I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on a trip. You know the kind of trip I mean, not one of the little “photo excursions” I go on, to places like Burnet, Blanco, Bertram, or maybe Salado, if I tire of the letter “B.” No, I mean, an actual honest-to-God trip-luggage, time zone changes, airport security (well, maybe I could do without airport security,) customs, and all. I’m talking a TRIP. Adios, au–ruvoir, fare-thee-well, I’mOuttaHere, fly me to the moon kind of a trip.
So, I started surfing the web, looking at brochures, digging through photography workshop offerings, asking people for advice, and trying to figure out if Tajikistan is really a place I want to visit (It’s not. In fact, I don’t even think I spelled it right.) I looked at workshops in Tuscany (almost booked one) I peeked at Morocco (camels and I probably don’t deserve to mix…at least not quite yet.) I thought about Ireland, contemplated Turkey, and realized that Andalusia this time of year would be nice. I dug through brochure after brochure, browsed websites, hit the travel-related companies with queries they probably never imagined. I wanted to go to Greece for the salad (and olives. Man I dig the olives.) and seriously pictured myself stuck in a pink Tuscan villa with some fine Chianti in a glass by the pool.
After all of this, where, oh where did I decide to go?
Aloha. That’s right. I’m going to Hawaii. I found a great woman’s retreat offered by Kathleen Carr on the island of Kona. Kona, in Hawaiian translates to “land of great coffee.” (Well, ok, maybe not, but it should, right?) So, this would be a good time to tell you that, “God willing and the waters don’t rise,” I’ll be going to Kona in April.
I know it’s a bit odd, even for me. I mean, with a figure like mine I really should think long and hard about taking up the fine sport of whale-watching but, almost-plus-sized bikini be damned, I’m taking my overweight butt to the land of Kilauea. I’ll wear a cover-up. I’ll put on sun screen. I’ll take pictures of primordial ferns erupting out of volcanoes that, well, maybe aren’t as dormant as I’d like. I’ll worship at the temple of the Gods and watch as the fire comes from the mountain. I’ll try not to tip the catamaran. Luau anyone?
Now the big questions remain. How many gigs of compact flash will be eaten up by sunset photos? How many whales will I spot and will they not eat me out of professional courtesy? How is a “random lava pit” different from a “stray volcano” and, exactly how do I avoid falling into either one of these? Do flip flops come in colors to match my pale knobby knees?
Look on the bright side, I might bring back some pictures. At least, that’s the plan.
Until next time…