Every good thing must end, I guess. Especially perfect vacations.
Martin went out to photograph his last Kauai sunrise while I started packing for the trip home. All the recent biking, kayaking, and hiking was making itself known today: Every muscle was sore, every movement induced a wince. We hurt “nose to toes,” as Martin put it. Like a couple of old people, we hobbled around.
We said goodbye to our pretty condo overlooking Wailua Bay and went out to breakfast at the Ono Family Restaurant. The Hawaiian word ono – “oh no!” – means, counterintuitively, “delicious.” It reminds me of the car “Nova,” marketed to Hispanics, which translates from Spanish, unfortunately, as “Doesn’t go.”