Wow Waipio

We covered a lot of ground in our eight days here on Hawaii. We made it to three of the Big Island's four corners.

Since our first little road trip took us to the north-east tip of the island where the road ends at the Pololu Valley, we thought it appropriate to take a morning and drive to the north-west tip, to the other place where the road ends, and overlook the Waipio Valley.

Glad we did. Wow.

Look Out! It's Hot!

I accomplished my Hawaiian mission. I got to see lava in action.

We headed to the southern end of the Big Island hoping to see some spewing orange.

The trip was a bit of a gamble as it required a few hours in the car and we wouldn't know whether or not we'd see the molten stuff until the sun went down.

But we lucked out! We saw Mount Kilauea angry and alive!

Hawaiian Cowboys

We played at being "paniolos" today. Paniolo, we've learned since landing here, is the Hawaiian word for cowboy.

We headed to Na'alapa Stables, high up on the green grasslands of the big island's northern tip.

For almost three hours we rode through endless fields and herds of cattle. And we also stared in wonder at the blue blue sea as it melded into the sky. It seemed as if the two met somewhere out there well below us.

End of the Road & Rainbow

We went looking for the end of the road.

We drove up to the tippy tippy northern point of the big island today. Since we're staying on the western side of the island, the Kona side, we set our sights on the Pololu Valley Lookout, a spot where the road literally ends.

It was a lovely drive for an afternoon adventure. During our little road trip, we came across a private beach, a dead pig, a field of wind turbines, free fudge, an organic macadamia nut stand and a statue of King Kamehameha.

We drove with the top down in our rented convertible. This made it easy for us to catch some rays while we watched the terrain change from fields of nothing but black-black lava rock, to high mounds of earth covered with rainforest vegetation.

And finally, the road dead-ended at the edge of a cliff, the land beyond it too dense, too deep and too undeveloped to offer much in the way of potential highway construction.

We admired the view and then turned the car around, heading back toward our rented digs.

Our mountain top road was so high up that we were above the clouds. And as we descended, a rainbow formed above us and we found ourselves looking - literally - at the end of the rainbow!

Ocean Rider Seahorses

First I saw sea turtles down at the sea shore. Now I'm seeing seahorses down by the sea shore.

I had no idea my time in Hawaii was going to mimic a nursery rhyme.

I picked up a brochure pushing the Ocean Rider Seahorse Farm at the Kona Airport. I grabbed it because it showed a couple of young kids sticking their hands into a bucket and holding seahorses.

Since we were going to be vacationing here on the big island with my family, which includes one such young person, I thought this place might hold some appeal.

Turns out, it did hold some appeal ... although it's quite possible it appealed more to me than to her.

The knowledgeable guide included lots of information about seahorse mating, seahorse eating, seahorse habitat and seahorse endangerment that was surely over the head of a two year old.

But they were still fun to look at ... and touch!

Seeing Sea Turtles in Hawaii

Here we are in sunny Hawaii, Hawaii. That's right. We're on the big island, the island of Hawaii itself.

I haven't found my hot lava yet, but I have found sea turtles ... and completely by accident.

During a morning walk on Anaehoomalu Beach, we stumbled upon not one, not two, not three but FOUR sea turtles come ashore for some sun bathing.

Hawaii Bound

We are Hawaii bound. My next postings will be coming to you live from the big island.

My mother planned this trip. I've not looked at a book or web site or magazine article to figure out what to do.

I'm hoping to see some lava. Red, orange, hot, liquid lava.

Check back if you want to know whether or not I find any!

Blah-Blah

You know you get too much junk mail when you start getting credit card solicitations that look like this...

I wonder how much the authoring copywriter got paid for this campaign.

All Lit Up at the Japanese Lantern Festival

It was a glorious weekend in the Twin Cities and to mark its end, we headed to Como Park in St. Paul for the Japanese Lantern Festival.

The festival takes place each August on a Sunday night. The event gets underway at about 3 pm just outside the front gates of the Como Conservatory.

Crowd fences are erected around the lush lawns, gardens and ponds that spill forth from the conservatory, and food and vendor booths set up inside.

A stage is also brought in. Dancers and musicians entertain the crowds until the sun sets and the lantern lighting begins.

This was our first time attending the lantern festival so we didn't really know what to expect and we were surprised by the number of people there. We stood in line to reach the front gate, and again to order food.

Perhaps it was the incredibly beautiful weather combined with the festival's promise of a lit up night that brought so many people out.

Because it was our first time at the event, we made sure to pick up a brochure explaining the festivities on our way in.

Turns out, the Japanese Lantern Festival is similar to Mexico's Day of the Dead. Reading the literature, that's what both Quang and I said.

According to our brochure, there is a three-day period each August in which the Japanese believe that the souls of the dead return to Earth to mingle with their families.

This three-day period is called "Obon" and it is an important holiday for the Japanese.

Families visit gravesites and decorate them with drinks and food. They light lanterns outside their homes so that the souls will know they are being awaited.

And then on the last night of Obon, communities light lanterns again to help guide the souls back to the other world. This is what we witnessed last night.

Tripping to Donaldsonville, LA

GoNomad recently posted an article I wrote about the town of Donaldsonville, Louisiana.

I visited Donaldsonville in June and am still dreaming about the white chocolate bread pudding I ate there.

Here is an excerpt from the story:

Going to visit Donaldsonville is a lot like going to visit your grandparents.

It takes effort on your part to motivate and get yourself there, and once you arrive, you might very well look around and wonder why you made the drive. The town’s appearance is tattered and at first glance it’s not immediately obvious what there is to do.

But if you stick around, and if you are willing to listen, you will be drawn in. And when it comes time to leave, you’ll be surprised to find that there is a part of you resisting, a part of you that wants to linger, a part of you that knows there are more stories yet to hear, old stories, stories you didn’t think mattered to your fast-paced, contemporary life, stories you didn’t think had any power to pull you in. But it turns out that they do.

Seeking Revenge

I don't spend my days hanging out in liquor stores.

Even though this now marks my second blog posting in one month's time about a funny find in a liquor store, I really don't spend a lot of time frequenting these fine establishments. Really. I don't.

Anyway...here goes.

While in San Diego for a wedding, I ended up in a liquor store. I was there with some others. Our mission was to pick up some bottles of wine for a family gathering. We were instructed to purchase red wine, preferably Merlot and definitely not Shiraz.

But I tend to stray from the rules. Once the Merlot was in hand, I began perusing the other bottles.

That's when I came across an Australian wine called "Kelly's Revenge." I had to have it!

Plus, it was a forbidden Shiraz, which meant I double had to have it!

Kelly's Revenge was purchased and taken to the family get-together. However, it quickly got pushed aside and pushed to the back in lieu of the favored and requested Merlot and somehow the evening passed and I never got to have my revenge.

And now I'm back home in Minnesota wondering what will become of that bottle. It will sit, no doubt, in the host's cabinet, as nobody in that home had wanted a Shiraz.

Maybe it will wait for me until my return trip to San Diego; although I don't know when that will be.

And so today, while running errands, I decided to pop into an area liquor store known for it's vast and global selection. Alas, they carry no Kelly's Revenge.

Never even heard of it, the clerk said.

I guess this means I'm still seeking revenge.

Coronado Beach, San Diego

After a stuffed weekend of wedding fun, the family headed to the beach for some relaxation and some sun.

Since the wedding was held near downtown San Diego and we were all still in the area, we decided to drive up and over the very tall and rather scary-looking bridge to Coronado Island and set ourselves down there in the sand.

We tried to park in the lot outside the famous Hotel Del Coronado, which has been the setting for several movies, including Marilyn Monroe's Some Like it Hot. However, every other tourist in Southern California had the exact same idea.

The car I was riding in got lucky with a nearby spot on the street; the other cars had to drive around a bit more. But everyone got a parking place and everyone reconvened inside the hotel's lobby, which was wide open to visitors.

We toured the gift shops, which were stuffed with trinkets of every kind boasting the iconic Marilyn Monroe, and the lobby itself, which was decked out in darkly stained and richly carved wood.

We also ducked into the bathrooms, which tons of other tourists also seemed to be doing. We appreciated the fact that hotel staff wasn't manned inside kicking out all non-paying visitors.

Once we hit the beach, we were also to able to rent sun umbrellas and towels from a hotel staffer.

And then we passed a good chunk of the day chillin' in the sun and surf.

Auspicious Beginnings

Hubby's little sister got married last night. She picked her date, the very round-looking and round-sounding 8-8-08, for its auspicious connotations.

According to Chinese lore, the date is filled with luck. And what starter marriage couldn't benefit from a little luck?

Legend or not, we sure had a good time. If the level of enjoyment had at a wedding is any indication of a marriage's lasting appeal, then this one is poised to go the distance.

Lips Smacking Fun in San Diego

From here on out, this week of my life shall forever be remembered as the "Week of Skin."

This is not to be confused or misconstrued in anyway as the "Week of Sin."

While I've managed to load up the past seven days of my life with a belly dancing show, a burlesque show and now a drag queen show, I have remained on my best behavior.

All of these shows have been in the name of good, clean fun. And yes, I really did just use the phrase "good clean fun" in reference to my "Week of Skin."

While the belly dancing and burlesque were attended at home in Minneapolis, the drag queen show was attended in San Diego.

Hubby and I arrived in sunny Southern California late yesterday afternoon for his sister's wedding. We arrived with just enough time to pick up a rental car and head out for our gender-appropriate stag parties.

I don't know where the boys went, but us gals went directly to Lips, a drag queen club, where we spent the rest of the evening embarrassing the bride and giggling like school girls.

London, France & Underpants at the Fringe

Ooh la la.

Last night we went to a variety burlesque show as part of the Minnesota Fringe.

The show was performed by the troop from Lili's Burlesque.

For the Fringe, they dubbed their bit "The Underpants Show."

And underpants we did see. There was also liberal use of pasties and feather boas.

But this was so more than a strip tease show. There was a UPS man who danced a duo with a dolly. There was a ukulele ditty about the trials of making out in a canoe.

And there was a healthy dose of audience participation, which just made everything all the more fun.

So much fun, in fact, that should Lili's Burlesque return to the Fringe next year, they will be at the top of my list to go and see ... and recommend.

After the show, we walked half a block to Erte, a locally-owned and fancily-decorated restaurant/bar.

Eager to retain the high spirits that I was in after watching The Underpants Show, I ordered up a martini even though it came with a double-digit price tag.

Good thing I brought my designated driver hubby along with me. There was $10 worth of alcohol inside that $10 martini.

Gypsy Passion at the Minnesota Fringe

It's that time of year again. It's time to Fringe.

What's a Fringe?

In Minneapolis, it's 10 days of "experimental" theater. The performers might be (but probably aren't) professional actors, comedians, playwrights, dancers, choreographers or musicians. Most likely, they want to be, but it's just as likely they are Fringing for fun.

The shows aren't planned by a governing body or board of directors. Instead, people submit their ideas for a production and then applications are drawn from a pot until all the show times are filled.

This means you never really know what you're going to get when you go to a Fringe show. The actors might be awkward. The audio might be scratchy. The audience might be slim. But that's the fun, and the point, of it all. Plus, you never know. Maybe you're watching the next Diablo Cody in action; she did, after all, write "Juno" right here in the Twin Cities.

I don't suspect, however, that the Fringe show I saw last night is about to take Hollywood by storm. It was called Gypsy Passion and it was, bascially, 60 minutes of bellydancing performed by middle-aged (or almost middle-aged) women.

I have to give these gals credit though. I wasn't up there baring my belly and I certainly wasn't up there giggling my bare belly in front of a bunch of strangers.

If nothing else, I enjoyed the opportunity to go into zone mode and listen to funky music while focusing on little more than a bunch of swirling women in pretty colors.

Licks Unlimited

Last night there was a party on my tongue.

It was a gooey, chocolaty, fudgey, fruity medley of bliss. It was ice cream and it was from a little shop called Licks Unlimited.

Licks Unlimited is in a little-town-turned-suburb of Minneapolis called Excelsior that sits on the banks of beautiful Lake Minnetonka.

Excelsior used to be an exclusive resort town, back in the day when women carried parasols and the most powerful of men were railroad barons.

Now that there are modern highways to whisk you there, anyone can easily pass a summer evening on Excelsior's old-time main street drag eating dinner, lapping ice cream, walking the boardwalk and seeing a movie. And that's exactly what we did. The highlight of the evening, though, by far, was our stop in Licks Unlimited.

I spotted the flavor I wanted almost immediately. It was called Chocolate Truffle, or Chocolate Heaven, or Chocolate Brownie Bits, or Chocolate Raspberry Delight, or something like that. I don't remember its proper name. Instead, the name that sticks in my head is "A Party On The Tongue."

That's exactly what the fresh-faced, blond-haired Minnesota boy behind the counter said when I asked if it was good.

"A party on the tongue? You're making that up!" I said.

"No, I'm not. That's what everyone says about it," he replied, a smile stretching from ear to ear and almost beyond.

We bantered then, once I saw that he was up for the play, about whether or not any of the other flavors could ever hope to rise up and be better than "A Party On The Tongue."

"Is this just the best summer job ever?" I finally quizzed.

"This is my fifth summer here, and yes it is," he stated firmly.

At this point, another fresh-faced, blond-haired Minnesota boy came out from the back room. "I'm 23 and I still work here every summer," he said. "I've had this job since I was 14, and I even own my own carpet company now!"

"Is it hard to get a job here?" I asked.

"Yes it is," answered the second boy, the 23-year-old. "We get a hundred applications a year."

"So what did you have on your application that got you this job?" I wondered.

"A brother," said the first boy.

"No, it's not about the application," the second one said. "It's about personality. If you don't have that, you don't get the job."

Lucky Find in Lucky Beer

I've discovered a new brew.

Earlier this summer, while poking around in my local liquor store, I happened across a solitary bottle in the shape of a fat and jolly Buddha.

The green glass Buddha held beer and the word "Lucky" was stamped over his head. I immediately smiled. How could I not buy this, bring it home and give it a try?

As I scooped up the bottle, a niggling thought did worm its way into my head, however. Would hubby be as happy to see this bottle as me?

I don't profess to be a religious expect, but I have picked up a few nuggets of Buddhist wisdom from Quang, a man who was raised in a Buddhist home.

Drinking alcohol, I've learned, results in demerit points. In other words, it's a bit of a sin.

It is indeed a rare event when Hubby decides to drink. My very own alcohol consumption has dropped dramatically since we said the "I-dos."

I couldn't help but wonder if a Buddha-shaped bottle of beer wouldn't be considered sacrilegious by some. And as it turns out, I guessed right. When I showed the Buddha beer to Quang, he smiled, even ventured a little laugh, but as soon as I cracked the top and offered a gulp, he declined.

"Would you drink beer out of a bottle shaped like Jesus?" he asked.

Would I? Yes, for novelty's sake. But he did have a point. I wouldn't feel right downing a six-pack of Jesus beer.

But that didn't stop me from downing the Buddha beer. It was easy enough to do as the beer was really quite tasty. Not too bitter. Not too thick. Perfect for a hot summer day.

I enjoyed it so much, in fact, that I actually went back to the liquor store and bought up the last of their bottles.

In the grand scheme of things, I decided, I really am a good girl and I could probably do with a few demerit points.