We’ve already learned how to “tro an aloha” and how to spot a Portuguese man of war. (Bellows count was at 4 or 5 with one casualty, only Mr. Marshall.) Everything is shakka and it’s all Hawaiian time… Read that as slow as molasses!
The most interesting is probably hearing Bria’s take on things like, “Mama, does mahalo mean thank you let’s have a party?” any reason for that girl to grab her red solo cup. She is quite concerned that our hotel room doesn’t have an oven. When we walked in she said, “how will we cook that other stuff, LIKE PIE?”
There are moments when you live here and are places other than Waikiki Beach that you start to feel like you are in another country. Like last night I ordered shrimp and grits. Shrimp and grits were clearly in the dish but I wasn’t expecting the thick gravy that went with them. It was still pretty tasty, just not like home.
The malasadas make everything better though. We’ll get used to it.