Michael We spent half of this year's annual vacation (one week) on the small island of Molokai in the Hawaiian archipelago. Hawaii is convenient for us because, even though it lies in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, it is still a U.S. state, so we can fly there with an American driver's license without any visa hassle. With our special visa, which was adjusted for the company switch from Blaxxun to AOL, we would have to jump through numerous bureaucratic hoops if we wanted to leave the country. Hawaii, therefore, was a domestic option.

On Molokai, there are about two restaurants, two hotels, and a leper colony. We spent a lot of time walking along the kilometers-long sandy beaches and retreated to a bar each evening at sunset to sip a cocktail. The great thing about Hawaii is that the climate is ideal: it is warm but never scorching hot, as there is always a gentle breeze. It rains for five minutes and then the sun shines again for five hours. It's so wonderful that once you've been there, you always long to go back.

The journey there was somewhat adventurous: since only a handful of tourists arrive in Molokai each day, no Boeing 747 flies there from Honolulu (on the main island of Hawaii, Oahu), but rather a twin-engine propeller plane from the Second World War or something similar.

We sat right behind the pilot and could look out through the front windshield. We were amazed to find that such a small plane doesn't need a long runway to take off; the pilot just pushes the throttle forward briefly, and after 20 meters, the plane zooms into the sky.

But the landing, oh dear! Since a fresh warm wind constantly blows over the Hawaiian islands, the little plane rocked quite a bit, and the pilot—as we could see live—struggled quite a bit with his controls to bring the craft safely back to the ground. It felt like being in a flight simulator with Günter Speckhofer at the controls; the runway in the front window was bobbing wildly back and forth. But eventually, the plane landed safely.

"Sorry 'bout the bumps," said the pilot as we rolled to a stop. We, of course, responded that it didn't bother us at all; we'd been on far worse flights. In fact, I still shudder at the memory of when I once had to fly to Düsseldorf in a Cessna with the boss of a company I had the honor of working for, with the old gentleman at the controls, who was known to sometimes suffer from nervous twitches. The co-pilot at that time was Günter Wille, the head of Dallmayer in Munich, and little Michael sat two seats back, pale as a ghost. Fortunately, everything went well. But I digress!

After landing at the airport, which was smaller than the Oberhausen train station in Augsburg (for those who don't know: "smaller than Windthorststraße in Oldenburg"), we sought out the car rental office. A friendly older gentleman in shorts explained the rental agreement to us at his own leisurely pace, as he was unfamiliar with any sense of urgency, processing perhaps two tourists per day. Every tourist on Molokai receives a silver Dodge Neon as their rental car.

There are about fifty cars on the island, and ten of them are silver Dodge Neons. In the evenings, when you pass by one of the two restaurants, three Dodge Neons are parked outside. Sometimes you return to the parking lot and can’t remember which silver Dodge Neon is yours, so you have to try the key in each one to find the right car.

The mention of the leper colony was not a joke. In fact, about half a century ago, Molokai had a leper colony where all those suffering from leprosy were taken because of the fear of contagion and the lack of a known cure. Today, there are medical treatments for leprosy, but some people still live in the colony, not because they have to, but because they choose to stay there. The path to the colony is a giant staircase that descends about a thousand meters from a mountain into a remote valley. Visitors usually take a mule (a cross between a donkey and a horse) and ride down with a tour guide. However, you can also walk down, which we did. Once at the bottom, we were taken around the colony by bus by a former leprosy patient.

On the way back up, we started long before the mules, but Angelika began to struggle with heavy breathing halfway up, so we had to slow down and let the mules pass us. Never have I been more embarrassed. Oh well!

Regarding water and weather: After nearly getting knocked over by a wave during my last visit to Hawaii, your esteemed narrator stayed away from surfboards this time. Instead, we indulged in the hobby of photographing how the locals get tossed around in the waves.

Instead of surfing, we just swam in the pleasantly warm water. The water in Hawaii maintains a temperature of around 25 degrees Celsius year-round, which is perfect for splashing around. It's really pleasant, unlike San Francisco, where you can't swim because the water is only 13 degrees even when it's warm.

The waves in Hawaii, however, can crash in brutally; they're fast, three to four meters high, and you have to be extremely careful on the beach to avoid being pulled in by the undertow. The nice thing about the long beaches of Molokai is that you might meet only two people over five kilometers—it's that secluded. We also explored a corner where driftwood from all over the world had washed ashore. Among the debris were many bottles (though none with messages) and loose buoys.

The photo below shows me bravely holding a crab I found. Uaaaah!

On the day we returned to the main island, there was a rowing race taking place. Traditionally, once a year, women paddle canoes from Molokai to Oahu. If you row well, it takes about six hours. The canoes set off at dawn, and a little later, we took off in our small plane to head to the main island as well, where the bomber back to the mainland USA was departing.

After a while, we could see the boats, and the pilot, apparently unbound by general aviation laws in Hawaii, deviated from his flight path, dipped down to the canoes, circled them a few times to the cheers of the passengers, and then continued on to Oahu. As a reward, he received a T-shirt with the race motif from a passenger who was apparently a race official, after we landed.

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• More topics you might be interested in:

  	Ordering a New Computer Off the Internet
  	Book Prices in the USA
  	Buying a Car in the USA
  	All-Hands Meeting at AOL
  	To Napa Valley on the Weekend