take a hike

You all know how fond I am of walking, right? Like every step is akin to getting cut with a rusty blade, yeah? So for our next trick, we went for a massive hike out to Hanakapiai beach far faraway from any sort of civilization, even the lost ones.

Well, what do you do? In the name of fuck-if-I-should-miss-out-on-any-sensational-sights, you sacrifice your wellbeing. Decked out in my Aircast ankle braces and my spiffy new Hugo Boss sports jacket, we started climbing the mountains. Suitably steep, suitably rough. Slip on a wet rock, and tumble to your death way down below. But oh lord, the view from above was sueeet.

Obviously, it started raining. A lot. We got jungle wet. And so did the red earth, quickly turning into the slipperiest slopes since the dawn of silicone spray. You can imagine the unhappy state of my Fred Perrys… this stuff does not come off very easily. People were falling like dominoes – most everyone had a big red butt or thigh or even a full facial. By the power of some strange god, I actually managed to keep the bold side up. Hell, I was wearing Hugo, and I had decided not to fall! Not a spot on it!

It actually rained so much that crazy rivers were formed. Eventually, just before the elusive beach, we came upon one that almost stopped us.

Nah… screw that. I always liked a wet crotch. Besides, what do we have to lose other than life and camera and car keys? Full steam ahead!

Wooee, we reached the hidden cove! High fives and sandwiches with Taro hummus all around!

Of course, when the excitment finally clears, you realize that you are only halfway. You have to walk back the very same devil’s rut you fought on the way here. I have to admit, I nearly broke down. There were times when I was sure one of the feet had come off completely – or the very least, facing backwards. Man, that hurts like nothing you could imagine.

If you gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough, Roger Alan sings. Can’t argue. But I went there, I saw it all, and I came back. To me, I conquered as big as Gaius Julius Ceasar ever did.

waves one two three

Sure, we’ve been home long enough for the Hawaiian tan to have faded – but I still can’t help but look back at our holiday of holidays…

Oh, that’s me. Holding a body board. Intending to take on the ocean. Looking cool. Pretending to look cool, anyway…

And there I return, on top of a mighty wave… yeah!

Well, another day, another beach. The waves are coming in like tall buildings and foaming like they have rabies. Me and my sissy body board would drown in five seconds. While I sit and draw pictures in the sand, the real surfers come out.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Those guys are more seals – very slim and tanned and good-looking seals – than human, anyway…

gaycruiser and manbruiser

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.

jetset sunset

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.

choppy waters and green faces

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…

kauai redux

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.

aloha from kauai

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.


Ah, what a nasty city Barcelona is! And I say this despite having had a royal time in the Boulevard Culture Club – where me and my Swedish colleague obviously ended up shaking our asses on a stage… somehow, they put too much alcohol in the drinks in Spain. Never thought I’d complain about such a thing, but perhaps I’m getting old.

Yeah, right.

In any case, we also went to mega Camp Nou to catch Racing Santander trying to find the goal against the ├â┬╝bermighty FC Barcelona. Pssch. They didn’t stand a chance – but I least we got to see some goals. Must admit it is pretty cool when 80.000 fans yell out their passion for the game. Myself, I was a little bored, a little cold, a little shifting weight and shuffling feet. No matter how much I try to like football, it just doesn’t reach me in the same religious sense than the other 79.999 people at the venue.

But I was busy complaining about the city; well, here goes. Without Gaudi, they got nuttin. It is dark, dreary, and dirty. Forget about walking home at night without at least seven whores simultaneously reaching for your balls, trying to squeeze out whatever cash you have left in your pockets. Bloody disgusting, eventually also rather scary.

I didn’t even like the food. The chorizo was too hard, the patatas bravas too wet, and the tapas absolutely bland. The potato omelette was sad, and rest was just greasy. Ugh.

See you later, Catalunya. Of course, the French had to ruin the experience even further. Guess what; they were on strike. Strike. Now there is something the French do well. God, I long for Ronald Reagan.
Restricted airspace over France meant that it was going to be pretty darn hard to reach Finland from Spain. Fucking believe we spent the whole fucking evening at the airport. Managed to get to Copenhagen somehow, around two in the night. Slept two hours at a bad hotel, hopped on the morning plane to Helsinki. Yugh. I’m all dead – if not for the pain in my swollen useless excuses for feet keeping me awake.
And I have a 25 hour flight to look forward to in the early morning/night… which I’m absolutely sure will be delayed because we’re going to the armpit of the world, London Heathrow.

Flying is torture. But the beaches at Kauai beckons. Back 18th March. Aloha!