Hawaii, episode 6. In which we are upgraded.

As you know, the first time Mari and I stayed in Honolulu, we were fortunate to have had Mari's committee sponsor our lodging for the week and we thoroughly enjoyed the Hilton Hawaiian Village so much that we have made it our island home for our two (so far) subsequent visits.

In June of 2010, we decided to dip our toes into uncharted vacation waters with our first ever cruise.

Of course, Mari and I had enjoyed short sailings over the years whenever we vacationed seaside and oceanside, but those excursions were short and on much smaller vessels than the 900-plus foot long 80,000 ton Pride of America which we would be sharing with 3,000 passengers and Norwegian Cruise Line crew for a week.

It was a big decision for us, but after 20 years of marriage and numerous vacations and countless fleamarkets, we decided to become cruisers.

Our first cruise would not be our last and the more often I cruise, the more often I want to return to the sea.

Don't call me Ishmael though, because while I, too, am a sailing novice, I have less a desire to get away from civilization than to be embraced by new civilizations (and to be pampered in the process).

Although we often seek out local inns and B&Bs, our previous experience at the Hilton provided a level of comfort and familiarity that made for a perfect post-cruise hideaway.

Now, I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking it, too.

For someone who doesn't like crowds or big resorts, why the heck would you intentionally go to sea with 3,000 strangers (6,000 on last summer's Baltic adventure) or stay at a massive beach resort with over 3,000 rooms?

Convenience.

I do a lot of amateur trip planning and I enjoy putting together the practically perfect escape whether it is a three-week Olympics adventure or a K. D. Lang mini-break (with unexpectedly awesome but unplanned Royal Doulton find), but our outings often take a lot out of me. There is a lot of work that goes into putting all those itinerary puzzle pieces together (not to mention connecting all the dots and dotting all the you-know-whats) and sometimes I would rather just hand things off to the professionals.

Mostly, it works out.

You also learn to carve out personal moments away from the multitudes when you can.

Whether it's with Mona Lisa and a hundred of her closest photo-snapping friends or with Mari on the 22nd floor balcony of the Rainbow Tower overlooking the beach below, I have learned to focus on what really matters.

The photo up top is our best selfie attempt to include all of the beachfront Rainbow Tower at the Hilton Hawaiian.

When we arrived at the open-air registration desk immediately following our cruise in 2010, I gave the young woman at reception my biggest smile (as I always do when greeting hard-working members of the service industry) and shared our story: we had previously stayed at the Hilton on our last visit and we were returning to celebrate our 20th anniversary.

The clerk returned my smile and said, "I think I have a special room for you." I didn't lie. I didn't ask for special treatment (not really). Nor did I ask for the (amazing) room upgrade we were about to receive.

Mari and I are forever indebted to the thoughtful desk clerk for introducing us to the glorious 22nd floor corner room with a southeast balcony overlooking Diamond Head and a southwest balcony overlooking Honolulu (views from the top up top beneath our selfie).

Of course, that hotel room spoiled us forever (and maybe that was the desk clerk's master plan).

For our return this past June to celebrate our 28th anniversary (and my retirement!), I knew which room I wanted and while I did not depend on the benefit of an upgrade this time, my AARP discount sure came in handy.

Be sure to check the resort's website to learn more about the benefits of staying at the Hilton while you are in Honolulu and to sign up for e-mail specials. Mari and I do have a few traveler tips to help you make the most (for the lea$t) of your stay which I will be sharing with you, too.

http://www.hiltonhawaiianvillage.com

Before we get to cruising and island hopping, I thought I would share with you a few final Swap Meet images.

The directory pictured above appears at several locations throughout your stadium circumnavigation (as do restrooms and ATMs, thankfully).

alohastadiumswapmeet.net

The Swap site maps out specific vendor locations although itinerant vendors change frequently, so best not to go with a plan.

I can't believe I said that!

Just grab your friendliest flea partner and your best flea (tote) bag and be sure to arrive early if you are looking for vintage items, collectibles, or used household goods from locals selling in marked spaces closest to the stadium.

Although vintage and collectibles were scarce on our last visit, I did manage to spot a classic Pyrex container although the (half) pint-sized cutie was missing its tempered glass lid.

The Butterfly Gold pattern from the mid 1970s is new to my kitchen, so I was happy to welcome (and bubble-wrap) the topless trophy nonetheless.

Sadly, I likely will never use these 18 gleaming miniature molds for their intended candy-making pineappled purpose.

My final fleamarketed souvenirs bear a centuries' old symbol of hospitality, a symbol itself easily representative of the tropical paradise Mari and I have come to treasure.

I do look forward to welcoming the two-inch long golden beauties onto our kitchen countertop Christmas tree in the near future where they shall regally glisten their welcome to the spiritual season and serve as festive reminders of our island paradise. 

Our recent Aloha Stadium Swap Meet visit also yielded yet another aloha shirt for my colorful collection. It would make its debut later in the summer on the Atlantic shores of Maine, so you must patiently await its blog debut (blogbut?) later in the fall.

We set sail on our first cruise adventure next time.

San Antonio special. In which I finally have enough dishes to feed the neighborhood.

I know, I'm still supposed to (metaphorically) be in Hawaii, but my collector's gaze couldn't resist this mid-week special edition.

With thanks to the brilliant Helen Fielding's equally brilliant Bridget Jones for the cute colloquialism, Mari and I thoroughly enjoyed a "mini-break" this past weekend in San Antonio, Texas. While I haven't worked myself up to a San Antonio blog series quite yet, San Antonio has long been a favorite city, since first exploration in December of 1989, a few months after I followed Mari to my new home state and our forever home in McAllen about 230 miles south of the Alamo.

Numerous road trips with students to speech and debate tournaments all around the River City for seven years in the 1990s emblazoned San Antonio on my travel radar and helped me become familiar with and comfortable driving the environs of the historic 287-year-old municipality. Traveling with my hard-working (and award winning!) loquacious teen lot forced me to discover (mostly) convenient and restorative casual places to dine with my students and fellow chaperone (Mari would regularly volunteer as said responsible female). I invariably reminisce over former students when visiting San Antonio, even when it comes to such a simple memory trigger as late night tacos or Rudy's atomic burger (with atomic fries, of course) but especially the queso flameado at Mi Tierra Cafe in Market Square which was conveniently open round-the-clock for our Friday-going-on-Saturday midnight dinners.

Melty-cheese-filled daydreams aside, when the opportunity recently arose for a getaway weekend to revisit one of Mari's and my treasured musical favorites (K. D. Lang) at one of our favorite historic venues (The Majestic Theatre), we excitedly planned a short weekend visit, complete with revisits to a few of our local favorites to round out our mini-break.

It was after we had enjoyed some memory-inducing tacos that my unintentionally accidental wrong turn out of the parking lot (fueled by said temptalicious tacos) led to a fortuitous driving correction past a new-to-us charity shop in the northeastern Lincoln Heights neighborhood of San Antonio.

When it comes to fate (and wrong turns), there are no accidents.

The Green Door Thrift Shop is across from the HEB plaza where Nacogdoches Road ends on East Basse (just up the hill from The Quarry). You'll need to plan your visit around the shop's limited hours (Tuesday through Saturday 10 AM - 1 PM), but plan you must. About 20 minutes into my collector's pan and scan, my radar blipped its blippiest blip as I beelined towards the set of dishes pictured above (now safely stacked on our kitchen island).

I think you already know I'm a fiend for dishes, but when I turned over a few of the plates and bowls and spied with my little contact-lensed eye the markings here, I knew I would soon be (happily) struggling to fit these Royal Doulton into our kitchen storage.

The price tag confused me a bit because the system at Green Door was unfamiliar to me and there were three different prices on the tag. I preferred the lowest price, of course, so I grabbed a two-handled bone china soup bowl as a declaration of future ownership and brought it and the tag up to the register at the front of the store for clarification.

I glanced briefly around for Mari, but nothing she could have done would have stopped me at this point, as often happens when my collector's gaze has taken over.

As was explained to me by the store volunteer, each of the three decreasing prices on the tag bore a date and after each of those dates had presented itself on a calendar, then that price would be in effect until the next date (about a month into the future).

My glorious English find had reached the end of times!

It was 75% off that fine post-concert Saturday.

It is a great system followed by the volunteers at the Green Door that ensures timely sales and fairly quick inventory turnaround. The two successive half-life discounts worked in my favor that day. For the entire scalloped-edge lot, I paid what I would have (and have) paid for a single saucered teacup at an antiques store.

Thank you for being polite and not asking.

Not only was I thrilled with my new old treasures (the pattern was produced throughout the 1950s and 1960s), but I was happy to become a supporter of a well-established local charity. Please be sure to visit the shop site and visit the shop itself when you are in San Antonio. The website provides information about donating, consigning, and volunteering, as well as a bit of the shop's sixty-plus year history.

sites.google.com/site/greendoorthriftshop/home

In the meantime, we'll be returning to our regularly scheduled Sunday series.
Aloha until then.

Hawaii, episode 5. In which I double-pack it up.

There is something about the word "aloha" that is contagious, but in a very good way.

When you are greeted during your travels... stepping aboard your eight-hour flight from DFW, stepping onto the airport shuttle to your Waikiki hotel, checking into your hotel... at the Wailana Coffee House for a late dinner, everywhere at the Ala Moana Center (more on that shopper's paradise in an upcoming post), on an island tour... at the Aloha Stadium Swap Meet... that "aloha" resounds with the rhythm of all that have spoken the native Hawaiian greeting for thousands of years since you first heard it. At some point (it may have been during The Brady Bunch season 4 opening episodes), we are taught that "aloha" means goodbye as well as hello, but that does not do the spirit of aloha proper justice.

If you know a second language, then you appreciate the notion that often words do not translate directly from their native usage and that there are often multiple meanings for a word depending on the situation.

With apologies to native Hawaiians, the best way I can describe "aloha" is that it represents everything between hello and goodbye. It is all about the connection you make to others from the point of first aloha and how well you nurture that relationship.

I'm no philosopher (a well-intentioned blog-sopher at best), but when a seemingly simple word has such potentially positive power, then you must use it with respect.

At Aloha Stadium, Mari and I were greeted with the carefully carved landscape greeting above as we prepared to walk the stadium and indulge in a (late) Sunday morning of collectible connections.

Our first visit in 2004 was towards the end of our stay and our souvenir hunt (and budget) had mostly been exhausted, but we instantly recognized the swap meet as the indisputable shopping mecca it appears to be.

Along with my treasured pair of glass snuff bottles I made up my mind that upon our return "some day" I would make a beeline for a colorful quilt.

Troves of quilted temptation like the booth pictured here await available luggage space.

With my imprecise plan in place, I made the perfectly practical decision to double-pack during our outbound return six years later. That's what I call packing a suitcase within a suitcase, like a smuggled Samsonite matryoshka (only much larger and clumsier).


The plan was to have an empty suitcase available for the return trip which would then transport said tropical quilted souvenir perfect for snuggling in the summer air-conditioning.

I had been tempted by many fleamarket vendors offering such tropically quilted treats, but I have only myself to blame for the painfully awkward (and heavy) outbound luggage-schlepping experience.

My pernicious planning worked in the end, but were I to repeat the feat, I would simply try to pack lighter and just check a larger, half-full suitcase (I'm an optimist, after all).

Like the summer souvenir sands that have recently been packed up and stowed until Memorial Day 2019, our souvenir quilt has likewise been cleaned and folded and stowed until such time as the island breezes whisper their siren call to summer slumber.

It will return to the bed next summer.

Mari and I are "those people" who like to change the look of the bed with the seasons.

Above right is our fleamarketed Hawaiian quilt, along with aloha pillow cases. The quilted Hawaiian flag pillow cover was a souvenir from our recent trip and, while its colors are nary a middling match to the quilt, we loved it (and that's the point of fleamarketed goods, matchy-matchy or not).

True to my word, the quilt was recently packed up and the boudoir is now decked out for fall as pictured here.

Our Hawaiian quilt is a favorite and well-used souvenir and you will find plenty to choose from at the Aloha flea and beyond.

Mari recently reminded me that one of her first purchases was almost this majestic island girl. It was one of those "walk away" moments for Mari like the painted Dalahäst, but, like the Stockholm souvenir, the mid-century hula girl pottery bust rediscovered Mari a few years later at the West Palm Beach Antiques Festival at the South Florida Fairgrounds. After her own bit of island hopping, this Polynesian beauty now greets Mari mornings at her dresser.

Sometimes, dear reader, your collector's gaze takes a little extra time (sometimes years) to make that special connection, but your collectible will find you eventually, if it was meant to be.

We bid aloha to Aloha Stadium next time as Mari and I "set a course for adventure" and our "mind on a new romance" with more of Hawaii beyond Honolulu.

Hawaii, episode 4. In which we meet and swap.

It wasn't a difficult decision.

Back in July 2004, I decided the Aloha Stadium Swap Meet was my favorite fleamarket.

It wasn't because it was my first visit.

It wasn't about the first item (pair of items actually) I purchased, either, that spawned the dawn of a new and favorite collection. (More below.)

It also wasn't about the incredibly refreshing Arnold Palmer (my first ever introduction to the magical blend of freshly brewed iced tea and freshly squeezed lemonade) we enjoyed like some magical restorative elixir halfway round our stadium circumnavigation.

No, my singularly superlative declaration wasn't for any one reason in particular except that the Aloha flea is... well, it's in Hawaii.

The setting perfect, the variety of goods colorful and colorfully enticing, and the aloha spirit among locals and transplanted locals is at its aloha best.

Before I present my picked keepsakes, I thought I would share some images from our recent visit. More than anything my thousand words can say, these pictures should prove perfectly persuasive.

We learned during our first visit that the swap meet is the best place for souvenirs. There is an incredible variety of goods and lots of competition for your remaining vacation dollars.

I also learned during that otherwise overwhelming first visit that all I needed for a good swap was some good old Hawaiian currency. Perhaps during the original days of swap meets, I would have benefited from bringing some livestock or fresh produce for barter, but (thankfully) those days are long gone.

At left, a local tour company is well-placed to catch the attention of adventurers.

While not natural, these souvenir leis and adornments will last long after your visit.

Colorful souvenir displays abound throughout the fleamarket.

You will find lots of local flora, both faux...

... and au naturel.

Along with island souvenirs, typically fleamarketable finds can be found flourishing in the mix.

Household goods, both old and new abound within the inner circle of early morning vendors, closest to the stadium.

On our most recent visit, however, Mari and I were disappointed to find just a handful of vendors reselling vintage goods.

Perhaps it was our slightly extended balcony breakfast followed by the hour-long bus ride (take the #42 TheBus from Waikiki for direct service) that found us swapping slightly later than planned, but many of the secondhand vendors had packed up and were onto other adventures by the time we were beginning our own.

Luckily, Mari and I did come across a few locals willing to wait out late morning tourists as we walked our circuit round the stadium.

I have plenty of picked treasures to share with you throughout the next few weeks, but I thought I should start with the Swedish souvenir Dalahäst (painted wooden horse) I mentioned in the first episode of this series.

Mari had debated purchasing the colorful souvenir during our Estocolmo shore excursion last summer, and he ultimately remained behind (but not forgotten) in multiple Stockholm souvenir shops.

Fast forward twelve months and there he was once more, prancing his colorful way into Mari's heart and ultimately into her fleamarket tote for all of two dollars.

The friendly former musician who swapped with Mari that Sunday morning had toured throughout Europe in his former life, picking up souvenirs along the way which he was now releasing into the fleamarket wild years later.

At left are the first items I picked up on a Honolulu morning 14 years earlier.

These are my first two snuff bottles and the beginning of a most treasured collection.

I hope to share the complete colorfully eclectic display with you some day soon. Stay tuned!

As mentioned previously with a recent pictured pick (California, here we come, episode 4), I have always had an affinity for Chinese culture and artisan craftsmanship. Fleamarketed snuff bottles became a perfectly portable expression of said craft.

When I came across these two reverse-painted glass beauties (each stands barely three inches high), I knew I wanted to continue admiring them in my own home. I'm not sure I was bubble-wrap-packing back in 2004, but my first foray into a new collection made its way safely back to South Texas where the precious pair would eventually evolve into an eclectic collection curated from fleamarket travels throughout the United States.

After last week's revisit to Byodo-In Temple, Mari reminded me that she had also purchased a vintage obi from Elizabeth Kent. At left is my best attempt to capture the beautiful textures and colors of Mari's anniversary souvenir. The intricately detailed patterns and vibrant colors of the silk sash extend deep beyond the limitations of the photo (the sash measures just over five feet) and will forever remind us of a special afternoon.

While we have yet to fleamarket the Far East, Mari and I frequently encounter colorfully crafted artifacts that continually tempt our travel taste buds.



In the meantime, there is much more to explore at Aloha Stadium, so I'll return with you next week to share more swap meet treats.

Hawaii, episode 3. In which we meditate.

 

Yes, still in Hawaii.

During that first day tour up to the North Shore in 2004, Mari and I visited the (then) 36-year-old replica of the 900-plus-year-old Byōdō-In Buddhist temple in Uji, Japan. According to the temple's site, the temple "was established on June 7, 1968, to commemorate the 100 year anniversary of the first Japanese immigrants to Hawaii."

As part of our first visit to Hawaii, Mari and I were rewarded with a serene and scenic (albeit short) experience and shared a wonderfully tranquil tour stop during an otherwise busy week.

It was a moment we knew we wanted to repeat and what better occasion than our wedding anniversary?!

June 16th this year landed us at the (now) 50-year-old temple on the North Shore of Oahu to enjoy a Buddhist meditation service led by Rev. Clyde Whitworth.

Mari had visited the temple site to check on visitor hours and to see how close the park was to public transportation. The posted events calendar only confirmed that Saturday would be a perfect day for a revisit after 14 years. We thought the special service would be a perfect way to spend our anniversary.

You know how I'm always looking for my moments.

I couldn't think of anything better than sharing a moment of reflection and thanksgiving with Mari in such beautiful surroundings.

I am forever grateful to Rev. Whitworth for hosting a peaceful hour with us and a handful of other guests as we practiced a variety of meditation techniques in the beautiful natural surroundings of the temple.

If you find yourself likewise sans rental car on Oahu and in need of your own moment, be sure to hop on TheBus. You'll want to take the #19 from Waikiki beaches and transfer (two blocks from Iolani Palace) to the #65 which will carry you cross-island to the North Shore.

The five-dollar one-day pass is a bargain well-worth the (mostly) scenic hour-long ride each way. You will need to walk slightly over a half-mile uphill from the bus stop at the McDonald's across Kahekili Highway from the Valley of the Temples Memorial Park entrance, but it's a beautiful, lush, and peaceful walk up to Byodo-In at the foot of the Ko'olau Mountains.

Be sure to visit the temple site for loads of useful visitor information and to learn more about the beautiful memorial park (there is a gift shop, of course).

byodo-in.com

While at the temple on our recent visit, Mari and I came across a local craftswoman showcasing recycled Japanese textiles, kimono, and obi.

As we explored the beautiful fabrics and carefully crafted jewelry pieces, we shared our story with the artist. When we told her we were celebrating our anniversary, a big smile sprang to her face and she showered us with beautiful fresh leis, hand-crafted from lush interlaced leaves.

We are wearing our leis in the photo at the top of the page as we crossed the highway back to the bus stop.

Mari and I have always been most fortunate throughout our travels to celebrate and honor each other and the beautiful and talented people we encounter in such a wide variety of colorful settings. We are especially grateful to the talented and generous Elizabeth Kent for her carefully crafted gift which had a profound impact on our day.

At left are two squares of softly-spun silk purchased from her that day that I expect I will use on the coffee table when I serve Mari a soothing after school tea (although said elixir may be iced until we hit early December).

Upon our return home this June, I discovered a site showcasing Hawaii's local craftspeople, including Ms. Kent. Be sure to explore the site and support talented local craftspeople whenever you have the opportunity, near or far.

hawaiicraftsmen.org/kent

As Mari and I made our way down the hill and headed back towards the local public "stretch limo" awaiting us at the McDonald's bus stop, a newly-minted bride and groom emerged from the white limousine pictured here and headed excitedly towards the temple for their own photo shoot. As I passed the beaming bride on the bridge from the parking area, I offered her my sincerest smile and congratulated her, adding, "We have the same anniversary!"

Like that Saturday twenty-eight years prior, it was one of the best days of my life.

That McDonald's cheeseburger I enjoyed at the

bus stop was especially satisfying as well.

Next time, I embrace every bit of the aloha spirit as I dive into my favorite fleamarket.

Hawaii, episode 2. In which strong and content I scan.

Before we get to the Aloha Stadium Swap Meet and the cruising and the luau and the heavenly lilikoi shave ice, we must be sure to return the tiki idol to the ancient burial ground. Okay, maybe our first trip to Hawaii did have its roots, like some of our fleamarketing travel adventures, in a familiar, favorite, yet faded television memory from Mari's and my collective childhood past. While the Brady Bunch was looking for ratings by heading to Honolulu at the beginning of its fourth season, we went in search of the legendary natural beauty (and moderate climate) about which so many visitors to the Hawaiian islands boast upon their return.

Since our first trip in 2004, Mari and I have counted ourselves among those sunburned boasters and have continually hoped for a revisit. While much of that first visit involved some APA convention duties for Mari, we did make a little time to explore before the annual meeting opened the last weekend of July.

Looking through old photos for this episode was a little more involved than usual since I didn't embrace digital technology until my 40th birthday visit to London back in 2007. Along with a few photo albums and scrapbooks, I still have boxes of photos stored in envelopes. Luckily, I'm pretty (obsessively) organized, so finding photos wasn't a problem.

That's when the scanning started and my love/hate relationship with technology resurfaced like last night's late-night drive-thru tacos.

Here I am somewhere along the North Shore of Oahu. I don't remember exactly what stop this was on our day tour, but I do remember the exact date, thanks to the indelibly inscribed digital date emblazoned on our souvenir photos in electric teal.

I love the photo of Mari above (only I wish that were the view from our back yard).

Like many of you, dear readers, I have always been in love with the beach.

There are fond memories (and deteriorating albumed photos) of annual summer visits to the Jersey shore (before MTV ruined that utopia for everyone), local beaches in the tri-state (NY-NJ-CT) area, as well as less frequent family visits to Portugal, where, if you recall, my parents grew up in a small farming community that was itself just over five miles from beautiful Vagueira Beach on the Atlantic Ocean.

At left are a few quick glimpses into one of my oldest and most treasured collections.

Yes, folks, I am a Sandman.

When I was in high school, I began "collecting" sand from trips to the beach near and far as a way of remembering those visits and today I bring my beloved bottles out of long-term storage every summer and transform the fireplace mantel in the dining room into a sentimental maritime microcosm. Labor Day weekend is the weekend I usually pack up my little bottles of granular memories to make way for Mari's fall decor, but I think they deserve an extra day or two of freedom after their photo shoot. Aside from sandy sentimental journeys, my bottled and artfully labeled (thanks, Mari!) souvenirs inspire a colorful display every summer season, each bottle glistening and hinting at its own personal blend of colors, minerals, and textures.

Here's a view of the whole collection.










As a way out of my sandy reverie, you can see Maui and Waikiki sand at the far right of the second photo. While our first visit to Hawaii was limited to Waikiki beaches, Mari and I did our best to make the most of that tropical time with a day trip to the North Shore which included beautifully scenic stops as well as a few touristy stops like our visit to the Dole Plantation in Wahiawa where I may have overindulged in fresh pineapple juice.

Because it was just. so. good.


Like the Bradys three decades prior, we made sure to learn some history and pay our respects to the sailors and Marines killed at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.

The USS Arizona Memorial is probably Hawaii's most visited landmark and is located just about ten miles from Waikiki beaches.

During our recent visit, the memorial was closed to visitors due to loading dock repairs, but there is still much to see until access to the memorial itself is available again later this fall.

Be sure to visit the informative
site to plan your visit.

https://www.nps.gov/valr/index.htm

The site also includes a wealth of educational resources including a video archive of interviews with survivors of the attack.

However obsessively planned your travel itinerary, it is always immeasurably rewarding to find a place to share a moment of reflection with those you love and to reflect on those who have allowed us to "travel the open road... strong and content."

Until next time, aloha.

Mahalo once more to Walt Whitman for his poetic reflections and celebration of life.

Read one of my favorites at the following site.

poets.org/poetsorg/poem/song-open-road-i