Thursday, March 19, 2009

Silkenvoice's Hawaiian Vacation


A beautiful land, Hawaii, and bittersweet in memory. Three I loved and shared it with are gone. And yet, new memories were made with my lover: walking arm-in-arm along the beach during sunset, escaping into the aquarium during a rainstorm, and making love in our corner room with the curtains open and the skyscrapers like multi-eyed seamonsters crowding around. Peeking in.

It was a long flight to Hawaii. We entertained ourselves under those thin airline blankets, bodies leaning into each other, hands teasing, caressing, tweaking. The rental car was a Mustang convertible that we drove along the Nimitz Highway, my hair protected from the wind by a black scarf, my sensitive eyes covered by dark glasses. My companion said I looked like someone's mistress. I wanted to get to the hotel, check in, and fuck--6 hours of sensual teasing had me horny enough to hump the stick-shift.

"Find some place to eat," he said as we put the airport behind us. "Preferably sushi."

Evil. Pure evil. I pulled out my iPhone and checked Yelp for the highest rated sushi place. A small hole in the wall restaurant not a half-mile from our hotel. So we stopped there on the way, and had some very good sushi. I really enjoyed the roll with the butterfish and miso. It was the most subtle sushi roll I've had to date, with a clever meshing of flavours and textures. Sublime, really.

We checked in to the hotel, a 16th floor corner room. I stripped and showered, washing away the canned air. While he showered I pulled the curtains open, exposing about 30 feet of glass. The room looked north into the hills above Waikiki, toward the Punchbowl Crater, and west up along the length of the beach. A superb location, adjacent to the zoo and the aquarium, at the far east end of Waikiki. I opened the slatted windows for fresh air and crawled onto the bed. I wanted a nap and a quickie and I got them both, though not in that order.

Night came quickly and found us walking on the beach, enjoying the warm moist air and the merry people. The sand underfoot reminded me of the times my sisters and I had built sandcastles on that beach. The water, such an amazing blue-green colour, reminded me of my kama'aina mother, who we had made a part of this ocean, and my sister's ashes still in San Francisco waiting to join her. Soon, I promised mother-ocean. Baby-sis must be here, too, to help me pour the ashes in.

Eventually, the double-vision of past and present faded, and with it, the sadness. It is difficult not to be in a good mood in paradise.

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