Friday, October 16, 2009

Honolulu in October

A L O H A!
Welcome to the Beach at Waikiki

click on photos if you care or dare
Torch & Tanker in the Gloaming



“The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere;
the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling;
vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”

John Muir






Every No-Where Spot Has It's Charms When You're Roaming.





Optimist: Person who travels on nothing
from nowhere to happiness.”
Mark Twain






Still Mourning WWI Dead.

Dated & Devoted.





“Nowhere to fall but off, Nowhere to stand but on.”
Benjamin King





My Waikiki News column is called Walking in Waikiki - but I haven't done NEARLY enough walking-about lately.
Guess It's time to tell you all about October in Honolulu. . .




You see, October is a hot month here.
No one talks about it, though kama`aina (longtime locals) quietly plan vacations for this time of year.



You might even say that it's the cruelest month.




Usually, a generous North Pacific (weather) High ushers cooling Trade Winds our way. But it can wobble and dematerialize as the globe juggles
Summer and Winter. Bully typhoon lows are brawling too near Asia, sometime shoving our laid back surfer High aside.





At such times the trades disappear, and a land/sea breeze regime marches in:
As our (is)land heats up in the day's sun, the air expands and rises, conjuring afternoon clouds.
Cooler oceanic air, thus invited, rushes ashore for a sailor's day-leave, bringing contagion of salt funk and humidity; Pressing smudgy fingers over every innocent blossom in our harbor town; Besmirching our snappy crispness with unseemly sweat.





Then as the island cools in the early evening, the air mass overhead contracts and sinks, pouring down off the mountains and carrying earthy, forest essences rushing past us on their way out to startle the creatures of the sea.





And Madame Pele, the volcano goddess
who formed these islands,
continues her work on the latest, the "Big" island of Hawaii;
There pouring lava, accompanied by haze.
Vog, we call it,
and when Kona winds prevail they bring this grey sister to wreathe our mountains and tickle our throats.




Some say that Kona winds derange human moods and tempers. Vog snears at our science, chasing us indoors with headache tiaras, there to pray at the altar of local weather acolytes, Imploring of the Trades, blessed Trades(!)
When will they return, like a wayward puppy?
Instantly to be forgiven,
and making everything PERFECT again.





But the cruelest month?
How dare I be so ungrateful for my place in paradise!





Well, childhood is the loam we each bloom from every day,
and mine well remembers flaming leaves,
the celestial voices of Canada geese like angelic carillons on high, the smell of burnt leaves, and crisp apple cider.





In short, I carry in my heart an ideal Fall season
of New York City Sundays
and New Hampshire peaks,
of cheddar at it's moment,
and the Village Halloween Parade.
Nights of whispy clouds part-veiling the huge spooky face of an orange moon; Days when anything seems possible (even epoch-ending terrorism) and the unholy pagan spectacle of "Christmas" promises respite from harsh realities
(if only for a few weeks).





So yes, cruel, very cruel: October here in Waikiki.
Just as my soul expects cool new clothes and opening nights, the sweat hogs thrust their dripping snouts into my hand
and laugh.





But I'm preparing my revenge, weeks, mere weeks away!
When mainland snows of childhood frenzy
turn from ethereal beauty to the black slush of winter despair,
Then shall I be cooling on the brow of a friendly Trade,
as all the sea sparkles compete in concert
to dazzle the happily fried brains of us beach people.
Another juice! A bubble tea! A shave ice!
And here comes Santa in a canoe!





Revenge?
Yes, I'll have mine. For even "paradise"
is perfect in it's turn-






“I have become a queer mixture of the East and the West, out of place everywhere, at home nowhere.”
Jawaharlal Nehru





A L O H A, My Friends! Cloudia