Middle of the ocean.

Hawaii was marvelous, it exceeded all my expectations for paradise. We stayed with Pax Industria and his parent’s lovely home on a hillside overlooking Honolulu, temperature in the low 80’s with a cool breeze off the ocean every day. The ocean is a luscious 70 degrees, morning, noon, and night. The water, oh the water. It’s salty out there in the middle of the pacific, which stings the eyes and tongue a tiny bit but makes you so buoyant it’s effortless to float and swim. I’ve never been much of a water person, but out there feels like this is where we come from, this is where we want to be. On the East Coast, the ocean might give you the salt buoyancy but it’s so cold it hurts to go in, Walden Pond freshwater gets almost warm by the end of summer but it takes so much work to not drown. That’s the key difference: in New England, the water wants to kill you. In Hawaii, the water just wants to give you a big hug, the ocean loves you.

Well, feels like the ocean loves you until you find yourself on the business end of an 8-foot crashing wave. That’s another glorious thing about Hawaii – the waves get BIG. Eight-to-ten-foot swells are considered “small” on the north shore of Oahu, and they’ll tumble you head over heels in an instant. You quickly learn to read the waves, judge when to ride the swell or dive to avoid the roaring freight train of water, if you get it wrong you can get hurt. Now this is my kind of fun.