the splendor of africa

How do I begin to speak about my time in morocco? It is like trying to explain the second law of thermodynamics and how it relates to the life of a recent college graduate. So, I will start there: it has been death-defying, exhilarating, the most inclusive and invasive and beautiful travel experience of my short life. The warm air swirls around me as I make my way through the plaza; beggars and thieves surround me but I am not scared, I have been here before. Guayaquil, Quito, Chetumal, every place like this has the same feel, at first. I thought it would be one of those trips again: moving through the world trying not to get robbed and holding your breath until it is over. But this time, surprisingly, it wasnt that way.

I have seen piles of multi-colored spices and persian rugs, fire-eaters and children begging for a meal, felt the wind of rushing mopeds, walked the twisting alleyways through centuries-old walls. It is warm here, my cheeks get rosy in the sun but the breeze makes the warmth comfortable like lying on your mothers lap. At night, the grand plaza comes to life, filling with fortune tellers and musicians and lost souls. I can afford anything and everything I would ever want here, and I havent met a nicer nation of people in any one I have been. Tommorow I am leaving the 13th century city walls to go to the city gardens, to lie in the grass and breathe in the splendor of africa.

sleepy in london

The flight to London would have been my most ritzy flight yet (British Airways), with classical music, new digital technology and food and comfort, but -- even though there were a plethora of free seats available with more room -- the guy who sat next to alex and i did not leave his seat. not only did he not leave his seat, cramming alex and i into a tiny space with his wide elbow stance, he also left his overhead light on the entire flight, even while he was asleep. great. so I got no sleep on the flight and when I noticed the sun rising over the clouds I knew my day would not be a meaningful one.

I have spent most of my day today trying to stay awake, falling asleep in both the British museum and the national gallery, and being asked to not be a public vagabond in this way politely by some older staff members. I must seem like i am on drugs, my eyes rolling back into my head while trying to acknowledge their authority.

London is expensive. Really, too expensive for me to do anything worthwhile. So, on to morocco, the land of plenty for the penny-pinching traveller.

bursting in phoenix

phoenix, az. After leaving the sunny snow of Colorado, I headed to the airport with my family. Lindsey, Ricky and Dad all heading to Chicago, and me off to sunny Arizona, where nan and uncle Kurt live. When asked by the curbside check-in where I was going, I offered: Chicago. Midway. “Really?” he asked, “I see a Richard on here, but no Ashley.” Oh jesus. I am going to Phoenix, not home. Indicative of my place right now – lost, unsure, bewildered, filled with wonder – I hopped on the plane headed for the desert sun.

Uncle Kurt and Nan picked me up amid all of the airport congestion. We spent a few days bumming around, seeing their friends and a movie and lunches and dinners. We ran into Rick and Bonnie, friends with whom I stayed in Paris on an excursion from Rome. We talked US state department and related careers, and I asked for advice for my future. The more time I spend away from home, with time to think, I begin to know that I do not know what I want with my future. The conventional wisdom suggests, however, that I shouldn’t. From every woman I have ever known who has had a baby or gotten married or settled in a career before twenty-five: don’t do it, see the world, explore, find yourself. So I am.

At Nan and Uncle Kurt’s house, I spent time lying on the cold concrete in the hot sun; it felt like an electric blanket warming me in the mild desert winter. They had pink grapefruits growing on a tree in the backyard – when eating them I just felt like I was biting into fertility. These luscious fruits just burst out of the dry sands and now exploded with flavor in my mouth. It always smells like spring in the desert, with few blossoms to be seen, I still smelled a plethora of budding flowers as I made my way through the day.

Ani’s visit was a welcome change. She came in from Miami for the weekend and we went straight away to see her native friends at o’odham tash carnival in casa grande. Amid some car troubles and uncertain directions, we found our way to the festival by looking for the ferris wheel among the desert flatness. We met up, ate flat bread, watched a rodeo and chatted in the soft winter sun. We listened to some country, then traditional Mexican music, then sauntered over to a baseball diamond where the o’odham where holding a pow wow and a drum circle. We headed back over to the rodeo area where there was to be a dance. It was too early so we ran off to get some food, and back in time for the festivities. Shane showed us how to “chicken scratch,” a dance by which everyone walked in a counter-clockwise circle all together doing something that looked like a cross between meringue with their feet and bobbing their head like a chicken to cumbia music. This communal dancing lasted all night; Ani and I cut out after a few rounds.

The next day we met up to take a trek to Montezuma’s castle – a cliff dwelling belonging not to Montezuma, but another tribe up in the sheer rocks of Arizona. After the short tour, we decided that we had enough day left to head to Sedona. We squabbled over where to park, and then found our way up bell mountain. The higher we climbed, the more spectacular the view, and we just kept conquering the boulders going up and up and up. The sun was fading quickly, so we had to turn around. We slipped out of the red rocks just as the sun hid behind the mountains in the distance and popped into a strange café in town. We laughed over the strange waitress, Taco, and the wackiness of the decorations and staff. Our cheers slipped out the door and into the fading blue sky, echoing amongst the purpling cliffs.

Ani’s visit was a joy, filling me with such love for my good friends. The kind who always want to know how you’re doing, but actually care about your answer.

It was quite comforting to catch up with my family in the west: talking to them honestly about my hopes and fears, being taken care of by them, and feeling belonging for a time. “If we loved you any more we would just burst!” So, I bursted inside with joy and love and contentment.

keystone.colorado

Alex drove me into the bay area and dropped me off at Ricky's house. I won't be seeing him for a couple weeks. After a lonely afternoon listening to new music I just downloaded from the film There Will Be Blood Ricky came home and we got some dinner with Nolan. The next afternoon we flew out to Denver. Dad and Lindsey flew into Denver from Chicago and had already gotten the rental car. Our cousin Brett picked us up and we headed up the mountain. In On the Road Kerouac and his buddies spent a lot of time in Denver; I remember his description of his first time into the west sitting in the back of a pick up truck and breaking out of the confines of Iowa. It is like the air overflowed with oxygen and the crisp stars were so many that they lit up the sky like tiny flames. Denver felt, to me, like any American city. So much has changed since Jack's time. The air was cold and the mountains formed a wall in the distance. We drove into the storm in the night. We were meeting dad and Lindsey at the cabin. Walls of snow surrounded our car, the wind shook the steel frame, and I felt sheltered. As we drove along, some divine lights peered around the corner of the jagged rocks -- a rock quarry in the middle of the mountains swirling in the snow. Colorado is as I imagined.

We got to the cabin, unpacked, Lindsey and I snuggled up in the bed and chatted in the warmth until we lost consciousness. We rushed in the morning to get skis, to prepare for the blizzard snow hill and its negative temperatures, and to fuel our bodies. I felt too hot then too cold, there were moments when millimeters of skin exposed felt susceptible to frostbite. My joints got cold and sore in the weather. We quit early.

Lindsey and I giggled and got into our bathing suits and went outside in the winter weather and slipped into the pool. We shivered in the water, not being cold but perceiving the snow that surrounded us, we felt it was the appropriate thing to do. We squealed with delight and pretend coldness and dared each other to get out into the freezing air and plop into the hot tub. Finally, we hopped in, and so did the rest of the resort, and we found ourselves surrounded by middle-aged wonks who sounded, to us, like the teacher from the peanuts. We got out, showered, went out to eat, said goodbye to Brett and then slipped our sore bodies into bed awaiting the sustained activity that was to come with the dawn.

Morning came and it was sunny. What Brett called a blue bird day. For comparison's sake, yesterday was a dirty city pigeon day. My legs felt warm and Lindsey and I were set to explore. We found the perfect run: it was long and slow and beautiful. We spent some time skiing through the trees, finding little bumps and getting a few inches of air. Lindsey and I then decided to go tubing. These tobaggon-like ruts in the snow held the tubes as you slid down. Lindsey, inevitably, got involved in snowball fights with the workers there, flirting and taking names. I laughed till my cheeks hurt, assuredly getting taken for a ride with her antics. The boys were from Chicago, she is to meet up with them again, never I'm sure.

We spent the evening the the hot tub as before, this time with young college boys with big muscles. Lindsey sat coyly and smiled. We went out to eat and had beer and buffalo, then stumbled home and fell asleep.

We left the resort the next morning after some cheesy snapshots and memorabilia, drove out of the mountains and across the plains to Boulder, where Brett lives. Ate in a hippie sandwich place with Brett and his girlfriend, gave them back their borrowed clothes and some leftover food and headed for the airport.

A nice, safe, family trip with only fond memories.

the california coast

Alex and his mom and I packed up their motor home and headed out for the coast this week. The weather up here in the foothills has been pretty awful, so we thought maybe we would catch some sun on the coast - and boy were we right. Here's what we did:

1. Hearst Castle. This is a very large home erected by former media magnate William Randolph Hearst, on whom the film Citizen Kane was based. I was excited to see the place partly because of my extensive study of the film and partly to gawk at the belongings of this one man. The tour was surprisingly not cheesy at all and quite interesting. This man collected original roman columns, 3000 year old statues from Egypt, 6th century Iranian tiles, and tapestries and paintings and whole ceilings from churches in Italy and Spain, and the list goes on. I was particularly moved by the quality of the grounds and the care taken of all of the art. In the midst of all this wealth, I could not forget that the depression was raging while these sycophants splashed around in the heated pool and ate imported international cuisine. Some people love to gawk and adore massive wealth, but part of me really hates that a place like this exists. I was also interested in the historical context in which this place exists. It took centuries for cultures to create the art and architecture that this man bought for his once palace in the 20th century. This is an effect of the early industrial revolution and an act that will -- unless we find another source of abundant energy again -- never be repeated. All in all, a quite fulfilling tour with fantastic photos to be taken.

2. elephant seal beach day. So, apparently the elephant seals all got a memo to meet on this beach just north of San Simeon, because it was a par-tay! There were thousands of them, lying on their fat bodies, rolling over their young-ins, and smelling like the outhouses at the end of the taste of chicago. There were considerably more females than males, with an obvious harem around the largest males. The ladies fought for the big kahuna's attention while sometimes suffocating their young under their blubber, and the loser, smaller males stuck over by the coast, wallowing in their tiny sorrows. I noticed one time, where a thin tiny loser male came charging at this big guy, and the guy just turned around and showed him how big his nose/trunk was, and the little guy just shamefully backed away.

3. Limekiln State Park. Here we could park the motor home with a spectacular view of the coast. This particular beach is a meeting place between the sheer coast mountain ranges, a raging glacial stream and the sharp varied rocks left by years of erosion. Just a few feet in from the beach was a pathway to a fairy-tale-esque forest. We hiked only about a quarter mile and found the warmth and windlessness of the forest enchanting. There were giant redwoods and a river carrying down the effects of the recent snowstorm in the mountains. The sun gleamed off the river and birds chirped and I wondered where Snow White was. or Pocahontas. We took a stroll on soft pathways of pine needles and found these giant kilns in the forest made of limestone and metal. I felt like an explorer, coming upon the remnants of an ancient society.

4. Point Lobos State Park. Also known as the crown jewel of california's state park system. Suffice it to say that I saw gray whales, harbor seals, otters, pelicans, sea lions, sea urchins, starfish, anemones, and deer. In this post, i'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

I have now begun to appreciate California's great natural wonders.

reno

reno, NV. jan 15-20.

Alex's mom drove us to a nearby town so we could take a greyhound bus to Reno. We got a subsidized casino rate, bought the most watery hot chocolate I have ever tasted, and set sail. On the bus, I delved back into Kerouac, reading of his adventures through Reno on his way to the bay area. Surrounded by old ladies looking to gamble, we were on a mission to get a man elected.

We got there late, checked into our cheap -- but also clean -- motel 6 and went to sleep. Early the next morning we strolled into the office, feeling a little overwhelmed by the chaos that defines political campaigning, and were introduced to Mike from Santa Cruz, whom I now know as one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. We were tossed into a car, after a brief overview of ideas and facts we already knew, and headed with Mike over to Kathy's house -- our home base for canvassing.


Canvassing is the process by which you knock on potential caucus-goers' doors in order to remind or persuade them to caucus for your candidate. We spent the majority of our time in Reno doing this, with intermittent assembly-line tasks in the evening. Our organizer, Roger, just graduated also and chose to commit the next year or so of his life supporting the political aspirations of Barack Obama. Alex and I came for a week. Roger is from New York and was assigned to Reno back in June or July. Since then, he has been working 80 hour weeks as an unpaid intern and then was offered a staff position as the fall rolled around. He hasn't got much sleep since he started, but is by far the most capable and fearless and dedicated 22 year old I have ever encountered.

I won't delve into the details, but suffice it to say that my hope in politics is beginning to be restored. I met dozens of people who gave up large chunks of their life to commit themselves to the future of our nation. I saw the nastiest of tactics by the Clinton camp and the apathy of the electorate. I saw numbers and polls and I watched the sadness and disappointment in the eyes of believers. This week has sparked joy and excitement and connection with the people I've met and hatred and apathy and anger with many I haven't. I am beginning to see my place in the whole, and to understand how I am being molded by the hands of this experience.

in and out

sonora, CA. jan 14.

Ricky went back to Alameda last night, and now I am here with Alex and his mother. Alex and I ran some errands, registering to vote and getting slippers at walmart and buying some milk. We took a trip out to see his uncle about 20 mins away and talked politics and adventure and society and responsibility. Back to his mom's house where we chatted about anything and everything. I already feel at home here.

Tomorrow we leave for Reno, NV to work for Senator Obama in his race for the presidency.

intentions of youthful hope

san francisco, ca. Jan 7-13.

When I first stepped off the plane and into the open air I felt the cold breeze and the warm sun of california. here I am. My brother Ricky came in a bit to get me and then off to his apartment and immediately his roommate Nolan pops home, gets in the shower and we're off to the city to watch a football game. San Francisco is a small and strange city. The bar we were in had some after-work executives, street people, hipsters and me and the two military boys.

The next day I woke up alone, and ventured into the city the same way. I felt the artificial woosh of the electric train and it seemed like home. I had forgotten to bring a book so I popped in a store and bought Jack Kerouac's On the Road. Great choice. I went over to SF Moma and was there too early so I find a close cafe and a warm cup of fluid and delved into the story. Ostensibly, Kerouac is taking the same courageous and youthful trip that I am currently on. There is something about the wide spaces of the west that fills up the intentions of youthful hope, and I am beginning to find that here. I am deep into the story and someone comes to share my table and interrupts my thoughts, so I head over to the museum. I was struck particularly by the Rothko that hangs in SF Moma, the indigo and orange reminding me of the gluttony of sky that exists above california. I then head into a movie, Sweeney Todd, which I liked and then loved the second time I saw it. Something about the brutality and humor in growing old and bitter struck me, plus the songs were catchy. I finished out the day with a trip to a yuppie neighborhood for taco tuesday's with Rick and a few of his buddies, and I found out that Obama lost New Hampshire to Clinton narrowly. I then tried to make polite conversation with strangers, but felt a distracting sick regret for the rest of the night.

I spent a couple more days in San Francisco distracting myself, spending some quality hours with my older brother, and convincing Alex to come out. He agreed, eventually, and I went to get him in Ricky's car. He lives about two hours from the bay area in a little town in the foothills of the Sierra's called Sonora. We went straight to Berkeley and saw There Will Be Blood. This film is not for the faint of heart, but one of the most brilliant and extraordinary that I have seen in recent memory. We spent the entire next day watching films and eating and strolling, I rushed back to go to a party with my brother's Coast Guard friends. I made a few new friends, drank some wine, but eventually the night degenerated into a frat party somehow and I found myself playing flippy cup and getting sick from drinking the beer. So silly.

The next day Alex and I bummed around the city until Ricky woke up and then we shipped out for the mountains. We got to Alex's house late, went directly to sleep, and got up bright and early to hit the slopes. I haven't skied since I was 9 or so, but it came right back. The sun was bright and warm and the snow was soft and fresh. The conifers stood as an army in the bright white blanket, and I was sitting on a chair tethered to a rope getting pulled up a mountain. Flying down the mountain, the wind beat my face and my legs shook for fear of falling but I was thrilled. My brother Ricky, Alex, me and Alex's Uncle Osty shared smiles and laughs and cheers all around. I slept soundly.

the great affair

In Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of the Senses, her final call to act is in her postscript --the finale of non-fiction works -- and she calls for movement:

In REM sleep, our brain waves range between eight and thirteen hertz, a frequency at which flickering light can trigger epileptic seizures. The tremulous earth quivers gently around ten hertz. So, in our deepest sleep, we enter synchrony with the trembling of the earth. Dreaming, we become the Earth's dream.

It began in mystery and it will end in mystery.

However many of life's large, captivating principles and small, captivating details we may explore, unpuzzle, and learn by heart, there will still be vast unknown realms to lure us. If uncertainty is the essence of romance, there will always be enough uncertainty to make life sizzle and renew our sense of wonder. For my part, Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote, I travel not to go anywhere but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move. The great affair, the love affair with life, is to live as variously as possible, to groom one's curiosity like a high-spirited thoroughbred, climb aboard, and gallop over the thick, sun-struck hills every day. Where there is no risk, the emotional terrain is flat and unyielding, and, despite all its dimensions, valleys, pinnacles, and detours, life will seem to have none of its magnificent geography, only a length.

It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery, but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between.

It is the end of the era of calls for rides and favors and laundry from home, of intuiting my way around a landscape-grid of the city, of the bored simplicity of the known, of complacency and trust and knowingness. The beginning of movement, fear, wonder, the unknown that moves the soul through its newness. Travel.

No, really, it wasn't all bad

Now, for all of the wonderful things seen and done.

1. Chinatown. Here we found a wonderful little nook of honolulu worth spending time in. Although parts of it are being gentrified, a majority of it still holds strong with generations of chinese immigrants and markets that are straight out of Beijing. There are fish and mangoes and shrimp and leaves and ginger root and live crabs and things I am not sure are animal, vegetable or mineral. The smells are overwhelming, and there are tiny chinese people everywhere bartering for food. As we step cautiously through one marketplace, an elderly man is singing in Chinese to a little boy who is evading his responsibilities. Family members join in, imploring the boy to pick up his slack, and passing down much lost generational wisdom. Then, as we stroll along the river, we find groups of older men playing mah jong, being rooted for by the younger novices, who are obviously learning from these masters.

2. Shinto and Buddhist temples. After Chinatown, we fall upon this traditional Shinto (Japanese) temple. There were people performing a ritual inside which involved offerings of fruit and grain. Not wanting to disturb them, we did not go in, but I did wash myself in the water provided to purify hands and feet before entering the temple and felt refreshed. After this, we went looking for the entrance to Honolulu's botanical garden and found a peaceful buddhist (chinese) temple. In it, there was a 15-foot-tall golden statue of Buddha and shaved-headed-brown-robed lady monks.

3. Botanic garden. After our lesson on Eastern religions, we thought we'd give a little offering of our time to the nature gods. We found trees as big as 20 story buildings, oogles of orchids and palms galore. It was nice to relax and explore the intrapersonal for just a moment.

4. The hike up Manoa falls. Even though it had been raining - therefore making the trail extra muddy, we decided to go for it. The beaches were a total failure (who likes the sand without the sun?) and this was a last resort. The first part of the hike was only 1 mile, up to the 100 foot waterfall. The way there was actually pretty challenging, even though it was filled with tourists - old ladies and babies and the like. Along the way were gigantic trees with vines climbing them. The sounds of tropical birds filled the air, and we could hear the falls as we got closer. When we got to the falls, we encountered some hippies with a tiny toy dog attempting to swim the treacherous (falling rocks) water below the falls, so we decided to keep going onto another harder and more muddy trail that takes us took us to the top of the mountain. We instantly found it more difficult, climbing over boulders and sliding through the mud. The trail almost felt like a fairy tale - bamboo forests, dark patches of overgrown gigantic trees, and howling wind. Despite the fear of rain or becoming lost, we made it to the top, getting a spectacular view of the valley and the mist hanging in the air, getting heavy enough to release some rain every once and again.

5. dinner at town. Alex and I found a fantastic (that word always implies pricey) restaurant whose motto is "local first, organic whenever possible," which instantly caught our eye. It was glorious to eat something besides plain bagels for breakfast and PB and J's for lunch everyday. Worth every penny.

6. hanauma bay. It finally became sunny enough to snorkel in Oahu's best spot. You just swim right off of the beach into the coral, and the fish are spectacularly brave, letting you come so close you feel fishy yourself. I swam for a bit through a school of shiny silvery fish, and after having swum through them for a while, a large (3 foot or so) parrot fish swam by, and I actually became nervous, feeling a bit like prey. Interesting how easy it is to enter the mind of a fish, when you are in this new and strange environment, huh?

7. yokohama bay. This is the beach where the sun stayed for only 45 minutes, but it was worth it all the while. Firstly, the beach was closed so we had it all to ourselves (the lifeguard was nice enough to let us sit over to the side so no one could see us). The mountains cradled us from behind, the ocean rose up and swaddled our legs, with the stark black contrast of the lava-rocks providing something interesting to look at. Hawaii really is a paradise, believe it or not by my rantings.

8. sandy beach. This is one of oahu's best body surfing beach, but certainly for experts. It took all of my strength and skills not to drown to get past the crashing waves. Once I did, the swells carried me up and down tens of feet, and when I looked down I could see straight through to the bottom. It was exhilarating and scary, I just kept imagining seeing the silhouette of a shark below me (even though it was surely only coral).

9. windward house and maria. We stayed in a hostel for the first four days, but the hostel people told us of a house they run on the other side of the island (windward), so we spent our last four days there. What a great decision! Do you remember the introduction to Jurassic Park where they are flying in a helicopter to this island with sheer green cliffs? Yeah, that is the windward side of Oahu. We stayed in a house run by an Austrian grandmother type, Maria, who shared story upon story of her traveling experiences - from 100 mile pilgrimages through Spain to raising four adopted sons to getting lost in the Hawaiian jungle five years ago (when she was 69!).



10. The last sunny day: kayaking and body surfing. The last day, we got some sun! We rushed to catch the sunrise, and hurried to the kayaking spot to get in some adventure sports! We kayaked a few miles out to a couple of different islands and back. Alex and I are both too stubborn and proud to work well together, so kayaking was a challenge, to say the least. But the views were awesome, and we saw two green sea turtles, coming right up close to our kayak, poking their little heads out and going back under the water. What curious little fellows! Then we went to makapu'u, a body surfing beach that is a little tamer than sandy beach, and I spent the afternoon riding the waves, only nearly breaking my neck in the surf once (yay)! It was pretty much me, the only white girl, and a ton of little native hawaiian boys. I can thank Lake Michigan summers for my body surfing skills!

Overall, the pluses outweighed the minuses, but I had to be honest about the awful aspects. It can't all be perfect all the time!

click here for more pictures from the trip

sunny hawaii

We arrived in Hawaii with bright spirits and high hopes, not knowing how much would be shattered as the week went on. Instead of describing all of the wonderful things I have encountered thus far, I am first going to focus on everything that could/did go wrong this entire week, in chronological order.
1. missing the bus by less than 5 seconds that took us from the airport
2. subsequently, waiting 40 minutes for a $30, 10 minute cab ride
3. alex finding an obese elderly man in his hostal room snoring as he were choking and calling for his life
4. waiting outside to figure out what to do about the snoring man, it started pouring rain on us, and that was the beginning of a rain storm that didn't stop the entire time
5. trying to take the bus to walmart the next day and getting on the wrong one that only took us about a block closer, then having to walk in a nasty part of town with the dirt and mud slinging up onto my legs from the ground
6. finally making it to the beach and it is cold and windy and overcast and the sun sets within 20 minutes of being there
7. getting up early the next morning to go to the beach and it is too cold/stormy/windy to swim. great. just great. but hope is still alive at this point, that the sun will return to this god forsaken place.
8. we ditch the beach idea and go to honolulu's best museum, only to find its best exhibit closed until 2009 (!), and the only nice hall that is open has its fire alarm going off at random intervals, causing us to get used to the quiet and then be bombarded by noise all of a sudden. wow, foiled at every turn!
9. so we just give up and eat at mcdonalds - which just proves even further that we are at a low low point
10. we get up extra early the next day to get a rental car because the bus system has failed us so miserably, only to wait 30 minutes for one bus and an hour and a half for the other, causing a four hour commute to the rental car place
11. when finally getting to the rental car place, and are greeted with "the aloha spirit" - everyone shakes our hands and introduces themselves. We think that maybe our luck will change at this point. So of coarse, they charge us an extra $40 that wasn't on the original online order, and then fight with us for 40 minutes before taking off half of it as if they are doing us some huge favor.
12. we drive from the rental car place to our hostel in 10 minutes, just making out 4 hour commute on the way there even more obviously horrendous.
13. trying the beach yet again and being shut down hard by the rain and clouds
14. maybe the sunny desert side of the island will not fail us? we drive to this side, only to find power lines down on the only highway in and out of this side of the island, we sit in traffic for two hours to get there
15. only to find all the beaches there filled with homeless shanty towns and ominous locals, very nice! thanks hawaii, super classy!
16. finding one partly cloudy beach at the far end of the island that is closed, but we sneak into, to find a lifeguard who makes us sit in the litter-infested part of the sand so no one can see that we are on the beach and will follow us.
17. the sun on this beach lasted 45 minutes (btw, alex spent 35 of those minutes putting on sunblock, ha!)
18. sustaining the same traffic jam on the way out, and as we sit in the car, the sun comes out and now we are stinking hot and sitting in this traffic jam and staring at the beautiful blue water that we wish we were in.
19. rain, rain, rain and wind and storms ruining everything else we planned to do.