Mahalo Mahalo, Maui
"Aloha" might be the most recognizable Hawaiian term, but on Maui, "Mahalo" is a close second. It lacks linguistic flexibility, meaning just one thing: Thank you. However, it is quite pliable in conveying a desired tone.
Come enjoy authentic Hawaiian shave ice. Mahalo.Yes, our lines are long. Please be patient. Mahalo.
The restaurant kitchen's closing early tonight. Mahalo.
Our $1.50 (each) kiwi fruit are better. Mahalo.
I can think of no better word that reflects the four days recently spent exploring a paradise always on alert for potential disasters. Which pretty much sums up our trip, too.
Mahalo for those quiet, pre-dawn mornings I spent sipping hot tea on our balcony and watching locals setting up for another busy (hopefully profitable) day while pale-skinned tourists ran, walked, and cycled along S. Kihei Road because they hadn't adjusted to the time change. Then there was the family from the unit four doors down not doing a good job keeping the kids quiet as they loaded into their rented red Jeep around 5:30 a.m.
A deeply felt mahalo to the kind surf, silky sand, and cooler temps on Kama'ole Beach III during our early morning family visits that ended up my favorite part of the trip. I was in heaven enjoying a relatively people-free beach, making sandcastles and moats, watching outriggers skimming the sea's surface, paddle boarders hard at play ... even sighting some migrating whales by tracking all of the whale watching boats with bare eyes. My daughter was stung by jellyfish and still ranked our beach mornings No. 1. So did my other daughter, who swam in the Pacific for the first time since high school.
Mahalo to us for beating the crowds and arriving by foot and double stroller at That Cinnamon Roll Place just after it opened at 6 a.m. And to that day's super tasty lunch from Coconut's Fish Cafe in the same strip mall. Oh, before I forget, to the high humidity that made my thinning hair look full again -- mahalo!
Mahalo to airy clouds and gorgeous sunsets but absolutely no rain, which we Californians really appreciate because, if you haven't heard, we've had a wet winter and now, in addition to wildfires and earthquakes, we all fear floods and landslides. Speaking of which, my son-in-law and I were on our balcony watching the waves when the four-story building shook and we instantly looked at each other and said without ever actually saying it: Earthquake! It was confirmed a few minutes later; 5.7 magnitude.
Mahalo to our tour guide Jackie at Surfing Goat Dairy, who didn't seem to notice my older grandson's temper tantrum in the fields on our way to feed a herd. I learned so much about these animals, like they have a pecking order and moms can produce a gallon of milk per hour. And mahalo to me for grabbing us a great table for our post-tour cheese and cracker snack that included more cheese than crackers, so we improvised with Animal Crackers.
A big, big mahalo to a moment in time when we were driving back from Kula and The Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun" came on the radio and all five of us (ages 2 to 62) wedged in that red Jeep softly sang along, with me thinking: This is perfection.
Mahalo to the Maui Ocean Center in Wailuka, which lived up to its ranking as a Top 10 Aquarium in the world. An extra mahalo to the whale that breached while we were on the lookout. I was so excited I forgot to order a Dole Whip from the nearby cafe like everyone else. And, a hat tip to the film crew that took three years to shoot an incredible 20-minute documentary on humpback whales that had me crying beneath my 3D glasses. And which my grandson told everyone that was a lot of fun, even though he and his mom left just before the IMAX movie started.
Mahalo to everyone at Mama's Fish House in Paia. It may have been too dark to see the beach just beyond our outdoor table, but the sound of crashing waves was good enough for me. So was my octopus appetizer and the curry dish entree cooked better than anything my mama ever made.
Mahalo to a great Super Bowl game that came down to overtime and, even if the 49ers -- clearly the favored team at beaches and bars here -- lost in the end, Brock Purdy redeemed anyone who was ever picked last. And Taylor Swift may have peaked in popularity based on all of the boos and hisses -- even among drunk Chiefs fans -- whenever she appeared on TVs at the Waikiki Brewing Company.
Mahalo to the couple I met on the Eddie Pu Trail who told me about a family of sea turtles just hanging out in waters below a lava outcropping that looked doable in my Keds. Well worth the tender feet the next day. And, even if we steered clear of Lahaina due to heavy traffic from well-intentioned tourists, there were signs everywhere that the island was rooting for the northwest coast's triumphant return.
I'm even going to throw a mahalo to the surly flight attendant who matched my mood on the first leg home. Even my daughter said the woman had something against me, and I'm assuming it had nothing to do with my grandson in the next seat screaming "I want more choc-o-late!" with a Spanish accent for 20 minutes.
And because I still have that post-vacation glow, I'm not going to mention that we could have avoided at least two of the seven or eight very public meltdowns that day alone if my daughter had let me buy two of everything as I suggested. She forgot I used to travel with her and her sister at this age and know how we all suffer when there's inequality.
Finally, mahalo, dear Maui, for helping me see into the future. My husband stayed behind, so I was the odd one out though no one ever made me feel that way. I had enough time alone when I wanted it, and plenty of togetherness too. I definitely preferred the together part, even if my role was to break up brother fights, apologize with my eyes to fellow passengers, and watch (over and over) the part in Moana where Maui sings "You're Welcome."
