No Ka Oi

7467170352_b124a30fdb_o copyLook up, and there’s Scorpio, Polaris, the Milky Way. Look down and spot a school of Moorish idols, reef triggerfish, a moray eel. Here in Maui, anywhere you look, something interesting will catch your eye. You can get cheap eats like tako poke and a decent mix plate at Da Kitchen. Or, if slumming’s not your thing, you might shop for high-end lingerie at Panties in Paradise. There’s pretty much something for everyone.

That eel, by the way, is majestic. Grass green and about four feet long (with a cleaner wrasse riding piggy-back), it is on the prowl, lurking under, and undulating around, chunks of live coral off Molokini. We trail behind it for a while, until it disappears into the open ocean. Back at the reef, cornetfish and trumpetfish, with their long, rigid bodies and silly tails, regard us indifferently as we snorkel along.

In Lahiaina, where the sun beats down with singular intensity, we cool off with Ululani’s, the ne plus ultra of shave ice. (I recommend the lychee and lillikoi combo, but there are literally dozens of options.) At the surf shop in Kihei, an employee offers me a mango from his picnic cooler, telling me it’s surplus from a friend’s back yard tree. I gladly accept it—food from a stranger—something I probably wouldn’t do at home. Later, I spy a gaggle of big mokes eating saimin and sandwiches. I resist the urge to ask them, “Where you get da kine grinds, brah?” This would embarrass my sons possibly even more than the fact that I’m wearing a bikini under my rash guard. But I wouldn’t be afraid to approach these guys. Maui is just that kind of place.

My boys (young men, actually) may not speak Hawaiian pidgin, but they sure know how to eat Hawaiian. Mornings at our fancy resort, they are busily mixing rice, eggs, Portugese sausage and furikake into big messy piles of breakfast only an islander could appreciate. The weak-chinned, handsomely-coiffed fat cat at the next table looks up from his Wall Street Journal and raises an eyebrow, but the busboys walking by say, “Man, that looks good!” I can almost see the thought bubble over our server’s head: “Breakfast o’ champions, braddah!”

Maui, overdeveloped and still building, crowded with tourists and grasping for more, is nonetheless my vacation destination of choice. Despite its flaws, it just feels like home. Here, we don’t need three days to throttle down and there are no uncomfortable adjustments—the moment we land at Kahului, we are in vacation mode and up for anything. Maui is the place where good stuff simply happens to happen.

One afternoon, the trade winds whip up at the beach, blowing sand into our faces. We retreat to the pool, where the palm trees sway, fronds rattling a mellow rhythm. Suddenly, Ian jumps up, saying “I know that guy!” A pool attendant, neatly attired in crisp khaki shorts and a white polo shirt, turns and recognizes him instantly. Devin, a frat brother of Ian’s, is a Maui local working at the resort for the summer. On Devin’s day off, he pulls up in his pick-up truck and the two of them head off with a cooler of beers to spend the day splashing under the waterfalls at one of Maui’s secluded swimming holes. You see what I mean? Good experiences always materialize on Maui.

Kismet comes to visit me, too, on the day I’m scheduled to take a stand-up paddleboard (SUP) lesson. We start early, when the water is calmest, and head down to the beach with big, wide boards and long-handled paddles. After a few tumbles, I’m getting the hang of it, trying to relax my legs and refrain from looking down. Sea turtles are swimming by, and I realize, suddenly, that we are quite far from shore. A line of whitecaps starts to get closer, and the smooth water begins to get choppy. Splash! I’m down. Very quickly, the conditions have become unfriendly for the novice SUP-er.

“Time to go surfing!” my instructor shouts cheerfully and starts paddling in toward where the waves are breaking. All of a sudden, he’s pushing my board, yelling, “Relax, stand up and look at the trees!” So I do…..and it is awesome! I ride that tiny wave for maybe 10 seconds, but it feels phenomenal. Like a toddler getting her first taste of chocolate, all I can think is, “I want more!” Many soggy attempts later, I have gotten up a couple more times, had a few spectacular wipe-outs, and have stopped caring whether my bikini bottom is riding up. I’m surfing, baby!

My bucket list got one item longer today. I am determined to learn to surf while my body is still strong and agile. I’m not sure how many good years I have left, so I’ll need to get on it. I’ve already roped my sister into doing this with me. I guess we’ll need to go back to Maui again and again until we get it down. Sure, we could do it somewhere else, but everybody knows Maui no ka oi.

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