Highway To Heaven

Last night, after settling in at our hotel, we ventured out for dinner in Maui's upcountry (north/northwestern part of the island). At the suggestion of our friend Scott, a big-time foodie, we went to the Hali'imaile General Store and the recommendation did not disappoint. The General Store is the creation of celebrity chef Bev Gannon whose numerous accolades include a James Beard nomination and several commendations from travel magazines. We ordered incredibly well, if we do say so ourselves -- Kaberi had the salmon with tobiko aioli and Vik had a sashimi Napoleon that were both out of this world. Kaberi also satisfied her sweet tooth with an outrageously-delicious banana caramel cheesecake. We toasted the start of our trip over a spetacular meal and a sunset view and drove contentedly home afterward.

The next day, we got an early start on the day and embarked upon the Road to Hana, a picturesque little oceanside hamlet on Maui's southeastern coast. The Road to Hana is affectionately referred to as the "Highway to Heaven" for its breathtaking vistas. It winds 57 miles clockwise around Maui's eastern coast and encompasses numerous lookout points fronting small waterfalls, tropical rain forest and expansive coastline. The road is in itself exhilarating to drive (although it is much more gentle of a drive after being repaved a few years ago) with its windy sweeps, 180 degree turns and numerous one way bridges.

On the drive back, we stopped at Wai'anapanapa State Park (near mile marker 32) for a pleasant hike past the black sand beach and sea caves (one of which forms a natural stone arch). Just in case you wanted to know, black sand beaches are formed when volcanic lava meets the ocean and shatters. The ocean waves then naturally crush, churn and sift the particles into sand or in Wai'anapanapa's case, small pebbles. It made for a stunning view and an engaging hike. Kaberi convinced herself that she'd worked off the honey-roasted macadamia nuts she'd been shotgunning during the drive.

After making our way back westward, we stopped in at H.A. Baldwin Beach Park near the very cool North Shore town of Paia for a barefoot sunset stroll along the beach. The park was formerly a private entertainment area for Hawaii Sugar Company employees and is named for a former Hawaiian congressman. We ventured in to get our feet wet but nearly got upended by a rogue wave. It impressed upon us the wisdom of never turning your back on the ocean. After drying off, we made our way to Mama's Fish House at the suggestion of our friend Bill in Chicago, who is a longtime Maui vacationer. Even though we only ordered an entree each, the meal was definitely a splurge. But the sound of the waves lapping nearby as we sampled the lemongrass-cilantro salmon and macademia crusted mahi-mahi made it a luxury we did not regret.

Maui: The Cure For What Ails You

We felt a little guilty while getting on the plane for Maui this morning after glancing at the USA Today and seeing that the forecast high for Chicago was 4 degrees Fahrenheit. It just doesn’t seem fair for a city to have to endure brutal cold and Rex Grossman simultaneously. Five and a half hours southwest of LA, we felt our excitement for the trip mount as we made our approach into Maui’s north shore. The sight of serene, deep aqua waters amidst a backdrop of volcanic mountains and lush greenery made us realize that we weren’t on the mainland anymore. It was half past noon when the distinctive reddish-orange roofs of Kahului (Kaa-hoo-loo-ee) Airport’s terminals and hangars came into view. Vik’s head cold has turned into a scratchy cough that is only slightly less annoying than Anderson Cooper. Vik considers himself lucky that the folks sitting in front of us on the flight (incidentally from Boston) didn’t smack him around while we were deplaning. Granted, they looked to be in their 70’s and were a little distracted (they spent half the flight smooching, not that we were peeping Toms or anything). The silver lining of our lost luggage was not having to wait around for baggage claim. So, we were able to sprint over to the rental car counter to procure an SUV (primarily to perpetuate the self-delusion that we’re actually outdoorsy). Soon, we were venturing out into the welcoming arms of Maui. After a pit stop for lunch at Da Kitchen, a local hole-in-the-wall restaurant recommended by the rental counter agent, we made our way past a couple of strip malls, a large sugar factory and grassy fields to our hotel. Maui is shaped like a tortoise sticking his head out of his shell. We were staying in the town of Kihei, in the northernmost part of south Maui, or roughly just below the curve of the tortoise’s neck. Kihei is like any other beachfront resort town with seemingly tons of high-rise condos for rent. In short order, we got to experience the legendary Hawaiian island friendliness firsthand. After being rerouted by a detour sign around construction on South Kihei Road, we pulled into a Longs Drugs parking lot to get our bearings. After a few minutes of headscratching, Vik walked over to an older gentlemen getting into his truck. When Vik’s mention of the hotel and street address didn’t register, he assumed that the conversation was over. Instead, the gentleman got out of his truck, walked into the Longs Drugs, came out with a local phone book and spent 5 minutes with Vik poring over a detailed South Maui street map. Vik was so stunned by this demonstration of genuine kindness that he responded the only way he knew how to as a native Bostonian … he stole the guy's wallet. So, the rest of the Maui trip was charged to Mr. Underhill’s American Express card. Want to know the number.  NOTE:  The conclusion of this past was merely a gratuitous Fletchreference.  No wallets or credit card numbers were stolen. 

48 Hours In L.A.

So, February 3rd won’t be a day that we look back on fondly. Vik awoke to a sore throat and transformed from his usual charming self into a silent, hand-signaling nightmare. At American’s suggestion, we left for O’Hare at 5:30 am to try to fly standby on the 7 am to LAX. When we got to O’Hare at 6:00 am, we found out that the flight was full, save for some middle seats. So, we decided to keep our confirmed seats on the 9:45 am flight and use the spare time at O’Hare to get our revised itinerary reticketed (required by United after the Singapore Airlines fiasco).

After checking in a duffel bag with American, we made our way to the O’Hare United ticketing office at 6:15 am and sat down with Alan, a dead ringer for the leader of “the Others” on Lost. Three hours passed as Alan pleaded with the United rate desk (an organization whose ruthless efficiency and split-second responsiveness ranks it just behind the Indian government) to reticket us. At 9:15 am, tickets in hand, we sprinted back to the American terminal. We made our flight, largely because O’Hare lived up to its reputation and the 9:45 am flight was delayed.

Six hours later, we touched down at LAX. Tired and hungry, we camped out in front of the American baggage carousel to await our bag. And waited. And waited. And waited until the carousel stopped moving and we were the only ones left standing there. No brown duffel bag was anywhere to be seen. American had just lost our 8-month supply of medicine, toiletries and Kaberi’s $42,000 per ounce Crème de la Mer. And Vik’s sore throat was now a head cold. This was turning out to be some day.

After making the 15-mile cab ride to downtown in 90 minutes and enduring the realization that many accomplished marathoners would have made much better time on foot, we checked in to our hotel. After a hot shower, a not-quite-gourmet meal at the nearby mall’s food court and a little venting, we were ready to put the previous 12 hours behind us.

The saving grace of the day was getting to see a couple of old buddies who knew us before we managed to become the uber-cool hipsters that we are today. After having dinner with her impressive and personable AAPIP board members, Kaberi met up with her college pal and former de facto editor, Julia, who is now an aspiring Hollywood writer with tons of entertainment industry scoop. Meanwhile, Vik met up with his Booz Allen and Disney pal, Anand, who is now a finance maven for a video game company, the proud father of two and a long-suffering Philadelphia Eagles fan. We wished we could have met up with a few more friends but with unexpected sicknesses, frenetic re-purchasing of trial size toiletries and hourly calls to American’s baggage department, we ran out of waking hours.

My Kind Of Town

We arrived in The City of Broad Shoulders on Wednesday night to see Kaberi’s mom, see Kaberi’s cousin Shanku and his family, get our Chinese visas, and drop off a small armada of Kaberi’s personal effects. Vik was charged with the task of securing the visas during the day while Kaberi got to have breakfast with her childhood friend Susie and lunch with one of her closest confidantes Ann. Someone definitely got the better end of the deal, although Chinese efficiency made getting the visa a much less painful experience than originally envisioned (if the Chinese consulate in Chicago is any indication, China will easily rule the world by 2012).

Through Vik’s nagging and Shanku’s patient guidance, Kaberi was begrudgingly dragged into the 21st century after switching from an old, heavy Nikon FM3 film camera (circa 1971) to a spiffy new digital Nikon D80. She’s not entirely convinced that she can be a “real” photographer without the use of film and F-stops but we’re hoping that she’ll rise to the challenge.

After 48 hours of frenzied, last-gasp trip-related errand-running in the Windy City’s bone-chilling cold, we met up with some longtime Chicago friends on Friday night for the second stop on our farewell tour. Our friend Jason graciously hosted the night’s festivities, which included whipping up an amazing formal dinner for 16 with a menu that included cedar-grilled salmon and flourless chocolate cake. Talk about going out in style. We enjoyed another night of great food, drink and revelry with close friends and then plotted potential meeting-up points in Asia. The night passed by all too quickly and soon it was time to head home for a few, precious hours of sleep before leaving for O’Hare the next morning at 5:30 am.