Friday, October 20, 2017

What the cluck?

We'd never been on a tropical vacation before. I've always secretly blamed this on my husband who has always preferred to drive wherever we go, doesn't love water and can't handle too hot of weather. But truth be told, while I knew we would enjoy such a vacation, I didn't feel like we were missing out - I also am not a water baby, and while I can't stand being cold, don't really like excessive heat neither. But I do love the ocean. I always have. And I was certainly willing to test out a tropical vacay to see what all the hype was about.

Brandi and Kore, on the other hand are travellers. They love to vacation and see the world. And three-year-old Beatrice has more stamps on her passport than I do. But with the whole zika virus issues, being pregnant kept them pretty grounded over the past year. And months before Daphne was even born, a trip to Maui evolved.

Travelling with a toddler is one thing. And travelling with a newborn is another. But travelling with one of each takes things to a whole 'nother level. I'm not really admitting anything in writing here, but there might have been a bit on conniving between my daughter and I to get a trip planned which Papa would agree to participate in, so I could "granny-nanny." And it took very little bribery to get Jim to come with - he, on the other hand, is a water baby who loves the sun.

And so it began...

As with all flights originating in Vancouver, we touched down in Kahului late in the evening and went straight to the condo in Kihei after we were greeted with a Hawaiian Lei and shuttled off to pick up our rental vehicles. Esther and Craig (fabulous PGers who are friends with B&K, and really everyone they meet) met us in our parking lot with a lovely care package to get us through to morning - wine and a charcuterie board of yumminess. So far so good. I'm loving Island life thus far.

It was late- nearly midnight our time when we arrived. Bea finally fell asleep literally as the landing gear hit the runway.  But both girls are travelling rockstars. They were certainly born into the right family. 

With the whole time zones change thing, and aided by early rising tropical birds, we were swimming in the ocean before 8am the next morning. Even Papa.  And by the time the afternoon Tradewinds picked up, B and I were headed off to Costco to stock the condo for our 12-day adventure. 

As I got out of the vehicle, a chicken hopped out of my way. Do chickens 'hop'? Or walk, or scurry, or whatever it is that chickens do, she got out of my way. What??! A chicken in the parking lot? In the middle of the city. I expressed my astonishment. Brandi's casual response was, "Yeah, there's chickens here." 

Feral chickens are a thing. I hear conflicting stories of where they originated, ranging from "they escaped during the 1985 hurricane" to "the Tahitians brought them centuries ago when they first inhabited the Islands."

I know a lot of people who go to Hawaii regularly. I have never once heard of there being "chickens there." But there are chickens there. Lots of friggin' chickens. EVERYWHERE: in parking lots, in bushes, along roadsides - even the road to Hana. And more familiar to me, they had them on a rotisserie inside Costco. We had one for dinner. 

But there are no sea gulls. None. Not a one anywhere. Odd. 

No comments:

His Song Has Ended But the Melody Lingers

On November 28, 2018 my world imploded. My husband was my everything, but he also had a profound impact on everyone else in his life. ...