hawaii

we're here we're here -- finally.

i wanted to put an exclamation mark after the first "we're here," but it looked too chipper and alert.

i am neither chipper, nor alert.

we had to be at the airport shuttle stop before 4 a.m. this morning, which sucked, then, after our three, or so, hours of sleep, found ourselves on a worryingly schizophrenically temperatured series of flights where we alternately froze, and then boiled, becoming terribly dehydrated.

we emerged from the plane into the thick, warm, moist blanket of air in honolulu with headaches and a serious lack of personality.

finding our way from the airport to the pali highway was an exercise in futility. J was applying the tiny part of his head that wasn't annoying him to driving our rental car, and my already questionable map reading skills crawled into my primeval lizard brain to take a nap while i stared pointlessly at all the squiggles on the piece of paper in front of me, knowing they were roads, but unable to make much sense of them as my head pounded. i didn't know where we were going, and what was worse, i didn't care.

"just go that way. i'm sure we'll come across the exit at some point. doesn't it look like it would be over there? let's just go over there."

how lost can you get on an island, anyway?

we found the highway eventually, after only a couple of wrong/illegal turns, and made a bee-line for our favourite food store for provisions, then came here and fell into bed at two in the afternoon like a couple of zombies.

do zombies fall into beds?

i don't know.

well, anyway, we fell into bed like a couple of things that fall into bed. J's still there, trying to chase the idea of a migraine away. i may be awake, but i'm still stupid and sore brained, if that makes any sense.

despite feeling so woolly, it's surprisingly exciting to be back, i have to say. the heavy air, and all our familiar little spots -- and by that i don't just mean grocery stores and beaches, but rather, the way a certain road curves around a banyan tree, or the familiar mural of sea turtles by the side of the road, or a wall on a certain street that i remember giving off the sun's heat, so that you can feel it radiating out, well after dark. little things that we didn't realise had jumped out at us and made an impression a year ago -- until we saw them again and realised how easily we could slip back into recognising them and liking them. it's like we've never left. everything is just the same.

even the howling trade winds are the same. we're staying on the "windward" side of oahu, and i'd be willing to bet that the winds are at around a 60 kph constant, with occasionally stronger gusts. the ratty palms stream constantly out in one direction, and the ripe coconuts swing and sway ominously. i walk under them looking up.

not that i've walked anywhere today other than from the car to the house carrying our stuff. nevertheless, there the coconuts are, dancing up there, like a reminder of impermanence.

tomorrow will be a flip-flop and bathing suit day.