Up at 5 am to catch 6 am shuttle to airport. Back into the plushy 777 and left on time. Goodbye, Hawaii.
On the flight back, we were deprived of a view of the ocean, since the young man in the window seat in our row kept the shade down the entire five hours. He had nothing to read or listen to, either.
I had a couple of “alternative” newspapers I had picked up somewhere to read. I read all about how the wind turbines were being built too close to people’s houses, contrary to what the regs specify. How the native Hawaiians who are still living on their ancestral plots of land are being forced to sell because of high land taxes driven by development. About the blight of food trucks. About years of needing to fix dangerous roads that always, always gets postponed. About not enough money from Honolulu to keep up the bike path in Sunset Beach even though it’s their responsibility.
Not very happy reading, and after a while I gave it up. It’s been slightly more than 200 years since outsiders (“settlers” in the language being used today) came to Hawaii, and the impact is ongoing. It’s similar to what we have in Canada, but compressed into such a small area (Oahu is slightly less than twice as big as the city of Calgary) that there’s no escape.
So then I read P.D. James. Before I knew it, we were landing in San Francisco.
A chilly three-hour layover (we’d packed our down jackets in the checked bags), two hours to Calgary, and we were home.
far.code.blog 