Maunawili [Try Not to] Falls

This post is brought to you by Gain detergent and Ivory soap.

I've been wanting to hike to Maunawili Falls since before I moved to Oahu. It just sounded like so much fun: trekking through a rain forest to get to the waterfall where you could jump into a pool of water. Doesn't get any more aloha than that.

I debated doing the hike alone for several weeks and decided against it. It just seemed like one of those things that would be more fun if shared with people you love.

Then I tried to get the people I love motivated about it, but I was really the only enthusiastic one. Fortunately, there's a super-cool skate park down the road from the hike that the kids wanted to try out. I suggested a quick roll around the park, followed by a hike to Maunawili Falls.

The skate park turned out to be too good and it was after 3:00 before I could get them off the ramps. We headed straight over, but I had a nervous feeling in my gut that we wouldn't be done with the 3.5 mile hike before nightfall. We all changed into hiking shoes and set off, only to be stopped by a man walking his dog, who pointed at the sky and said all Yoda-like: Rain is coming.

Right at the trailhead, lay a warning of what lay ahead for us: a pile of cast-off shoes and clothing thick with mud piled below the sign. As soon as we entered the canopy, the rain started. I told everyone that by the time it filtered through all the trees above us, it would be no more than an annoying trickle.

And they believed me.

We kept on.

Muddy is not what I would call this trail. Muddy would be nice. I would take muddy. This was like mud squared. This was like mud bitten by a radioactive spider. Groups of people who had completed the hike were coming the other way looking like sci-fi creatures, frightening us all about what lay beyond the next bend. Then we would take the next bend to find steps and roots coated in slick mud. We were all sliding around in it as rain ran down our faces. Husband, with his impeccable balance, even took a spill, hurting his old-man shoulder.

After about fifteen minutes of sheer terror, slipping around the muddy path, over muddy rocks, down muddy embankments, we finally came to a stream. I wiped water from my eyes, left a trail of mud on my cheeks and said: This is nice. I'm happy we're doing this. Husband looked at me with raised eyebrows. Daughter began to cry. Two men came around the bend and said: Be careful up ahead, it's really slippery, dot--dot--dot.

Husband called it off and turned the family around to slide our way back to the car.

Maunawili Falls:1
Sessoms: 0

Better luck next time.

Have Paddle, Will Travel

Stars aligned recently and Husband got a day off work while kids were in school. If this sort of thing were to happen on the mainland, it would be one exciting day of shopping at Target and then eating lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings. Whoo doggy! Here on Hawaii, though, we like to spend these gifted moments on our SUPs, this time to visit one of the Mokes.

There are two of these islands off the coast of Lanikai and they are collectively called Moku-something-or-other, I could look it up, but it's a whole thing and you people will forgive me if I don't, right? You can explore the big Moke, but the little one is kapu or forbidden.

The Mokes are beautiful to gaze at from land and probably one of the big reasons why Lanikai is frequently cited as the most beautiful beach in America/the World/the Milky Way/the known universe/the unknown universe and I've been dying to see them up close.

Parking is a beast at Lanikai, so we took off right after the kids left for school to beat all the lazy tourists who wanted a little sleep-in on their vacations. Ha! Suckers! There's only street parking and it's really awkward parking in what feels like someone's yard and then trekking through the beach access right next to their kitchen window, especially when you have two large SUPs with you, but it's so calm and serene there, with no shore break to fight, and is the perfect place to launch.

Lanikai really is beautiful with it's clear aqua water and the softest sand you will ever feel in your life, but I'm not a huge fan. Smells a little too much like money for my taste, somehow lacking in authenticity. Authenticity of what? I have no clue. Just some sort of authenticity is missing. By the way, my kids HATE Lanikai and if anyone even mentions it, they go off on a tirade of how boring it is. So if you have older kids, you're probably better off at Kailua Beach which has more boogie board action.

We launched with no problems and I was immediately in this idyllic state, almost giddy with disbelief that I was so blessed to be able to do such a thing. The sea was calm as a lake near shore, there was no wind to fight, and I had improved my ability to go straight. The good thing about SUP is that it's no big deal if you fall. It's not like riding a bike. It won't hurt a bit if you fall, you just climb back on. The only problem with riding SUPs in Lanikai is the coral that lines the bottom of the ocean floor. It can make it really shallow in some spots and every time I came to a shallow spot, I would panic for a minute, because I absolutely could not fall there right on top of a bed of coral. I never did, but had a few close calls.

The closer we got to the Mokes, the heavier the surf got and I dropped to my knees to paddle through the waves. When we neared the beach, two surfs came together from opposite directions and crashed in the middle. Of course, beginner that I am, I found myself right where they crashed. The first two times they crashed on me, I held on and stayed on the board, but third time was not a charm and sent me head over heels into the waves. I was shallow enough, so I tried to push the board in, while also holding my paddle, but the coral was too slippery. and I kept losing my grip while the waves continued to pound me from both sides. Luckily, there was a couple hanging out on the beach who got to see the whole, clumsy affair, so I was happy to bring some laughter into their day. The man (a very nice British gent) finally came to my rescue and got my paddle for me so I could concentrate on holding up my bikini bottoms that kept threatening to run away.


We were treated to a nice surprise at once, a large monk seal was sunning itself on the island. Just enjoying a lazy day. Husband and I gave him a wide berth and walked around the island, as far as we could get with bare feet, appreciating the danger around every corner. Something about Hawaii no one ever tells you: you get the sense of how easy it would be to die. We gazed out over a rocky cliff, I looked at Husband and said: "Now, this is Hawaii."

We paddled back and headed to The Shack in Kailua to replenish all those spent calories with a pitcher of IPA, a philly cheese steak, and some onion rings. Sigh. Lucky I live Hawaii.

Sea [Not Such a Great] Life Park

We got a blessed Saturday recently that had nary a soccer game in sight. This is a rare thing in Hawaii where the weather is nice enough to play soccer year-round. And they do. We had planned on an epic beach day, but heard that Sea Life Park was celebrating their 50th anniversary and rolled back admission prices to what they were 50 years ago, $2.64. This is an O-K discount from the normal $35 a person, so we decided to hop on it.

Sea Life Park is like a mini Sea World, only set in the most beautiful piece of earth known to man. I had no desire to go, but it was practically free. Unfortunately, every single other person on Oahu had the same idea. We had to park on the side of the highway and play chicken with traffic, our three kids in tow, to make it to the entrance, but it was only $2.64.

The weird thing about Sea Life Park is that you can see most of the animals out in the wild just steps away for nothing and it's way cooler. I mean, I was completely underwhelmed by the sea turtles swimming around in their tiny pool. I see those all the time on my SUP and it's magical to witness them in the sea where they belong. In a tiny pool, it's just sad. But it was only $2.64.

The kids liked the sea lions, but I just saw a "for real" monk seal sunning on the shore of the Mokes and I just wanted to pull a Free Willy and get them out of the concrete prison they were in.

There was a dolphin show and I pushed past the throngs to try to get a seat 30 minutes before the show and it was already completely full. Not even standing room. No one even cared that I genuinely love dolphins and even have a dolphin tattoo. Come on people! I had a needle inserted into my skin to inject ink in the shape of a dolphin, I deserve to see the show!

No dice. And daughter took the best place on Husband's shoulders. Maybe if I had flowing locks of curly blond hair and a smattering of freckles across my pert nose I could have seen the show too.

I took off with the boys to look at the penguins. Because...it's Hawaii, so...yeah....penguins. Whatever. And soon Husband and traitor Daughter joined us and we decided we were too hungry to stay and too poor to pay $15 for a burger.

We pushed our way through the massive crowds to the exit and I did happen to notice some beautiful murals on the way out. I wish I had seen them sooner because I really wanted to sit and appreciate them. Only a girl with an art history degree comes to a place like Sea Life Park and takes pictures of murals. They really were stunning, though.

Since the entire island was at Sea Life Park, we snuck off to our favorite SUPER-SECRET BEACH whose name I will not reveal here because it is perfect and majestic and I don't want anyone else to know about it. If you come visit me I'll take you, but you will have to be blindfolded first. We breathed in the salt air, swam in the sea, and appreciated the realness of the world around, feeling Hawaii for the first time that day.

Aloha and Other Things I'll Never Fully Understand

There's this thing about living here, this thing about this place, this "'aina," that makes you feel something, makes you use words like 'aina instead of land. You realize how useless translation is. 'Aina doesn't just mean "land," it means land, this place, right here, the ground beneath your feet, come with me, run your fingers through the sand, taste the salt in the water, breathe the air, and you will know it. That's what 'aina means.

Then there's aloha--the most untranslatable word of them all. Not merely love, or hello, or goodbye, but breath and life and simply caring and feeling and 'aina and yes, love, and hello and see you later, but also understanding and acceptance and compassion and peace, but not in the I'm-a-hippie-who's-dropped-too much-acid-and-yeah-man-peace sort of way, but really peace.

It's almost too much for my mainlander brain to grasp. And I'm a sensitive chick.

When I first got word that we were coming here, I asked Husband, "Do you think I can lose 50 pounds before then?" He shook his weary head, rolled his weary eyes, sighed, and replied, "I'm sure you'll try." I gained 10, so...close enough. It's funny, though, to look back on that now and how silly that was, how silly that I let something like the size of my tummy take up so much of my brainpower.

This place will do that to you. Put things in perspective.

I have an inspiration board above the desk where First Son does homework. One of the pieces of inspiration is a simple card with the word perspective typed out inverted. He asked me about it and I got teary-eyed explaining how that upside-down perspective was the most important thing on the inspiration board. You have to learn to see things differently. Sometimes things aren't really that bad, just the way you're looking at them is bad. He nodded with that crease between his eyes and then went back to work on his engineering essay, but I hope he understood. I hope it got into some crack of his mind.

And I hope it gets into some crack of my mind as well. I hope the aloha and 'aina will seep into my bones, give me a new perspective, and when my time here is done (because it will be done, I don't belong to this place and it doesn't belong to me) I hope I can bring it back with me and eek it out in my life. Just a little bit, just a drop, a smudge of aloha, a thimble of 'aina, could change the world.  

Musubi Baby!

First Son is on a soccer team that's pretty hardcore. They don't do anything halfway, which has been an adjustment for both First Son and myself--we do everything halfway and are full believers in the it's-good-enough philosophy.

This team is serious about their soccer and their after-soccer snacks. Back on the mainland, the kids get a bag of gummies and a Capri Sun after games. Here, they get a full meal. No lie. Hamburgers, sub sandwiches, fried chicken, and the all-time favorite: Spam Musubi.

I'm delicious. Really, I am.

Just so you know how regularly I disappoint those I love, I must tell you that I was calling this Spam Mus-a-bi, rhymes with wasabi and so my whole family started calling it Spam Mus-a-bi. I made some for the kids to take to school and they came home horrified that I had taught them the wrong way to pronounce it. So we're clear, it's Spam Musubi, rhymes with...boobie. Yes, I am the parent of a nine-year-old boy.

The first time we saw this we almost died with laughter--Spam and rice wrapped in seaweed, indeed! I took pics and posted them to Facebook to prove to my family and friends that I had in fact moved to another planet--this is what they give the kids after soccer. Then I took a bite and laughed no more.

 Daughter was all, "Meh," but my boys were instantly, deeply, and unabashedly in love. I was pretty enthralled myself. I knew I must learn how to make it, or else...buy it at the quick stop. Really, they sell these things everywhere on Oahu. But it's fun to make and the kids love to help.

To make Spam Musubi you need a Musubi mold. You can get these anywhere in Hawaii, but if you live on the mainland, you would probably have to send off for one. Or come visit me and you can have one of mine. I accidentally bought two because I thought I bought the wrong thing the first time and I hate dealing with Customer Service and refuse to return it.

So I was making twenty here and used two cans of Spam. Start by cutting them each into ten slices, 'cause it's kind of the perfect thickness.*

I promise I'm not human flesh.

Then you make a marinade--soy sauce and brown sugar, just however much you want.* Marinate the Spam in the soy sauce, brown sugar marinade for about fifteen minutes. I know. Marinated Spam. It's the wave of the future.

"I'm so fancy..."

While waiting for the Spam to marinate, go ahead and pour a Newcastle, because. Just do it. Trust me. It's the Hawaii way.

We're not Hawaiian, but you can still love us.

Or make the rice. Whatever. I honestly don't know how much rice. I made a butt-load for supper and just used what we didn't eat. And yes, butt-load is a mathematical term.*

This is an official "butt-load"

While all that is happening, take ten sheets of nori seaweed and cut them in half. Second Son loves this stuff and eats it straight from the bag, so I buy it in bulk from Costco.

Just another edible paper hanging out waiting to feel useful.

After Spam has marinated, cook it up in a frying pan until it's nice and brown and doesn't resemble human flesh.*

Look at how yummy I can be!

Gather your supplies: cooked Spam, butt-load of rice, Musubi mold, Furikake (rice seasoning), seaweed, and a bowl of water. By the way, while getting this stuff together, a mash-up of Payphone and Call Me Maybe played on Pandora. Why, Music? Why? I was just starting to trust you again.

Start by laying a sheet of seaweed shiny-side down. Place the Musubi mold in the middle and fill it with rice. Take the Musubi smusher and smush the rice down, pack it down super good, these need to be sturdy.

"Yeah, smush it..."

Sprinkle the smushed rice with Furikake and top with cooked Spam.

"Smush it real good."

Smush it all down again, carefully remove Musubi mold, and pry smusher off top.

"Yeah, you really got me going." I'll stop now.

Take sheet of nori and wrap up your Musubi really tight like a present. (OMG, Husband and kids are watching super-sad movie and I'm hoping salty tears will make Musubi taste even more delicious. So. Sad.)

Moisten fingers and seal it with water (or tears). Then, boo-yah (I just said boo-yah), you have Spam Musubi.

Wrap it up with plastic wrap and hide from First and Second Son because it will suddenly disappear.

* Just so we're clear, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Just kind of winging in...like I do in my writing, and parenting, and this whole life thing.

Makapuu and Other Human Foibles

You know something about who you are when you hike the Makapuu Lighthouse Trail with your family on a scorching hot day with only two containers of water.

Let me start off by saying that I recently took one of those online personality tests and it pegged me as ISFJ or "nurturer." You know, like Kim Kardashian. No lie, she was my celebrity comp. Because, yeah, I have always thought me and Kim Kardashian have a lot in common, like...we are both humans who were born on the planet Earth and one day we will both die and stuff. Also, Mother Teresa, she was another of my celebrity comps.  Um-kay.

Anyway, anyone who saw me on the Makapuu hike that day knows in no uncertain terms that the personality test was flawed and I am definitely not a "nurturer." I wanted no part of sharing the water, with Husband and children. They had to pry it out of my fingers.

The Makapuu Trail is beautiful in a way that is impossible to describe or even show in pictures. Breaktaking. Literally. It takes away your breath. Sweeping views of the Atlantic Ocean Pacific Ocean (I can't seem to get used to the fact that I'm not an East Coast girl anymore), rolling hills strewn with rocks, side trails that lead to cooling tidal pools.

And no fresh water.

Or bathrooms. (Except for the one I invented behind the big rock.)

It's completely open to the hot sun with no reprieve. Here in Hawaii, we seek out shade like animals, hunker down in it until the scorching part of the day has passed and we can venture once more into the world. Shade is all. When you're this close to the equator, you have no choice but to love the shadows. (Hmm, there's a metaphor in there, but I don't know if this is the place for it.)

If it had just been me, I would have started the hike at 7:00 in the morning and been done before the hot part of the day, but Husband and children can be difficult to wrestle into the car and we didn't get going until 1:00. Big mistake. And then I had to share the water. Terrible fate.

We eventually made it up the steep incline, rationing out sips from the Hydro Flask (I know Second Son took more than his share, I just know it!), complaining bitterly about the heat, sharing hats, so that everyone got a chance for some personal shade.

And then when we finally got to the top, overwhelmed by our sense of togetherness, I started singing (to myself, thankfully): Started from the bottom now we're here. Started from the bottom now my whole team's here...

Clearly time to introduce the kids to some new music, it's starting to rub-off on me...

But still, a great hike for the whole family. Just bring plenty of water for yourself and a little extra in case you run into me.

We Eat Spam-alot

Life on Hawaii is busy. Fear of missing out on something totally gnarly keeps us on the move. All that moving must be fueled and when you live on Hawaii, there's only one way to fuel it.

I buy three cans of Spam every week whether I need it or not.

Ha! Just kidding! I always need it.

One great thing about living in Hawaii is that it's O-K to like Spam. Let that sink in for a minute. It's alright, no one will judge you, it's likely no one will even notice. I'm sorry, but that's freedom itself right there.

We enjoy Spam several ways in my family, but my favorite is the good ole fashioned I'm-12-years-old-and-just-got-home-from-school-and-want-some-canned-meat way, i.e. fried up on some tasty white bread with a squirt of mustard.

We recently spent a busy morning at the beach riding SUPs and had a soccer game in the afternoon. In between all that, we had to eat, so I busted out my trusty Spam.

It looks truly disgusting straight from the can. And smells horrible. I have to stomach my way through this part.

Oh God! So gross!

I slice it up pretty thin 'cause that's how we roll in Hollie's Hale.

I'm about to vomit here.

And I throw it in my handy cast iron skillet that I use so much, I keep it stovetop.

Still fighting regurgitation, this looks so gross to me.

Brown it up nice and good.

Okay, looking yum.

Take white bread (the kind we used to eat in 1987, remember that?), squirt on some mustard, and throw on the beautiful brown Spam.

Heaven.

Serve with a side of Maui-style chips ('cause they're delicious) and some sweet tea ('cause Husband's from North Carolina), and get ready for the kids to beg for seconds and thirds and fourths...truly that good.

You're welcome, internet. You are welcome.

Flat Island or Bust

So there's this thing I like to do--stand-up paddleboarding (or SUP). I am, admittedly, not too great at it. But being mediocre at something has never stopped me before. In fact, I've lived quite the mediocre life and I'm cool with that. When amazingly good things really start happening for me, that's when I get all antsy and neurotic and a little bit insane. Middle-of-the-road mediocrity is the only place I can breathe properly.

SUP is a great thing to do in Hawaii which has, no lie, the best food on the planet that is in no way, shape, or form healthy to eat. I need some way to burn off that Kalua pork and I like to be in the water. Match made in Pacific island heaven.

The first thing you need to SUP is a ginormous board. The bigger the board, the more stable, i.e. easier, it is. Husband moved me to Hawaii with our three kids back in June and then took off for seventy days to "do his job." Whatevs. I deserved something pretty terrific for keeping the kids alive while he was gone and I'm not a fan of jewelry, so he did what any good husband would do--bought me a ginormous SUP board, along with a smaller one for himself so he can surf waves on it.

We decided to go to Kailua on the Windward side of Oahu and paddle out to Flat Island on our new boards. Flat Island is a bird sanctuary and I've been watching people paddle out there for months now, sick with envy that they got to see the birds. I wanted to see the birds too, dammit!

I did some research before we left and read that this SUP trip from Kailua Beach to Flat Island was great for beginners. What I forgot was that Hawaii's idea for Beginner is what Mainlanders would refer to as Intermediate/Advanced. Hawaii's idea for Advanced, btw, is something that has a good chance of leading to your untimely demise.

Flat Island looks super-close from the shore, like...right there. How hard could it be to paddle out to it? We happened to pick a windy day with waves that were way choppier than any I had experienced before while on a SUP and started out towards the island. I paddled and paddled my little heart out. I paddled until my arms were limp. I looked back after about thirty minutes and I was barely off shore!

Husband loved this day, because he's pretty good at SUP (and everything else in life) and it gave him a perfect opportunity to spend the entire day at his favorite hobby: telling me what to do. As hobbies go, it's relatively harmless and this time, much appreciated by myself. He gave me a few tips and then took off to ride the waves that break around Flat Island.

Show off.

It's right there. We'll be there in no time!

I eventually made it to Flat Island too, battling a headwind the whole way, dropping to my knees several times in fatigue. I parked the SUP on the beach and walked around the rim of the small island, the sharp rock formations stabbing my bare feet, bringing a Hawaiian saying that I recently coined to mind: You can have a full life or pretty feet. You can't have both. I saw a few birds and said, "Oh. Birds." I watched husband wipe-out on a wave. I walked to the far side of the island and looked East. I've lived near the Atlantic Ocean for much of my life. I like to stand on a shore and look East. East feels like me. East feels like home. I watched that horizon stretch into the distance, broken up only by the Mokes, pondered the fact that I was blessed to have the opportunity to appreciate such a thing and then paddled back, the wind pushing me forward.

Hawaii and Babies...Sort of the Same

Moving to Hawaii is horrible in the same way that having a baby is horrible (stay with me here). They follow the same stages:

Excitement at the news.
Planning.
Giggling.
Obsessive Googling.
Ridiculous happiness.
Fear.
Panic.
What the hell was I thinking?
I change my mind.
This is the worst decision I ever made.
I should never be allowed to make decisions ever again.
I was right! It's horrible!
I want my old life back.
Okay, it could be worse.
Oh. That was nice.
Aw.
Sigh.
I love this new life.

Maybe all big life changes are like that to a certain extent, but the main thing babies and Hawaii have in common is that I was unable to talk about the horribleness (it's a word) of it all. Because it's true, moving to Hawaii is winning the lottery, and by doing so I gave up my right to ever complain about anything for the rest of my natural life.

Fair enough. I probably complained too much anyway.

I've been on the island for about four months and it has revealed a lot to me in its subtle waves. The island likes to be subtle like that...or maybe I just like to read too much into things. Point being, happiness and contentment in life are not dependent on where you live. Hawaii isn't Disney World. It's a real place with real people who deal with real issues. Problems that I brought with me in my flawed being did not disappear into the ether the moment the plane touched down in Honolulu, I just have a prettier place to struggle.

So, if you're feeling like Hawaii is perfect just remember...I have to get up at 6:30 in the morning to watch NFL football and it takes me an hour to drive the five miles to the soccer field and I miss my mom.... It's not where you live your life, it's how you live it.