An island life

Smell the salt and feel the sunburn. Stand head on into an ocean roar as the stress of mainland life slips to the wayside. There is a simple and astonishing truth about life in Hilo. You see it on the face of a barefoot surfer, mapped with all the creases and wrinkles of life; smile creases running the deepest. You feel it in the warm embrace of a local and hear it in the music of a ukulele as it strums at your seafaring soul. No other place loves the human spirit quite like Hilo. The town of Hilo will greet you with the whispers of an old friend, dusting off your lust for life. First stop along your travel of barefoot wanders will be the local farmers market: a chaotic shrine to delicious food and trinkets. Joining this market is a pilgrim of washed up travellers, drawn in by the colours of summer skin, the spicy smell of kebabs and sweet lure of mangoes. Here, wondrous eyes will speak, without words, for their love of the islands. Your feet, now callused by seashore strolls, will eventually take you South. Drawn by the promise of a place where the pacific breeze blows un-intruded. Here cliffs carved by the hand of the ocean fall away into a canvas still of unbounded blue. You’re invited to jump, the oceans offering of a chance to feel strong. As the dusty ground slips away the rhythmic ocean whispers quickly becomes a roar, dragging at your stuttering heart. The only way out is a rusty ladder, pieces of which lay on the ocean floor. You’ll return home to the first preparations of a sunset luau. The Great Hawaiian feast. The best sunsets hold you in a warm embrace, spilling out a buttery light that so loves every contour of the human face. These same sunsets leave you panic stricken at the thought of their imminent demise. The same is not true of a sunset over Hilo, panic is fleeting for the setting sun marks a commence of an evening acapalla of frogs. Leaving the Big Island of Hawaii you’ll see its outline retreat, swallowed by a sparkling smile of the Pacific. As you feel the sand and salt slowly seeping away, you’ll be left aching a return. The memories will eventually fade and the sounds will eventually quieten, all to be frozen as a snapshot image on a post-card, characters staring expectantly and awaiting your return. You’ll file this post-card away, in the corners of your memory or the top drawer in your kitchen. And when you feel the stress of mainland life return, you’ll look at this postcard. You’ll remember and your spirit will smile.