Adventures of 2 Girls

by Ning Cai

  In the Hawaiian language, Haleakal means “House of the Sun”. What a perfect place to catch a sunrise!

  The only problem was that at the summit of the volcano where we were supposed to catch the sunrise, temperatures would dip to zero degrees Celsius. But no sane human being would pack thermals and winter clothing on a trip to Maui!

  “Bring along thick blankets!” people had advised us.

  But our inn’s duvet was thick, fluffy and white, and I wasn’t prepared to drag it in the muck to our car parked a distance away. We were also sneaking out of the inn in the middle of the night, so we wanted to be as quiet as possible moving along the narrow corridors and down the stairs so as not to wake the other guests. But most importantly, I wanted to crawl under a clean duvet for a nap when we got back!

  So at 3am, with our lids still heavy with sleep, we pulled out all the clothes we could find in our backpacks and started to layer up. Tank tops, t-shirts, shirts, jackets, jeans… yes, even pyjama pants!

  * * *

  There were no street lamps on most stretches of the road, so we had to rely on the car’s headlights. As we rolled onto Highway 30, I was thankful that the good people at Hertz Singapore had prepared for us a sturdy American monster of a luxury SUV. While it was bulky to park, it made me feel invincible. It was as if we were in an armoured vehicle!

  We wound down the windows of the car to let the night air wake us up. The BFF entertained me by telling me corny jokes and singing at the top of her voice to songs on the radio. I wasn’t feeling particularly sleepy (I love long drives!) but I let her continue.

  The dorky BFF always cracks me up and I wanted to see how creative she could get at 3am. But I have to give it to her: being a professional entertainer, Ning is the best road trip buddy in the world. I wouldn’t trade her for anyone else!

  We reached Haleakal National Park over an hour later, and began our steep ascent to the summit of the volcano by car.

  “I read on TripAdvisor that we need to climb at 30 miles an hour,” my BFF, the Google Queen, shared.

  “Why?”

  “Because of the pressure. Duh!” She raised an eyebrow at me in mock irritation, as she munched on a chocolate bar. “Thought you’re the Geography teacher.”

  “Eh, it’s 4.30am…” I retorted, grabbing a handful of potato chips and stuffing the crunchy heap into my mouth.

  “And don’t forget to keep swallowing to pop your ears!”

  “OK!” I beamed, my heartbeat quickening as the road started to wind upwards. The Haleakal Highway, a series of switchbacks up to the summit of the volcano, was still well maintained despite being constructed in 1932.

  I checked the speedometer and it registered a consistent 30 miles per hour. There was already a car ahead of us – I could see its tail lights – but no one was behind us so I was happily bobbing my head to Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten on the radio. Minutes later, I saw a flash of light reflected in my rear view mirror and upon checking, found a whole row of cars lined up behind me.

  “Oh my God,” I muttered, sitting upright. “Look behind us!”

  Ning glanced back. “It’s OK, keep to 30 miles per hour,” she instructed firmly. I would have sped up if not for the BFF’s conviction. The Google Queen usually knows what she is talking about because she reads online reviews with a vengeance.

  I tried to move as close to the right side of the road as possible so the other cars could overtake me on the left. They all did, and I swear they were climbing at 60 miles an hour. But I was glad I listened to the BFF because halfway up the volcano, I noticed that our mineral water bottles had crumpled up, like someone had squeezed them with a tight grip. We were also swallowing often to pop our stuffed ears. Plus, our packet of chips exploded!

  At about 6,000 feet, the road ahead started to become foggy, like we were driving through an immense cloud. I had to flip on my fog lights to see ahead.

  “They are clouds!” The BFF beamed. “Isn’t that cool?!”

  The temperature was dropping swiftly, so we wound up our windows and switched on the car heater. It was now impossible to enjoy the night air without feeling the chill.

  It was almost 5am, and more and more cars were snaking their way up the mountain ahead of and behind us. Some had stopped at the Visitor Center along the way to pick up brochures and freshen up, but Ning and I decided to press on to the summit.

  By the time we reached the top, the temperature display in our car flashed 43 degrees Fahrenheit. We parked near a long, winding flight of stairs leading to the observation deck on top and shivered at the thought of having to go the rest of the way on foot. It was cold, dark and windy outside. 6 degrees Celsius. Insane!

  Ning and I pulled on as many layers as we could before dashing out of the car into the night.

  “Oh my God! It’s freezing!” I screamed as I scampered up the steps with the BFF taking two steps at a time ahead of me, her long legs giving her an unfair advantage. The wind was very strong up here, and I wasn’t sure how I could sit and catch a sunrise without first turning into a popsicle.

  “There’s a shelter there!” Ning pointed ahead when she reached the top, and I followed her as we squealed and panted toward the circular structure set against the dark sky.

  We were 10,000 feet above sea level, even above the clouds, and it was freezing. Who would have guessed that Maui would have such incredible winter temperatures?!

  We huddled together inside the observation hall which had windows all around, so we could have a 360-degree view of the sunrise. As the place got more and more crowded, the BFF grabbed my gloved hand and dragged me toward the front. A small spot of light had begun to emerge on the night sky.

  It was beginning.

  A thin sliver of yellow and orange appeared in the horizon. To my surprise, that horizon was not a mountain range or the ocean, but a blanket of clouds. The sun was rising above the clouds at 6,000 feet! That was the most awesome, hair-standing revelation for me as I stood there, watching the magnificent display that Mother Nature had prepared for us.

  Gradually, the sliver of yellow and orange grew, turning the ebony sky into shades of purple and indigo, and illuminating the scattered clouds above. From a narrow portion of the sky just above the horizon, the colours intensified and spread like an artist’s palette that had just spilt its contents onto a vast canvas.

  We held our breaths as shades and gradients of red, orange, yellow, blue, indigo and violet exploded in the sky, on a panoramic canvas all around us. We stood speechless and breathless on the summit of the volcano.

  “Let’s go outside,” the BFF tugged on my sleeve.

  “Are you sure?” I raised a brow at her.

  “Yes, since we’re all the way here. Let’s take some photos out there!” The girl who is usually scared of the cold, and freezes into an ice ball in an air-conditioned room, suggested. She scurried out before I could protest, so I bounded after her.

  The wind chill was unbearable for me because all I had on was a light sweater under my Timberland leather jacket. The BFF had a thick purple hoodie that protected her from the wind so I nestled against her as we perched precariously on a stone wall, with our legs dangling over the edge, to watch the finale. The great fiery ball of light had already pushed through the clouds and was rising high above to take its resting place in the sky.

  It was the most amazing sunrise we’d ever seen – a sunrise through the clouds! At 10,000 feet above sea level, on the summit of a volcano named Haleakal, House of the Sun!

  We snapped a photo of ourselves, bundled up like Eskimos, to commemorate the moment. That picture was later uploaded on Facebook with the caption, “Greetings from Maui!”

  Us all bundled up at the summit of Haleakala, House of the Sun!

  02

  molokai madness

  Hawaii . March 2011

  PAM

  I never knew that there was an island in Hawaii called Molokai. But according to our Hawaiian friend Alan Okami, it’s the real Hawaii. “
Forget Maui!” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “It’s a Honolulu wannabe! Spend the week in Molokai instead.”

  “What’s there to do in Molokai?” Ning had asked.

  “Fishing! Trekking! Explore Kalaupapa!” Alan had responded enthusiastically. He had previously brought his team from KoAloha Ukulele to Molokai to conduct a free workshop for students, teaching them how to make ukuleles so they had some skills and work options after graduating.

  Since we had never heard of Molokai, we didn’t hesitate in saying yes. We had no clue what the little island (which lies between Oahu and Maui) had to offer but I crossed my fingers and toes that it had Wi-Fi and coffee.

  The moment we stepped off the propeller plane onto the tarmac, I felt as if I had tumbled out of a time warp into the 1950s. We had landed in the middle of a very quiet and uneventful field. Coconut trees swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze. There was only one runway and the terminal building looked like a pre-war shophouse.

  There was no immigration to go through, presumably because no one flew in to Molokai from an international airport. Claiming our luggage from the carousel was another eye-opener. For one, there was no carousel or belt number to look out for. All there was in the sheltered, patio-like area was a long metal table that we all waited around, shifting our weight from foot to foot.

  About half an hour later, a mini tram (the sort you ride in Disneyland) pulled up with our luggage. Two airport staff jumped off and started picking up our bags and throwing them onto the counter, like freshly-caught fish in a wet market.

  We grabbed our backpacks and headed to the car rental counter three paces away. Renting a car in Molokai was pretty straightforward. There were no fancy options such as renting a GPS on a daily or weekly rate. There was no GPS, period.

  Choosing a car wasn’t much of a hassle either.

  “We want a small car,” Ning specified.

  “The smallest one we have is a Jeep Wrangler,” said the car rental lady.

  “OK, we’ll take it!”

  We were staying with ukulele superstar Jake Shimabukuro’s grandmother in Molokai, and initially I thought she was rather rude to ignore my request for her home address, as we needed it to GPS our way over from the airport.

  “GPS?” Grandma had chuckled, a tinge of amusement in her voice. She then dismissively proceeded to give me directions to her house.

  I scribbled down her directions while at the Maui airport, all the while wondering why this stubborn old lady could not simply give me her home address.

  NING

  “Grandma says after the gas station, look for Molokai Shores on the right. Immediately on the left, we will pass by three heights, and you’ll need to make a left after the banyan tree,” Pam instructed, reading from the crumbled Starbucks serviette she had scribbled on two hours ago.

  I frowned as I manoeuvred our Jeep along the dirt track that would bring us to town.

  “Er, what’s a height?”

  “I don’t know… A hill? A slope?” Pam speculated, raising her eyebrows.

  Apparently, there are no house numbers or street names in Molokai! That explained why the lady at the car rental counter had laughed when I asked if they had GPS units available.

  “Anyway, Grandma says her house is green and her green car is parked in front of it,” Pam grinned, settling contentedly in the passenger seat. “This will be an adventure, eh?”

  “You bet,” I nodded, as I drove us towards our unknown destination.

  PAM

  And find her green house we did! After dumping our backpacks in our room at Grandma’s house, we jumped back into our Jeep and drove out to explore the town of Kaunakakai. After all, we had nothing but time on our hands on that balmy Hawaiian summer day.

  Kaunakakai is the largest town on the island, with a population of just 3,425. We parked our Jeep behind the gas station and decided to explore Downtown Kaunakakai on foot.

  I shielded my eyes from the glaring sun and squinted down the street. The main road was flanked on either side by a row of double-storey shophouses, which ran for a good 200 metres. There was a bakery just in front of us, a mini supermarket across the street, a sleepy bookstore, a dive shop and a solitary post office.

  Perpendicular to this street was a shorter one where a lonely green building with a sloping roof stood – the community library. Across from that was a fairly modern two-storey “mall” of sorts, with a bank and ATM, but it was so quiet that it reminded me of an abandoned office building slated for renovation.

  “Shall we take a walk?” I suggested, slinging my camera over my shoulder.

  “Sure!” The BFF beamed, and we started strolling down the street.

  In total, the entire walk took us… umm, what… 20 minutes?

  Right. We were done exploring Downtown Kaunakakai. Now what?

  NING

  Grandma was a blast to be around and so was Renko, her former tenant-turned-friend, who was visiting from Honolulu. This pretty 30-something is a former journalist from Japan, and a serious student of the hula. She fell in love with Hawaii while stationed here for an assignment and has never been back to her home country since.

  Molokai is known for its traditional hula schools, which is why Renko came to this island and rented a room from Grandma years ago. Recent work commitments had led her to Honolulu, but she would return to Molokai to spend a weekend whenever she could.

  Our first night at Grandma’s was spent watching the stars. We were outside her house and it was completely dark and quiet save for the chirping of crickets. There were no street lamps for miles and the sky was a spectacular blanket of twinkling stars.

  We were all silently admiring the constellations when Grandma pointed to the biggest, brightest spot in the dark sky.

  “See that star?” the stout 70-year-old said with a smile in her voice, “I always make a wish on it, for Jake and his brother Bruce.”

  I blinked. “Er… Grandma?”

  “Mmm?” Her eyes were closed, perhaps making a silent wish for her grandsons.

  “That’s a satellite,” I giggled, pointing at the unblinking spot of light. “Not a star. Stars always twinkle.”

  Grandma’s eyelids flew open as she guffawed. “Ah! So that’s why none of my wishes come true!”

  PAM

  Growing up in a cosmopolitan city like Singapore, Ning and I are accustomed to a fast pace of life. In Molokai, we found ourselves walking and talking faster than others, while time crawled by and perhaps even stood still.

  If we continued at this Singapore pace, we would have covered the whole island twice over in a day. So we resolved to sit longer at the pizza parlour, discussed things of little consequence and trained ourselves to activate a “screensaver mode” on demand. For an energetic magician like Ning and a fast-talking radio DJ like me, it was like marinating our brains in thick honey mustard and leaving them to sun in the backyard.

  But after 2 days, 4 hours and 38 minutes (although it did seem longer), we managed to align our biorhythm to that of the island’s, and started to really enjoy our carefree drives along the one main road to various far-flung corners of the island.

  We visited a small, privately-owned macadamia farm and saw for the first time what a macadamia nut looks like before it’s harvested. We learnt from a master kite-maker how to make and fly a kite at the Big Wind Factory, located at the super-windy western tip of the island, and enjoyed many a good meal at Kualapu’u Cookhouse – the island’s best!

  Once, we sat on a grassy slope overlooking a quiet deserted beach, the Pacific Ocean before us like a rippling blanket in a million shades of aquamarine. And above us was a full rainbow arching across the evening sky! In Molokai, there was always a rainbow in the sky… sometimes even two at the same time!

  NING

  “What do you do for fun at night here, Renko?” I asked my new friend, who had proudly proclaimed Molokai to be her favourite Hawaiian island. Renko was in the midst of giving Grandma a shoulder rub while we wa
tched TV. The clock on the wall said it was about 8:30 in the evening.

  “Ah, we can go to the local bakery,” the pretty Japanese woman smiled. “They bake bread for the next day around this time and you can get special toppings!”

  “The blueberry jam is delicious,” Grandma added, her eyes glued to the TV screen. “Get me one if you’re going now.”

  “Let’s go!” Pam jumped, the foodie in her doing a happy dance. “I’ll get the car keys!”

  Pam threw the keys to Renko and she drove our Jeep into Kaunakakai, which was quiet and still except for a single dimly-lit back alley. It felt like a cliché movie scene, us creeping into a dark alley to buy drugs from a dealer, except this one led to the backdoor of a family-owned bakery!

  At the end of the alley was a small open window in the wall, where a man was taking orders beside a handwritten signboard. We paid about US$7 for a loaf of bread (fresh out of the oven and looking like a fat baguette), generously spread with cream cheese and jam.

  Pam carried that precious warm loaf back home to Grandma, who cut it up into four huge chunks. My eyeballs almost popped out of their sockets when she placed an entire quarter of the thick loaf in front of me (after a full dinner, mind you!). I thought the loaf could feed us for a week, not to be finished in one night!

  But that’s Grandma for you!