Kona, Hawaii: Day three
The waves pounded my head down against the bottom of the sea. Sand got in between every strand of my hair, every inch of my body. It took three hours to get it out of the bikini. The ocean here is a lot more powerful than anything I’ve seen before; scared of being forcibly pulled out, or under, I opted instead to stand on the beach and shoot photos of the sunset. Here’s a short video clip you can watch to get a better idea of how it looked and sounded. The guys I went swimming with are the ones at the end, getting pounded by a wave.
We went up on the volcano — G. and I, to see his hippie pals who sleep in a tent and have been hired to clear off some rich peoples’ land. The boys had made mocassins and bows and arrows; I got to shoot a few, but they never made it to the target.
“I want to be a mountain man,” G. told C. later that night. “I want to make mocassins and build stone walls and shoot bows and arrows and sleep on the ground and not use soap.” I had to admit that, minus the hygiene factor, it’s a pretty alluring lifestyle. Especially if you’re living on the side of an active volcano.
It’s another gorgeous day, and I have effectively forgotten Boston. It’s for the best. The only thing to concentrate on here is the sun and the sea and how many scones and mangos I can eat in one day. I’ve met some really cool people out here, from all over the place. Tonight C. and James and I are going swimming in a calm area of the shore enclosed by rocks. I’ve decided to wear the same skirt every day. I can understand why people are drawn to this island: the trees and sun and ocean give a perspective you can’t get in snow and freezing air. Everything here is light; that’s how I want to be.