Submit An Article FREE
- Are you an expert in your field? Do you publish articles? Get Free
exposure on www.FAXTS.com. Put your message in front of thousands of
readers
each week as well as a link back to your site for better search engine
rankings!
August 09, 2003
Oahu, it's a tough life.
But somebody's gotta do it. Saturday Night I took off
for Laie in my Miata. Top down, temperature about 80,
I feel the wind run through my hair. I feel cool,
cruising past the pineapple fields, headed for the
North Shore. Along the North Shore I see beach after beach. (You seen
one you seen em all.) And, the babes in bikinis. They're everywhere. I
can't tell you how disgusting that is. Don't throw me in that briar
patch.
Yet other times, on the beaches, the bikini babes pass me by like I'm a
trash can. In fact, actually, that's what's disgusting. I came into
Laie about 7pm, deposited my suitcases at my new living quarters. I've
been invited to stay at a wonderful house four from the end of the Laie
Point. Ocean on three sides, high lava rock rise 50 feet above the
ocean, waves cruise by at high speed, crash into the lava rock. Clouds
rush by, wind always afoot.
Out on the point, fishermen try for Broomfish, 3 feet
long, tail like a broom. Pushbroom or what? Don't ask me what kind of
broom. I've never seen a Broomfish. Kids from Laie jump off the rocks
into the deep ocean surf 35 feet below. They invite me to jump once I
ask them about the thrill. I step back.
I'm in Laie for the duration, I tell myself. Its
idyllic. Laie is a high profile Hawaiian village on
Oahu's northeast shore.
White Temple, Polynesian Cultural Center, BYU Hawaii.
Heavy hitters, those three. Green lanais, tall palms,
air-conditioned BYU buildings. Sandy ocean beaches blocks away. Temple
Beach, just down from the temple, so's you can get in a swim between
sessions.
One strip mall. Kokoko's Town Food, or somethin',
barber, bank, McDonalds, they've got everything.
One thing you need to know: When they started up the Hawaiian language,
they had a bunch of leftover K's.
They
say a typewriter key got stuck. They used up the extra K's naming the
towns.
I know, Laie starts with an L. But every other town in
Oahu starts with a K. Honolulu, for example.
Its early today, 8am. I've gotta move the rest of my
stuff to my new Laie place, then open a bank account.
That's how you make money here in Hawaii.
Then, its on to the beach, lunch, the beach. Then I
paint, watercolor, with a new instructor. In the
shade. Then I take a swim, have dinner, and watch the sun set, standing
waist deep in the surf at Temple Beach. In the morning I'll do another
5am sunrise at the beach. Sunburn is a surfacing issue.
Oahu. It's a tough life for anybody, but somebody's
gotta step up and do it.
Copyright 2003 Paul L. Tripp |
“waves
. . . crash into the lava rock.”
|
“Out
on the point, fishermen try for Broomfish”
|
“Kids . . . jump off the rocks into the
deep ocean surf 35 feet below.”
|
|
|
Oahu
Diary 4
August 13, 2003
Rona, the Jewish matron from Kailua calls and invites me to have a
drink in Waikiki in an hour. I’m in Laie, a long drive. And, to hear
Rona talk about being anurse on the mainland. Which I’ve heard.
So I skip. There’s more reason to skip. Which I’ll
skip.
Here in Laie I feel the wind on my skin, the warm
waves when I swim. The salt air makes my Miata misty,rusty. I wash it
each morning. I swim at night. Aircool, water warm. I eat my lunch of
albacore tuna,lettuce and whole wheat taco, down it with diet A&W.
I stop at McDonalds in Laie. Several times. Gary and Connee would be
proud. I get cobb salad with chicken, ice water.
Hot fudge sundae for dessert. No. I jist said that.
Dessert was a grape from my glove box.
But, at McDonalds, I see a great female singing to a
karaoke music system with large TV, lyrics displayed.
If you can read, you can sing the words. If you can
sing. This gal has a good voice. I feel bold. Ask the karaoke manager
and get her list
of songs, 23 pages. On the first page I find Andy
Williams’ TRY TO REMEMBER.
Karoake Lady puts the song on, I sing. I’m having a
great time. I finish. I impress myself, not hard. Low
standards. Applause thunders. Okay, there’s five
listeners. I’m going back this week, with a babe on my arm. It’ll be
great.
Friday I went to the Hawaiian Waters Adventure Park.
That’s over on the western edge of Oahu. You mostly can’t get there
from here. From Laie, you have to drive west over the north shore to
Hali’iwa, south past the charred remains of Dole Plantation, then
Schofield Barracks, southwest past Walmart’s, then west on H1. You exit
at that place with the Chinese restaurant, and bingo, you’re there. You
could catch a sail boat and traverse the island about as fast.
By
the way, they number the freeways wrong here. H1,for
example. And, H2. And, H3. All wrong. I mean, do they have C1, C2
or C3 in California?
No. Everywhere else, they use numbers. Scientific.
Like, I-70. Or, I-80.
Something everyone can understand. But here in Hawaii, you see the
freeway signs all over with H1, H2 or H3 careening off in some crazy
direction. It as bad as Spain.
Its not easy, being here in Oahu. I’d step up to
correct these freeway names. But I’m retired.
There’s only so much you can do in one lifetime.
Okay, so I’m in Hawaiian Water True Adventure, or
whatever they call it.
I’m with my new ward members, a family with four, or is it six?, kids.
The older boys take me on the big
tall water slides. My face contorts. They say I’m
scared, laugh at me. Laugh! I shrink. Scared in front
of 12-year-olds? I think quick, “I wasn’t scared. It’s
the G-forces.”
You can tell a twelve-year-old anything.
In the afternoon I sit away from the boys under
Mexican Palms—how come they have MEXICAN Palms in Hawaii?--rest on the
chaise lounge, or whatever. Doze. Jump in the cool pool, transfer to
the hot pool. All this, just for adults.
The hot pool is a pool, not a tub. Shade trees,
everything. Water jets. The pool inlet pounds my
aching back. The next day my butt muscles are mashed up, may never work
again.
Into the hot pool wade three babes from Tahiti.
They told me. One speaks only French. She’s from Tahiti and speaks
French? Mixed up bikini babes. But why bring that up? I’m plotting how
can I get one of these babes in my Miata, speed H1, me smiling. Wind in
her hair.
They get up and walk away. They don’t know what they missed.
Cell rings. Its Rona.
Again. |
“.
. .invited to stay at a wonderful house
four
from the end of Laie Point.”
‘ .
. . babes from Tahiti’
|
‘I’m
plotting how can I get one
of these babes in my Miata
|
|
|
|
