Traveling alone, I’d be taking my first solo adventure in many years. Excitement churned in the pit of my stomach. Kaluapapa was only hours and a three minute airplane ride away. Memories would be carved in my heart, mine and mine alone. But, there were hours worth of adventures left on this day, as we returned to the main hotel.
VST wasn’t interested in visiting the little town of Kaluapapa. He had a real dislike for the stories of leprosy and the tragedy it brought to the islands. Although he had no problem with me visiting, he was not going to chance contracting the disease himself. He would stay at the hotel, people watch, and make sure that we had dinner reservations for the evening. He might drive around the island to look for more activities, but, he’d not be joining me on my little get-a-way.
With still no sign of any guests, we asked for some fresh pineapple and coconut milk upon our return. Three associates all raced away, finally having customers to satisfy, while VST and I sank into deep leather chairs with ottomans that sucked us into luxurious comfort. A quartet of handsome Hawaiians in flowered shirts and khaki shorts entered the room to play afternoon music just for us. The cavernous room, its high ceilings covered in wood, provided perfect acoustics. Hawaiian music drifted through the air, not to loud, not to soft, but perfect in every way.
The associates brought back a silver tray with two glasses of coconut milk, and one pineapple sliced into bite size pieces. Delicate purple orchids surrounded the pineapple. Another associate brought us warm, moist hand towels with which to refresh our travel weary faces and hands. We had at least eight associates that waited to handle our every need, because, so far, we were the only guests there.
The time approached 4 PM, and we decided to get ready for dinner. As we got up to leave, the musicians looked forlorn. An associate raced over to ask if everything was to our liking. Explaining that we were going to prepare for dinner, one had very helpful advice.
“Have you dinner reservations? It’s high season, and “Solitude Grill” fills up quickly. If you give me your name, I’ll try to get you a table by the window.” Giving them our name and room number, we continued upstairs. We had dinner reservations for 5 PM. Just enough time to get ready.
Upon returning to the room, we saw we had visitors while we were out. A crystal carafe of fresh ice water with lemon sat on the table, along with a tray of crackers and cheese. The bathroom had been prepared with even softer towels and a tray of wonderful soaps, oils, and refreshing sprays, in individual bottles. Directions for the multidirectional wall shower were on the counter, as well. A selection of bubble bath sat near the jetted soaking tub. Everything was sparkling clean and smelled faintly of hibiscus flowers.
On the deck, two light blankets had been draped over the arms of the chairs, because Hawaiian evenings can get chilly. The softest Hawaiian music played quietly.
The beautiful Hawaiian quilt had been put away, and the bed had been turned back, with at least eight down pillows fluffed and propped. On the desk lay two brand new iPad’s for our hotel use. It was as if everything we could have needed or wanted was anticipated and prepared for. We used the privacy wisely.
Wearing my newest Hawaiian sundress, and VST looking exceptionally handsome, as always, we headed out for the “Solitude Grill”. We’d been warned to arrive right on time, as the crowds could make it impossible to get near the entrance. And yet, when we arrived there was not another guest in sight. No one. Just us.
Waiters and waitresses stood at their stations in the restaurant. The glass doors slid and stacked at either side, making the far wall disappear. The ocean waves provided the music of the evening, in the open air venue. Waiters wore tuxedo jackets with tuxedo shorts. A nice touch to a beautiful and serene setting. We’d already decided on our dinner selection and wanted to order quickly. It was local movie night, and we didn’t want to be late for that either. We had been told the movie sold out quickly, being one of the few choices for evening entertainment on the island.
“I’ll have the filet mignon, medium charred, please.” On a tony cattle ranch in Molokai, the beef would be an excellent choice. I just knew it.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll need to check on the availability. With high season in full swing, we’ve been running low on provisions. Some selections might not be available. Could you please wait for a moment while I check?”
Looking around at the 20 empty tables, all set with the finest china and crystal, I shivered. This was becoming a bit creepy. Our room should have been noisy from the crowds in the restaurant, but there was no one to make a peep. Any additional conversations would have been welcomed at this point. But, there was just an occasional pot clanging in the kitchen. It was so quiet, whispering staff could be heard from across the room. Eerie, I began to feel like this was a new episode of the Twilight Zone.
“Yes, yes, we have two filets. Eight ounce and aged. Perfectly marbled. Grain finished. You should be very happy with the selection. Our beef is raised on the island, right above the beach, over there.” Indeed, we had driven by green pastures dotted with huge Black Angus. This should be delicious.
Dinner was served to perfection, down to the freshly baked rolls. Everything was the freshest it could be as we ate by the open windows, overlooking the beach. During dinner, there was never a sign of another guest. Just us, enjoying this most private and beautiful hotel.
After dinner, we walked to the community center where first run movies were shown once a week. Locals were paying their $2 a ticket and entering the building. With no one wearing more than a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, we were overdressed, causing a few to stare and smile. The community center had fifty chairs arranged in rows. There was a portable screen at the front of the room, and a projector in the back. We were going to see the premiere of a new movie right here in this dingy little room with no windows, because that is how things are on Moloka’i. Two local women popped popcorn in two air poppers, melting real butter on a hot plate. We ordered two bags and settled in.
With little fanfare, the movie played. A romantic comedy, the name I don’t recall. Another experience that made my love for Moloka’i deepen. Such a simple little place.
With stars high in the darkest sky, we walked back to our hotel. There were no strangers to fear or traffic to avoid as we walked down the middle of the street holding hands. The night breezes rustled the palm leaves and our hair.
Upon returning, the welcoming staff asked if we would like hot chocolate before we turned in. Sipping on whipped cream and cocoa on the lanai with the stars and the moon watching over us, there was nothing more a conversation would add. This was a place I would remember forever. Hours evaporated into dream filled sleep. An adventure beyond my expectations would unfold in the morning.
“Arrive 45 minutes before your scheduled flight. The pilot often leaves a few minutes early. Leaves a few minutes early. Leaves a few minutes early. Don’t be late.” The words played over and over in my mind, until I awoke to the alarm clock.
Oh no! Were we late, already? The airport would be bustling. We needed to get through TSA with enough time to board. We had to hurry! Adventure awaits……
To Be Continued……..