Family Vacation

I am the most blessed woman on Planet Earth. I embrace that, send praises to God and my unbelievably generous family.

Eternally grateful. I’m beyond, beyond, beyond aware that if it wasn’t for my niece and her husband, I wouldn’t be here. No way, no how. Not this happy-for-a- thrice week-shower camper chick. 

It’s 7 a.m. and the first rainbow of the day just appeared, arching from the rolling sea, and vanishing into heaven. My not-so-morning amigos are back in Room 1105 trying to ignore the crowing roosters which happen to be my, “Wake up, wake up, it’s a new day!” little kid-exuberant alarm clock. I don’t want to miss a second of this gorgeous resort and family vacation, so I sit here with this delicious $9 Kona latte, gazing at One Hotel’s sweeping balcony view of Hanalei Bay. Hopeful surfers, among them likely my niece’s husband, wait for just the right wave which will inevitably arrive. 

I’m not used to this. One Hotel is noted as one of the world’s best and I can see why. The view from all the strategically placed rooms is private and expansive at the same time. (One could stand naked in front of the window and no one would be the wiser.) The hotel’s motif is beach vibe reclaimed wood and beachcombed stone, reflecting the palette found in the natural environment. There’s a lush chef’s rooftop garden, which I’m looking at right now, and activities, like tequila tasting, meditation and yoga classes, spaced throughout the day. The dining is farm to table, organic and eyeball-rolling back delish. The first night we had a homemade pasta dish with shrimp and fresh peas that might very well be the best dinner I ever had! 

Rich and famous people stay here, but you’d never know it from the relaxed, back-to-the-soil, protect-Planet Earth ambiance. While I clearly don’t fit in here with my Target attire and self-pedicured toes, I don’t think anyone really cares who we are or how we got here. I guess there’s an unspoken key-to-the-kingdom acceptance; if you can afford to be here, you’re you’re one of us. 

Last Spring, my niece and her husband treated us to stay with them at Sandy Lane Hotel in Barbados, a destination Queen Elizabeth and her family stayed at. My sister, cousin, and I—The Three Amigos—each got our own, truly royal room. Believe you me, when it was time to leave, we tucked the pink embroidered SLH white slippers and as many tea bags, loofa sponges, and signature scented moist towelettes we could pack into our non-Gucci carry-ons. It was another amazing adventure, seeing how the other half lives, while keenly aware of our spectator status. 

Seems wherever I go, whether here in Kauai staying at one of the world’s most coveted hotels or back on the road staying at state campgrounds or wine-tasting in Paso Robles, I gravitate toward the staff, the workers, those who roll up their sleeves, turn back the sheets in late afternoon, fill up the ice bucket and humbly provide service to schmucks like me. 

People live like this!! I keep thinking. 

Being served. 

Paying big bucks for holidays. 

Having enough funds to zero-out points-generating credit cards when they return to the mainland.

Crazy! Right? But The Lucky live like this—all the time; you can see it in their relaxed, weekly facial-ized faces and their bouncy, flowy, gauzy, ylang ylang-scented gait; the strut of financial freedom. Cool, respectful and the opposite of flaunting. With two exceptions: we witnessed a Russian lady yelling at the restaurant hostess when she was told she had to wait, along with the rest of us, for 20 minutes because they were short-staffed and the 30-something L.A. woman who snapped pictures of empty serving platters and threatened to complain to management. Yuck. Upon witnessing their bad behavior, my amigos and I apologized to the victimized staff and reinforced our appreciation for their hospitality and grace.

Tomorrow my amigos and I will bid One Hotel adieu and move about a six-minute walk away to our treetop condo where we’ll spend the remainder of our vacation. 

But for now, we’ll continue to enjoy sipping margaritas by the pool and stroll down to our private beach at the edge of Hanalei Bay. Yeh, a girl could get used to this. 

Aloha from paradise.