I am visiting one of the most remote places on earth, the big island of Hawaii, where Kona coffee, ginger, avocados, mangos, papaya and bananas burst forth from fertile volcanic ground and sea turtles devour seaweed from shoreline rocks. Admittedly, I was reluctant to choose Hawaii as a travel destination. It seemed like an expensive, cliche place everyone liked - middle Americans, dwarfs, housewives, CEOs, marine biologists, geriatrics, and 13 year old boys - so I assumed it would be a bustling touristic scene I couldn't avoid. I was wrong. This place is wild.
My manchops and I are renting a wee cabin secretly tucked on top of a lush mountain where wild turkeys have morning parades around orange trees and a fat bull-frog greets me in the bathroom each time I get up to pee at 4 am.
We have been spending our days donning masks, fins and snorkels floating above a magical underworld where barracudas, trumpetfish, eel, sea turtles, angelfish (and other fish I cannot begin to identify) swim fearlessly alongside our clumsy human bodies. Enticed by the quiet and mystique, I drift further and further away from shore. A shark could chew off my ankles and I might not notice.