It was mid-morning when we arrived at Honolulu's Airport. We went directly to the gate for our flight to Kauai. The flight was small enough that the seating was unassigned. There were only two people in line when we arrived. When they asked if Hans and I were planning to sit together on the plane I jokingly replied that we actually wanted to sit next to them. They told us that the weather in Kauai had been rainy recently but that the forecasts were for sunny skies. So far it seemed as though we were off to a good start.
The inter-island flight passed in a quick 30 minutes. As soon as we reached altitude (if you could call it that) the flight staff very efficiently served everyone a small cup of guava juice and collected the garbage just before descent.
When we got off the plane with our duffel bags we went outside. I sighed regretfully: It was raining. All over the island it was raining. After mustering some optimism we found outside the airport a tourist counter and a helpful lady who gave us bus schedules, maps of the island, and directions on how to get to our bus stop, near the Wal-Mart.
It was about a 30 minute walk along the highway (a highway with no sidewalk or shoulder) in the rain with our bags to get to Wal-Mart, which is where our bus stop was supposed to be. Very soon we were completely soaked with rain and peeling off our winter coats that we still had from our Fairbanks departure. We went into the Wal-Mart (where there was air conditioning) and hung out there for 45 minutes while we dried off, bought an underwater camera and some groceries to cook for dinner. When we left we had an hour still before our bus came, but it was just as well because since we couldn't find the Wal-Mart bus stop, we walked down the road a ways to the local hospital and sat in the foyer (where another stop was) and wolfed down some beef jerky and water.
The bus picked us up and we began our hour-long ride to the north end of the island. In Kauai public transportation is more limited than on the more popular vacation spots because it exists only due to a federal grant after a hurricane 15 years ago wiped out much of the roads and many local's vehicles.
Our stop was at the Kilauea Food Mart. We walked a mile in the rain to our bed and breakfast, the Hale Ho'o Maha. When we arrived one of our hosts, Toby, was working on a truck in the garage. He was a tall 50-something thin man with a crinkly face that reminded me of an old sailor. Toby ushered us in out of the rain while he went and got our hostess, Kirby. Kirby was a bare-footed tan woman around the same age as Toby and was about the same height as my mom with long cascading gray hair that she had pulled back into a braid. "You're the Alaska people!" She proclaimed, rather than asked. I have the feeling that our large coats, now wrapped around the straps of our large duffel bags, and sweaty faces gave us away.
Kirby showed us into the house where there was a medium-sized kitchen and dining room, living room, and rather large fish tank. She showed us to our room (the esteemed "Papaya Room"; all four rooms in their house were themed after a different Hawaiian fruit). She took us into the bathroom and showed us which towels were ours because we would be sharing with the Mango and the Pineapple Rooms. "And that's Pretty Girl," she said when we were back in the dining room. She pointed out the screen door to the large green macaw sitting on its perch on the patio. "She's Toby's bird. We also have 3 cats, a dog, 2 mice, a chinchilla, and an owl. The animals are not allowed in the house."
"When are you renting a car?" Kirby asked. We told her that we weren't old enough to rent one and that we were going to be walking or taking the bus. Her face sort of fell and she tentatively said "Oh, you're walking people, I'd let you borrow our daughter's car but she is home now from school and I'll imagine that she'll be using it." Kirby told us that hitchhiking was very safe on the island and that if other guests were heading out to where we wanted to go we could probably catch a ride with them. When our tour of the house was over, Kirby left us to unpack and catch our breath. Through our window we could hear Pretty Girl talking to absolutely no one at all with the enthusiasm of a porter "Hello! Hi! Hello! Hi!..."
Some time later Hans and I invoked the energy to cook some spaghetti that we had bought at Wal-Mart. When we went into the kitchen Kirby was occupying the stove minus one burner. Upon hearing that we were going to make ourselves dinner she cried "No you won't! I'm making corned beef and cabbage. You guys can have as much as you want. Dinner will be at 6:00!" Stammering and offering multiple thanks we took our uncooked pasta and canned sauce back to our room.
We decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and found that we were on a tall hill that looked down into a small bay and beach formed by a creek outlet. There used to be a bridge across the creek but it had never been rebuilt after being destroyed by the hurricane.
The corned beef and cabbage dinner was excellent. Our hosts' daughter, Jamie, also ate with us and she was extremely nice and fun to talk to.
Very soon after returning to our room we fell, exhausted, into bed.