To Hawaii and back - Karla Weller

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Bianca went to the kitchen and fried ravioli with egg to be served with a colorful salad. Hm, I didn’t know this side of her yet. Since when could she do housewife, too? Anyway, it didn’t matter, as long as there was delicious food for dinner!

      On Saturday morning at six, the next crisis arose. The refrigerator was still packed full of organic yogurt, organic whipping cream, organic cheeses of all kinds. “Geez, Roland! Why didn’t you eat all of this good stuff? Now I’ll have to throw it all away!” Bianca whined and started tossing all of the organic dairy products into the organic waste bin. What a pity! But since when did Bianca have so much food at home in the first place? Interesting! The Bianca I knew preferred to eat bags of chips and gummy bears for living. Roland deftly ignored the accusation and calmly poured himself a cup of coffee.

      Soon, our luggage was loaded and Roland’s son Chris drove us to the airport in his SUV: Max, Bianca and I were packed in the back like sardines with Roland’s golf bag on our laps and countless suitcases and bags at our necks. During a daring passing maneuver, our luggage took on a life of its own and threatened to pass our vehicle on its own power. My pulse increased and my mood worsened proportionately.

      While saying goodbye at the gate, Bianca spat out a few biting remarks that no one seemed to notice and eventually we were checked in, with forty pounds of excess baggage, and sitting on the plane from Munich to San Francisco via Frankfurt. Roland sat with Max so Bianca and I could chat in peace. Thus, for the next few hours, I received intimate insights and was told unpleasant stories about a couple that wasn’t even married yet. I secretly wondered whether Bianca still wanted this marriage to happen at all.

      In San Francisco, everyone was still talking about the massive storm on the islands, but the worst had apparently passed and flight traffic to Hawaii had resumed; so we had exactly five hours for a short tour of the city.

      The idea of spontaneously taking a cab to Pier 39 was great, but we couldn‘t really move in the afternoon rush hour, so instead, we sat there, stuck in traffic, and only got to see the “back” of the Golden Gate Bridge from a construction site. The taxi still cost us more than 100 dollars. A postcard of the famous bridge would have been much cheaper to buy and might have given an even closer look.

      Now we had less than 30 minutes to grab something to eat at a café at Fisherman’s Wharf, but since we were in such a hurry, we had to sit inside without even a scenic view of the ocean. As Roland had paid for the taxi, I insisted on paying for lunch. It was important to me that Roland would not see me as an annoying and expensive tag-along, but as a fully invested partner on this trip. Naturally, I had already paid my share of the travel costs and I wanted to assume my own personal costs during the trip. As I shared my point of view at the pier, Roland looked at me strangely, but then accepted that I was going to take the check. So far so good!

      The friendly officers at the airport called after us in a good mood, “Watch out for the storm” they shouted out and, “Stay safe”. I waved them off, smiling, because at that time, I still thought they meant the weather conditions and not my relationship with my travel companions. But the spirits of Hawaii were already awaiting us, in anticipation.

      After another five hours of flying, we landed right on schedule at the Kona airport of Big Island and that was when I finally realized I had completely surrendered “control” of my seminar trip and didn’t have a clue of any details. While I had seen it as a nice gesture on Roland’s part that only he knew the flight route and held on to all four of our boarding cards, which were issued to him when we first checked in, it was now becoming apparent that he was the only one who had all of the important travel information, while Bianca, her son and I had to follow him around like underage children. Roland was completely in charge.

      The rental car had been booked with Avis, in his name of course, while no second driver had been registered, and only he knew the address and directions to the hotel. He had booked the entire trip for the whole group and only forwarded one or two emails to me. I had not received the final travel documents and hadn’t even thought to get them.

      For some reason beyond my understanding, he had not paid for a navigation with the car so we set out, from Kona by night, to find a hotel all by ourselves somewhere on Big Island. I did not even know its name yet but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, since I was sitting with Max in the back seat of the Ford SUV with Roland’s golf bag on my lap. And as it was already dark on the island, Max and I couldn’t see our surroundings at all. Very well. After all, we didn’t know where we were going when we were on the plane either; as long as the pilot knew his way, things would turn out well.

      Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case now. We had already been driving around the island for more than an hour. The weight of the golf bag was starting to get uncomfortable and I was already envisioning myself on the beach with bruised thighs, and there was still no resort in sight, at least not from the back seat. So I finally started praying for an angel to help Roland find his way and eventually, we arrived and found ourselves in front of a lowered gate at the hotel. It turned out, there were detailed directions to be found in the booking documents together with a code for the gate and a PIN for the safe at the reception for late arrivals where we could collect our apartment key. How nice that Roland had been given all the information, he just wasn’t aware at the moment.

      It was almost midnight when we finally got to our apartment and were awarded with a huge, tastefully decorated, beautiful flat with a gorgeous covered balcony that stretched across two sides of the apartment. The balcony was accessible both from the living room and the master bedroom and of course, that master bedroom was reserved for Roland. Who else? “I can’t expect Roland to sleep in a smaller bed!” my friend murmured.

      So I moved into the second bedroom; but where would Max sleep? He could hardly share the room with his parents or me, since the second room only had one queen-sized bed. Quickly, Roland came up with the idea to buy an extra bed at Wal-Mart the very next day and until then the boy could sleep on the sofa.

      But now Bianca used her excellent organizational abilities and suggested she would share my room for the first night while Max could move in with Roland. I was not fond of the idea and clearly Roland was not thrilled, either, but restrained himself with great difficulty and Bianca got her way.

      The next morning, Bianca got up early and went into the living room. A new side of her again; normally, she would stay in bed until noon. I remembered well her habit from Shanghai a few months earlier. Whatever. Suddenly she reappeared and smiled at me, embarrassed though, and closed the bedroom door behind her. What did that mean? Very soon I realized Roland was “exerting his matrimonial rights” now and required his partner in the kitchen for a little while. Turned out, he could sleep well alone, but hated to wake up all by himself. Somehow I got the feeling Bianca’s decision to share a room with me was merely her fleeing from Roland, not proof of our friendship. Unfortunately, her escape came to an end in the kitchen. Well, she would know best; after all, she wanted to marry this man, preferably in Hawaii.

      After a short conversation with reception, we were ensured an air mattress would be set up in our apartment the next day – right in the middle of what, until then, had been a very generously sized living room. Well, that shouldn’t be a problem for the nicest three weeks in the year … The fact that Max spent his nights on the computer and his days sleeping when we all wanted to use the living room and terrace to hang out and dining was less than ideal but somehow it should work out for sure.

      Now we needed to get something for breakfast first since the refrigerator was still completely empty. So, on Sunday morning, Bianca and I were actually allowed to take the SUV and do grocery shopping for our basic needs at the nearby supermarket. I spent more than 100 dollars on eggs, ham, cheese, coffee and milk! The supermarket was on the resort grounds and demanded high prices accordingly. The average Hawaiian certainly wouldn’t have shopped here. But, at the moment, we didn’t really care.

      Together we prepared a delicious breakfast and enjoyed the fantastic view from the terrace while eating and making plans for our first day of vacation. The weather was beautiful and I was expecting a wonderful trip.

      Off we went, exploring the island by car. I wanted to drive to the beach right away, but Roland somehow managed to only take roads

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