Trouble in Paradise

I was finally on a beach in Hawaii, one of my "trip of a lifetime" destination spots. Waikiki Beach stretched out below, and a Pacific island breeze softly blew away the harrowing seventeen hour travel day and all the hiccups that had come with it. I leaned against the balcony, soaking up the warm beams of a full moon and considered all of the struggles, decisions, and conversations that had finally landed me here. Standing in the middle of Paradise, experiencing a dream come true is a heady, powerful feeling, especially considering how utterly impossible getting there had seemed to be. I'd finally made it, saving money for over a year, meticulously plotting a strategy to get me to one of the destinations on Earth that I most wanted to go. And perhaps because my fiftieth birthday was fast approaching, I was already in a more hyper-thoughtful frame of mind than I would otherwise be, but here are some things I learned over the course of the next seven days...Paradise is just a place, albeit an exquisite one. The food is over-priced, although the pineapple is exceptional. It is extremely crowded (private beach, party of one please), and life's everyday messiness comes with you, tucked away in some random pocket of your carry-on luggage.

Since my husband left every facet of the trip planning up to my discretion, I created an itinerary for several days of our trip, including a Circle the Island Tour (Oahu), an evening out at one of the top-rated Luaus and a full day filled with military excursions (like vising Hickam Air Force Base and touring Battleship Row/Pearl Harbor). The rest of the time I left open so that we could wander wherever the glorious Trade Winds took us. 

Mokoli'i (Chinaman's Hat) off Kualoa Point, Oahu

Diamond Head Luau Waikiki

Our first full day in Oahu was spent exploring, mostly to scope out how we could feed ourselves without having a heart attack from over-priced meals (like a breakfast buffet that was $40 per person...what kind of eggs were they serving????), where the most authentic shopping areas were located (because while I find those little car dash hula dancers really cute, I can buy one off of Amazon for like five bucks), and what adventures we wanted to do that couldn't be found on any travel guide (hahaha be careful what you wish for). The Luau was scheduled for that evening, and as luck would have it, according to my research there was a bountiful array of great shopping along the route. Armed with that information, we decided to take a cab to our Luau and then walk back (turns out that walking 2 miles in a pretty dress and flip-flops on streets packed with hundreds of people, and  I do mean PACKED, is not the most stellar of ideas).

The dinner and show at the Luau was amazing. It certainly lived up to the reviews I had seen prior to attending. Once it was over, we were giddy on the first stretch of our walk through the Waikiki Shopping District. The street was bustling with activity while the ocean lapped happily alongside the route. My tummy was full, my husband was lovingly holding my hand and there was so much to see I didn't even know where to look first. As we made our way down the strip, the crowds began to thicken and my poor choice of footwear started to become apparent. The piece of shoe between my toes was rubbing a raw spot that was becoming uncomfortable. I ignored it. Soon, there were so many people surrounding us and shoving in and out of row upon row of shops that holding hands became impossible. By this point, I could no longer ignore my feet, one of which was now bleeding. We still had a long way to walk, and the thought of actually buying something (except perhaps new shoes, preferably bunny slippers) and having to carry it the rest of the way made me want to cry. I also stubbornly refused to let my husband know just how uncomfortable and cranky I was becoming. After another thousand steps, or so, I was also ready to find a pair of pajamas and ditch that dress into the nearest trash bin. You know how once you're cranky, almost anything and everything around you just makes you more cranky? I was there. I kept noticing all of the beautiful women, many of them extremely well-dressed and wearing crazy high heels that at this point would have made me homicidal and I was thinking "How on earth are they able to dress like that and still actually smile?" I am sure at some point my husband actually tried to speak to me, but by now I was so far gone all I could see were obstacles in the way of a lovely, long shower, absolute quiet, and a bed. Once we arrived back at our hotel, I'm fairly certain I have never been happier to see an elevator in my life. 

The week was flying crazily by. I kept telling myself to savor every moment but it seemed as if time had somehow gotten stuck on fast-forward and all I could do was hold on for the ride. Our Circle the Island Tour was insightful and filled with a landscape that made me want to pack up everything (or sell it all) and find a little spot in a grove somewhere and stay forever. Visiting Pearl Harbor, listening to popular music from the big bands of the forties streaming out in the gift shops made me nostalgic and emotional, reminding me of mom and dad Schaefer, as well as my own parents, and grandparents. They were younger than I am now when they lived through those events. I kept wondering what they thought about it all, how it shaped them as people and what scars it might have left. I had to hug the retired Marine (which I hope didn't make him uncomfortable) who narrated our boat tour of Pearl Harbor and Battleship Row because his reverence and sincerity had such a powerful impact on me. 

As our week was drawing to a close, we decided to rent a car for a second day and go back to some of the military spots we'd briefly visited (and purchase a suitcase to check on the flight home, don't judge). When we came out of the rental place, I decided I wanted to look into a shop close by and told my husband I'd just be a moment. I walked in, looked around and saw shelves filled with mostly merchandise I'd already viewed from many other place, and came right back out. My husband was gone. As I scanned the area that was visible finding no sign of him anywhere, I couldn't even wrap my head around where else to look for him. I texted. No answer. I waited. And it wasn't long before my mind went straight into panic mode, maybe because I watch way too much Dateline. I told myself, "Breathe in, breathe out. Everything's fine. Breathe in, breathe out." Approximately six minutes passed before he came waltzing around a corner and into view, healthy and in one piece and wondering why I looked so rattled. Let me tell you, six minutes is a very long time when you're worrying about every possible scenario of what could be wrong! And that is how the fight started. Let me tell you, it was a whopper! He drove us onto Hickam Air Force Base to the Officer's Club, which had a huge stretch of park behind it and incredible views of the water. We sat on a blanket in the grass and worked through all of the issues that came up from our fight and at one point he said to me, "I'm sorry I ruined your dream vacation." It was in that moment that I understood with crystal clarity that the only perfect vacation, perfect life, flawless experience is the one that exists in dreams. In real life, it's messy. I said to him, "The dream was coming here, but it would have meant nothing without you to share it with. It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be real. And in real life, fights come when they come. What were we going to do, put off talking about any of this until we got home because the timing wasn't perfect?" Thankfully, we put off nothing. We hashed it out there in Paradise because the relationship was far more valuable than our location. Turns out "Paradise" doesn't include a lack of struggles it just comes with a really great view. 

Hickam Air Force Base, Officer's Club Park