Long promised, the big Hawaii trip

 Adelaide Airport….

Sam, the dad, brings the girls and, with massive long hugs, tells them their adventure begins here at Virgin checkin.

They are off to Hawaii.  Two girls, aged 12 and 15, with one grandmother and their American step-Grandpa.

A long-promised family trip of a lifetime.

We go through Virgin ticketing and security with plenty of time and find a comfy bench near our gate, and leaving Grandapa B with luggage. 

We just set out on our airport walk when, immediately, we meet the other farewell party - mother Lucy and cousin Rah with  little Violet, all coming to see the girls off on the big trip.  Lucy buys them toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches.

We kill time at the shops and with our devices until,  finally, the darling farewell party has to get on with their day, 

And thus we begin the serious travel business of waiting.  Hurry up and wait. Travel is either split-second running or interminable and stressful waiting.  And our flight is delayed. Waiting. 

Connection anxiety. 

Watching the departure boards...

Eventually we are off.

This is modern travel, girls. It's not like advertisements. 

Certainly not.

Sydney airport is a stress-out. Signage hell.

We have to change terminals. Where is the bloody bus to be found? Not easy at all. When we find the ugly bus stop, it is to see buses passing to other terminal destinations. Confusing and frustrating, the time is ticking.

We skip Duty Free and run, run, run to the gate, only to find a sea of other passengers spread out and

waiting. Our Hawaiin Airlines plane has been delayed.

Hurry up and wait. Again.

At least this is the min destination flight. We settle down in the crowd, kis seeimngly on the phone most of the time to their parents. 

 . 

Eventually, we are loaded into our Hawaiian Airbus - the four of us crammed into a central row. 

Crammed. 

It is tight. 

It also is early.

And the cabin is darkened.

We watch inflight movies and prepare for a long 10-hour night. They serve an odd picnic  box of a half chicken mash wrap and an apple. Meagre and unappetising in the extreme. We are hungry. Ugh. Not a good start, albeit big B asks for and devours a second serve.

Gradually, the flight becomes a nightmare.

 It is so dark and cramped and gradually Rosie stops smiling and becomes airsick.

 Sa has Stemetil. It helps a bit. 

We try to sleep. It is dark. 

We lean this way and that. Ro finally drops off lying across Sa's lap with Ru lying across Ro's back.

 By morning, Ro is vomiting and miserable. Hawaiian keeps the cabin dark and serves a nasty breakfast of egg, sausage, and something. Ru wisely refuses it. Ro is pale and wan but, oh, so brave.

We land at Honolulu,

so grateful to be down….but then we have to thunder down endless corridors  to  begin the next wait, queuing for US immigration.

 B is able to take us through the US queue which is marginally shorter. It is still a long wait, especially for a sick chick. But we have a lovely border-security officer, friendly, welcoming and explaining that fingerprint taking is really to impede the forgery of passports. Rosie fascinated that while we all had photos and fingerprints, she did not because of her age.  She did not have to remove her shoes in Sydney, either.

Loaded with baggage, now we have to find transport. Another hunt, Another wait. Ro is white and very wan. 

Hilton Hawaiian Village has a monumental lobby queue. 

Fortunately, also Daniel liaising with the crowd, seeing they were in the right lines. Sa waits and waits with B and the girls minding the luggage…then she has the brainwave to approach Daniel and explain that, since we have a sick child, perhaps could we shorten the wait.

He whips Sa to the front of the Hilton Honors queue where receptionist Rowel takes charge, liaising some urgency on the room preparation. Room not due to be ready for hours of course. But he sticks with it very kindly and we get the green light.Sa tips him but can't find Daniel -  and the fam is so desperate to be in the room.

 Rainbow Tower, 20th floor, two balconies, lovely Waikiki view.  We set up the sofa bed for our exhausted sick chick. The room is spacious but furniture is spare and odd things are missing, including water and glasses. Amenities have been scaled right back, A sense of covid frugality. 

Even fragile Ro is too curious to stay put after a rest.

We three travel-worn Harrises hit the wonderful ABC general store for necessities  for the room and the night...even water, for heaven's sake. Stocked up, we then choose the poolside burger place for much-needed refreshments - a MaiTai for Sa, a whisky for B, burgers, chips... 

Ru is now beginning to feel queasy. And Ro improving. Hmm. Perhaps this is not motion sickness at all.The girls  have a tunmy bug. Ru manages to drink a banana smoothie which does not taste remotely of banana.

As the light goes down the girls head for the much-needed comfort of bed.

The olds sit on the balcony to enjoy the fabulous view from our great, big Rainbow Tower room.

Beach below, lights playing with activity, span of coast, far lights of high hotels....and,if one sits outside, the sound of the Waikiki sea.

We are here.

Honolulu Day 1

Ruby is now sick. Vomited through the night, Rosie has picked up. Stemetil now for Ru. She is not interested in breakfast.

B, Ro and Sa go down to the lagoon room. Tables are arrayed on a broad balcony overlooking the gentle lagoon and its rim of palm trees.

Breakfast, for which we have pre-paid the adults, is a disaster. The harriedhostess is hostile. Immediatley taking a dislike to us, especially when we say we are pre-paid. We have to wait for a table.There is a huge fuss among

the staff about our pre-payment. “Package”?  A number of tables are empty. We recognise that the waiting game for tables is all about staff. They are desperately short staffed. They are hustling madly. After a while, a supervisor in a mask comes along to finesse and jolly us, the staff seeming to have discovered that we are indeed pre-pad and entitled. The menu is monstrous…huge rich serves which come with about 12 small baked and fried  potatoes. I mean, how many potatoes can one eat?

A priori we have to go to Ala Moana Mall for US Sim cards.

Reluctantly, we leave poor Ru in the room with electrolyte drinks and as many temptations as we can array.  

Ro and B and Sa take the hot walk through the busy streets to the Mall. Ro doing well.

It is a vast, open-air mall with wings branching in all directions on several levels. It is anchored by the legendary great USdepartment stores - Macys, Nordstrom, Bloomingdales...

B sorts out US phone contracts for us with AT&T.

Ro and Sa go shopping.

 Ro is wide-eyed at these big, glitzy American shops. We rattle thru the bargain rack at Maceys and buy a few things. We look in on Nordstoms and Bloomingdales. missing Ruby madly. Sa finds a padded fashion designer backpack in the latter. More expensive than she wanted. The Aussie dollar is at 65 cents so prices are punishing.

People are surprised that we are Australian. Aussies still hold novelty value, it seems.

Bruce proudly escorts us to the massive food court where Rosie swoons at Cinnebon and pretzels. We buy her her first fresh hot pretzel with cheese dip. 

So many food chain names are familiar thanks to TV and social media. We plump for Panda Express, a reliably delicious Chinese chain and sit on high stools at a counter in the centre of the court.

Ru is glad to have us home but still in bed and feeling lousy.

She manages a trip to ABC store and the jeweller whence Sa is in quest of the olivine stone she cherishes. Roo still is not eating but Ro coaxes her to some watermelon.

They no longer do room service at the Hilton. Another sign of the post-covid times. It turns out Hawaii suffered very badly when tourism stopped. The streets were empty. Hotels closed down. The government provided handouts and people coped but many never wanted to return to work. There are "We are Hiring" signs absolutely everywhere. Those who are working are really stretched. Room service is just one more casualty.

There is still life in the day and there is more life in Ru.

"Let's hit the pool". We grab towels from the beach bar and flop onto chaizes. The afternoon sun is regenerative.  Sa and Ro have their first Hawaii swim. The pool is pleasant albeit busy with an international array of hotel guests and some pretty bizarre pool toys. S and B have their drinks on our balcony, that Waikiki view being a reward in itself.

So, Ru is still not into food but down to the beachside restaurant tables we others go for easy dinner. It is dark and sparkly. We are queued for a table and soon are allocated it.
The lights of our Rainbow Tower look down upon us. Feeling as if we are minus a limb without our Ru, we are given a nice table and order a very pleasant meal. Good service. We're weary. And we rejoin Ru in our great big room with a view. 

Honolulu Day 2

We had planned this as the Pearl Harbour excursion day but, since Ru missed the 2nd biggest outdoor mall in the world with its wealth of high-end American department stores, we decide to do a return trip to Ala Moana with her.

TikTok aficionado skips amazing American mall?  Totally not an option. 

Even flicking through coathangers on a US Clearance rack is a cultural must-not-miss.

Ru dodges breakfast, still not feeling foody. Sazi is feeling a bit off this morning, too but has a simple off-menu breakfast from Juanito who goes way over the top and then some, fussing over us in compensation for all things the staff had done wrong yesterday. On top of breakfast, he gives us takeaway coffee and a complimentary Hawaiian donut. Everyone is smiles.

B stays at the hotel reading and studying a la Bruce while the Harris gals pile into a taxi (not taking that hot walk) to let Dr Retail make then all feel good about life. And, here we are.

Victoria’s Secret, Saphora and, OMG, instant love affair  with CVS AKA Long’s Pharmacy - all super therapeutic. We cover a lot of territory.

Ru is back in form.

 It is pretty hot, but one is in and out of airconditioning.

WTF is with this Sugar shop? 

We all boggle at it and have to go in.

Sweets on steroids. It is huge. We go a bit mad. It is just so colourful and such fun. 

We laugh and rave with incredulity.

Lucy scores a candy windcheater the girls have swooned over.

 Lunchtime arrives and it is back to the Food Court where Ru is ready to eat, but wary. She circles the options and chooses fried chicken and chips of all things after sick tummy. Sa has gyuzo which are leaden and Ro has wanton soup which is nice. 

Then back to the stores....zeitgeist labels, wonderful CVS for makeup goodies and, of course,  into Victoria's Secret for all sorts of bling...Sazi takes to sitting on Mall benches.

That's what the old B does for hours and hours when girls go shopping.

Back at the Hilton Hawaiian Village,  we have time for a swim - and the girls are red hot to be ON Waikiki beach. 

A sea swim. Yes. Good idea.

Sa has never done this. So, we rent a beach umbrella and three sunbeds. It is not cheap. But it is the thing to have done

 Sa and Ro hit the water, feeling the strong pull of the tide. There are a lot of people there and a ridiculous number of water toys. Ru lounges on her sunbed. This is the life. We summon B to bring us drinks. 

Before dinner, we make another olivine stop for Sa . She is now deeply bonded with the jewellers. Perchance, they've never had another customer so much in love with this not precious island stone.

We are given a beautiful table at the Verandah Restaurant for our last night in Honolulu.

The tapers are lit along the beach and the light fades into soft sunset amethysts and ambers through the palm trees.  It's  lovely.  Sa has gone native again and has seared tuna salad.  We succumb to the temptation of dessert and share a delicious sweet treat - in what is to become our naughty ritual for the rest of our trip.

Back in our room, new purchases find their way into the luggage. Packing. One of the downsides of travelling.

The other downside is leaving a beautiful view.

Day 3 - off to Big Island

All four to breakfast. No one wants potatoes…well, Bruce a few. Toast and coffee is good. Cab to the airport and extremely strict and officious security procedure. Plenty of time to stretch a bit and wait unstressed. It is just a 58-minute flight from Honolulu to Kona on Big Island. We all cope fine - travelling with our big blue bags.

 At Kona, the open air airport lounges fascinate the girls. It's very tropical. But it is hot and getting our bus to the Herz rentals depot is agonisingly slow and thwarting. Buses go past us to a zillion other rentals. 

Who knew there were so many?

And, once we finally make it to Hertz, there is the next wait.  Herz seems to be grotesquely understaffed. Queues at the desks. Waitiing, everyone waiting. The staff is polite and upbeat and try not to show their stress. 

We girls find a bench outside and sit and wait, and wait, and wait. Then they can’t find the car
booked for us.Somehow it is not on the lot. So they find an alternative. 

We load it up and set off. It is a lovely big thing but its gears don’t work?!? It won't get out of first gear, so we have to turn around and wait while Herz provides yet another vehicle. For the inconvenience, we are upgraded to a black Cadillac Escalade. 

Nice. Super swanky. But it only just takes our luggage.

At last,  we are off on the road and down through the lava fields we hum towards our holiday resort, Waikaloa Village.

Bruce really loves this strange, black lava landscape and begins tutoring us on its names, character, makeup and history. It's a long, straight road to Waikaloa. Huge silhouettes of volcanoes are capped with cloud. It is not like anything the girls have seen before.

The speed limit changes all the time. And, there is a special lane allocated for athletes in training. Cyclists. There is a big Ironman competition scheduled. Hawaii, it turns out, is home to this quest,

It is six years since Sa and Bruce last were on Big Island and they as astonished at the increase in traffic.

Of course, our room is not ready. Not until 4pm. We came in on a morning flight. Argh. We feel thwarted to be in travelling clothes. We take ourselves to the lovely cafe by the lagoon and dolphinarium for a slow brunch. The girls meet American iced tea. A great US treat, along with iced water on tables without asking. 

Waikaloa is still lovely with people paddle boarding on the lagoon, swimming, frolicking. Two ghastly small children stomp up and down around our table shooing the birds away. Lack of parental supervision, or care. Sa gets antsy. Ru explains the world to her. 

 We go for an exploratory wander up to the point and the Makai pool, which is to be "our" pool at Waikaloa.  We now wear white wrist bands to identify this privilege. We relish the vast sea view, the exotic black lava outcrops and the lines of coconut palms.It is another world.

But it is hot. We are in travel clothes. We have more waiting to do.  Then have the bright idea to catch the resort's canal boat and go round the whole massive complex. The girls head for the shady coolth of the enclosed prow. B and Sa spread out in the comfy outdoor stern

 

.The boat driver sits under a yellow umbrella and the boat chugs lazily along the canal past wondrous bay vistas, groomed gardens, sculptures and grand vacation complexes. It ends up inside the circle towers where the driver leaves us momentarily to relieve himself and then we chug back, chatting to the American woman who now is seated beside us. 

 

The phone pings. The room is ready. We,  of course, have to wait for the boat to get back to our Makai tower where eagerly we find our room. 4315. Lagoon Suite. 

Two rooms, one with king bed and the other with king sofa which pulls out to be a massive bed. No need for added bed here. A second bathroom would be nice. But we have double balcony space, a round dining table for four, fridge, sinks, and coffee maker. This Hilton is as comfy and generous as the Honolulu one was scant, skimpy and sparse. 

And the sound of the waves breaking on the rocks in the bay is our music with the spindly (pigafetta filaris) palms topped with dancing fronds reporting on the movements of the air. What sensitive, frail-looking but remarkably enduring plants these are. Herbs or trees? That is the botanical question.

Our room looks out over the lava-rimmed bay with its rocky outcrops and down to the lagoon where holidaymakers besport themselves on inflatables and paddle thingies.

The round Ocean Tower hotel buildings with their bright green groomed lawns and gardens are in our view way over there along with their sun lounges spread out down a luscious slope, and fantastic giant white marble Buddha sculptures stands brightly on that distant point.  Nice.  

Also part of our view is a rocky point where the waves crash and froth. We look down and see the open-air lunch pavillion restaurant nearby and, since our suite is perched above the dolphinarium, we see part of their pool as they streak to and fro. Oh, and of course, we also look through the palm trees to the vast open ocean, exquisite in its hues of Hawaii blue. It is a pretty fabulous view.

Luggage is brought up and we load drawers and cupboards, connect devices and make the place our own.

Catastrophic bad news as Sa goes down to the activities desk. The Hilton Waikaloa Village Cultural program has been cancelled. No reason is given.

Sa was depending on this for the girls: classes in hula dancing, lei making and ukulele. Cancelled. No reason given.

Sa had even emailed the resort earlier requesting reservations for these classes but had been told it was “first come first served”. Now the entire program is just gone. 

Whaaat?

She is distraught.

The girls not so much.

Dr Retail. We need room supplies. Back to the black Caddy for  a trip to the local shops for provisions, gin and limes at the top of the list.

There are two chic malls nearby - Kings and Queens.   Both quite good and full of Hawaiian specials and Americana. Boutique shopping. Designer stores. 

Kings turns out to be less useful for grocergies. The ourmet grocery in Queens beats it hands down. It has hot and cold meals and fruit and and and.... 

To makelife easy we summon room service for dinner and these days in Waikaloa it is Italian fare with wood oven pizzas. Aubergine lasagne is stunning and the pizzas, way too big, were swooned over with lots kept for cold breakfast. Also it was quick. Cheap, not. Nothing is.

With full tummies, laptops and books and TVs, and even DVDs, we fall into our huge beds.

Day 4 (Thursday Oct 5)

The girls are exhausted. They are cocoon lumps in their vast bed and they don’t want to get up.

We nibble on fruit and leftover pizza and rally the energy to head out in the black Caddy for the big American shopping expedition.

 Walmart here we come.

It is down the lava-plains road from Waikoloa, past the airport.

B sits himself in the Walmart Maccas and we three girls poke around and around and around. Sad to say, it is a tired old Walmart and its stock seems very picked over.  But we find bathing goodies and beauty goodies.  And guns!

The massive Halloween section is the pleasure of the girls. Ro falls in love with the costumes.  Ru with the candy. Much of both is piled into our trollies.Sa finds some bras and the knickers which have replaced the Walmart knickers she loved.

Lunchtime is running out. There is a Denny’s perched above Walmart - with a fabulous sea view across the Walmart carpark. Not that we notice it. Ww

We only have eyes for the Americana menu.

First thrill of Americana family chain restaurant for the girls. Heaping, huge American serves arrive. Hash browns with everything.

 Rosie falls on the ambrosial strawberry crepes. Ru goes pancakes with cinnamon creme. Sa has Mexican and B has full American breakfast. Coffee flows, American style, reminding us what a great custom that bottomless coffee is, and how good brewed coffee is. Sa notes also the ubiquity of glasses of iced water wherever one dines. Australia could use this hospitality courtesy.

Ru wants to step it upmarket from Walmart. She knows stuff. So, we find the Kona Target. It is fabulous. She is right. She knows stuff. We all thrill to its layout, its impeccable cleanliness, its atmosphere and its stock. 

Huge red balls outside denote not only its logo but its special bargains club.  Ru pops into the dressing room and signs up so we are entitled to the new 30 pc discount. Smart cookie. We buy some nice things and enjoy the discount. Trying not to worry about the hideous dollar rate.

Trying to think of an easy dinner, we drive back down the lava-lined roads and return to Queen’s Mall and the Gourmet store for its ready-made meals and buy an assortment which we pick over in the room. Amazing cakes and salads and rich goodies. So hard to keep it simple. Sa gives up the fight comforted by the fact that the the fruit is always good. and never have we had better papaya. Sa and Ro gorge on them. Pity Ru does not like that fruit. But she loves the pineapple. We ain’t low on vitamins.

We're home for sunset. Wow!

We’ve not had much in the way of swims. Too busy shopping in lieu of the cultural program.But, with talk of Esther Williams and water ballet, the girls choose a night swim. Sazi, too. It is lovely and also hilarious.

Day 5. (Fri 6)

The handy resort train rides us to the fabulous buffet breakfasts of Waikaloa in the handsome lagoon breakfast room.

The breakfasts are irresistible. Ru and Ro are discovering all sorts of new temptations as well as old standards. They turn their noses up at the American classic of scones and gravy. That must be the ultimate American naughty.

Sa has a soft spot for the Japanese breakfast which is a soupy white rice congee to which dried ginger, seaweed salty sprinkles, spring onions and assorted savoury morsels are added. 

There’s an omelette bar as well as the usual bains marie of scrambled egg, bacon, sausages, potatoes, fried rice, pancakes etc etc are laid out. Toast and waffle making, every cereal imaginable. Yoghurts and cottage cheese, meats, cheeses, fruits and more fruits… 

The papaya is just the best in the world.

We trot to and fro choosing goodies while life goes on in the lagoon outside the window.

We decide to give the lagoon a go - but everyone else has made the same decision and sunbeds are almost all taken, We need 3 together, The lagoon is very busy and we give up on trying to find a spot.  Instead at the far end of the pool complex, we find a niche. Sa and Ro do the swimming. Ru does the lolling,

We still have shops to explore. Ru has more trouble with her debit card. Best laid plans and all that. Sa’s always ready to step in. Ever was. 

But, stop the presses!  B wants to shop. Over at King's Mall is the Tommy Bahama shop. B gets a new Tommy Bahama shirt every time we are in Hawaii.

This one is gorgeous and he has somewhere special to wear it.

Tonight is the Waikaloa Legends Luau. Best Luau on the island they say.

 Most expensive, too. It cost $1000 to get us four VIP section tickets. 

We arrive early,and get our official photos taken, then queue chatting with American tourists as we wait for the gate to open.

We surge in to get good seats close to the front. Ro and B on one side, Ru and Sa the other. The first of countless free(?) cocktails is offered and our own table server makes sure that we know more drinks are available at our slightest whim. They’re rich, sweet, exotic cocktails and mocktails. Sa is into MaiTais, of course. 

 We’re led to the groaning buffet by table and pretty well overwhelmed by the Luau food:

Island Greens (Carrots, Cucumber, Cherry Tomato, Croutons)

Molokai Sweet Purple Potato Salad with Coconut Flakes

Traditional Big Island Ahi Poke

Hawaiian Sweet Bread Rolls

Entrees

Straight from the Imu “Pua’a Kalua” (Pork)
Schijimi Blackened Seared Island Catch with Sweet Peppers and Citrus Lime Butter Sauce
Huli Huli Roasted Chicken with Pineapple Citrus Soy
Hawaiian Fried Rice
Steamed White Rice
Island Seasonal Vegetables

Desserts are arrayed on another expanse of tables.  Pineapple upside down cake, coconut jelly, chocolate cakes…

The drinks keep coming and the sun goes down. We've come to know our table's neighbours. A fun mining couple from Arizona. He’s on his 7th cocktail.They are wearing green wrist bands denoting that their vacation package is a free drinks special. 

The Hawaiin band is playing. Fabulous band featuring a very versatile female musician. Rosie has her eye on other guests and their table relationships. Everyone has to hug the person beside them. Sa has a weirdo American geek with a man pony tail. He’s spent all this time looking at Japanese comic illustrations.

And so the old Hawaiian MC takes to the stage and the show begins in earnest: theatrical demonstration of opening a green coconut, arrays of hula girls, warrior men, soloists, stories about Hawaiian folklore, dramatisation of the island's regal history with dramatic lighting and lots of spectacular costumes, a bit of down-home patter for birthdays and hneymooners, a serenade by the MC, choreorgaphed fighting, dancing, a little humour in the hula dance of the island cowboys, the drums, the drums, the magical pulsing drums, audience participation in hula dancing, everything leading to the grand climax of fire dancing. Spectacle of high expertise, fire sticks spinning and setting fire to the stage, making fire patterns in the night, wilder and more dangerous, these strong young Hawaiian men.  It’s top stuff.

This is a major professional show and it is all skill and smiles. It is a gift of well-honed expertise they give to the visitors. The huge audience is high, not just on the abundance of alcohol but on the spirit of the night. The girls are at one with it all. They relish it. 

Back in our suite we sit around the table discussing it and coping with the fact that we all look awful. in our official photo and Sazi is not even smiling. Clever Ro gets into some mystery app and transform’s Sa’s serious expression into a smile. And we all smile.

Day 6

We pile down for 8am to see the Dolphin show outside the breakfast pavilion.  Sazi scores a prime window table but B thinks it better to see the dolphins outside. As it happens, no one is altogether impressed. The show consists of  dolphins being slowly swum out to the grand pavilion accompanied in the water by their trainers to do a few small tricks for rewards. 

But, it is  another stunning buffet breakfast.

We explore someof the phenomenal art collection which adorns the passages of the Waikaloa Hilton.

Then, we repair to the suite for some serious laziness. 

The maid is doing the suite  but had enough room done for us to hang out on the balcony…and soon to busy ourselves in social media etc. A lazy morning it is in preparation for an outing in a glass-bottomed boat at Kona.

A Princess line cruise ship is in port and part of the dock is fenced off for the mass of passengers lining up to take the tenders back to the boat.

 A huge cage of them as it happened. Sa had shudders recognising that this is  the intended destiny of the developers messing around with Encounter Bay, 

Our boat is very different.

A felllow in a straw hat, very much the tropical dropout mould of American, checks our bookings and takes us to where the glass bottom boat is to moor. It is just out in the bay, a darling wee wooden boat with two big flags atop it.

We’d taken dramamine in case it was going to be a rocky experience. But, albeit rocky, it is generally rather pleasant.

The boat is manned by three women, one of whom, Amy, is the naturalist tour guide and owner of the boat.

Her father had built the boat in their back yard just up the hill there. It is a charming, solid wee vessel with large open oval windows. Both aesthetic and airy. We sit on padded benches and look down to glass windows showing the seafloor. We are treated to ginger chews, ginger beer and/or peppermints while Amy gives her tour guide patter about the bay, the reef, and its inhabitants.

It is really hard to photograph.

The boat chuggs out over coral outcrops while Amy identifies the bright yellow fish, the black and white ones, the stick fish, territorial males, masses of sea urchins and assorted marine inhabitants spotted by the passengers. Amy keeps the patter going with bad jokes, puns, anecdotes, and some serious knowledge of the marine environment. She is eminently likeable. It is a good experience,except for the fact that, despite the dramamine, Rosie emerges pale and queasy. 

Luckily it does not last.

Sa had managed to book both girls in for mani pedis at Trixx’s salon in Kona. This was a major Hawaii promise.

Nail salons are a bit different in Hawaiii, we learn. They don’t do nail art? 

They will try. 
They really do.

It takes hours.

The girls are bonded with the women.

While the girls are being done, Sa goes to a huge shoe barn in desperate need of emergency shoes. Despite the vast array of shoes, there was only one pair in her size. This she established the hard way by trying on lots of shoes. Sigh. The store was cavernous but, like everywhere in the US, dismally understaffed. One young man looking a bit overwhelmed at the Japanese and Latino customers as well as this Aussie granny. There is a long, long  wait to pay for those beaut Skecher shoes but, oh my, the price is only $15,

A quick pop in to Long’s CVS pharmacy for a couple of things, with the old B patiently waiting and desperate for a pee. Sazi asks the CVS  manager what’s with the lack of loos at this shopping centre. The manager invites B to use the staff loo while she shopped. Thereafter back to the girls who are still in the hands of the two terrific Trixx women. They are well and truly bonded at this point and besporting stunning nail jobs. Finally, finally they are finished and we all returned to Denny’s for more American food. Girls have steak. Sazi has a spicy sizzler thing which she finds a bit dodgy. And then there is a  long night drive home. A very taxing drive in the pitch dark with streams of cars with headlights blazing, some of them on high beam. It was a bit scary. So very glad at last to find the entrance to Waikaloa.

Pop in to the Gourmet store at Queen’s Mall for fruit and snacks and, phew, back to 4315, our Lagoon suite.

Just the girls for the night swim. They know the ropes and they know the rules. Ru knows everything. She now has the whole resort down pat. We are in phone contact. Nonetheless, Sazi waits on tenterhooks. They are back on the dot.

Day 7 (Sunday)

Ah, Waikaloa breakfast. We’re pros now. Everyone is up early without complaint. And down to take the train to the breakfast pavilion. 

Only Sazi is a bit tentative. Her vertigo is back making her rather unsteady and very slow on stairs. Not that it impeded the appetite.  Everyone knows what is where and what changes by the day.

Plates of fruit, eggs, toast, sausages, cereal. Ru comes to grief with a waffle. She won’t be making another one.

We take the the long train home for no good reason and repair to the suite to digest the brekky. B supervises Sazi for an Eply manoeuvre to help with the return of her vertigo. It helps and we Harrises potter down to the one resort gift shop we had not yet explored. Therein are some rewarding goodies for our loved ones, a gorgeous orange frock for Rosie - and another dent in the credit card for poor old Bruce. 

By the time we head for the lagoon, there are no chaises left at all. We walk the length of the lagoon and it is  just impossible. People had actually spread their pool towels on the lawns for lack of sunbeds. Sazi is thwarted. But Ru and Ro are philosophical. We turn around and make our way back to the pool area where things also are overcrowded, with the usual sunbeds claimed but not occupied. So annoying. At the very very far end of the pool we find some seats and put ourselves down, just a bit peeved, but relieved.

 Rosie and Sazi promptly hit the water. Ru lounges. The day is somewhat cloudy so not a burning day. We read our books and feel like real vacationers. Suddenly it is  lunchtime so we go across to the lagoon cafe, perch at a high table and share a plate of fried calamari.

 Thereafter, soft icecreams for Ru and Ro, since this pineapple icecream recipe has cachet on social media.

Ru, who had been increasingly blue, returned to the room leaving Ro and Sa for another swim and a touch more sun. Back in the room, Ru was in deep sleep, perchance thanks to the sun. B had done the laundry for one and all. We came back to find it nicely fluffed and folded. He was in his chair as ever being B.  Ro and Sa did some downtime chores. Ru woke, seeming much restored, and we headed to Queen’s Mall where Ru had lowdown on some amazing closing-down sale at some cult store. Sazi did not much care for the goods and forbade Ru to buy a t-shirt emblazoned with bad grammar. 

Rosie found one of the oddest curiosities.  An eyelash dispensing machine!!!

B had chosen and booked us into Sensei restaurant and, waited upon by one wonderfully capable Yvette, we order an array of Japanese food: aubergine, crispy brussel sprouts, seared tuna, sweet meat and B with pork chops and a Mai Tai for Sazi. 

It was so lovely that we could not resist staying put for dessert, fried icecream and fudge brownie, which were outstandly swoonable. We left in high spirits, replete with excellence.

We four sit about for a while talking politics before the girls go down for their night swim. Sa is always a bit tense and keeps them on a strict clock. And they have kept to it religiously.

Day 8 (Monday)

Girls to breakfast where purple pancakes are the novelty of the day. Purple potatoes reign high here. The pancakes are lovely. 

Bruce skips breakfast and stays in the room with bad bursitis. Suddenly, he is a one-armed man

Lagoon seats…pfft…forget it. 

Back to the pool,where there isplenty of room, especially at the far end where we had settled yesterday. A bit of dappled shade under a palm tree. An easy swim.

Not crowded,  lovely. Sa’s bliss.

 Amusement watching Japanese honeymooners blowing up armbands which they put on top of total coverup pool outfits. Itwould seem to be their first pool experience. Neither of them swimmers. But, oh my, aren't the prepared,

Girls a bit pink so they go up earlier while Sa has 20 mins of  solo sun; chumming up with two nice American scientists from North Carolina.

Practice packing is done to assess the luggage situation and then, B coping well with the pain, we return down the long road to Kona to shop for cabin carry-on bags.

The girls have been keen to see American Costco so, despite some navigational confusion, we join the American crowds to see  the commonality of the massive shop of Costco.

It's hard to find, hidden in its own huge, crowded carpark.

 Ru finds bulk melatonin which is so costly in Oz and we stock up, B on his analgesia. Sa on sarongs, of course. $9. How could she resist? 

And a quick stop at the Ladies. Sa is utterly laid-ack about public looks in the USA. They all come with seat covers. So hygienic. 

Onwards to Target which is in a large shopping centre which also features food and other stores. Panda Express was a quick share lunch. Not the greatest ever.  Bruce to AT&T helps with Ru’s data plan running low. while girls poke around Ross and pick thru their luggage bargains

. Then to Target for the same mission to compare prices. Ru leaps at a pink hard case hugely discounted on clearance because it has a dent. Last-minute gift shopping is done and a long wait is endured for a “pink drink” which is one of those things with TikTok cachet. A sickly milky thing. Sa was to be found been sitting on the wall outside talking to a lovely Filipina woman who has raised her son making jewellery and running a market stand in Hilo. Eventually, we move on. Rosie chooses to return to Ross for a fabulous soft case with golden zipper compartments. 

Ru so thwarted with her debit card. Day after day she has tried to use it to use her own hard-earned money, And day after day it denies her or wants her another pin number. It is not as wave-friendly as Aussie cards. Poor Ru. But in her efforts, she has bonded with a number of traders. She has grace and good manners. I suspect they don't see a lot of that.

Miracle of the lava plains is the wild bouganvillia. It bursts out of the aridity of black lava, defiant in straggles of vivid pink.

The long  road home is  so much easier in the afternoon light. So much traffic. 

But we have familiar landmarks now -and out own lush avenue to the resort. Such glorious Hawaiian trees.

Snacks, drink. dinner booked at Nui Italian in the hotel. 

It turns out to be a serious treat.  Fabulous. No one is dieting on this holiday. We relish everything.

 Black seafood pasta has Sa in a swoon. Ru with pizza, Ro with spag meatballs and B with a huge cheese-slathered schnitty. 

Could we fit in a dessert? Of course.

Happy disorder in our gorgeous rooms which now feel like home and we all fall into bed, albeit for B and Sa to suffer indigestion.

 

Day 9 (Tuesday) Last resort day

Bruce is suffering bad bursitis, He had a really bad night. Damn. His facility for lugging luggage is compromised. Worry.

No one is hungry for the big breakfast. There is leftover  pizza which B wants.  American strawberries and Blackberries which Sa bought at Target - fascinated to find that they are all Driscolls. Driscoll has a world monopoly on berries? Yes it does. The company, Google tells her, began 100 years ago in California and has grown with intentions of being the world’s berry suppliers to have farms throughout the world, all over the US, Europe, South America, Australia… And it has high-profile active policies on modern slavery and human trafficking which, apparently, has been an issue in the world of corporate pickers. 

In our little daily world. the days have been starting with CNN coverage of the Hamas/Israeli horrors. 

Well, maybe not for Ru and Ro, TikTok burbles away with its own information sources.

We go down for a morning sun and swim, like proper resort people.

 We’ve given up on the lagoon. It just does not invite and initial plans to occupy the giant inflatable paddle swan have been dissected to a sense of “blah, you can paddleboat anywhere”. $60 US is saved. We go across the swinging bridge to our fave bit of pool, which is not where the girls do their night swims. But it is relatively peaceul if you don’t count the construction work on the water slide. 

 

The Rs go up to the room after a while and Sa reads her battered Hawaii book before we all meet at the cafe by the dolpin pool. The girls had shown little interest in hands-on dolphin activities and we’ve seen a lot of it from the shore. It has been getting our hackles up a bit.

 So many ga-ga girl trainers whooping when their dolphins do tricks for the customers. The dolpins have decent space but they are definitely prisoners kept in the name of the tourist dollar. For the girls’ age group, they charge up to $1000 for a day’s family with the animals and trainers. The in-pool encounters seem to consist of getting the dolphins to swim upside down in front of the customers who are encouraged to feel the dolphins’ undersides with their hands. There are diverse reactions from the humans and a lot of whoopee from the trainers. The hotel publicity insists the dolphins are an imporant research project.  Cynical Sa is feeling less and less comfortable. Then, she meets a visiting vet by the pool and asks her opinion of the dolphins’ roles at Waikaloa. The American vet is polite but emphatic. They are all about tourism. But they seem healthy enough. The oldest female is in her 50s.

And, of course, they are fabulous to wach at close prioximity - which is this cafe.

We have masses of packing and organising to do.

 But Ru alone has promised to do the art walk with Sa. Sa wants to write about this art collection and the phenomenon of such a massive display of Pacific art. We take the train to the breakfast pavilion and walk down the gallery looking at astounding collections of buddha heads in glass cases. 

Sa takes lots of snaps, albeit reflections are frustrating. There is so so much art that some of the photos are bound to be great. And if anyone takes on her long-planned arts feature, they will only publish a few of the myriad images.  It is absolutely epic. At the end of the property, adjoined by golf links, stands the great white Buddha at Buddha Point. We have to ask diretions to weave our way there through another area of swimming pools and water slides.  The resort is huge. But we get there and ring Bruce asking him to come out onto the balcony to wave to us. We can see him, tiny in his blue T. He is not sure that he sees us and, annoyingly, has not told Rosie.

We wend our weary way back through the complex to rest and finish packing.

Dinner has been promised as a special treat from the upscale restaurant on the opposite point of the property. B and S had been there before and were keen albeit that it is a very costly treat. One dines there open air and watches the sun go down.

They had assigned us a good table. B had a whiskey and Sa ordered a G&T which was oh, so strong, The don't measure their spirits in the US as we do in Oz. Spirits are cheap. So perhaps that is why Sa was so offended by the stupidity of the tall, lanky, middle-aged, loser waiter.

Ru argues that compassion should be shown to anyone who ends up as a hotel waiter at his age. Sa says he should know his job. It is quite an ongoing contretemps.

Anyway, the food is OK. The sun sets over the sea. No one is poisoned. And B tips the dumb waiter despite Sa’s protestations.

Day 10

Despite the big dinner, breakfast could not be resisted by the three Harrises who take the train down to the breakfast pavilion. It is very crowded down there and we have to wait for our names to be called.  At last, Sa gets her eggs benedict.  They have come back on the breakfast specials rotation.

Now comes the crunch and we have an immense amount of luggage, a nightmare now with two cases each. They do not fit in the cadillac. Two cabin bags have to perch between the girls and the mass of excess provisons at Sa’s feet.  But we get off in good time to make the drive across the saddle of the island, noting the fascinating changes in both landscape and vegetation. Cinder cones, lava, grasses, flowering shrubs, wispy trees, coming into a strange jungle of interesting arid plants. Sa manages a Facetime call to Peter from way up there, amid the cinder cones.  And then, the silky smooth road leans into its great downward path to Hilo where all is lush and verdant. Such a dramatic contrast. From lava desert to tropical jungle. And there, beneath the great banyan-like tree with its cascdes of aerial roots, is the Hilo Bay Cafe where B and I dined seven years ago.  B brings up the photo of that day, with me shawled in my yellow sarong with a mug of tea smiling through the pain of shingles. We take a “today” shot in that very place on the balcony where we have been given a table for four. It is hot but there is a lovely view of the vivid blue bay and people besporting upon its waters. B tells of the day when a great tidal wave emptied the bay and returned with a wave 50 ft high, 3 storeys, and wiped out most of the habitation and lots of the people.  We shudder. The girl have mocktails called Bloom. They come in proper cocktail glasses and taste like flowers. They have a fried lunch. The olds have salad. S is coming to the end of her love for raw fish.

We drive into Hilo town which is rather charming, full of souvenir shops and a lively fruit and vegetable market. We potter in a couple of shops, noting all the dope paraphernalia. Marijuana is not legal here but no one seems to care. We buy bits and pieces and are charmed by the friendliness of the shopkeepers. Ru, who has a headache, is distressed by the beggars and homeless. That is the not pretty picture of the USA. We buy mangosteens and rose fruit in the market and a wiry Brit slices open $6 coconuts so the girls can drink them fresh. They are underwhelmed. 

B wants to replenish the gin supply and have a pee so we pop in on Hilo’s Walmart which is a significantly better one than the one in Kona. Good place for a pee, too. Sa is really relaxed with American conveniences because of the loo-seat covers. Why does Australia not have them?

Back into the Caddy for what turns out to be a longish drive to the Volcano National Park.  The roads are very busy. So much more so than seven years ago. Proving its Hilo climatic promise, it rains a bit. When we reach the park, it is noticeably cooler at 1300 meters elevation.

Volcano House seems a bit like a ski lodge with its armchair lounge and year round wood fire burning. Sa is horrified that our booking is for two “standard” rooms. As much as she checked and pleaded with our agent, Volcano House rooms looking at the carpark was not the idea. She was shattered. She regretted using the RAA agent. She recalled the huge USA roadtrip and all the stunning bookings she was able to make through Booking.com and Expedia, her two favourites. She begged for upgrade. These girls have come from Austtraia for this experience. It is a very long way. But, oh, no, this is America and everything is full. Well, there is one room, said the receptionist. It has "a partial view”. Would a like to see it? It is Room 1, directly opposite the allocated Room 2. Sa notes the odd musty smell in the room and looks at the view. It has a decent crater view, partial indeed, but way better than a carpark. She says they will take it. But the girls don’t want it. They like the twin queen beds in Room 2 which is also fresh and fragrant.  Room 1 has a King. There is a lot of “no, you have it….no, YOU have it” and the argument that there is no view at night anyway wins over and the girls happily colonise Room 2 while Sa sets about puzzling over the smell in Room 1.  It is a disabled room. There is even a piece of bed apparatus in it which apparently stops a person from falling out of bed. Never seen its like. The room smells strangely sour, as if all efforts to cover its musty odours have failed, Sa is not good with smells but she always travels with an armament of fragrances. She sprays the Pot Poorie generously, sprinkles cologne on the bedding, etc. She checks to see if the mattress is sour. It has layers of very clean mattress covers under the sheets. And it seems a decent mattress. The safe is locked.  Receptioist  Lisa’s keys open it, but it refuses to to function. Chuck the veteran handyman is sent in to do his magic. He says the volcano is stirring and volcanologists are excited. It could erupt any time - today or in months. No telling.But this ancient smoke-spewing wonder is sending messages that it is ready. 

Volcano House provides Mimosas for new guests. We gather them (not for kids…they are entitled to free cookies) and we take them to the lounge area having absurdly booked for a lateish dinner and sit to watch the video reels of Kilauea’s fiery action over the years. 

The gift shop is the best we have seen. Good retail entertainment. We potter and plan a bit. Irony! Now we have spent up, there is an Aladdin’s cave of  fascinating trinketry? Dammit. And what will our luggage weigh? Dilemmas.  

There is no view now. Cloud has descended over the volcano. Whiteout.

We have to wait for our late booking dinner. They are running behind schedule. Staff shortage is punishing for staff and guests. The staff keep smiling. The menu is strange. For some reason B and I choose roasted marrow bone as a starter.  B has Opa, moon fish, servied on a hodgepodge mound of exotica - celeriac and enoki mushrooms. Both girls wisely have New York strip sirloin steaks with chips, and they clear their plates. My stuffed Big Island chicken is as dry as a nun’s tit. And then we had the holiday treat - the shared dessert, which was beyond heavenly.  Thus sated, we waddle off to our bedrooms up there in the clouds at the rim of the volcano..

Day 11 (Volcano)

Girls skip breakfast after the over-rich dinner.

Sa needs real coffee and discovers the excellent egg chef for a cheese and tomato omelette.

It is the day for volcano learning and exploring. We hit the museum, learning about the natural history environs of the area, the bird life, the plants, the few spiders, the smiley face being one, the few insects but a drosophila which it shows as a huge model. 

Afterwards we explore the rim path walk with its eerily steaming vents. It is a perilous walk with vertical drops on both sides. Sa stressed out, the responsibility of keeping the precious girls safe weighing heavily. No risks, please. Careful. Danger. It is indeed a very perilous path and it could not be a more perilous place. But that is part of the thrill and fascination. We don’t go all the way. Once we have felt the heat of the steam hissing from black holes in the ground, seen the condensation on the plants, realised that there were lots of these steam vents and god knows what, there beneath our feet, we turn back taking in the views of the smoking volcano between the trees and noting the trees perched on the cliff faces,  and the interesting ferns and flowers of the safer part of the path. It's a walk we won’t forget in a hurry. Bruce is explaining the science of it all as we go, so it is a five-star, first-hand on-site lesson on these aspects of the earth’s molten core. But it is not yet done. There is a lava tube to experience. 

 We girls go for early lunch at the Volcano House bar, with a prime window table from which to peruse the restless power of Kilauea. The places from which she smokes and steams vary. The quantities of smoke vary. She has moods and reaches.  We devour our burgers and salads and then hit the road in the black Caddy on the Bruce volcano tour. 

There are bloody traffc james of others trying to see the immediate sites and a very grumpy park ranger telling us off because someone had blocked ”her” carpark. Its the first unplesant national park ranger I’ve met. The problem is not of our making and it was wrong of her to walk down the line of cars and pick on hapless us trapped in the queue.

Liberated, we find a park and look at the crater view of Kilauea Iki and then, thinking the tourists would still be overwhelming, find another park at the next significant attraction and follow the steep path down the hillside to see the Thurston lava tube.

It’s a tunnel. It is underground weird like the Naracoorte caves, no, more like a road tunnel. It is illuminated a bit, but it also is drippy and full of puddles and fairly nasty underfoot. Ruby hangs onto Sazi protectively, and her support is much needed. We go only party way. We get the message. We get the sensation. And B reminds us that we have seen the film footage of just how these tubes are made. What is the process? Firming of the surface layer over a river of lava. Later the source ceases and the inside runs out, leaving a hollow tube down the mountain.

 Next, we take the chain of craters road and discover that there is indeed a chain of ancient craters , various in their shapes and sizes.  We pile out of the car to gaze into several and then become a bit ho hum about them, seen one, seen ‘em all. It’s not quite true and they are all definitely rather scary. But the climate is hot and swiftly induces lethargy. We drive through different lava fields,  Ru and Rosie being tested as to whether they are a'a or pahoehoe. 

A'a is rough and rocky. Pahoehoe is sheeted and layered with smooth surfaces and is significantly more beautiful. 

This whole side of the island is cascading lava fields and the road winds through elbow bends down down down to the sea where there are lava plateaux on the water and, of course, the lava which in the odd millennia will become new fertile land.  It is a long, vertiginous drive, the sort that makes Sa nervous, but it is a dramatic revelation of the might of lava flows.

Down at sea level, where the air is heavy again, we turn around eschewing the petroglyphs people are traipsing across the lava to peruse. The B tour is strictly science, kids. And it is hot out there.

The drive back up the mountain shows the flows in another light. We are all getting zoned into lava. It is a spectacle like nothing else, a fascinating design up on mountainsides complete with occasional striking islands of miraculously spared mature forest, called kipukas by the Hawaiians, says B

Back at Volcano House, Kilauea is still simmering away. Lazily ominous.

And then the cloud descends again.

There is a constant stream of visitors arriving to see the volcano. A zillion people of all ages and nationalities have done selfies there on the wall outside Volcano House. It is fun to watch. Some are touring the national park and some are coming to stay in Volcano House. Some, especially the very elderly,  come with tour guides. They all pass through the viewing room with its big wicker chairs, and exclaim. It is a “Wow” moment. When the volcano is in white-out, it is sad to witness their disappointment. 

We dine early in the bar. Burgers and steaks and another luscious shared dessert.

It’s a big packing and organising night. Ro has tipped her suittcase contents on the floor in search of something. Sa starts to fret about her needing help with it but Ru is on the job. Ro has had a few other problems.  She’s had a sore, red ear. B thinks it may be a brewing boil. We prescribe hot flannel compresses. Poor kid. She also comes up with an itchy rash. It looks like a heat rash. Sa applies cortisone cream.

Day12

A simple breakfast. Fruit and toast and eggs. 

Luggage.

The black Caddy struggles to accommodate it all, but B finds a way to lessen the back seat load so it is roomier for the girls on the road back down to the coast. Everything is a long way but the traffic is not so manic on this part of the island and we pass through some lovely tropical villages, one of which is having a craft market on the green. We stop and explore it. It is very new-age with soaps and oils and healthy aromatics, home-dyed clothes, jewellery, and even local fruit.  The people are lovely. It is a nice window into Hawaiian communities which comprise people who have come to live here from all over,  especially mainland USA. We meet a long-term local with her fruit stand. Girls eat a local mandarin. Sa buys a passionfruit. And also lovely island fragrance distilled by an Estonian woman, another long-term local. And we drive on through increasing habitation to our destination for this one last night - the Outrigger in Keauhou, Kona. There was a major issue getting accommodation for this last night and our RAA agent could only do it for thousands of dollars.  Sa found the Outrigger on booking.com and it is a triumph. We swoon and wish we had proper time here. The charge us $50 for early checkin and kit us out with the best room keys ever, ones which one wears on the wrist. The answer. Waterproof for swimming. We have complimentary valet and service and a 4th floor 2-room family suite with two entrances two baths, and two balconies. Garden, sea and mountain views; simply gorgeous. While B fills the car we girls find the poolside cafe and order lunch, noting that one section of the resort’s huge pool is reserved for adults only.  Ro wishes she was 21 because she is destined to the other pool. But it’s no hardship. We stick together. Girls have naughty fried lunch with chips. S and B have Caesar salads which are just about as rich with their parmesan and dressing. We walk the superbly manicured grounds with their flower-laden frangiapani trees. Everyone takes a rest. The girls are really happy with their private balcony which is even in the sun. The resort is big and needs some getting to know. but Ru is a natural navigator and leads us back to the pool area for swim buddies Sa and Ro to have a swim.  It is not crowded. How refreshing, So was the ice-cold complimentary pineapple served poolside. They take their time. It is their longest swim. Ru lolls expertly and then accompanies Ro to discover where to get on the water slide. Whoosh! They found it.

The resort has a clubroom for guests and we are apparently members. Sa is welcomed with a big tote bag gift. Free snacks and drinks are provided.  We pick at the options and sit out on a deck overlooking the sea. B goes to town and loads his plate, making a complete meal of the assembled appetisers. We try a bit, but Sa wants a real meal, We linger there watching the red-capped sparrows and the grand old sunset. Our last Hawaiian sunset. It is lovely. B posts a photo on FB. 

Finding the hotel restaurant is a challenge but we do. It is large and dimly lit. There’s Hawiaian live music at one end, really good. Even a dancer. Soup of the day is carrot and ginger. Sa goes for it. B for seafood chowder. Ru has chicken fingers and chips while Ro felt she could not leave the USA without trying a cheese melt. The soups are not hot and the waitress replaces them and offers a free dessert as an apology. We choose a creamy macadamia towering treat of a thing, our last ritual shared dessert. Divine.

Packing and bed, Early start for the airport. Sigh.

Day 13

Even the melatonin kids are up before sparrowfart. Departure day. None of us has slept much. 5.30 is our exit time and the valet fails to front to take the cases. We lug them down ourselves and the valet helps load the Caddy. We’ve given ourselves goodly time which is just as well because the famous Ironman competition is happening and roads are all sectioned off with cones and no one is driving. We are the only car. In some places, people are walking on the roads. 

But the mood is laid back with crowds growing along the route of the race. Finally, police direct us off this course and onto another which ends up being the main road to the airport. B drops us at departure and takes the car back to Herz. We find a woman booking passengers through the luggage and ticketing process for tips and take advantage of it. Suddenly, we are ticketed thru to Adelaide, albeit we have a night to spend in Sydney.  The airport wait seems epic. Hurry up and wait, We buy the girls a pizza and for their parents some Mongoose brand Kona coffee. Very expensive. But we knew that. 

It’s a short hop to Honolulu - just over an hour. But a scarily short turnaround in Honolulu, until we get there and discover that the protocols are less complicated and the airport is efficient.

Officials have been very nice to us throughout. Hawaii is definitely the place to enter and leave the USA.