches are found and with Hawaii’s Portuguese and Philippine heritage the roots of their religion is Roman Catholic. We stop often at these old churches and take pictures both inside and out. One of my favorite churches is the Episcopal Church on the beach in Lahaina where in the baptismal font I found flowers floating. Blessed water indeed.
A wise friend once told me of God’s manifestation through self and others, art and creation and worship. Last Sunday I found myself awake very early and in the dark left Tom asleep with a promise to meet all later at the beach and drove to a small church half way up the crater, in the town of Kula. On the island there are 4 Episcopal churches and I learned that the Anglicans were invited personally by the king of Hawaii many years ago and the land where the churches stand is a gift from the king. St. John’s in Kula has a view of the South shore and includes many rolling fields down the mountain side. Before the onset of the 7.30 service I watched the clouds over the ocean turn pink when warmed by the rising sun. The church itself is very small and there are only a total of 20 pews, 10 on each side divided by a narrow aisle. There were maybe a total of 25 early worshippers and a visiting priest who was quite humorous in his delivery of the dangers of righteousness in the Kingdom. At the peace he asked if there were any visitors and all in the church pointed their finger to me so I stood and introduced myself to the congregation. I thought I heard a gasp when I mentioned my home town of Conway, Arkansas. Sure enough, after the service a couple came over to me and asked if my home church was St.Peter’s, which it is. I met Paul and Cindy Schumacher who for the past 10 years or so spent Christmas with Paul’s parents in their home town of Conway and attend the (almost) Midnight Christmas Service at St. Peter’s. We must have shared communion many times before sharing communion now at the table of St. John’s. I loved participating with Paul and Cindy in the second Holy Sunday event, the Episcopal coffee hour and learning of their warm feelings for Conway and St. Peter’s. Later, while driving down to the beach I looked at the pretty lei, made of colorful spun wool which I was given by the congregation as their guest and marvel at the moment of connection which happened because of an urge I had that morning to seek tradition and liturgy. I felt that connectedness earlier in the week while walking the labyrinth with Shelley at the Sacred Garden of Maliko. While labyrinths are ancient and tied to Christianity, they are relatively new here on Maui, introduced mainly these past 10 years. While I have walked the labyrinth before, never in the surroundings offered by the garden. Hugged by the wind and serenaded by the birds in the many trees which circled the stone labyrinth. God and worship in creation. I found the same while snorkeling hand in hand with Tom out in the ocean, chasing the many fish for hours over the coral reef until we came upon a sea turtle and floated still in the buoyant, salty waters and watched those to whom the ocean truly belongs. Later on Sunday afternoon we participated in what Maha calls “ the open Cathedral”. Many flock to Little Beach Makena for the drum circle which starts late on Sunday afternoon and lasts past sunset. Taking pictures at Little Beach is a tad difficult since many participants worship as Adam and Eve did in the Garden of Eden. Still, God’s promise remains the same “where two of more gather, I will be”.

Aloha, Tom and Els

Third time is a charm and on Sunday January 18 we were able to start the hike twice postponed due to circumstances beyond our control. This time it is only Tom, Shelley and I who in the dark set out and drive the 36 miles up the crater mountain to the Pu’u’ula’ula summit where the temperature is freezing and with the wind-chill factor, well below the 32 degrees registered. Since later on we will have to carry all the extra clothes needed now, we brave the cold on top in hiking shorts and only a fleece sweater over a short-sleeved shirt and we do not dawdle around long but head inside the Haleakala crater, House of the Sun. We have an almost 12 mile hike ahead of us, but stop often on Sliding Sands trail while the crater slowly unfolds and the sun removes the shadows. The frozen lava sand crunches under our boots and around us we hear small lava rocks tumble down. Tom, who is my fountain of knowledge, explains why these pebbles are falling down without any commotion setting them off except the unfreezing of the sand pushing the pebbles up and out and letting gravity win. We start Sliding Sands trail at an elevation of 10.000 feet and the trail brings us down 4.000 feet to the crater’s bottom floor. We encounter only one brave soul who started out at the other side at 3.00 am and who as preparation for a planned Mount Rainer hike is taking Sliding Sands trail up. Tom and I did the same about 25 years ago, at a much younger age and found it to be gruesome. For every two steps forward and up the 4000 feet incline ones slides down 1.5 steps. It never ceases to amaze me that so few people venture inside the Haleakala Crater, many drive up to watch the sunrise, only to turn around and drive immediately back. We meet one other person on the walk down. A young man from Slovenia with whom I tried to strike up a conversation since with his camera equipment he would be the one taking the pictures I covet. We attempted to find a language we could converse in together since his English was haltingly but found none. While I still have hopes that Paul ( I believe that to be his name) did understand my request and e-mail address and soon fantastic pictures from the crater will come my way, it may prove to be unrealistic.
Inside the crater, on opposite sides of the floor there are three cabins which are for use at a very reasonable price through contacting and making reservations with Haleakala National Park. In the early summer of 2004 Tom and I, together with our daughter Nikki and good friends Cathy and Charley spent a couple of nights in these. The cabins are in the wet, wilderness areas of the crater, away from the dry, sundrenched crater floor. The cabins, while primitive, offer shelter from the rain, there is a wood stove with plenty of wood laid ready and pots and pans to cook and boil the collected rainwater before consumption. Candles offer light and with the bedding one carries in, the narrow beds are fine for sleeping and resting after a day’s hike.
This time we are in for only a day hike and experience all of Haleakala’s diversity in the 8 hours our hike took. At the highest elevations the alpine/aeolian zone is barren. The rainfall sinks rapidly into the porous, rocky ground where the surface becomes summer every day and winter every night. Plant cover is sparse since only a few hardy shrubs, grasses and the ahinahina (silversword) can survive this harsh environment. Silverswords have shallow root systems that allow them to catch moisture in the porous, loose cinders. The dense covering of silvery hairs on the leaves helps conserve moisture and protect the plants from the intense, high-elevation sun. On our trip Sunday we did not see any blooming silverswords which is a sight to see but the landscape was dotted with the young plants. Distinctive cinder cones also dot the landscape and are a result of relatively recent eruptions (still eons ago though since the crater is dormant). The cones carry names like Ka Moa o Pele and Halali’I and on our hike we circle these red sandy hills and trek over at least one. I have found the Haleakala Crater hike to be an immensely, deeply felt, spiritual experience where I am mindful to remain open and not bring in that which can stand in the way of experiencing the ancient beauty. The absolute stillness is broken only by our labored breathing. The subalpine shrub land covers extensive areas below the alpine zone and above the forest line. Over a dozen species of shrubs and grasses inhabit this zone, many found nowhere else on Earth. The shrubs provide food for many bird species, including the nene ( Hawaiian goose). We stop for lunch at the Holua cabin which is locked. Too bad, I had hoped to show Shelley the inside and take a break from the slowly in- rising, cold and moisture laden clouds. We put our sweaters back on and start eating. Around us are signs to please not feed the nene! Keep the nene wild! A fed nene is a dead nene! Someone needs to get the message across to the nene who immediately after we opened our lunch came from behind the cabin, ready to snatch our sandwich. It was not a matter of us wanting to feed the nene, more a protection of our lunch. The nene is indeed a goose like no other. The clouds were rolling in rapidly and we packed up soon for the last two parts of our hike. First a cross- over to the bottom of switch back which carried is over a lava field with dense vegetation and which with the fog reminded me of an Scottish moor, this idea was intensified when we observed both grouse and heard the wing flapping of a ring neck pheasant. How amazing that in a day’s hike we can experience a rain forest with an annual rainfall from 120 inches to 400 inches or more and on the leeward slopes of the crater a dry forest zone with 20 inches of annual rainfall. Switchback trail slowly carries us back 2000 feet up the crater wall, switching back and forward first on the inside wall, then for a while on the outer wall until we arrive at the Kings Throne where both inside and outside can be seen on a clear morning, not late in the afternoon. Our last two hours up were hiked inside the clouds and while not raining, the dense water filled cloud saturated every stitch of our clothing and arriving back above the clouds at the Halemau’u trailhead felt wonderful. While Tom and I have hiked the crater now six times I marvel each time at the experience and am so grateful for our strength and ability to do so each time. This was Shelley’s first time and I love being with someone when their eyes are first opened to the Haleakala Crater. I have immense admiration for Shelley who hiked that day in brand new , too small boots and her toes ended up blue and blistered already on the down ward Sliding Sands trail but who persevered quietly on. At the end of this hike tradition calls us to Polli’s restaurant in Makawao for the best ever tasting Margarita. Shelley shared that with all the pain her toes must have caused she would not have wanted to trade the hiking experience.
Today I am sitting outside Dave and Uma’s condo in Kihei. The living room opens up to a small tiled patio, feet away from the ocean. No one is out and about and I feel like one owning the island. Last night we attended, together with our friends Maha and Diane, the “ Obama Ohana” at Maui Tropical Plantation. It was a true, YES WE DID, inaugural celebration for their native son, Barack Obama. We had a blast. It started off with a magical sunset mediation, gentle flute music and Tibetan singing bowls with words of uplifting prayer for Obama and our country. Beautifully done with peace and patriotism present in one breath. Afterwards dinner was served and the celebration started out in earnest with great music and energized dancing. What a place to have been and shared January 20, 2009.
Aloha , Tom and Els

When Tom and I started planning our trip we talked on how we would leave winter behind early in 2009, how we would not experience that season any longer after departing from Denver on January3rd. While the people here on Maui talk about winter, with an average year around temperature of 80 degrees, I found the term winter hard to take. That is until I saw a Kona storm and learned that the seasons here are not defined by temperatures, instead by the direction of approaching storms and the rains it brings.
We had made plans to spend a couple of days camping last week outside of Hana, near O’Heo Gulch aka the seven sacred pools. We have camped there before with our children and know firsthand the wind’s force up by the pools on even a calm day, so when mention was made of an incoming Kona storm and a possible Jaw surf we changed our mind and plans and stayed put. There was an excitement all over the island, schools and government offices closed in anticipation of the incoming wind and many headed to the beach to see the angry surf’s pounding on the shore. I cut my walk short through the valley when I heard the cracking high overhead from the upper branches of the Eucalyptus trees. I learned the difference of Maui’s “normal”rain which is soft and gentle and the Kona rain which comes from a different direction, sideways and fierce. We reacted not much different from how we respond to an Arkansas winter storm, and hunkered down with good food and a couple of movies while listening to the storm’s bantering outside and hoping that the electricity would remain on.
Maui has a greeting which is well known by an upside down hand, fingers clenched with thumb and little finger pointed out. It stands for “hang loose”, relax and be on Maui time. Maui time is not defined by a clock instead through letting it happen when it happens. This can be difficult for one like me in whom it was ingrained from birth on that time, plans and appointments need to be honored and punctuality is a virtue. So, it was with disappointment last Tuesday after we drove the 36 mile winding road to the Haleakala crater’s top that again we would not be able to hike through the crater. The second time our hiking plans were changed, this time due to a scheduled resurfacing of the parking lot up by the Halemau’u Trailhead. With us were our long time friend Dave Miller and his guest from Arkansas, Shelley. Us Arkansans get around and can be found everywhere! Due to a corporate downsizing, Shelley packed up and came to Maui and in her words, is letting life unfold, once again. I thought of that while still very disappointed in “my” plans cancellation for the day. Having been told by the park rangers that we needed to be clear of the crater road by 10.00 am we were granted not much time for a hike there. We decided to take a mile hike to the Kings Throne, a rare spot where there is a view of both the inside and outside crater wall. It is a spot which we usually encounter at the end of the 11.2 Halemau’u trail and later in the day usually absorbed by the clouds which start rolling in the crater at the North Eastern crater gap of Kaupo shortly after sunrise. The view we had last Tuesday morning was one I had not seen before. Clear on both sides and one could see the whole North shore from Paia to Hana. The same landing at Ke’anae where days earlier we watched a monk seal come ashore and where the surf explodes on the lava rocks was from this 8000 feet height marked only by a quiet line of white foam in the blue of the ocean. Overall, a well worth unfolding of the day and in better spirits we drove down the crater road and headed for another hike outside of Waihe’e, on the West Maui Mountains with a promise of seeing inside Iao Valley if the day remained clear which thankfully it did. The hike to the top is only 2.5 miles long but steep and muddy. I have learned to never leave my trekking poles behind and they saved me once again from getting a muddy behind. The view in the valley is breath taking. We are so high up that far out the sky’s blues have met, mixed and mingled with the ocean’s waters and no longer can a distinction be seen. Deep below a helicopter hovers and sweeps through Iao valley, showing the valley’s greenness to the tourists inside. In that same view enters the biggest dragon fly I have ever seen, buzzing close by. With the optical illusion depth can create the helicopter and dragon fly are of the same size and shape and I wished photography could do justice to the memories created. Since by now we were part way around the West Maui Mountains we opted to take Hwy 340 around the most Western point of Nakalele Head and end up in Lahaina. Our map cautioned us that 340 would be for the most part a very narrow, winding one-lane road driven at your own risk and they were not kidding. Maui has three kinds of drivers, the locals, the surfers and the tourists and I am not sure which one I dread more meeting on these roads. I am still learning if certain etiquette exists when one meets an oncoming traveler on the road, way, way up, with truly not an inch to spare on either side of the road beyond our own car’s width. Who should make the move, reverse and hug the little opening in the rocks or venture to the spare feet of dirt on the cliff’s side where passing can barely happen? While it would make the most sense in my humble opinion that the car which can reverse downhill should make the effort, I continue to practice successfully the “standoff”. It means that I stay put until the other car retreats and finds the space. I am also a staunch believer of laying down on the horn when going around blind corners on mountain roads and warn all of my comings. Closing my eyes and praying for the best as passenger of a driver who does not have my honking belief does not work. The road gave us marvelous views of valleys where small communities nestled and bays where the surf pounded. Outside of Lahaina we stopped and spent time watching a waterspout created by underwater lava caves which blows out the surf and rightfully is called a blowhole. Well worth the drive and my earlier disappointment of not being able to hike the crater was long gone while learning to let the day and life unfold on Maui time.
Motto for the day: Blow horn to see Blow hole.
Aloha, Tom and Els

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When my friend Jan, who now has resided on Maui for over 25 years and works in the tourism industry in Lahaina , is asked by the tourists where one can find the native Hawaiians, her answer is drug court and the rodeo. Jan’s daughter Thea is our god daughter and together with Thea I attended the monthly rodeo competion last Saturday in Makawao to see her son Kalewa compete. Mind you, this was my very first rodeo ever even after having lived in Arkansas for 30 years and I was not prepared for the encounter. I was the only tourist out in the up-country rodeo arena and easily identified by not wearing wrangler jeans, checkered , pearl button longsleeved shirts and a cowboy hat. The morning competion involved the age group K-2nd grade and I was surprised at their competence on big horses. Rodeo is a family affair on Maui, a passion handed down through generations and whole families, from great-grandparents to aunties and uncles are there, encouraging and cheering on these little tikes who are galloping and racing around barrels on horses who tower over my six feet. I have no idea how they stayed on since their short legs did not reach the stirrups. Each event displayed a skill. For the very young Kindergarteners the goat roping meant racing in the arena, jumping off the large horse and running to a goat who, while tied to a rope staked in the sand still moves pretty frantically, and pull a red ribbon of the end of the goat’s tail. Reversed pin the tail on the donkey? The task intensefied a bit for the older first and second graders who had to knock the goat down and tie up its legs. I was somewhat astounded by the cruelty , even more when the next event involved young calves being wrestled down by two little cowboys/girls. This event was called double muggers, since it involved team work. Leave it to me to hear the announcement “ All mothers report in the arena” and wonder out loud why Kalewa’s mother Thea does not enter. She clarifies what was said and I see first hand what muggers do.
Years ago I learned that one should not ever make an Elvis joke at Graceland. The same holds for bemoaning out loud at a Makawao rodeo the sad life of the goats and calves whose daily task involves being wrestled down by pint size cowboys and trussed like turkeys. I wonder if life would be simpler for the calves if they just fall down, roll over and hold up their hooves when the little cowboys come galloping down the field. My goddaughter Thea hushed me to silence while nervously looking around to make sure no one had heard Kalewa’s tourist friend mention the sad lives of the island’s goats and calves. I was told that the calves are called rubbernecks, that they survive it just fine, it is their lot in life and that rodeo is all about the horses and cowboys. In between events I watched a young Hawaiian man teach the children the art of roping on a dummy, a wire calf with horns and hooves. What impressed me was the diligence and patience he portrayed and the lessons taught, well beyond the act of roping. I witnessed the teachings of perseverance, diligence, patience, respect and tradition.
We are all called to teach our children well. The art of living is handed down from generation to generation and here it was through sharing a Saturday morning rodeo. Not much different really from soccer or baseball tournaments, or an all day swim or gymnastics-meet. We spent time with our children through sharing acivities we already have a passion for.
Lunch at the rodeo involved Cowboy Church . Munching on Spam musubi ( rice and yes Spam rolled in seaweed) while listening to a wonderful, prayerful glorifying of the day's togetherness and holding safe the little competitors. I added a quiet, small prayer for the safety and well being of the young goats and calves who were also taking a well-deserved break.
Tom and I enjoy spending time away from the tourist area and are integrating more with the natural Hawaiian life. That includes shopping for groceries and preparing our meals. Prices are high on the island especially staples needed for every day living. In a Kahului Safeway store I bought Philidelphia cream cheese on sale(?) for $3.50 and paid $9.99 for a box of Velveeta cheese and almost 3 bucks for a can of Rotel-tomatoes, all needed to make a pan of chicken/cheese enchiladas. I have been told before that the prices are high due to the fact that everything has to be shipped here. How can that logic stand though when I see a $9.00 price tag on a pine apple which may have been picked of the field next door? Or how does one explain then paying $4.99 for a bottle of Australian Yellow Tail Chardonnay at the local Wal-Mart, at least 50% less than the mainland price. Is danger not created when one pays considerably more for a gallon of milk than a six pack of Heineken? While the gasoline we purchased to fill up our car yesterday at the price of $2.47 a gallon is quite down from the almost $5.00 we paid here last year, it is still a lot more than the $1.27 we paid for a gallon of gas last month in Conway, Arkansas. Overall I find the local Hawaiians nicer , friendlier, they smile more. I attribute this to the excitement and promise of hope their native, favorite son Barrack Obama has generated. All over the island one can find shirts proclaiming their rightful pride in a native Honolulu man. “ Obama surfs!” “ Obama is Hawaiian”. He is a Honolulu kid and the Hawaiians are proud of his growth. We are thrilled to be present here on the island when Barrack Obama is inaugurated as the next president of the United States. I plan to forego my regular fish-tacos when eating next Tuesday at the Fish- market in Paia and instead feast on the latest addition to their menu, the Obama burger, made with Ono fish and spiced up with wasabi. We are enjoying our time greatly, daily learning that the plans we made will go awry due to elements beyond our control and letting the day unfold.
Pictures were posted to our site and we hope all can access these. Tom and Els