Next Stop: The Big Island (Kailua-Kona, Hawaii)
photography // Kiah McBride
I spent the entire year working towards this one week where I could finally just relax.
We often don’t grant ourselves enough time to just be.
Be still.
Be present.
Be free.
And while I captured a camera full of footage, I purposefully chose not to post to social media until I was well settled into my trip.
Even now, I can’t bring myself to post much. I’m still recovering from another year of juggling day jobs and dooming headlines. For months I kept a close watch on pandemic news, specifically in regards to traveling to see what requirements were going to be in place in order to get to my destination. In all honesty, I was prepared to cancel my trip and save my coins for a staycation if need be. Though that wasn’t my preference. I needed to travel. To get back to the very thing that fuels me and my creativity. I’m a shell of myself when trapped in the confinements of one city for too long.
Thankfully, two plane rides and tired eyes later, I was shrugging out of my chinchilla (my furry teddy coat) as I exchanged 50-degree weather for the warm and sticky 70s of Kailua-Kona. The quiet outdoor airport was surrounded by volcanic hills in the distance, which seemed to follow us as we drove around the island with ocean views flanking us on the other side.
This was my first time in Hawaii, so I can’t personally compare one island to another, but I can say that I appreciated the small-town feel of the Big Island (our volcano tour guide would, later on, confirm that Kona is more country and less city than most of the other islands). I also appreciated that though we were still in the U.S., which meant that we had access to many of the same stores and restaurants from back home, it felt like we were in another country. The best of both worlds, as I was determined to spend most of my days in sand and sun without having to navigate the struggle of international travel.
The first half of the week we were explorers. We hit the Kailua Village Farmers Market for local fruits and vegetables. We graciously sipped water from a freshly cut coconut thanks to Jai, our Belizean savior merchant who hunted down a knife so we could get a taste of the first batch before locals arrived for the pending festival.
He let us in on a little secret, too— that native Hawaiians were actually African *gasps*. “If you see their skin and facial features, they look just like us.” A quick search seemingly confirms that he told us no tales. Organizations like The Pōpolo Project document the true origin story. And ironically a couple of weeks later I’d find Hawaiian Journey on my grandma’s bookshelf.
Back in present-day Hawaii, we indulged in margaritas across from the ocean at Island Lava Java, hit Magic Sands Beach for a little R&R, and when not at one of the many beaches on the island, slipped into the swimming pool at Wyndham Royal Sea Cliff resort.
On our self-driving tour to the south side of the island, we were quieted by breathtaking views at various stopping points along the way. There’s no desire to bicker when you’re sinking your toes into black sand or waiting for brave tourists to jump off a very high cliff and into the southernmost waters of the U.S. Or maybe it was the sweet malasadas that we scooped up from Punalu’u Bakery that kept our mouths occupied. I’m still trying to figure out how I came back having not gained a pound. The vegan food was top notch and with the exception of wading in the water and climbing up active volcanoes, I did little exercise.
Especially once we got to Kings’ Land, where I admittedly felt like a queen because how can you not when watching sunsets over the golf course, literally sliding into one of three pools, and staring at the night sky from the warmth of a bubbling hot tub? I didn’t want to leave to be honest. But all good things must come to an end. So after a final lap around the other half of the island with our very fun tour guide Scott, we bid Hawaii “Aloha,” at least for now.
