Paradise Found, Again

Our oldest son Christof and his beautiful wife Kendra

flew to Hawaii after their college finals in April.

I just realized I don't have country names for them.

Trinadad and Tobago? 
No, they're way to pasty for that.

How about America and Canada?  
Always together, through thick and thin,
similar but each unique.

Simple tastes, competitive, smart, loyal, 
and oh so fun to be with.

(What you don't see is when these 2 nutcases flip themselves upside down during the ride)
After 5 days in Oahu
we flew over to Kauai.....which is amazing!!!!!!
Three bedroom/3 bath condo
 makes everyone happy. 
I'm just saying.
A lot of beach time: 4 of the 5 love
boogie boarding, body surfing, 
snorkeling, swimming,
and just generally acting the fool in the ocean.
Britain remains aloof, shaded, and mostly dry.

We went ziplining:

Tubing on the irrigation canals:  no pictures because 

I cramped up in the tube, 
got motion sickness 

from spinning continuously, 
banged my head against the cave wall 4 times
 and bailed at the first opportunity.

Good times.

And took a snorkel trip up the Napali Coast:

where we saw breathtaking cliffs and mountains.

Explored sea caves. 
(now I totally understand pirate movies)

 Scott and I saw a shark when we were snorkeling,

and I didn't freak out.

The week was sensational , we missed Germany and Mexico.
(Mexico is our son Taghe,
 not because he has the characteristics of Mexico,
 he is actually IN Mexico on a 2 year LDS mission. Viva de Mexico!!)
Germany being the prosperous economic base
 that she is, 
couldn't leave her job.
Wouldn't look good for the newbie
 to ask for a week off.
Love you both so much!!!

And as proof that Britain did get wet, I give you 
the image of Kendra, Christof, and me
 on the back of the boat, 
while they backed into a waterfall. 
I volunteered.  And it was fun.

The Farmers Market

I give hipsters too much credit.

I think they are the ones to thank

for changing the  environment 
of downtown Provo, UT.

Yes there were development departments,

committees, special commissions, local politicians 

and the like.

But it wasn't until the hipsters

started music lounges that nurtured 

local talent,

hipsters who opened oh so trendy restaurants

that local sourced their food, 

and hipsters that established

quirky niche shops like a knitting store

that revitalized downtown.

I don't understand them

but I like what they do.

In Honolulu, the hipsters influence has

had a big impact on fresh food

availability in urban spaces and

encouraging local farmers and 
small restaurant owners.

Farmers markets have popped up all over

the city, most pretty small but with a wide 

selection of fruits and vegetables.

It's pretty awesome.

But the grand daddy of them all 

is the Saturday market at Kapi'aolini Community College

near Diamond Head.

That's where we go for our produce

and very delicious, if not normal, breakfast.

Christof Pho, Kendra corn, add rock and shade: happy

This luscious dish made the Marilyn Hall of Fame

The tour buses drop off hundreds of Asian tourists by the hour;
our tall pastiness makes us easy to spot in the crowd.

The crew with lemonade and local sausage on a stick

Oh how I will miss papaya

Abby, Happy at Last

Our last born finally had the Hawaiian experience

she has been waiting for.
Her friend Katie flew over to spend spring break
with us.

We asked Katie as we left the airport if she wanted 
food or beach first.
She said food, then beach.
How was I to know that would be
the theme of the week?

One hour after landing:  South Shore Grill
after the girls finish off 3 fish tacos apiece.
Then to the beach.
I will let the pictures tell the story.

Polynesian Cultural Center

then

Pineapple Coconut Pancakes with Coconut Syrup

Then Pearl Harbor

and just for a change of pace

Kayaking at Kailua first. . . . .

then shaved ice.

It was such a fun week, and I appreciate the trust
that Julie and Brett had in us
to send their sweet daughter to us.
Aloha and Mahalo

Moms and Dads in Paradise

I have mentioned our neighbors before.

Living under the tropical canopy across the street

the animals of the Honolulu Zoo

have been entertaining us for the last 3 months.

Every morning at approximately 9:20 

there arises from the treetops a racket of

calls and howls.

Scott and I had several theories: 

it was feeding time,

it was time they came out of their enclosures,

it was communication between animals.

Last week we finally made it over to the zoo

early enough to find out

what all the fuss was about.

This is what we saw and heard:

After asking a few questions 

we learned that

this Mom and Dad spend about 20 minutes 

every morning protecting their baby by 

verbally warning off any predators.

If you look closely, their heads are turned largely 

to the left:

location of the spider monkey enclosure.

Evil spider monkeys.

They largely ignore the presence of their

closest neighbors, the lemurs.  

I bet the gibbons refer to them as the lame lemurs.

But only between themselves.

So there it is. We lock doors at night,

 hold hands when crossing the street, 

 put sunscreen on tender skin

and buckle their car seats tightly.

And the gibbons scream, howl, and swing.

Lead, Follow, or Get Lost in Paradise

Abby is on spring break.

With time on our hands

we headed (north?) into the inland

of Oahu.

Our destination was the

Dole Plantation, home of the world's

largest permanent maze.

Ain't it cool?

France wasn't thrilled about being hauled

away from the beach.

but once she learned that 

there were 8 hidden stations within the maze,

she took charge of the expedition.

She careened around the high bushes and canes,

Scott and I trying to not to lose her.

It was hard on the Scoutmaster who

wanted to examine the map before

charting a course.

It was hard on Britain to blindly follow anyone,

let alone France.

But as we raced behind her, I realized

how much of her life is a maze.

She has to navigate around tricky social roadblocks

at school and online.

Her homework is always problematic and learning

doesn't come easy for France.

Teenagers know their adult 

future is tantalizingly close, but they can't see it, 

the hedges of adolescence and parental control still

force them to adhere to a predetermined course.

France was fierce and determined, it must have been

cathartic for her to lead the way; 
control her destiny and ours, 

even for 42 short minutes.

After we emerged, we indulged in

Dole Floats.

Yes, the same delectable concoction offered

in Disneyland.

We then enjoyed a totally cheesy train ride

around the plantation and walked the garden filled

with the different varieties of pineapples

Isn't that just the cutest little pineapple in the world?

And Germany: the dole floats weren't 

nearly as good as the Disney ones.

I think it was because I couldn't share one

with you.

Midnight in Paradise

Scott had to fly back to the mainland 
the first week in March.

Sunday night came and I couldn't sleep. 
No sweet husband beside me.
It's the usual, 
waffling between the parent of a teenager
 feeling of righteous indignation.
You know, how The Fugitive felt.
The hot Harrison Ford version, not
the eeehh David Jannsen one.





and missing Taghe, who is far away in Mexico.
I couldn't do anything about the righteous indignation
but I could email my missionary.
As I typed away, I heard an alarm. Which in itself
didn't disturb me at all.  
We live in densely populated Waikiki.
Alarms and sirens are the background noise
of city life.
But this one didn't stop and I realized it was the 
building fire alarm.
By now Abby was awake and I stepped outside
(yes I felt the door first)
and looked down the corridor.
There was smoke coming out of the elevator area.
I couldn't see any flames
 and our building was constructed from 
concrete blocks so I assumed I had some time.
We got dressed, grabbed my phone, car keys, and all the important papers and documents. 
Down 7 flights of stairs and even though
less than 5 minutes had elapsed, 
firemen were pulling up.

The smoke was much thicker on the ground floor
and we retreated down the street with our neighbors.
There we were, standing in front of the Queen Kapiolani Hotel
at midnight.  Looking like the homeless across 
the street at the bus stop who were in fact, looking at us.

The source of the fire was the dumpster, which ignited
after a not-too-bright individual dumped their BBQ
charcoal after their Sunday party at the pool.
The smoke went up through the trash chutes
 on all the floors.
It was quickly contained, and we got a chance to
know our neighbors better during the 30 minutes 
we were outside.
Our next door neighbor flirted shamelessly 
with the firemen while attired in her pajamas 
and kimono.

She was very cute, for a 50 something year old. 
And what single lady can resist these fellows?
Though we got back in our homes by about 12:45
Abby and I were too wired to sleep.
We made some snacks and watched TV until 2 am.
I was most grateful that it was a minor incident and a
lifetime of emergency preparedness
 had truly prepared me to act quickly. 
And if you have ever wondered,
 the stink from a garbage fire
lingers through the chute for 
weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks.

France is Passive in Paradise

When we finalized our plans

to move to Hawaii, we realized that Abby

would be missing an important club season for volleyball.

She will be going into high school next fall and 

needs all the exposure to the sport she can get

if she hopes to make the Timpview team.

But since everyone knows that there is no downside

to moving to paradise in January 

(see photo evidence below)

Our solution was to invest her time and

our money in beach volleyball.

We found the greatest coach: 

Alika Williams of Hunakai HI Performance
and signed her up for a scrimmage league
at Queens Beach, the lovely stretch of sand
just a block from our apartment.

The girl has skills, she knows what to do. 
What is frustrating to me, her coach, 
and the cosmos is her lack of aggression.
Little known fact about the Steffies: we don't have 
a competitive bone in our collective bodies.
Scott and I just don't have that "eye of the tiger" gene
to pass on to our offspring.  That's why Kendra is so essential
to our family.  In a Game of Thrones kind of way.

(she's the adorable blond next to me)

That girl is wicked competitive.  In everything.  

It's awe inspiring.  There will be Steffies in the 21st century 

who will go for the kill.

But I digress.  I was talking about Abby.

So, here is my baby, looking awesome as she

spends hours in the sand.

But she can run a thousand drills, and play countless hours

but she won't progress in this sport until she plays aggressively.

And France (see blog post Not Abby) wants this....so bad. 

And I don't know what to do.

So here's where I ask for your help.

Let me preface this by acknowledging that this issue

is a paradise problem.  But I will ask anyway:  

How does a person gain the ability to be aggressive 

and competitive when it does not come naturally?

If you have any insights or advice, Britain welcomes them. 

Britain is me by the way.  Or so my eldest daughter tells me.

A once great nation in steady decline, but rich in history and tradition.

The Highs and Lows of Paradise

Abby's school is very cool.  

They tacked February 14th onto the 3 day Presidents weekend 

and we had 4 days available to play.  We flew over to the "Big Island" where we were pampered by our sweet friends, Steve and Candice Raymond. 

They fled Bostons weather and stress to live 

on the slopes of a volcano in Kona.  

The Raymond's home is a delight for the senses.

The furnishings are simple and elegant, allowing 

the art and antiques to draw the eye.

But the eyes are usually diverted to the massive floor to ceiling windows

in the rear of the house that look over the coastline away to Maui.

The air is filled with flowery scents 

and the smell of Candy's good cooking.  As the sun begins its morning journey over the home, the birds begin to sing on cue.

It was magical.

I could have stayed there contentedly for the duration

but there was much we wanted to see.

We booked a snorkel trip for Friday afternoon out to

Kealakekua Bay.  For history nerds like me, that's where

Captain Cook met his demise.  On February 14, 1779.

That's right, we were there on February 14th.  I am awesome that way.

Death would not to be our fate on this day.

We saw whales on the smooth journey, 

the reef was beautiful and the water was calm.  

Bet Captain Cooks journal entry was not that positive on his February 14th.

I think it was probably something like:

"Couldn't get the parts to fix my ship, locals stole a long boat, must go ashore and take king hostage so I can get my boat back. Wool itches."

But I digress.

Saturday, we spent the day on the road, traversing 

the "dry" side of the island.

Abby was not too keen on spending the day in the backseat

of a Subaru Forester, sandwiched between two old women, 

with two professorheads in the front 

talking science nonstop for 6 hours.

We made our way to Mauna Kea, second highest point in Hawaii.

Mauna Loa is higher, I don't know why that is important.

Mauna Kea is where they have built the biggest and largest array of telescopes in the world.  The air is free of pollutants,  this is where they look deep, deep, into space.  

If you're still mad about science dissing Pluto, 

these are the people who did it.  

After Abby's very favorite day, which included a stop at 

a wood carving and art exhibit, we finished with

a dip in the hot tub and an early night.

We were accompanied to church on Sunday by Steve, who has 

immense curiosity about us Mormons.  

We then said goodbyes and thank yous and headed over to the "wet"

side where our next adventure awaited.

But here's where I have to walk a fine line.

We have other dear friends who moved to Hilo recently.  

The very talanted and adventurous husband volunteered

 to take us to where the lava was flowing on Kilauea. 

 Technically, you are not allowed to travel to that area,

 but many people do. 

 Our friend is a photographer and has been to the site 

many times over the last year.  

We met up at 9:30 pm and drove into Volcano National Park

 where we parked and hiked about 2 miles to the lava lake.

Ok, so this was one of the coolest things

 I have ever seen.

This was primal and exquisite.  I didn't want to leave.

The last time I felt such awe for a creation

I was in the Borghese Gallery in Rome beholding 

Bernini's sculpture of Apollo and Daphne.

God is the Master Artist.

I will not mention our dear friends name, I wouldn't want to

incriminate him online.  We spent several hours the next days 

with him and his lovely young family. They have a great new home, 4 beautiful children, a chameleon and a cat.

 It was wet, chaotic, and wonderful.

Our last adventure before flying back to Honolulu

 was a trip to Punalu'u Beach.  By now, Abby had developed

a nasty cold and her spirit of adventure was ebbing fast.

But we wanted her to experience a black sand beach and

Punalu'u is gorgeous.

This entry was purely a travelogue,

 I make no apologies but I am sympathetic.

When Paradise becomes Real Life

Over the last few weeks our life has felt normalized.

We no longer feel that this is a lovely extended holiday

but rather that we have returned to reality.  A

much warmer, humid, exotic and multicultural reality.

(This is the view from my yoga mat, 2 blocks from our apt)

I think I felt the shift when Scott and I got callings in our ward.  Mormon Jargon for "asked to do something in our church group".

(You can take the boy out of Utah. . . . .and he will look exactly the same)

That same week I felt like I was running errands each day;

a scenario that plays out in my Provo life.

This is not a bad thing, but I have realized that

I could become complacent and forget that

these few months are an incredible opportunity.

So I'm recommitting to adventure, to fun, to the unexpected. 

Marilyn thrives on routine, lists, planning, and comfort.

Marilyn is a bore.

Marilyn 2.0 The Hawaiian Edition can jump into her church calling

with both feet.  And then take her feet here.

and here

(Punahou Carnival last Saturday or "The day Malasadas changed my life")