getting the hang of the island life

the view from my downmarket balcony this morning

It's taken me a few days, but I am getting it sorted now.
Just because I am staying in a resort it doesn't mean that I have to prove every five minutes that I am not a resort person.
The little concierge who realized I hadn't received my welcome package was very keen to book me some activities. He got it down to a medicinal plant garden.  Medicine and plants.... hmm, I was thinking...then I saw the photos and there were this group of happy people drinking tea and buying boxes of the stuff and I said I don't think so.
But this morning I trotted down to a small pool and did some exercises. The fact that the entire complex who were buttering their toast and sipping their coffee was watching me, thinking that I walked round the pool because I obviously couldn't swim, I let slide.
Then I took off down the steep beach path where I passed a couple of the Hawaiin geese called Nene, and their babies was a good start to my adventure at the fancy hotel.

The nene family

 I was going for brunch. I had brought my writing book and I was hoping to finish my year plan on a grown-up balcony in a la-di-da setting. I meandered my way into the hotel and found the Makana Terrace. I was the only person there on my own. The hostess showed me to the this table right by the entrance where everyone and his mother would pass me on their way to get another waffle. I was going to be writing my dreams and wishes in purple pen. "Don't you have anything nicer ?" I said. " Nicer?" she replied. " Yes," I said. ... I stood my ground. It was hard. " Well," she said." There are tables, but they aren't cleared and that is something, I can't do." So I went back to the check in table and sat down as the hostess wrote something on my ticket and then I watched couples and families be led to tables. Fifteen minutes passed, and then she came up to me. " Miss Murray,  I have a table in the shade, please follow me." And I did.  I said " Thank you" very nicely as she told the waiter that I was eating alone.  And I asked the told the waiter I didn't like ice in my water , and I pulled out my big writing book and my purple pen and I finished my year plan over a plate of Passion fruit and Papaya, two fried eggs, avocados and capers. I slipped the napkin with it's slices of papaya for breakfast on my un-la-di-da balcony the following day and said goodbye to fancyland.

I drove down to Annini beach and swam around for hours.

couldn't be happier

Other people did different things. Like stand fully dressed in the water talking on a cell phone.

Or standing around in a circle drinking red bull.

Talked to a lady called Sally from Idaho who had come here with her son, a retired homicide cop from Oakland, to start a new life eighteen months ago...but she was done. She wanted to go back to weather and her friends. She had tried, she said. She volunteered at the thrift shop. As a life long teacher she offered to tutor. She went to church. But nobody asked her back for a cup of tea.

Then I came back and watched the sky change. And change. And change. And change.

Good night from the island girl.

Another day here in Hawaii

I saw a frigate bird today. They sometimes fly for eight years without landing. I saw a group of juvenile Albatross. They were strutting around on this hillside looking for a mate. I was told by this lovely man that when they are little and they emerge from that same hillside and they launch themselves off that cliff, their first flight will be for three years. I also learned that you can only distinguish a female from a male albatross by plucking one of the feathers and doing a DNA test.
I don't have a photo of an albatross because they were strutting at the end of a pair of binoculars.
But you all know what they look like....

the lighthouse. home of the frigate bird and the albatross.

the early morning sky..

After my time at the nature reserve I went down to the beach and swam around. I didn't bother with my newly acquired snorkel and mask. I just used my regular swimming goggles and held my breath.
I met a very large sea turtle. he let me swim with him as he raided the sea floor and popped his head up to the surface a couple of times a few inches from my face.




Here in Kauai there are different groups of people. There are time share owners who don't know if they are in Hawaii or Florida. I swear I met a couple who were dressed in matching lime green trousers and they thought they were on Maui.
There are a lot of young couples who are pregnant with their first child and they are having a holiday before the sleepless nights they have been told to expect. There are a number of honeymooners. You can tell by the new clothes, the semi-permanent make-up ( like eyelashes and unusual nail varnish colours) and the whacking great rings that are sported on their left hands. Lots of fiddling of the hands as the wearers, particularly the men, getting used to the new feeling.



I met a lovely couple, Denise and Greg,who had a dog a lot like my own ( the famous Fanny for anyone who doesn't know me well). In their late fifties from Maryland and decided to up-sticks and live the island life. They sold a house and bought a house and work remotely starting work at east coast time and then come down to Annini Beach with their huge dog and swim. Not for ever, but for now.
 I always think of what my mother used to say, not necessarily to me but to the larger life she hoped I would lead.
" People make the mistake of thinking that the big decisions they make are written in stone. But they are not. They are written in sand."
I don't think she is right, I know she is.


Those Albatross take off and fly without friends or family for three years and then they end up back on the same cliff dancing around looking for the one mate who they will stick with for life. Those Albatross. Such a romantic group.

The fancy people's view.

I walked down this evening to the beach and then slipped through the fence into the fancy hotel next door , where I rode the lift from the beach to the ninth floor. I stood and watched the sunset with a host of people in casual holiday attire. I did bring money to buy myself a fancy hotel drink, but no one asked me so I just leaned against the railing as first time pregnant ladies sipped virgin tropical cocktails and first time wedded couples took photos of each other. It wasn't a very spectacular sunset. so I slipped away and slid through the fence before anyone checked my credentials.

At my location, the Hanalei Bay Resort / or time-share haven, the musician in the ukulele bar was singing " Puff the magic Dragon." He was. Honestly. But I didn't sing along. I don't know the words.

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?

I am in Hawaii. Kauai to be exact.

Now just a couple of housekeeping things…..

Nobody, especially unfit men over 50 should wear T-shirts that are cut off at the shoulders. Why would you do that? Why would you trot out to dinner in a T shirt that has this draping armhole that shows underarm hair and your less than firm chest?  We women are better at this. We search out things that are longer at the back than the front. We love elbow length. 

And, everyone, at least once a year, must be in a place that when they look up at night they see that heavenly mantle of stars.

Those of us that live in cities, awash with street lights and other nonsense like air contamination, we see an occasional sighting of Venus.

But this is what we all need to remind ourselves of being children when anything was possible.

A blanket of pin pricks. Light years away.

I feel like Burt Lancaster in Local Hero on that beach in Scotland.

But I’m not. I’m Wendy in Kaua’i.

I was a bit flat. Like a plug with a red button that you had to reset in order to connect to the power. Had a week to throw to the Gods. Could have stayed at home and made a start on my taxes. Got lovely Rey to come in and install a new cupboard in my kitchen. Had Lovely Scott come round and clean my rugs.

But instead, I bought a flight to Hawaii .

Then I had to find somewhere to stay which was a little harder than I had envisaged. 

But I am here. At a resort. Hanalei Bay Resort. With a lot of people who play golf. And sit in the swimming pool and drink cocktails. And sit in the Ukulele Bar and listen to someone singing “ Feelings”, and, oh yes, they wear  T shirts that show creases that should be kept private.

This is not a resort that would want me as a member

But I am here. And I am also not here. I have been driving around. To a lighthouse. To a botanical garden. To a beach where the road truly ends.

Buying organic vegetables and fruit. swimming in the slightly scary ocean. watching sunsets. Looking up and seeing  the heavens.

I’m doing okay. 

More than okay.

I’ll take a photo of one of those T shirt wearers …then you’ll understand

It puts you off your ‘mahalo.’

easter in Christchurch

Easter Sunday.

Not a hot cross bun. Not a Cadbury’s Easter Egg.  Not even a rendition of

“ There is a green hill far away.”

But there was homemade peach jam. My brother has been saying Melocoton like some sort of mantra all day yesterday when he was looking for a worthy baguette. He says it like a waiter of a fictional Spanish holiday camp.

This morning, we had the worthy baguette, the best butter we could find and the melocoton jam he made from the fruit of his peach tree.

He says ‘melocoton’ as opposed to peach, because as a family we spent our holidays in the north of Spain in a tiny flat. And because we spoke very little Spanish, the words like mantequila and melocoton were thrown about with confidence and abandon.

So, as we talk about our Easters in Spain, about the jigsaw puzzles and the games of Totopoly, we cut the bread and spread it with butter and slather it with melocoton jam. Cadbury’s be damned.

Stephen and I went for a walk this afternoon to a place called Taylor’s Mistake.

It is one of my favourite walks. Starting in the bay called “Taylor’s Mistake” up around a promontory to Godley Head. Black sand to crashing waves to caves and flowers and views across an ocean to nowhere other than water.

Taylors mistake

Lyttleton Harbour

It is so called, because a man called Taylor brought his frigate into this little bay thinking it was the port of Lyttleton. He jumped ashore and made a big noise before learning of his mistake… and there you go……

proof of stupidity

And then I forced Stephen to come with me to the cathedral for an Easter Evensong. This odd plastic A-frame. Looking like an oversized greenhouse for a tomato plant or two. But when we got inside and sat down whilst the choir practiced and looked at the design that felt ephemeral and from found objects, it all changed.

Stephen…you remember….the one who makes people light up…..knew the Dean. Lawrence was his name. 

He had been on a school board with my brother.

He came up to us, “ Stephen….” he said….. “ Just a regular old evensong.”

And Stephen and I read the “reflection” he had written in the hand-out.  “ when we give voice to those who are powerless, to those who have been silenced, and when we stand with them and empower them to speak the truth, we answer the cry for justice and healing.” And then he walked by us with his embroidered robes on a hanger. “ We get to wear fancy dress here too.”

We drank wine that we bought last Sunday from a wonderful woman who worked at a vineyard up in Blenheim. “ Sisters” it is called. They grow vines and give support to local women who are struggling.

The flooded road from New Brighton

Easter Sunday in Christchurch. Coming to an end.

The Totopoly horses were called, “ Priory Park, Dark Warrior and Marmaduke Jinks.” By the way. My brother looked it up on the internet.

It was that kind of day. A resurrection of sorts…….

after the cyclone

Yesterday was Cyclone Cook.

For me, it was just a lot of rain. Because most of the roofs here are made from corrugated iron it makes for a lot of noise. Rain and Noise. And Because they have a lot of rain here they don’t worry about rain. They just lie in bed and hear it crashing down above them. Or they stand by the kitchen window and watch it cascading down in front of them. Or they put up their brollies and unfurl the hoods to their waterproof jackets and go out for a walk with the dog.

Today Cyclone Cook has moved on to places south. There are only a few places south before you hit Antartica. There’s Dunedin and Invercargill. And then there’s the tiny Stewart island where the ferries leave. And then there is Antartica.

The water here is very cold. Very cold. But yesterday, when the cyclone was moving away and my brother and I went for a walk with a brolly on the beach there were children playing in the water up to their waists.

Hardy, you could call them. Foolhardy, ….no.

It’s good being with my brother. We’ve traveled enough years so that the annoying bits are just annoying and are over with by the time the kettle boils.

We don’t make scrambled eggs the same way. He loves red onion a little more than is healthy. He is so much neater than I am. But top to toe, I think he is a totally admirable man. With a genetic backbone of integrity that has cost him some things in his life and brought him others. And a capacity for loving people which is sometimes larger than his chest can hold.

stephen and Helena picking Feijoas for me to try

feijoa bushes

He has a daughter, Helena, who is fourteen and knows the words to all the songs played on the radio. He calls her many things including “ Dawg.” For her inordinate love of animals.

We went to the cinema the other night to see “ Beauty and the Beast.” We ran into a young man who used to work at Willowbank and has now moved to another zoo in Darwin, Australia. He lit up when he saw Stephen. He peeled off his jacket so he could show him the tattoo he had just done of the chimpanzee he had been taking care of. Stephen evokes that from the people he has in his life. They know, I think, how much he cares. And they light up……

my morning bicycle ride

 I went for a bicycle ride up the beach road. Me and nobody else. 

On the way back I saw with some excitement people setting up for a farmer’s market. There is a stall where an elderly lady is selling hand-knitted tea cosies. And garlic sauce with a sign that declares it to be “ Bloody Brilliant.” And vegetables greener than one would have thought possible in nature.

just bloody brilliant

food trucks ala New Brighton.

 Everyone said, “ Hallo there.”

I said, “ Hallo” back. It was nice to see people.  Because, as I have said, people are few on the ground here.

I’m going back there in a minute with my wallet. I’m not leaving without a tea cosy.