weekly photo challenge: everyday life

I hate to rub it in, but this is what everyday life is like in Hawaii.

Islanders can put in a full day’s work…and still head to the beach. One brother-in-law surfs at 6 a.m. And it’s commonplace for workers to lunch at the beach, and for families to picnic there in the evening.

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Makes me homesick for the islands.

…but i’ve memories galore…

………hugmamma.

“brave the surf,” maui’s ho’okipa beach park

Get an email from owners of a condo in Maui, every so often. They’re always looking for renters. Did consider their property a few years ago, but didn’t book. Thought some of you might be interested in their pitch. Sounds great and the photos are gorgeous.

I have fond memories of Ho’okipa Beach, as mentioned in my post of 9/8/10, “maui, ho’okipa beach park.” You might want to make some memories of your own there.

Aloha!

These are pictures taken at Ho’okipa Beach Park, one of the supreme sites for experienced windsurfers in the world. The conditions here are for pros only because the surf is often very rough. It’s fascinating to go and watch in awe as young and old head out and then, miraculously, return safely. The site is gorgeous, the wind is always howling, and the sound
is amazing. It’s a beautiful spot just to sit and watch or walk down to the water to congratulate the windsurfers as they come in. The youngest we saw was in shot 8. He looked to be around ten and had probably been riding his whole life. In several shots, you can tell by the angle of the sails that the waves were always going in different directions. 

We will take a picnic lunch and always park right down by the action. Shot 1 is taken from the parking lot they have put in up above. You can get a good view of the site before you drive on down to the far end on the beach. This is not a place to go swimming; it’s intimidating even to stand close enough to get your feet wet!

Ask for the Maui Hints if we haven’t already sent them to you. They will tell you exactly how to get there, if you haven’t already been, and will also give you some more background about Ho’okipa and the nearby surfers’ towns of Pa’ia and Haiku.

Head for Ho’okipa on your next trip to Maui!

Anne & Wes

Anne and Wes Burmark
253.549.4064
“HO’ONANEA — To pass the time in ease, peace, and pleasure; to relax.”

  11 Attached Images

 

definitely not for the “faint of heart,” nor the inexperienced swimmer…like moi…hugmamma.

if you go, tell them “hugmamma sent you!”

snowfall or sunshine – “which do you think?”

Wish the snow was still falling here in my blog, and not covering the landscape outdoors. Brrr! This Maui girl finds herself pining for the good old days on the Valley Isle. Sun, warmth, flip-flops and shorts, I could get use to those tropical mainstays very easily. I’d better have a talk with my hubby. This Pacific Northwest weather sucks! Excuse the language, but if you had to sit indoors 24/7, 365 days a year, you’d be harmonizing with me, singing my song. Yes, I exaggerate, but not by much, believe me.

My dog would probably prefer the feel of soft sand beneath her paws, rather than the grit and grime of dirty snow turned to ice. She’d probably love to jump on a surfboard in front of me, and ride the waves at Makaha. I know, I know. I don’t swim, so how can I even contemplate surfing. I did once, when I was in high school and the guy I was dating tried to teach me. I think I tried to stand up facing the horizon, preparing to ride the wave backwards. I didn’t get far, but I did end up dating the guy for a year or so, captain of the football and basketball teams, you know. So I scored, even if I never learned to surf.

Now where was I? Oh, yeah, frolicking in the blue, Pacific Ocean. I can wade, and so can Mocha. We’re also great at lying around, soaking up the UV rays. No more oiling myself with Johnson’s Baby Oil though, as I did when I was an exotic coed attending the University of Hawaii in the late 60s. I remember baking in the Hawaiian sun alongside a couple of my sisters-in-law who were then in high school. While I turned a molten gray, their skin glistened like freshly polished copper. I always wished I’d had some “hauole” blood. “Hapa-hauole’s” (half-whites) always tanned a golden bronze. My skin tone skipped tan, going straight to black.

But at 61 I don’t care what shade my skin color turns, as long as it’s feeling the heat. Give me the heat! And Mocha knows that if hugmamma’s happy, everybody’s happy. So I know she’d like to get me where the sun is shining and the temperature hovers around the 70s. If I’m outdoors, she’s outdoors. Let’s face it, she hasn’t seen a whole lot of the doggie world lately, especially since I’ve been “under the weather” myself.

Until we find ourselves stretched out on Waikiki beach, do you think you could send some sunshine and warm weather, if you’ve even a smidgen to spare? Mocha and I would be much obliged, and forever in your debt.

for your generosity, sending you huge hugs in advance…hugmamma, and mocha too.

redding ct, like the maui of old

When someone learns that I’m from Maui, she always exclaims “Oh, don’t you miss it? Why’d you ever leave?” I take a breath, preparing to answer what I truly feel in my heart.

Maui as it is today, even as it was 15 years ago, is no longer the island of my childhood. As with the neighboring  islands, in fact as with other popular destinations, tourism has transformed what was a less populous, less commercial, off-the-beaten-track locale into a mecca for the rich and famous, and even the not so rich and famous. Mind you, I came to terms with the drastic change some time ago. On one of my last trips to Maui, years ago, it was apparent that visitors to the island provided a livelihood for the majority of the locals. So I wasn’t about to admonish them as co-conspirators in the “ruination” of Maui, while I left to make my living and home elsewhere.

Before my daughter was born, actually before she was even a possibility, I was returning home to Long Island, New York from a business trip to Kansas City. Seated next to me on the flight was an attractive man dressed in cords and a sweater, appearing very much like a New Englander. Striking up a conversation, we spoke of many things.  One of the topics was where we resided. I explained that while my husband and I lived in Westbury, I wanted to move somewhere reminiscent of my birthplace, Maui. I desired the same small town atmosphere, where neighbors knew each other, where children played together, where there were town parades, fairs, picnics. Without hesitation, my traveling companion blurted “Redding, Connecticut! You should move to Redding, Connecticut!” 

I’d never heard of the town, so my new friend proceeded to describe it as a small, rural community isolated from the hubbub of surrounding towns by vast acres of pristine land, much of which belonged to the town ensuring that they would never be commercially developed. He went on to explain that to enter Redding, one either drove alongside reservoirs which supplied water to the town, or along country roads shaded by trees. The idyllic picture seemed lifted from a postcard. Giving me the name of the realtor who helped find this New York City writer a getaway home, I was convinced that my husband and I needed to make the 75 mile trip north of NYC, in search of Redding.

We got more than we bargained for, as a result of our hunt for a new home. Nearly bereft of hope that we’d be parents someday, Redding was the answer to our prayer. After 16 years of marriage, our daughter was born. The first 11 years of her life were spent in an oasis within the midst of suburban Connecticut. Watching her in those early years was like stepping back in time, into my own childhood Paradise. 

Topographically different, Redding had rolling hills, and a man-made lake in which to swim; Maui boasted a dormant volcano, and ocean waves upon which to surf. Redding’s landscape was dotted with sugar maple trees, whose leaves were seasonally transformed into the colors of the setting sun. So unlike Maui’s tropical palms swaying gently in the evening breezes, as the glassy Pacific waters below mirrored the shining  moon overhead.

In spite of their disparities, the people of both Redding and Maui were alike in their hospitality toward newcomers, and the friendliness within their communities. Schools were small, so while students didn’t know everyone personally, they were aware of everyone through friends or others. Children looked forward to trick-or-treating, door-to-door.  School plays were exciting affairs, as were school dances, and basketball games. Sleepovers were commonplace, as were play-dates and church picnics. Dads coached sports teams and led the Boy Scouts; moms were Girl Scout leaders and drove carpools. Children caught buses to school, or walked. Neighbors helped one another; they prepared meals for a family with a cancer-stricken mom; they cared for children when parents were tending to emergencies; they consoled those who laid loved ones to rest.

My daughter’s memories of an idyllic childhood in Redding  are just that, treasured remembrances. And so it is with the Maui of my youth. So when I’m asked “Wouldn’t you want to live there now?” I always reply,  “The Maui where I grew up is in my heart; it’s with me, wherever I am.” I know my daughter feels similarly about Redding, Connecticut, the town she still calls her home, though she’s not lived there for 13 years.

“home is where your heart is,” truly…hugmamma.