Night. Rain, steady. “Not good when you have to mow the grass and cut the weeds,” said a Japanese maintenance person here at the Grand Hyatt Kauai.
Kauai is another country, the oldest of the main Hawai’an Islands. It lies furthest to the west, in roughly the path the mid-Pacific plate has crossed over the hotspot now under Kiluaea and Mauna Loa on the Big Island.
It is far from the oldest. The trail of islands whose formation came on the hotspot stretches to the north and east.
The Hyatt, too, is another world. It has 52 acres of resort including a PGA championship golf course, two wings of rooms and 9 restaurants plus pools, tide pools, and an archaeological excavation on the grounds.
Our lanai here faces the pools and the grounds, but does have an ocean view though nowhere near as good as the one at the Westin. Still, there are compensations. The Stevenson Library is a bar cum sushi bar cum jazz club. Sounds good.
Flew here this afternoon in a twin prop plane with wings on top. When I stood on the runway getting ready to board, I felt like I was in Casablanca. This was two seats on either side of the middle aisle. One stewardess and pilots who looked like they might play in high school band. We had a flight delay because of a switch on the instrument panel had gone out, but the captain said, “Since it belongs to the de-icing sensor, I don’t think it should impede our progress.”
More tomorrow.
