rafael pyton

We never left house without our rental PT Cruiser, which thrilled us to bits at first. Then it was quickly named the Gay Cruiser by the locals, who we met at infamous waterhole Tahiti Nui.

By the by, did you know that Jackie Kennedy the ultimate icon herself went to Tahiti Nui back in the day? We thought that was way cool, so we also went. Many many times. The bands were a’shaking, the rum and cokes abundant, and the action sweaty, sweet and sour.

In any case, the Gay Cruiser was a Mexican dog. The lights kept flashing on the dashboard, it kept cutting out, and a couple of times it stalled in the middle of very narrow mountain roads. Usually at the moments when a jacked-up Chevy rode our tail, and barely managed to brake before it would have plunged us off a very steep cliff. So, after coming close to death on too many an occasion, we took it back to Thrifty. They gave us a new one - in burgundy…

Well, in its defense, Gay Cruiser number 2 got on with the business of working properly. And if you pressed the pedal hard, it made a lot of noise, which is better than quiet. It didn’t go, though.
Obviously, we didn’t ride in style in comparison with the locals. Look at that evil ol’ Blazer in the back… creepiest thing I ever saw. Confusingly, sort of cool at the same time.

Of coz, that’s just something the cat dragged in. You ain’t nuttin’ on Kauai, unless you have a flippin’ big blacked-out pimped-out latest Silverado, jacked-up beyond belief, running treads the size that would shame a Massey-Ferguson, couple of surfboards in da back, V8 rumbling impossibly loud. Holy haole, get the hell out of their way. You thought surfers were nice laid-back dudes, right? Pah. Local surfers are angry animals, always looking to bite the hands that feeds.

My Madli Loewe and the Pacific Ocean. Two equally potent beings.

At Ke’e beach, where the road ends, everything ends. The almighty voodoo chicken god has laid its precious golden egg of light and life, but satanic gravity sucks it down-down-down into darkest buxom of abyss. All’s over.

Final words: Watch it with the one you love. I did.

And then… and then a big catamaran took us to the famous Na Pali coast. Think birthplace of King Kong, and you’re not far off. It is an explosion of fairytale land that rises from the ocean, and it smacks you on your head in furious inspiration…

Capt. Andy (no kidding - we have the t-shirts to prove it) proved to be a masterful skipper. We snorkled with supersized sea turtles…

We raced a bunch of crazy dolphins…

And, best of all, the biggest creatures of the seas put on a whale of a show…

A huge whale makes a pretty nice splash from a somersault, I’ll tell you. Not easy to get these puppies on camera, as they just pop out from the blue rough - but Madli has a stellar trigger finger and a seventh sense…

What a day da-dum-di-dum. However, it could have been awful, had we not been forewarned by an old leathery lady. Smug as bugs we had popped plenty of Dramamine to take the edge of the big - BIG - waves - see, the winter sea at Na Pali is completely outrageous, and most had not been so thoughtful. Pale shadows of people were puking left and right. Me, I was tipping back the brewskies and laughing all the way to harbour…

Picture: I don’t know what I’m thinking, but it should be good. My favorite state of mind is being completely lost in reflection. That, friends, is what I call the sweet spot.

You know, the flight here was not all bad. Flight socks rocks, keep the melons away. And when the final hop from LAX to LIH was reasonably empty, we stretched out like corpses and slept the last 6 hours. Never been that fresh after a 25-hour flight before.

Oh, it was jungle dark when we arrived. The sweaty tropical rain fell on us. And the car we rented turned out to be a Pronto Cruiser… hilarious! Somehow, a car that is completely ridiculous everywhere else in the world, feels like the nose your face here.

The sound the waves make in the middle of the night… heartstopping. They are out to get you, loud and angry and and… mesmerizing. I go weak at my knees.

We reached our house. We did not find the key. Frustration set in. Holler and yell. No signal on cell phone. Strange noises from the jungle. After much ado, we found some keys behind another door. One of them fit. But the door did not open. It was blocked from behind.
My fearless girlfriend busted down the door with a drop kick. Kaplam! We were in. The door had been secured by a chair - someone was in the house.

Finally someone answered our “juuhuu, anybody home”. A small family had locked themselves into the bedroom in mortal fear of our violent entrance. It took awhile, but we managed to convince them that we were not serial killers. A slight mix-match of dates - we had arrived one day early, apparently, so the previous guests had not yet left. No problem. We slept in the other bedroom, and they left before we got up the next day.

Since then, we’ve been on the beach, one after the other one more beautiful than the last. And often, the more dangerous. Rip currents abound. You really have to choose where to swim, or chances are you’ll take your next nap with the fishes.

We even went hiking recently, in the insane Waimea Canyon - like Grand Canyon, but way cooler. I was going on ankle braces and the strongest Tylenol For Arthritis I could find in the shops, and powered on like an triple-chevy Mercruiser stuck on full shred. Woohoooo! The sights were so damn amazing, you have to be careful not to faint and tumble to your death. Nothing for those sensitive to vertigo, I must say. More hikes to come… when I have recovered from this one. Yow.

Man has always, throughout time, been on the search for the perfect beach. I am now happy to inform man that it has been found. Several of them, in fact. And they are all on Kauai.

Sweet Jesus, this island is Paradise. In the middle of the mightiest ocean, a hundred shades of green arise, framed by silky strips of sand, topped off by mountains and canyons of such violent structure they strike the fear of God into you. Awesome. Time after time, you stand in front of this nature with your jaw semi-dislocated, and the only thing you can utter is “awesome”. I have already adopted this American mantra. For once, it is not used in vain.

We’re staying in a big-big house not far off the beaches of the north shore, yet it’s like being in the jungle. We’re picking papaya off the trees, and eagerly waiting for the banana and avocado to ripen. Wild cocks march around in the garden.. heck, the whole island is full of cocks, wherever you go, you hear kuckelikuu! Would drive you mad, were you not overwhelmed by the lush beauty of everything else.

Well, armed with an internet connection and finally, a bit of time to blog, I’m pretty sure you’ll hear more about our adventures in the coming days. We’ve definitely had some already. For those who worried, the TSUNAMI danger is over, all’s well, we are more than alive; we’re having the times of our lives.