What Are You Going to Do?

I don't tan. I burn if I'm in the sun for any amount of time at all. The best I can do is a light beige by the end of the summer, if I'm outside almost every day. I wear a sunblock. Not a suntan lotion, or a sunscreen, a block. YOU SHALL NOT PASS! Block.

I get ill in the heat and humidity. Like sick to my stomach, pounding headache, can't do anything, ill.

I get seasick. Doesn't matter how choppy or not choppy the water is, if I don't take precautions I get sick. And then I'm down for the rest of the day. It's big time sick, not a little queasy and done. But heaving over the side of the boat, then to bed for the day. Out.

I tend to get Mal de Débarquement Syndrome. That's a fancy name for extended sea legs. If we go on a long sailing trip (long being anything over a couple of hours) I have that the boat is rocking feeling for a long time after. As in we went out on Monday and I still have it today. After our Alaska cruise I want to say it was almost a month before it was completely gone. Bedspins without the alcohol sort of thing.

I'm super not graceful. Any sort of physical activity is going to leave me covered in bruises. Some I know how I got (I have three in a row on my leg from the ladder on to the boat where the wave came when I was still half on), more that I have no clue (the dark, almost black one that Brent pointed out on my leg that I would have missed otherwise).

Each and every time shopping for and finding a bathing suit that fits is an exercise in humility, and settling for good enough, and remember when you used to be hot (even though, honestly, suits didn't fit back then either).  Followed by the actual wearing of it which turns into a tug, tug, shift, tighten, loosen, tug, fidget experience of making sure my bits are covered and nothing is floating away (suit or bits).

I am absolutely not made for tropical beaches.

And yet...

I love to sit on the beach and listen to the waves crash on the shore. I love to watch the roll and break and wash of the water as it comes in and then goes back out. I love the hiss of the water as it hits and as it goes back out to sea. I love the smell of the salt in the air and the feel of the mist on my face. I even love watching from a balcony above the surf, just sitting out on the lanai with a book and looking up every few pages to watch the waves is a perfect afternoon.

There is a popping clicking noise that you hear underwater swimming over a coral reef. It's the fish chomping at the coral. clickclickclickclick There is almost nothing that makes my heart feel as full as that first moment I hear that.

Except the sound of a humpback singing. Listening to a hydrophone pick it up makes my eyes tear up each and every time. Being in the water and feeling the vibration of the song in my chest? I don't have a word for that feeling. And I have a lot of words.

Swimming out in the ocean with Brent and each of us pointing out things so we don't miss the cool things. The manta ray eating breakfast, the eel swimming after the school of fish looking like an old man chasing them off of his coral cave, the sleeping honu, the swimming honu, the blue fish, the green fish, the rainbow fish...everything is the cool thing. And we are just out there looking at it. And pointing.

Stepping off of the plane in Hawaii it feels like Brent and I shed a coat, no matter what the weather is, a heavy coat and we are just lighter there. Part of it is that it's vacation, sure. And it's actual vacation not Intel vacation. But it's just different. Like the salt water is buoyant so it holds us up with less gravity.

We talk about retiring there. I picture a life eating fresh fruit and swimming almost every day.

But then I wonder how long you have to be there before it just is normal? When we went to Oahu we were stuck in traffic going from Pearl Harbor to Waikiki and wondered how quickly it would change from "Sure you're stuck in traffic, but you're stuck in traffic in Hawaii" to "I'M STUCK IN TRAFFIC AGAIN!!" A few years ago on Kauai we were there for a week and it rained almost the whole time. Almost everything we planned got cancelled. Flash floods, high surf, trails washed out. And we still had a great time. It was still Hawaii. We found other things to do. Including one of the things I recommend to EVERYONE who goes to Kauai. (Lydgate Farms) But how long would that last?

I know I experience it here. Every once in awhile I am startled by how beautiful it is. I notice again. Fall is gorgeous. Spring is breathtaking. But summer and winter are awfully lovely as well. But on the day to day? It fades into the background. It's just where we live. If I'm not showing it off to someone it's just...well...home.

Where I can wear my sweaters and my boots. And the weather rarely gets too hot. And we have access to concerts and plays and sports. And beautiful hikes and a gorgeous coastline.

And a direct flight to Hawaii.

Because Oregon might be home, and I might be built for the PNW, but I've always been contrary and no matter how much I'm not made for Hawaii I think I should be.

What are you going to do?