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.
...so what happens when you take the girl out of New York City?
I have always been a die-hard New Yorker. Was born here, raised here, have lived my whole life here...aside from the four years that I lived on the Wellesley College campus amongst lakes and geese. Had to get right back to the pavement and shade-less streets! I am the type of person who has a visceral reaction upon re-entry to the Big Apple. If I'm away, I am absolutely ecstatic to come home. Goosebumps spread across my body as the warm city air hits my face or as I catch my first glimpse of the Empire State building's shining lights in the night sky. I have never seriously considered living anywhere else because New York makes me happy, through and through. I even love riding the subway with all of its stinky-ness (literally and attitudinally). :) I love being around lots of people. I love the activity and the energy of New York. I have always been in love with this city.