to Po’ipu we will go to sunbathe with critters on the tombolo

A week ago tonight, we still had fifteen minutes to go on our flight back to Seattle from Kaua’i (5 hours and 48 minutes: With a 16 month old, that normally translates to hella-eternity but luckily Oliver Fern was a relative angel). At the time I was rosy-cheeked and glowing from an understatedly lovely trip but at the same time homesick and glad for the first faint orange dots of Puget Sound City thousands of feet below.  The plane landed at Seatac shortly before 10:00 PM. Luckily the boys were sort of on Kaua’i time (two hours behind) which means they were far more chill and lucid than you’d normally expect at such a witching hour.

I really do miss Kaua’i, already. Ten days away from home is a long time for me so I don’t necessarily wish I was exactly still there but it’d be nice if I had a beloved uncle or aunt (even a total stranger would do) on the island who was leaving messages on my phone every other day, begging us to return sometime soon. I took this picture on a super-rainy day for the south shore. At the time we were strolling around (Old) Koloa town, Oliver and I had branched off on our own. We sought shelter from the rain under the covered boardwalk that fronts the main row of village shops. This was the first sugar plantation town in all of Hawaii and i was pleased when Oliver and I crossed the street to investigate a weird-looking bird to discover the dirt-and-grass lot was the former site of a sugar mill, a fact surely escaping half of the mainlanders who pass through Koloa on their way to Po’ipu. Low and sprawling along the south shore, Po’ipu is heretofore where we’ve always stayed on Kaua’i and it’s just a few minutes south from Koloa. I don’t find its resorty atmosphere overly oppressive but it certainly doesn’t offer much charm in the village-sort-of-way. Po’ipu strikes me as the Oakland of Kaua’i in that there’s not really any there……. there. The best “there” that I can really tell is Po’ipu Beach and the little spot on the tombolo in front of our apartment where the overly-serious looking volunteers practically daily pay out rope and stakes in a wide quadrant around either sea turtles or monk seals so idjits from Orange County and Belgium don’t walk up and sit on the critters for their vacation photos.  Koloa and Po’ipu are separate, but they’re so physically close together in the south shore nexus that in my mind I think of going to Koloa as “heading into town” (such as for a pizza from Pizzetta after the boys are safely asleep).

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