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.

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 1. In which we surf and turf.

Here I am waiting to check out a book at the 1,900 year-old library at Ephesus in Turkey.

Mari and I enjoyed a 2013 summer vacation visit to Turkey as part of a Mediterranean cruise that also included a meanderingly overwhelming exploration of the overwhelmingly meandering Grand Bazaar in Istanbul.

The remnants of a kilogram of tea leaves in our kitchen coffee/tea drawer attest to my unchecked enthusiasm and lack of communication and negotiation skills in overseas marketplaces. I do enjoy my tea!

Here we are inside the colorfully bustling Grand Bazaar (not to be confused with the Grand Bazaar NYC Sunday flea) and below I am trying to decide whether or not it would be ironic to actually purchase Turkish delight in Turkey. I did, of course, and the pistachio-packed treats remain forever stuck in my memory, if not in my sweet tooth.

I may follow up on our Mediterranean adventure in a future blog series, so I'll return now from my current reverie and get back to the library at hand.

Mari thought I should have a picture in front of the world's oldest library hanging in my library office at McAllen Memorial High School (not quite 50 years old and nary a Corinthian-capped column in sight) and indeed the 4x6 reprint tacked on my bulletin board brought me happy solace when I chanced a glance in the midst of typical library tumult or otherwise techie tedium. Now contained (buried) within a few remaining boxes of former classroom and office decor and memorabilia, that Walgreens-printed photograph and the memory of that awesomely adventurous but blistering July afternoon remain forever treasured.

Now that I'm officially retired, I should probably start going through

those boxes that have been sitting in the dining room all summer.

Tomorrow would have marked the beginning of 48 years of waking up and "going to school." Forty-eight years. Granted, most of us get some much needed assistance with the thirteen K-12 years that once seemed fairly endless (at least by teenage standards). My five college years (again, thanks to my major college major change halfway through my Junior/third year) brought with them some freedom and independence as well as a lot of choices and decisions (and a bit of indecision). At the beginning of my career in education there was some overlap with five summer sessions spent in graduate school and then (after 20 years if you recall) a bit more overlap with almost two years of library science study.

Waking up and going to school has been the essence of my daily routine since I first stepped foot in Ms. Einloth's kindergarten classroom at St. Teresa's in the town formerly known as North Tarrytown on September 20, 1971 and dared hang my hoodie alongside Karen Weaver's jacket.

My routine has finally changed.

I can finally wake up after 6:30 AM on a weekday and finally go to the freakin' bathroom when I freakin' feel like it!

Woo Hoo!

The routine of retirement will soon make itself known to me, but first up is my report on how I spent my summer vacation (always hated that assignment).

Between return visits to the far western and eastern reaches of these (mostly) united states, Mari enjoyed bingeing the bloody and bawdy dramatic throes of Westeros thrones whilst artfully creating jewelry and toying with baubles and beads during said 67 binge hours in her jewelry studio (the desk where she usually grades Psychology essays the remaining nine months of the year). I settled myself into new (novels) and old (Turner Classic films) comforts as well as cooking up comfort foods and perfecting my practically perfect meatloaf recipe.

There was also some trip planning, of course, and a long post-retirement travel wish list has emerged (as well as a fall NYC itinerary not for the faint of heart).

Before we get there, or any where, here we are this past summer, as promised, from flea to flea-ing flea.

The five thousand plus miles between the fleamarket locations in these two photos quickly melt away when your collector's gaze captures past objects and forgotten memories.

Mari and I also had the unusual "it's a small world" experience of finding a Stockholm souvenir left behind (but not forgotten) last summer, but then sighting it again amongst both Honolulu and Woolwich (Maine) bric-a-brac.

The two-dollar Swedish souvenir Dalahäst (painted wooden horse) traversed the Pacific yet another leg to its new (third-hand) tropical home with us.

Before I get too far ahead and put the cart before the Swedish horse, let us begin at the front end of summer and a relaxing return to a favorite location and a favorite flea in America's most recent united state.

Mari and I had never given much thought to a Hawaiian vacation until an unexpected opportunity came Mari's way "way back" in 2004. Representing a curriculum committee for the American Psychological Association as its outgoing president, Mari was offered the opportunity to attend the APA annual convention which just happened to be in Honolulu.  Would she like to bring her spouse?

Hey! That's me!

Over the years, I have had the opportunity to "tag along" with Mari on weekends to Washington/DC, Manhattan, and Las Vegas, but a week in Honolulu was a dream (I didn't even know I had) come true. So, our first visit to Hawaii was partially subsidized by Mari's work on the Teachers of Psychology in Secondary Schools (TOPSS) committee and consisted mostly of a week in Waikiki as well as a day tour to the North Shore of Oahu and our first ever visit to the Aloha Stadium Swap Meet.

Six years later, we celebrated our 20th anniversary and the beginning of my career as a school librarian with a return to Honolulu (and Aloha Stadium, of course) and a (first ever for us) cruise to four of the Hawaiian islands aboard NCL's Pride of America.

Fast forward another eight years to this summer and we celebrated our 28th anniversary and my retirement from education with another return (mahalo American Airlines miles!) to Honolulu (and Aloha Stadium, of course).

I look forward to sharing with you tales of the aloha spirit that have beckoned us back and back again. Of course, there will be postcard-perfect photos and favorite fleamarket finds along the way.

Not to worry lobster lovers. A myriad of Maine adventures will be waiting for us when we return from the Pacific, although my souvenir box of taffy is likely to be long gone.