Airplane travel is a marvel. However, negotiating one’s way through airports, particularly in the United States, negates much of the experience. After a particular harassing sequence of security events on our return from New Zealand recently, we had experienced tsa.phobia at Los Angeles Airport. We nearly added ‘.com’ as a suffix. Our flight to Hawaii was superb once we got out of the airport and onto the magnificent flying machine.
Elana Cooper, formerly of San Diego and lately, Jerusalem, suggested that we undertake her favorite hike in Kona. This we did and it turned out to be quite a day. In a change of pattern, we decided against renting a car until Sunday. A taxi brought us to our hotel quite late on Thursday night. Friday morning arrived soon, especially as we had lost two hours somewhere over the Pacific. We are probably going to have to take over time management from our editor should she continue to lose hours. After doing some work plus a little research on how to get to the trailhead, we decided instead to ‘wing’ it as we had little success with directions. Unusual!
There we stood with a few others waiting for the bus, which is reputed to run on Hawaii time. To us, this seems natural. After all, we are in Hawaii. However, it apparently means something different in this part of the world. By the way, we usually try to take a bus or train at times as it gives one a better feel for the locals. Another factoid is that there are no formal bus stops on this island. One stands on the side of the road and flags down the bus. And our editor had the audacity to inquire why we carried so many flags with us from San Diego.
We offered the bus driver the fare. He looked at us and said. “Keep the money.” We were puzzled. Subsequently, we entered into conversation with a local youth who explained that seniors (55) travel free. Normally a person would be happy to receive such dispensation. However, we are peeved. He didn’t even ask to see proof of age. Chutzpah! Our faces obviously don’t reflect what’s in our hearts.
Back to the trail. We got off the bus only a mile past the trailhead. We didn’t think it was appropriate to ask the driver to turn the bus around for us notwithstanding we are now ‘seniors’. This added to the hike as we had to walk back along the highway. The trail from the town to Captain Cook’s Obelisk at sea level, some 1300 feet below, is fairly steep with footing on volcanic rock. The return trip, in over 90 degrees heat was taxing, making it quite a strenuous hike. Our editor, showing the effects of too much soft living in San Diego, struggled a little towards the end. ‘And what of the beginning and middle’, she added. Captain Cook, who has left his mark in many parts of the world, was quite a guy. Unfortunately, the locals of the Sandwich Islands did not show him due respect.
The real fun commenced on the return trip. With traffic building on Highway 11, we waited to flag down another bus. Our editor suggested we get rid of our stylish hat as she believed it would give the wrong impression to passing motorists. She put out the thumb and we showed the leg. A colonel from Army Intelligence, showing appropriate judgment, picked up two less than intelligent seniors and dropped us a few miles short of our destination. Once again, the editor put out the thumb and told us to hide the hairy legs for the next hitching attempt. It worked. A schoolteacher, Scott, showing further kindness completed our journey by letting us off at the hotel. We will say this: The colonel is not at all happy or fond of his commander in chief. Go figure! We enjoyed chatting with both gentlemen.
To top it all, our editor led us to the store, a further two miles round-trip, to buy salads. What happened to real men who only eat red meat? She had obviously recovered from a surprisingly tough hike; she was unwavering in her determination to prepare a proper Shabbos meal.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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