Bali Ha'i ..is that how you spell it?

When I was small, my parents had taken us on a holiday to Italy. We went in the Jaguar.  We stayed at a place called Diano Marino. We went with a family called the Farrells. I never think of my parents as anti-social. But I have now come to believe that they did not want to give up control of all hours of their day. I think this was more my mother than my father. My mother was always sure when not to talk. She had about five inches for small talk in a given day.

So for a couple of years,  my lovely Welsh grandparents took us three children to Butlin’s Holiday Camp which we though was really exciting until it wore off and we never wanted to see a red jacket again. 

My parents bought a flat the size of postage stamp in Catalonia in the north of Spain.  We all three shared a bedroom. My parents slept in the living room. It was orange and green. Then we went up market and they bought a larger place, the size of three stamps,  half a mile closer to the sea. This time there were two bedrooms. Pena Golosa. There were bright coloured toweling cushions on the sofas. There was a stack of jigsaw puzzles for the rains that came at Easter. A record player. There were friends that had also bought places at Pena Golosa. The grown ups would go out for Boulllabaise. Us kids would play and play and play.

roosters at the war cemetery

So… here I am in Kauai. Staying at a place that has a lot of timeshares. A lot of people who play mediocre tennis. But, I might add, I can’t play it at all. I am not going to back into the sleeveless T-shirt. But my mother wouldn’t have been five minutes in this place. The cleaning crew came round today and we had a laugh. 

I remember many years ago, my mother, who had a bit of spare cash tucked into her back pocket,  bought she and my father an adventure in Kenya.  She was so upset by the fact that the lady cleaning her room in the hotel lived hundreds of miles from their families and saw them once or twice a year, she never really talked about the ‘special’ holiday.

This evening I went down to Hanalei to watch the sunset.  Then I came back to timeshare land, to my brown apartment where there are musicians playing at the ukulele bar and people are drinking mai-tai’s and there are tiki torches blazing.  There is a musician singing “ I shot the Sheriff.”

There is so much colour on this island. 

fishing at the end of Hanalei pier

Today I went snorkeling. I saw brilliant fish who have no idea how pretty they are. I talked to a guy who had moved into his second life which is just chasing the surf. I read my book. I ate my ‘egg fruit’ and the hairy red fruit like a lychee called a “rambuton’….all tasty.

This lady was standing on the the coral ( which all the signs tell you to protect) having a FaceTime chat on her i-phone

Yesterday I drove way too much. round the island. Up a canyon. round the island. 

Today I walked. Hallo feet. 

waimea Canyon...way up high....a bit of vertigo here

roosters everywhere...

female chicken with her small brood

I will have to find “ South Pacific” to watch soon. I have been to the beach where  Nellie sung  “ I’m going to wash that man right out of my hair.” and I can see Bali Ha’i from my window.

Tomorrow I want to see a whale…….

Not too much to ask in paradise, is it?