Pahoa, Hawaii

After the big city edge of Honolulu (or as Shelley described it, “Tropical Los Angeles”), we made a beeline for the Big Island of Hawaii.  We hopped a quick 25 minute flight and somehow Ken charmed the car rental company into a free upgrade to a 4WD Jeep Wrangler.  We instantly got into the rural Hawaiian spirit and drove north to Waikoloa Beach, passing endless black lava fields on either side of the road.  Special thanks to Ken’s mom (Sheila) for putting us up at the luxurious Marriott Resort and Spa!  After backpacking through the third world we were overwhelmed by the opulence: yes, our bed had TEN pillows and an infinity pool awaited us (the world-wide status symbol for  expensive accommodations).  We enjoyed neon-pink sunsets over the swaying palm trees and drives into the village for cheap but amazingly tasty Mexican food. 

Getting into the island vibe we toured the north end of the island and ended up near the former sugar plantation turned hippy-enclave of Puna, about 15 minutes from Hilo.  Ken found a perfectly secluded cottage in the abundant fauna and flora filled east side.  We spent our time relaxing in the screened-in living room, falling asleep to croaking frogs, cooking meals (overdosing on coconut, pineapple, and macadamia nuts), taking ample outdoor showers, and reading (Ken’s been seduced by the Hunger Games, I’m deep into the world of Malcolm X).  Unfortunately, we found out the major volcano was not erupting so our plans couldn’t include seeing the red-hot surface lava hit the ocean.  Instead, we’ve decided to pull out the hammocks and acquaint ourselves with “island time.”