Manini Beach 1 August 2017

Awoke too early, buzzing about a travel day; packed and ready to go half an hour ahead of plan ...so the rest of the day was easy: a leisurely Stromboli (delicious bread stuffed with egg, potatoes, and, I think, Laulau (taro leaves), the what passes for rush hour on Kauai, gas up across from the sadly defunct Hanamaulu Cafe and Teahouse, tussle with TSA, and the the Island Show.

We saw 'em all: Oahu, featuring Waikiki Beach (as close as I want to get!), Kaluapapa where my great-Auntie Helen was Big Nurse for decades, Maui's Haleakala above the clouds ... and then we were wheels down on the Kona side of the Big Island of Hawaii.

Kailua-Kona is rapidly Honolulu-izing itself -- we have noticed this happening each time we return. Now the necrosis has extended well up Hualalai, almost to Keahole Airport, and up toward Captain Cook as far as Holualoa. 

We negotiated our way through the metropolis to Jackie Ray's Ohana Grill, where we were hanaied into the ohana and served food like we get on our planet, only with an Island slant. 

Kalua pig spring rolls with a tangy pineapple sauce, Chicken tacos, and an Island salad. Set us up for the rest of the day!

Chad, Lindsey, and the girls, reportedly fully charged, are flying home tonight as I write this. Safe travels! This is their submitted departure selfie from Lihue International.

A bit of shopping at the Keauhou KTA, and then up through a changed uplands and Captain Cook. A lot of old favorites gone (but not forgotten), a lot more commercialism. More stoplights! an actual intersection at the top of Napo'opo'o Road, including a finally (after 16 years) complete Ali'i Drive (and a stoplight) ... and then the same old windy narrow descent through the coffee plantations to the broad Bay of Kealakekua, Captain Cook's grave shining white across the water.

Our primitive little place about 100 yards from Manini Beach is as different as possible from the Anini Beach place -- except for the mosquitoes. Rochelle is in the semi-outdoor kitchen, preparing our nightly salad -- we are back on French Rules, big meal at lunch. "I feel like I'm at Albert's in Fiji," says she laughingly -- I am so glad about that. Then adds, "except they cooked for me..."

I reek of Skin So Soft (insect repellant) but I don't think I've been bitten for at least an hour.