Notes from a Spinning Planet—Papua New Guinea (2 page)

It's 1:48
P.M.
when we touch down in Honolulu-Hawaii time, that is, which I understand is two hours earlier than Pacific Daylight Time. Still, I don't readjust my watch yet. Why bother? I observe some of the other passengers standing up and cramming themselves into the narrow aisles as they pry pieces of luggage out of the overhead compartments. It's actually kind of funny. Like, what's the hurry? The doors aren't even open yet. But they eagerly stand there with their bags and purses and briefcases and things, just waiting. It reminds me of our cows back home when its close to feeding time. They'll simply line up and wait and wait. Sometimes they'll wait a couple of hours. Finally the passengers begin slowly moving toward the exit. They still remind me of cows as they amble along. It's all I can do to keep from mooing as they go past. Or maybe it's just Hawaii envy. I really should grow up.

“You ready?” asks Sid suddenly. Then she closes her laptop and slips it into her briefcase.

“Ready for what?”

“To get off the plane.”

“Really?” I say hopefully. “We can get off?”

“Yes,” she says. “Didn't you hear the flight attendant say that we can get off here if we want while they clean up for the next flight?”

“No.” I look around and notice that a lot of passengers are remaining in their seats. But maybe they've set foot in Honolulu before.

“I guess you were asleep,” she says as we stand up. “The layover is at least two hours.” She stands and reaches for her carry-on. “Oh yeah, if we get off, we're supposed to remove our carry-on items too. It's a security thing.”

So we both get our carry-on pieces and exit the plane. I have to admit it feels so great to stretch my legs, and at least now I can honesdy say that I've really been in Honolulu, even if it's only the airport. Katie will be impressed.

“Hey, do you think I have time to find some postcards?” I ask. “Or do we have to stick around here, close to the plane?”

“I think you have time,” she says. “Let's walk this way.”

So we walk for what seems quite a ways through the terminal, going past lots of gates, and the next thing I know we've gone right past the security check too. “Aunt Sid,” I say, “we've gone too far! Now we'll have to go back through security.”

She laughs. “Not today, we won't.”

“Huh?”

“Happy birthday, Maddie!” She unzips her carry-on and pulls out a slighdy rumpled paper lei, then puts it around my neck and gives me a big hug. “Aloha, sweetie, and welcome to Honolulu!”

“What?”

“We're staying in Honolulu, Maddie.”

“What about Papua New Guinea?” I ask with concern. And,
okay, this seems pretty weird, because I was beginning to dread going to our final destination, but now I'm suddenly worried that this is it-that we're not going any farther than Honolulu! As much as I want to see Hawaii, I don't want to miss going to New Guinea.

“Oh, don't worry,” she tells me. “This is just a little layover. A birthday surprise for you. I didn't really want you to miss your birthday as we flew over the International Date Line.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Yes. We have two days to do whatever we please in Honolulu. And then it's back on the plane and off to the other side of the planet.” She smiles at me. “So you really do want to go to Papua New Guinea after all?”

“Of course!”

We collect our checked bags and get into a hotel limousine, which takes us to a very cool hotel right along Waikiki.

“Swanky,” I say as we go into a very luxurious room that overlooks the beach.

“Swankier than the inn in Clifden?” she teases.

I mentally compare this place to our ocean-view digs in Ireland. “You know, they're both swanky in their own way.”

She nods. “I'm glad you can appreciate a variety of cultures.”

“I'm learning.”

She tosses her bags onto one of the queen-size beds and stretches her arms. “Ah, this is just the kind of break I need right now.”

“Man, am I glad you told me to pack a swimsuit,” I tell her as I look out the window to see tall palm trees and white sand and miles and miles of varying shades of bright aqua blue water.

“Ready to hit the beach?” she says.

“Woo-hoo!”

We change and gather our beach stuff, then make a quick exodus to the seaside, where I splash around in the energetic waves, which are surprisingly warm and nothing like the chilly Pacific in Washington State. I even let a couple of friendly guys give me some tips on body surfing, which is way harder than it looks. And finally, feeling totally relaxed and happy, I flop onto a towel next to my aunt and soak up the last rays of afternoon sun.

I could so get used to this!

W
e rent a car for our second day, also my birthday, in order to tour Oahu, the island where Honolulu is located. I've learned that the major Hawaiian islands are Kauai, Oahu, Molokai, Lanai, Maui, and Hawaii (the biggest), but there are lots of other, smaller islands too. They're all part of a volcanic mountain chain, and if we had more time, Sid said we could take a helicopter tour of one of the active volcanoes and see some red-hot, bubbling lava.

But I'm cool with seeing the island via this light blue Sebring convertible. We've got the top down, and I wish I could drive, but, alas, even though I'm twenty, I'm still too young to drive a rental car.

“Want to do the typical tourist things today?” asks Sid as we drive out of Honolulu. We've already packed our swimsuits, towels, and snorkeling gear that we rented from a shop by the hotel.

“Since I've never been here before, it's all new to me,” I tell her. “What would you recommend?”

“There are some things that are worth seeing, like Diamond Head, which isn't too far from here. And then there's Iolani Palace, which we might want to save for tomorrow since it's not far from the hotel and it'll be short day. There's the Polynesian Cultural Center and, of course, Pearl Harbor and the USS
Arizona
Memorial.”

“It all sounds good to me/' I tell her, leaning back in the seat and looking out at the view, which is so different from the Washington farmland Im accustomed to seeing every day.

“Naturally, we'll fit in some snorkeling. I remember snorkeling on a reef on the West Shore, Makaha Beach Park, about ten years ago. As I recall, it was pretty nice. We could hit that in the afternoon.”

“Are you sure I'll get the hang of snorkeling?”

“You're a good swimmer, Maddie. I don't see why it should be a problem. And we've got those vests to help keep us afloat. I think we'll be fine.”

“What about sharks?”

She laughs. “I don't think we need to worry.”

So we stop at Diamond Head, and the view from up here is really stunning. I still can't believe how crystal-clear the water is. The ocean reminds me of a giant jigsaw puzzle, but all in gorgeous shades of blue. I take some photos, but I'm not sure they'll show the true beauty. Then we stop at the Sea Life Park and check out the dolphins and other sea animals before we head up the East Shore toward the Polynesian Cultural Center, which is really pretty interesting even if it is kind of touristy. It's a good way to see what old Hawaii was like, to pick up some history and sample some traditional Hawaiian foods, which are incredibly yummy.

We drive on around the north side of the island, taking a nice break at Sunset Beach, where we watch some surfers doing their thing. We cool off in the water, then catch some sun and a little rest.

“So how are things with Ian?” I ask Sid as wè relax on the beach. I've been dying to ask her this since yesterday but didn't want to
appear overly eager. Ian McMahan was my aunt s “true love” when she was about my age. They parted ways back in the seventies but then met up again just a couple of months ago while we were visiting Ireland. I had a little something to do with it, so naturally I'm interested in hearing how it s going.

“We're staying in touch,” she tells me as she turns over onto her stomach.

“Uh-huh?”

“We e-mail pretty regularly…”

“And?”

“And…we'll see…”

Okay, I'm thinking if I'm going to become a good journalist, I'll have to improve my investigative reporting skills. Still, there's time. I remind myself that Sid and I are spending two and a half weeks together.

“And how's Ryan?” my aunt asks as she rolls over and peers at me from beneath her oversize dark glasses.

I just shrug. “You should know,” I say offhandedly. “You've practically adopted him as your surrogate son, haven't you?”

She laughs. “Of course. But how are things between you and Ryan from your perspective, Maddie? I got the distinct impression that you were interested in him just as we were leaving Ireland. Was there anything to that?”

I shrug again. “I don't know.”

“He told me you guys have been e-mailing each other too.”

“Yeah. He's been encouraging me to transfer to the University of Washington. For journalism.”

She chuckles. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”

“I figured you'd think so since its your alma mater.”

“It's a good school, Maddie. And, as I've said before, if you need to pinch pennies, you could stay with me in Seattle.”

“Well, I've been seriously thinking about it, Sid.”

“About ready to get off the farm?”

I sigh. “Yeah. Ever since we went to Ireland, I've been thinking it's time for me to step out and try something new.”

“How do your parents feel about it? Wasn't the plan for you to move on after finishing your sophomore year?”

“Yeah, but I think they understand. Community college might be good for saving money, but the classes aren't all that challenging. I've already looked into transferring to the university for winter or spring semester.”

“Cool.”

“I heard it's easier to get in then since fall is when everyone else is trying to enroll.”

“Makes sense.”

After a litde snooze, we pile our stuff back into the car and head on around to Makaha Beach Park, where I snorkel for the first time. Sid gives me some lessons, reminding me again and again to “just relax.”

“Focus on breathing through your mouth and relaxing,” she says. “And don't think about it too much, or you'll psych yourself out.”

We go out a ways, and I do see a few fish, which are amazing, but the waves are pushing me around, and I manage to gulp down enough seawater to take the fun out of it.

“We'll have to find a calmer spot,” she tells me after I fall down
in the surf several times while trying to remove my flippers and extract myself from the waves. I'm
???
no one has a camera, since I must look like a total dork. Im sure I have about a pound of sand in my swimsuit too.

“It was actually kind of cool for a little while,” I tell her, “but kind of overwhelming too.”

“We'll go to Hanauma Bay tomorrow,” she says. “Its close to Honolulu, and it s supposed to be spectacular. Plus there's not much wave action.”

“Sounds good.”

We drive on around the island, finally stopping at Pearl Harbor and going onto the USS
Arizona
Memorial, which is sort of eerie and fascinating,
%
ghostly white structure that hovers over the place where the USS
Arizona
was sunk. Its hard to believe that eleven hundred young men about my age were killed here-or that their bodies are entombed in the sunken ship, which was attacked by Japan during World War II. There are a couple dozen other people at the memorial, but I notice one elderly woman in particular. Her hair is snowy white, and she's hunched over. She uses her walker to slowly navigate her way to a place where she can stand by herself. There she removes a lei of purple orchids from around her neck, then drops it over the side. She leans over and watches as it tumbles down and lands in the water. I can't help but wonder if her sweetheart was lost here. Was it a husband, boyfriend, nance? Obviously it was someone dear to her. I can see it in her face.

Sid and I don't say anything as we leave the memorial. But I suspect she was just as touched as I was by the elderly lady.

“We better get a move on,” she says as she starts the car.

“What's the hurry?” I ask.

“We have dinner plans,” she says with a mysterious grin. “Remember, it is your birthday, Maddie.”

“Oh yeah.”

So we go back to the hotel, and after a shower and short nap, Sid tells me to put on something nice but comfortable. Then we head downstairs and outside to where the sun is jüst going down and tiki torches are being lit. Music is playing, and something smells delicious.

“It's a luau,” Sid tells me, “for your birthday.”

“They're having a luau for my birthday?” I say in astonishment.

She laughs. “Actually, they were already having a luau, but it was sold out. Then when I told them it was your birthday, they decided to make room for two more.”

“Cool!”

The food is incredible. The fruit is awesome-I've never tasted things like papaya or mango, but I totally love them. And the pineapple is amazing. But it's the
kahuaptuia
that really knocks my socks off. Basically it's pork that's cooked in a pit with seasonings, and it's fantastic. I wish my dad, the barbecue king, could learn to do pork like this. But there's more going on than just food. The music is great, and the fire dancing is spectacular, although this old dude at our table, who seems to know everything, explains that the whole fire thing isn't an authentic Hawaiian tradition but something they only do for tourists. Whatever. I think it's cool. Then I'm invited up to the front for hula lessons, which I'm not half bad at, and I'm only slightly embarrassed when everyone sings “Happy Birthday” to me.

“Isn't this a little better than losing August 9 as we cross the International Date Line?” Sid asks as they bring the dessert.

“Thanks so much,” I tell her. “This is a birthday I'll never forget!”

The next morning we get up early to go snorkeling at Hanauma Bay, which is totally awesome. It s like swimming in a giant saltwater aquarium. Without the wave action knocking me around, I get the hang of snorkeling fairly easily this time. I never knew there were so many different kinds of fish (they say there are more than four hundred species here!), and we even follow a great big green sea turtle for a while. Very cool.