Just another sunny/rainy day in paradise

If Hawaii was a bird, it would look something like this. 

Shiny, colorful with a huge wingspan and a knowing look on its face. 

Upon arrival in Hilo, Hawaii you find immediate confirmation that you've found yourself in an entirely different part of the world. 

So, this blog is the E-version of gathering in our living room, eating semi-stale crunchy snacks, drinking discount wine and listening to the click of a slide projector as we narrate blurry photo’s of our trip to Hawaii. Except, with this version, you don’t have to drive across town to our place, you can drink much better wine and you’re on your own for the weeks-old Cheetos. (click) Here’s the view from our hotel room overlooking the Bay of Hilo. 

I'll share a little insider Hawaiian Island knowledge. The big island earned its nickname name because . . . (anyone? Anyone? You, in the back of the room Spamfamber.) It’s the biggest of the Hawaiian Islands? Mahalo! Good!You win a free lifetime supply of poi. Somebody, at some point had a fit of creativity. The only thing I wonder is why the other islands aren’t nicknamed “the second largest island,” “The possibly third or fourth largest island” and “That little speck on the map nobody bothered to name."  

It really was a lovely spot. The hotel was located on Banyan Drive, named for the proliferation of these unique (and dare I say spooky) trees.

Farther along Banyan Drive was a lovely park. Carolyn spent considerable time wandering its environs while the lazy lump that is Mike lounged in bed, eating leftover Thai curry and listening to the ukulele music on You Tube. 

Another fascinating factoid about Hawaii. The Hawaiian alphabet only had 13 letters. Five vowels, Seven consonants and an okina. Those who thought the okina was a wind instrument often heard accompanying the ukulele lose all the points you gained by your correct guess about the Big Island. It’s a glottal stop. A glottal being a type of bus seen only in Hawaii. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) This limited number of letters explains many of the street names we encountered in Hilo, including Aalalani Place, Ewaliko Avenue, Haaheo Road and Kamahao Way.

I wonder what a scrabble game among the locals would look like. If it’s anything like ours, there is at least one player who will try to bluff a word that doesn’t exist. “Nice try, Poona. Everybody knows there are only 4 a’s in kakahiaka.”

Here's a random sculpture we saw on our way to another beautiful location. You can decide for yourself what it signifies. I'm leaning toward "A view of the inside of Marjorie Taylor Green's mind!" 

On our return trip to Hilo, this time on the much more scenic southern coastal route, we made a return visit to a place we’d stumbled into on an earlier trip to The Big Island.

We ate the southernmost glazed donuts in the United States, burped the southernmost burp in the United States and went on down the road. Life is good. 

All-in-all it was a great trip (We'll overlook the 13 hours spent in airplanes.) But it was good to get home to a week's worth of junk mail and our little dog. 

"Where the hell have you people been? 
You owe me multiple belly rubs!!!"

Coyotes

 

Carolyn J. Rose

 

When I was a kid, growing up in the Catskill Mountains, reading Zane Grey and watching TV westerns, I thought of coyotes as wild and elusive creatures. I viewed them as skittish, flitting at twilight from rock to rock, shadow to shadow.

 

Confession: I also thought of them as ordering an assortment of Acme products in the endless pursuit of a roadrunner. But let’s put that aside.

 

Years passed, I lived in Arizona, and often spotted them. More often I heard them. And heard stories about them. I began to think of them as clever, crafty, opportunistic, and, okay, even sneaky.

 

But I never thought of them as panhandlers, hanging out beside a road, hoping for a handout.

And then, back in November, I saw this guy beside a looping dirt road in the Ridgefield Wildlife Refuge. He sat as if on command, wearing a hopeful expression like a dog begging for a biscuit or perhaps hoping to be adopted.

 

We joked that if we opened the car door the coyote would hop in. But we knew better than to do that or to offer the crumbs that accumulate on the floor mat.

 

But apparently, he and his buddies cadged a few goodies from others. On our next visit we noted signs warning visitors not to feed coyotes.

 

I revised my thoughts again. Forget elusive. Forget skittish. And forget sneaky. But clever and crafty? Sure. Opportunistic? You bet.

 

And why not? If I had a choice between chasing a mouse in a muddy field and sitting in the grass waiting for a snack to be delivered, I wouldn’t go for the mouse.