Aloha, mahalo, hula and humuhumunukunukuapua’a. Those are the four Hawaii words I know.
We have just arrived on the Big Island, at Kona. I’ve lived on the islands numerous times while Amy has never been before. To her credit, she knows more Hawaiian. A week before we were to leave, a book arrived in the mail—the Hawaiian dictionary. Now she is teaching me words.
It feels good being back to Hawaii. Our bungalow in Kona is sweet. It is back of a home high on a hillside facing the ocean. Can’t see much from our windows because we are in a backyard surrounded by lush vegetation. The place is private and clean. I like the sounds of birds and unusual rich smells of earth and flowering things.
Today we found a quiet beach, Kaloko-Honokohau. It is part of a National park which protects remains of dwellings of original people. It has many sea turtles.
Once in the water, I had the luscious feeling of not wanting to leave. Amy does not know how to swim, but I enjoyed seeing her in her bathing suit and coaxed her into a a wonderful protected cove where the water was not over her head.
As I swam and floated, looking out to sea and the endless horizon, I realized the vastness of water—then pondered upon all the souls who perished on voyages when they became lost and lacked water. This led me to think of a metaphor of countless people who have all the water of life they need, yet are thirsty.
Humuhumunukunukuapua’a is a reef trigger fish.