LAST DAY – sweet sorrow or…?

The four remaining holidayers lash into day seven by taking a go on the outrigger canoe right outside the hotel. It’s great! Gentle wavy splashes on the way out and that addictive uplift and acceleration as we catch surf on the way in. Literally a wheeeee moment if ever there was one. I get to be Princess and do not have to paddle. All I have to do is GoPro the fun bits for the album but I completely cock it up and we have footage of my knees and thighs where we should have had an arcing bow wave, tightly abb-ed surfer dudes in the background and the contents of the canoe all going “OOOOOOOOOOH!”

I lounge and swim and lounge and swim as long as my central nervous system can take it. It is hot today, 32c and baking down on the beach. I clock 3 swims but at lunch I’m feeling toasted so we meander down the Avenue to Sephora, (DANGER MEN, WOMEN IN MAKEUP SHOPS), and Victoria’s Secret for some additional bits and pieces. I hit Longs, big time, for drugs. We leave with, I kid you not, 2 years supply of the essentials of life for around a 20th of the cost that it would be in NZ. I rattle as I walk back to the hotel with my totally awesome stash.

It is about now though, that the masses and retail and plastic and falseness starts to get to me. You are a faceless number in Waikiki, useful only for dollar bills. The system is far from friendly at heart. The trip has had its highlights, but I start to wonder what Hawaii really has to offer, and we plan for next year. More seclusion, other islands, less a seething humanity get-in-line experience.

The remaining couple want to low-key it for dinner, so we leave them to it and head to our booked location, Azure at the Royal Hawaiian. I pull on my last remaining uncreased evening dress, roll the hair and have a bloody good time.

Until next year! Mahalo.

Last day. I now resemble a crispy-skin chicken, fattened for market. This is my lounger view, my legacy if I pop. 

Lounge Lizard-ess.

DAY SIX – Hanauma Bay

YESTERDAY PM

Baked myself on the lounger, overdid it again, attempted to regenerate the tan from underneath. Not my best work and felt a bit faint. Holidays are TOUGH! Craig bought me a beautiful set of Akoya pearls, probably after reading my jovial comments about diamonds, which had not led to any actual diamonds being procured thus far. Totally shattered from over-vacationing, we get takeaways and I swash down Walgreen’s finest at about 8.30pm like a nanna. I get another fabulous sleep, again weirdly filled with horses. This is either a sign that the drugs are REALLY GOOD – or I simply need another horse.

GETTING TO GORGEOUS HANAUMA

We get the 6am pickup. It’s the best as you don’t have to watch the annoying 20 minute video about not poking the turtles in the eyes or feeding them ice creams if you get there before 7am. The water is also cleaner as 5,000 tourists haven’t yet stomped their flippers all over it. This cunning plan is very nearly put out of business by an American On Holiday who OVERSLEPT and made our shuttle 20mins late. This doesn’t suit Ms Ritchie, and teeny stabs of fear about having to now watch the video creep in. I silently push my feet into the seat in front, mentally willing Larry (our driver, a dead ringer for Mr Mackey on South Park, only missing the “MKAY”) to go faster and stop talking about the price of Hawaiian real estate and pronouncing the word “buoy” to rhyme with “phooey.” Leisure Suit Larry will not be rushed though. NO SIR! He will NOT BE RUSHED. We pull into the parking lot with 15 minutes to get to the gate and I leap at the door like a caged animal spotting its freedom then scamper round to the left side of the bus so that Larry is virtually guaranteed to hand us our snorkel gear first. It pays off! THANK GOD because this is my holiday etc etc etc.

IN THE SEA!

We make the gate with 8 minutes to go and I scoot down the ramp, slap on my mask and fins and lurch with no elegance into the water. It is gorgeous. Teems with action only feet from the beach. At this time in the morning it is uncrowded. Apparently 1 million tourists swim here per year but it is amazingly unspoilt. Craig is on GoPro duty (odd that) and despite it being a cloudy day with average water clarity we can see glittering schools of yellow and black, with flashes of rainbow and purple in amongst. Bigger Redlip Parrot fish gnaw noisily at the coral and don’t give a toss. No turtles today sadly. I’ve always loved snorkelling and dive down as much as my lungs will allow. Having looked at the Fish Identification Card, I spot Threadfin Butterflyfish, Achilles Tang, Yellowfin Surgeonfish and bucketloads of Convict Tang. What a total swot. We swim and splash about for two hours and the mask leaves deep tramlines of happiness on my forehead.

PICS

The light changed constantly, hence the different colouring.

Money shot.

With a school of Convict Tang.

Craig with the Convict Tang.

I have a Jesus beard LOL!

With the fishes…

Fish spilling over a mini reef.

Not elegant but I’m having a good time!

DAY FIVE Morning Report- Observationals from the sun lounger

TODAY

We have officially declared today a “rest” day, but of course in my holiday world this doesn’t exist. However, the rigours of bagging the right loungers, securing the towels and making sure you are visible to the pool girl at all times takes some co-ordination. The weather is again perfect with wall to wall sunshine and fluffy clouds that lend themselves well to photography. We splunk down onto our allotted spaces and get stuck in for six hours of ultra high powered laziness. Hanauma, now booked for tomorrow, must wait.

YESTERDAY’S THOUGHTS

The tour yesterday was good in two ways, the first is pretty obvious but the second was that it got us out of Waikiki. The volcanic ranges that buffer the Eastern beaches from constant drizzle are quite dramatic and home to scenes of interesting history. The Northern beaches are where the big surf comps in the winter season are held, but they look like a millponds now. Would have been cool to see and walk more natural stuff and I’ll remember this for next time. The beaches are stunningly beautiful, but you forget how un-militarised we are in NZ – every 5 minutes a giant C5 Galaxy bomber or one of those huge double bladed Chinook helicopters scouts about overhead. We see the notch in the hills, marked with enormous cross, where the first squadron flew en route to bomb Pearl Harbour. It’s quite interesting, and despite my thoughts fleeing back to turtle swimming, (I nearly swam straight into one as it came round a rock and it was FANTASTIC!) I try and pay attention.

AMERICA ON HOLIDAY

Awoke this morning not to the soothing sounds of curling waves giving themselves to shore but the blast of a live traditional Hawaiian band. I initially suspect a C5 is coming in the window but a glance outside confirms that it is indeed just America On Holiday. This means things as loud as possible all the time. It happened on the bus yesterday too, Island muzak piped into you like an intravenous drip. The band is good, they’re drawing applause. They do all the standards and hordes of retired people clap in time and tap their feet along to the Elvis/Luau/South Pacific/Jimmy Buffet inspired set.

An older Australian lady in the lounger in front accidentally burps in an hilariously loud way after drinking Perrier water. She is mortified but of course it’s funny as hell to the surrounding Aussies and me. The neighbouring Americans though, are Not Amused. Americans, On Holiday, do not burp in public. NO MA’AM!

We lunch at a waterfront bar and I waddle back to my lounger to observe bronzed newlyweds emerging from the sea. Anticipation on his face, still keen to please, and triumph on hers.

Pics – no one around to take snaps this morning (Craig decided to walk the round trip to WalMart) so I had to selfie head and body separately. Use your imagination.

 

DAY FOUR – CARRIE SEES HER TURTLE!

BIRTHDAY DINNER

Michelle’s birthday dinner at Surfrider was delightful and perfect in every way until Brexit happened right in the middle of it and the sharebrokers and ex sharebrokers at the table all got glued to their phones and started being antisocial. Early retirement for most after eating until rotund and an ultra late night yesterday.

OMG TOUR DAY!

Tour day today! I woke up in an incredibly good mood, my new Walgreen’s sleeping pills are just as fabulous as I remember and I had high def realistic dreams about ponies and going hunting. The tour itself was, yes, a ghastly plastic nightmare but there was a reward. THE FIRST TURTLE. I get a bit excited. I strap my mask on so tightly that my face is still dented 5 hours later. The water was murky, the aquatic beasts were bloody elusive, but I got what I came for.  They aren’t scared, they just go about noshing on volcanic rock algae like, you know, whatever. You are allowed to look but not touch, (8 foot rule) which makes for tricky GoPro footage but we got it all done. I’m so pleased. They are gorgeous. Something about it.

It is a big day of sitting on a bus, though, so the minute we get dropped back at the hotel I whizz out, like a greyhound from a trap, and hit the beach for swim. Heavenly. No more buses now – or ever really, that was a once-r. The rest of the trip is to be proper snorkelling at Hanauma and more attempted waterborne sports fun for as long as my wallet can stand it.

NIGHTIME PLANS

Hula Grill tonight, followed by All Blacks at some sports bar or other. This will make a nice change from the boys all live streaming it from their phones at dinner at FAWC do’s like they did the last two weeks 😉 It is Leigh & Sue’s last night, so I attempt even bigger American broadcaster hair in celebration and we party on.

Click on pics for full shot & added comments…

Blowhole!

From Here to Eternity beach with added frolickers.

Secret Beach frame.

Got bored at the Macadamia Nut farm and took this photo of a cock.

Chinaman’s Hat.

Chinaman’s Hat with bomber in the middle if you look really closely.

Waimea Bay – no waves today.

I SEE IT!

I SEE IT!

Rabbit Island.

Sunset Point – no waves today.

Birthday dinner at Surfrider.

PHEW! Survived tour – swim time.

DAY THREE p.m. report – Waikele Outlet Madness

Going outlet shopping in the USA is pure, bloated, idulgent gluttony. You are there under no artistic illusions and Waikele is the pinnacle of it all in this part of the world. Giant coach loads of bargain craving, label wearing individuals are deposited at the front doors. Wave after wave of purchasers cram themselves into the handbag places, the watch stores and the generic, disposable-clothes barns where you grab stuff for your children, probably. It’s actually kind of gross and depressing, yet if you go in for wearing nice clobber and you’ve got a good eye you’d be mad not to. I don’t really fancy it this year, so just go along to carry bags and act as fashion consultant. The shop assistants are friendly, but have sort of desperate glints in their eyes, as if they’d rather be at the REAL stores, not here in retail wasteland. I get stuck in being dictatorial at Hugo Boss and we have You Know Who dressed for another year in under 20 minutes.

The good news about it all is that Michelle is in her happy place. She is 50 today. Speed shopping all afternoon followed by champagne and dinner at the Moana Pacific Surfrider is her chosen course of action and that is what we do. I coiffure myself some extra-large American hair with my incredibly strong hairspray in honour of this occasion, stick on a cocktail dress and prepare for even more fabulosity.

No beach time today – but tomorrow we have the HAWAIIAN PACIFIC TURTLE TOUR! I have been massively excited about this. It’s one of the cheesiest things I imagine you can do as a tourist but at the end of it you hopefully get to swim with the turtles. For some reason I have become attached to the thought of a sighting. If I actually do clap eyes on a turtle I shall probably cry and have to readjust my snorkel.

DAY THREE a.m. report- The Fulcrum of Inevitability

I always get tired of Craig at this point in a holiday. He knows this as I told him before our first trip together in 2012 to Fiji that I have a three day limit on travelling with partners in close proximity. Nobly, he took me anyway. I also then volunteered that as we were in a new relationship we should ‘fess to our individual faults up front in the name of Planning Ahead. Craig doesn’t have any, so it was a quiet 35 minutes at his end whilst I gave my full disclosure. It is day three today, and I call this my fulcrum of holiday inevitability. For my next husband I might choose someone who is hardly ever there. I think it would be perfect. But for now I potter about being very MINDFUL of my 72 hour irritability zone and try hard to be AWARE of myself, and THINK OF OTHERS instead. I send Craig downstairs to buy me some diamond earrings.

By this time I am well and truly slipping into the lingo. OMG! You are SO WELCOME! TOTALLY! Like, I TOTALLY KNOW! The pool girl set me off yesterday as she brought the mango daquiris to the loungers. How ARE you guys? OMG! New ZEEEEALAAAND is SO CUTE! OMG! Well that is MY PLEASURE! The plasticity is palpable but I suspend my disbelief because, obviously, I am on holiday. Along with America.

When you come to this part of America the best plan is to play tourist. Relinquish your wish to be cool and insider-y like you try to be at home. This is not the place to be attempting niche experiences. You go with the herd. You get in line, you get on the bus, you get off the bus, you get in line.

I scribble a column (observational this week) with the fairly predictable first line of “Reporting in from Hawaii” and we pile onto a coach to go to the outlet stores at Waikele (MORE SHOPPING ARGHHH) the details of which shall be chronicled later, in the p.m. report.

DAY TWO – Carrie gets in the water

SLEEP

10 hours of sleep makes any woman happy and I get up raring to do all the things, all at once. Snaffled some room snacks from ABC, bought an emergency headband from Lululemon and got back on the sun lounger.

SURF

After 20 minutes of skin cancer-ism I get twitchy (spot the theme) and decide to go for a “surf”.

I rent a board twice as long as I am and start paddling. This was easier last year when a bronzed water disciple named Matt towed me out and gave me the perfect push into each perfect wave. However Craig doesn’t wish me to now part with $600 for a ripped pro 27 year old dude to hold my hand for hours on end so it’s UP TO ME!

As I stroke my way to the “break” (I sound ridiculous even writing it) I think about Jenny…Or the tan, the two have become one and the same in that timeless movie-loping way.

It is important to take your bikini pics at the beginning of the trip. The imposter tan is at its peak and the inevitable 9 course eating days have not yet begun. I tried a few snaps in the salon, straight after it was swooshed on, actually, but chided myself that this wasn’t really in the spirit of things.

It is a fools’ gold, this paint. It will crackle and depart as you abrade yourself with seawater and surfboard. More the board, with which you are an amateur and must expend valuable tanning capital at the knees, elbows, thighs, stomach and ankles because you are constantly trying to get back on it.

I emerge from nature’s wavy lukewarm bath exhausted, makeup-less, face flayed red by wind and sun and salt. White patches of tan-no-more all over, angry crimson coral scrapes on all toes. Life is perfect. Hand me a margarita, darling.

SHOP

The afternoon activity is piling into the Ala Moana mall. (Largest open air mall in the known universe). The only problem is I have Walgreens on my mind. Walgreens is elsewhere. We all fortify for the rigours of shopping by scoffing at Nordstrom but my heart wanders…. I scoot out and walk along to my favourite store – location of sleeping tablets one cannot get at home and the best hairspray in the world (Schwarzkopf got2b glued blasting FREEZE SPRAY – also unavailable in NZ). I buy as much as my little hands can get hold of then we open-air trolley back to the hotel. Cosmetically replete, along with the others who have been sated by consumerism, we descend upon Suntory restaurant for Teppanyaki and yet more FUN PANTS.

I’m doing it!

Watery heaven

Still got it

The gals

DAY ONE WAIKIKI

I’m here! I have credit cards for the right stuff and insurance for the wrongs! I hit the beach. We all hit the beach. The hotel is right on the beach. Those first ten minutes of lying on the hot Waikiki sand are ecstasy. I finally relax. We are on holiday. So is America. America on holiday is quite a sight. More on that later.

After 15 and a half minutes of horizontal sunshine action I get twitchy and go for a swim. I am not here to laze around…ha ha…getting a tan. Three swims, two hours sunbathing and one margarita later I discover I feel completely buggered. It’s probably sunstroke. I hibernate in the room for a while and send a messenger out to source the essential holiday plant based recovery diet – orange juice, salt and vinegar crisps and tequila from the ABC Store.

If I am not dead by dinner, I’ll update part two of day one later on…

Part two. I had a revival at about 5pm after a nanna nap and went to track down the others. Found Wasa & Craig had demolished 13 craft beers so decided to try my luck with getting Craig to go in to the Harry Winston store. This was unsuccessful and so marks two years in a row where he managed to get out of it. Or, my skills are weak. Everyone fading fast so Leigh, (flew in from Florida) and Sue shall crash and Wasa, Michelle, Craig and I will dinner at PF Changs (not fancy but there are plants in there) to eat EVEN MORE FOOD. Discovered Daroku, which had been recommended, fabulous, will most likely scoff there every day.

Tomorrow is when we kick into it.

Ms Ritchie on holiday

Ms Ritchie on holiday

Sunlounger territory

Room view

Trip time!

Ms Ritchie on holiday

Had sort of forgotten in all the massive buildup that the first flight was at 5pm from Napier, thus really a whole other day was to be had before leaving, so technically my proclamations of “5 days to go” etc could well be struck null and void by a jury of my peers for slight inaccuracy. Oh well! Time for fun! I bounce around the airline lounges, can’t sit still, take six excursions to the buffets, nibble at fifty different things, try a glass of fizz, a coffee, a Sprite Zero, yammer on to our friends and feel very much in control of all my superpowers. I’m zippy and it is absolutely imperative that I do not miss a single thing. This is Ms Ritchie on holiday. It happens on any trip. When I had ski houses, I made my guests get up at 5.30am and hustle like bandits so that we could all get into the front row of the top carpark, every single day. Not one chairlift ride must escape me. Not on my holiday.

Plane time!

We get on the Dreamliner (my 7th go on one, loving it) and I settle in for a country music discovery session. I am incredibly uncool. I don’t like movies as my attention span is unsuited, but I usually find one or two new songs per long distance flight. From Auckland to Sydney in 2010 I got suckered in by Emmy Lou Harris’ Pieces of the Sky and played Queen Of The Silver Dollar eighteen times in a row. This year from Auckland to Melbourne I sank into Waterproof Mascara by Sheryl Crow and looped twenty seven repeats. I know because I count the times so that I do not overplay things…I am also careful not to let any of my seat companions see me doing this in case they think I’m weird.

Flashback: I look forward to all airline food with a completely child-like level of anticipation. Mum & Dad chucked me on my first ever flight when I was seven, (with my sister aged five), on our own, from Edinburgh to Manchester. They served us these little breakfast sausages after takeoff (TAKEOFF! MY GOD HOW GOOD WAS THAT?!) that we were not allowed at home and my flying addiction was cast in stone for all eternity. Grandad got the wrong terminal at the other end and failed to pick us up for more than an hour, but because it was the eighties we wandered around the arrival gates quite happily, unfettered by neither child molesters nor terrorists. Dad had given me 20 pounds cash, so, being utterly loaded, I knew we could survive in the airport for days if necessary.

Air New Zealand serve terrific food and grog, as always, and my new insanity-rotate song, LeAnn Rimes’ crystalline power on Kris Kristofferson’s Help Me Make It Through The Night fades me into the wee hours as we zoom through the blackness to Honolulu.

 

 

Packing day

Luggage – whatevs

Packing “day” is actually for weaklings, as I can be totally ready for any trip, including skiing for 10 days in Wyoming (my personal record) in under one hour. It is my special talent. This should more accurately be called Slightly Pathetic Day, as one attempts to look the plastic Barbie doll part for a destination which heavily worships physical appearance. Oh the false idolatry! The vacuousness! Resist Carrie! I almost feel guilty, but the thought shoots off into the cerebral dustbin and I recommence getting excited about going on holiday.

Flashback: I did once meet a very serious packer – Mike Ludwig, in San Fran in 2006. Mike was on the very first team at Sun in the late 1970’s to get all the elements onto a working chip. He packed with a precision that made your eyes water. Could zone in to a tenth of a millimetre over a large suit case.

Colouring in

Trish sprays me with fake tan, (Vaniti brand, Medium) and puts on my Vacation Lashes, (extra long, lots). I Oompa Loompa around the house  (carefully – don’t want to wrinkle or smudge that self indulgence) for an hour or two in my newly bronzed state while Vaniti activates itself on my skin. I move like Worzel Gummidge. Watch the underarms! Craig is also to be dyed a wonderful glowing man-orange, which will surely be to the amusement of Warren, the only other bloke on the trip. (4 gals, 2 boys).