The next morning my siblings and I woke up at 6:00 am and decided to get a little workout in. (Note: This early rise was unintentional, Maui is 3 hours behind California, so our bodies thought it was a breezy 9 o’clock, but let’s just keep that between us; the hotel workers and locals on the beach thought we were just immensely dedicated to our health, unhindered by the clutches of sleep and laziness, and I don’t want them to take back their friendly waves and nods of respect.)
After our workout, we were all feeling refreshed and energized, so we thought it best to lie on the beach for a few hours with the family to recover.
A noteworthy fact: I made my first appearance in ocean water since roughly 2008, and didn’t die. I did see a shark though. Just kidding, it was a whale. Just kidding it was a rock that I thought was a creature of the deep waiting to swallow me whole, but as previously stated, it was in fact a rock and it neglected to inflict any bodily harm. Obviously King Triton is looking out for me.
We spent a great deal of time on the beach that morning, each of us rotating from the water to the beach chairs and back again. And eventually my dad and I found ourselves knee deep in sand castle architectural plans, none of which upheld the constant onslaught of waves, unfortunately. So, with my dream of being a Beach League Architect crushed by a gnarly wave, literally, we headed back up to the hotel to shower. Once we’d all de-saltwatered our hair and de-sanded…everything else, we hopped in the car and were walking through the seaside shops of Lahaina by sunset.
Just as the sun kissed the water, we spotted a man walking atop the roof of a building, chanting in Hawaiian to the state flag. Once finished, he blew into a conch shell multiple times and let out a loud, powerful yell. In Hawaiian culture, this is a way of saying goodbye to the sun and saying thank you (Mahalo) for the day it provided. As I watched I felt truly welcomed not only into the state of Hawaii, but also into its immense culture. I just stood there in awe, which was good, because my first instinct was to put my fist in the air and yell something like, “YOU’RE COOL!” back up to him, which I’m almost positive would have got me kicked off the island. Or at least it should.
For dinner we sat at a horribly awful table inside Bubba Gumps. It overlooked the ocean and gave me a wide-open view of the last remnants of the sunset and let me feel the ocean breeze on my face as I ate good food with good people. WHAT A MISERABLE DAY.
I mean, who wants to look at this all day?