A funny thing about traveling alone is that you're rarely in pictures...unless you're into extended arm shots of yourself (I'm not) or constantly ask strangers to take shots for you. Maybe I should have done more of that, but the ones that I asked for were somehow rushed. Somehow cut off.
I'm in Waikiki, which is like day compared to Maui's night. My resort is right on the beach and on a main shopping strip. It feels more familiar to me than Makawao did. Waikiki is a city. With its endless tourists, shopping bags up to the elbow. Snapping cameras. Hawaiian shirts, big floppy hats to keep the sun out of eyes that were already covered up by Prada, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana. Lots of high heels and dresses. And I'm alone.
People talk about how important it is to get some distance from your life every now and then. This is the first time in a long time that I have really gotten distance. Long weekends here and there, but never the luxury of two weeks. In fact, my last big vacation was three years ago, and then, I only allowed myself nine days for a trip to Tokyo for my thirtieth birthday.
I write for you and for myself. Mostly separately, but sometimes one piece does the trick for both, or so I think. Outside of this blog, I journal almost daily, creative write to timed exercises, and write short pieces in the Swirl writers circle....I write a lot that typically doesn't make it beyond the covers of my journal. Sometimes I don't write here because what I have to say feels too personal (hence, my last couple of days on hiatus). There is definitely a self-imposed boundary. There are some things which I allow myself to write publicly and others which I do not.