Angelika/Mike Schilli |
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Angelika Munich residents go skiing in the mountains, Oldenburgers go shopping in the Dutch city of Groningen, and Californians go to relax in Hawaii. As you can see, we were back in Hawaii again. Since we had already visited every inhabited Hawaiian island, we thought we'd start over with "Big Island". Just to remind you: "Big Island" is officially called Hawaii. Since Hawaii is also the collective term for the island group and the state, everyone calls it "Big Island". The somewhat unimaginative name refers solely to the size of the island.
Why do we keep coming back to Hawaii? It's simple: the weather is great, the ocean is warm, the beaches are beautiful. You don't need a visa or annoying vaccinations, there's no malaria, everyone speaks English, the landscape is exotic without the addition of annoying, poisonous snakes or other dangerous animals. The snake argument is especially high on Michael's list. Snakes are not really his thing and I remember our trips to Australia, where he always sent me ahead on hiking trails to check out the snake situation, because Australia is known to have the most poisonous snakes in the world. But I digress.
Funnily enough, different small creatures loved us on this vacation. It started when I stepped on a sea urchin in the ocean. I initially thought a sharp, long dagger had rammed into my foot to split it (seriously - that's how it felt). Bravely, I pulled out the spines, but I couldn't see anything in the choppy ocean. So, I limped out of the water and examined my foot on the beach. I discovered a slightly bleeding cut. A cool surfer who was strolling past our beach spot inspected my wound and brought up the sea urchin theory. He kindly explained the treatments practiced on the island: first, pee on the wound or soak the foot in vinegar water to relieve the burning pain, then use tweezers to pluck out the spines. Nurse Michael, also known as "Rabiato", took on the task of removing the spines. The next day, everything was forgotten, except that the people splashing around with me in the ocean probably wondered why the woman in the red bikini was walking on eggshells on the soft sand. One step on a sea urchin is enough.
A few days later, a huge spider visited us, seeing the driver's door of our rental car as a cozy spot. Michael immediately named it "Murder Spider". And when I read to him from the travel guide that there is indeed a dangerous species of spider on Hawaii, the "Black Widow", Michael was beside himself. Otherwise, we only shared our accommodation with the obligatory, insect-eating, completely harmless geckos, which are luminous green on Big Island.
Michael It is completely normal for geckos to roam around the house. The cute lizard-like reptiles occasionally make a quiet frog-like sound like "E-cko!", climb up walls with suction cup feet, lounge around near lamps, and elegantly snatch pesky mosquitoes and other pests. I always make sure there are enough geckos in the house. Nothing is more calming than hearing a mosquito buzz at night and thinking: The gecko will get you soon, bahahahaha!
Angelika Big Island, with its varied landscapes, almost feels like a mini-continent. Where else can you find active volcanoes, white, black and green beaches, meadows and fields, lush tropical vegetation on one side and hardened black lava on the other? On Big Island, I finally understood what volcanoes are all about and how new earth is created. Yes, I admit it, geography was not one of my favorite subjects in school. That may also be because my class teacher, Mr. Senst, tortured us with terms like end moraines and the effects of the ice age in seventh grade, but I was more concerned with my effect on the opposite sex.
I don't remember that Mr. Senst ever mentioned volcanoes. Probably people learn that in elementary school. When we drove past a papaya field on Hawaii, I expressed my amazement as to why everything grows so well on lava soil. Michael then gave me a lecture that this is the most fertile soil of all and that you learn this in school. He even dug the name of this special soil out of his memory. Hmm, I always thought he spent his school time playing football on the street and not buried in school books. In addition to these geological considerations, philosophical thoughts always come to mind on Big Island when, for example, the delicate green plant bravely makes its way through the hard black masses of rock.
This time we didn't go to the flowing lava (see Rundbrief 11/2000), since it wasn't currently making its way to the ocean. Instead, we went to the "LavaTree State Monument". There, bizarre-looking lava tree trunks reach up to the sky. They were formed in 1790, when lava flowed through this rainforest. Parts of the lava solidified on the wet tree trunks and even though the trees themselves burned, the shaped lava shells remained standing. I wouldn't have been surprised if a dinosaur had come around the corner in this park.
On Big Island (and Hawaii in general) I'm always fascinated anew by how American it is -- and yet not: There's the obligatory American fast food, the same chain stores, and the same TV programming. The street signs, of course, don't look any different from the mainland at first glance, but a second look reveals them: Kealakekua, Laupahoehoe, Anaeho'omalu.
Tourists find resorts and golf courses, but also remnants of ancient Hawaiian culture if you venture off the beaten path. For example, we hiked to the Mo'okini Heiau sacrificial site, which is considered one of the oldest Hawaiian temple complexes. The open-air temple, bounded by stone piles, is located on the windy northern tip of the island and we had to go around some huge puddles to get to it. The tradition says that people were also sacrificed to the gods here. I believed it immediately: because the temple is so far from the shot, nobody sees or hears anything.
Returning to today's Hawaiian lifestyle: The locals don't get easily flustered and don't constantly hustle and bustle. For example, we experienced how a typical New York family father with wife and two children at the beach rental spread wild chaos because he still needed this and that folding chair as well as a beach umbrella. The rental guy didn't care at all. Stolidly and in slow motion he handed him everything. The chaos simply bounced off him. Even that at 11 o'clock in the morning usually all beach umbrellas were already rented out, didn't set the American entrepreneurial spirit in motion in Hawaii to buy more beach umbrellas in order to be able to rent out more. "Hang loose" is the motto of the islanders.
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