Traveled, tretis, and typed

Today was hit-the-road day. First, we passed through the high-end resort row of Wailea (think 1%) to visit the the beautiful beach at Makena State Park (open to the 99% as well) on the south end of the island. Then, since we were out, we trekked north. We stopped for lunch at  Paia, home of doobie-smokin', surf-chasin', hippie cowboys. The we went upcountry, to stop at a new-agey retreat in Makawao, before circling back to check in on Haiku, a cute town with a macrame-based economy and more vegan delis than bars. The route home took us past the organic grocery store in Kahalui, where we got some stuff for dinner. All we needed was a bootleg tape of a Grateful Dead/Enya concert to make the day complete.

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Here's a big, wet, sunny hug from Coco:

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I mentioned in the last post that I thought my brother-in-law Gene fit what might be called a certain type that I have seen in my travels to Hawai'i. There are some others that I have run across, as expected:

Mr. & Mrs. Cadillac: In good shape except for a pot belly, this retired executive has a lot of silver in his hair, a little too much gold around his neck, and a wad of cash in his pocket. She is as brown as berry with clothes perhaps just slightly too young for her and jewelry that cost more than your vacation.

Mr. & Mrs. Family Room: He's a big beefy guy in unfamiliar soft clothes, striding though the resort as if leisure was something to wrestle with and a vacation something that could be won. She is unassuming and more attractive than she thinks, especially since they left the kids home and she's starting to relax.

The Girls: They usually come in threes, bank tellers or insurance clerks or marketing assistants. One is dressed too fancy, one just wears her bikini everywhere, and one has a nice beach cover-up that her aunt gave her.

The Transplant: Thin, blonde, and athletic, she's from Colorado or Kansas but she lives here now and brought you your lunch. Capable and savvy, she knows all the best drinking spots and all the best surfing beaches, and if you try to hit on her she will shut you down.

The Runner: Skinny, sinewy, serious, and of either sex, these dedicated souls will get their miles in today, paradise or no.

Mr. & Mrs. Bro: He's all tank tops and tribal tats, sport sunglasses worn on top of his cap bill, facing backwards. She's got a top that's a little too tight, jewelry that's a little too gaudy, and hair to spare.

The Professional Whale Watcher: Retirees, usually, male and female, in gore-tex jackets and floppy hats, with binoculars and long, long lenses on their cameras. Look close and you can see the fluke pendant that they got twenty-five years ago in Kihei after they saw their first.

The Blogger: He comes to Hawai'i even though he does not surf, or snorkel, or sunbathe, or swim, to keep his sweetie company. Affecting an air of bemused detachment, he is tolerable only in small doses, and only because he manages to be mildly amusing on occasion.

Six, two, and even, over and out.