A Hawaiian dream I

There have been so many magical moments during our recent trip to Hawaii. Moments that still throb in our thoughts and some others a little faded from the demanding monotony of life, but very much alive. That this will be our last vacation in this country before we bundle up our memories and head homeward, perhaps added that extra something to it. Always playing at the back of my mind like an old, haunting melody, the bittersweet realization made me cling to the eight precious days with a strange greed. And then, nothing like the overwhelming vastness of the ocean to get a little contemplative, eh?!

My most favourite frame from the clutter of some twelve hundred odd pictures. One could perhaps sit on these rocky shores forever, watch the waves unfurl and soak in nature's compelling quietude. An eternal moment. Stumpy trees, stray volcanic formations jutting out of the breathtaking blue ocean like ruffled, brown birds; there just couldn't be more drama to a landscape. One of the many drives to Oahu's enchanting North Shore. Haleiwa, the little paradise for surfers and shaved ice lovers. Its tiny markets chocked with native-made handicrafts and trinkets. The dainty plumeria embracing all in its delicate perfume. The omnipresent hibiscus; yellow, orange, pink and red. Petaled messengers of tropical nostalgia. The floral hair clips, a must have for every girl in the island. A scenic drive along the eastern coast of the island. A preoccupied white pigeon greets us on the balcony after a long, exciting day. 

Daffodil greetings

Half asleep, half awake and very much groggy by still being on the painfully long seven-hour night flight, I saw the sun's early rays embrace the Cascades. I dismissed it as a dream and went back to yet another bout of interrupted sleep. Moments later, forcing my reluctant eyes wide open, I paid more attention. The flight was tearing through a thick cloud blanket while a green coniferous stretch looked up at me. There, I knew that was it.
It was really difficult to let go of the magic that Hawaii is. Strangely, it felt a little like leaving one's homeland; may be it was the overwhelmingly familiar tropical essence, or may be because I know I belong to some place else, or may be it was just the sheer carefreeness of a vacation.

And what could be more welcoming than stray clumps of daffodils that seemed to have sprouted from nowhere on the roadside. No other shade could have cheered my sleep deprived state more than their vivid, speaking yellow.
The creature of habit is back to her pad.

Sun, surf, smiles

A big Aloha to all from Hawaii! Perhaps this happens to be the most hurried vacation plan we have ever hatched, almost at the stroke of midnight sometime last week. But it couldn't have happened at a more perfect time. We badly needed (or rather deserved) a break, what with the continuous spell of gloomy weather and the upcoming 'moving to India' chaos pushing us to the edge with each passing day.

Just a handful of days of tourist websites hunting, list making and rushed shopping and here we are in the heart of Hawaii - the enchanting island of Oahu. What seemed like a flight of forever was well rewarded by the welcoming vista of swaying palms, fragrant plumerias, plump hibiscuses and the multicolored crotons. And yes, the gulmohars are in bloom too! Although at such a distance, but the warm coastal breeze and the flora remind me so much of home and our tiny tropical gardens. Of course we don't have spectacular, turquoise beaches like these. Not for nothing it's called paradise!

So bye-bye rain and crabbiness, and Aloha sunshine and smiles.

Saturday biryani

The heavenly aroma of saffron and mint swirls around the apartment as I write this hurried post. Tender chunks of yogurt-herb marinated chicken tucked inside layers of fragrant basmati. The sweet crunch of caramelized red onions. The juicy tang of tomatoes. All cooked, layered and baked to perfection. And of course garnished with love. Chicken biryani. True, it's a lot of work for just one dish, but it's totally worth it. More so when teamed with cool cucumber raita.
That's our grand plan for a dark, gloomy Saturday. That and Netflix!

Happy weekend.

Vintage signs

"O, for a draught of vintage!" had sighed Keats once, the poet who would melt my heart like a toasty marshmallow when I was eighteen. Eleven years later, nothing much has changed. I might not yearn for a Provencal swig like him, but anything and everything vintage does quench my thirst. When most of the world digs for Indian antiques and colonial treasures, I pine for anything that is even remotely European. Let's just say I was born in the wrong century and obviously in the wrong continent!

It's hardly a surprise then that the cozy little Bavarian village of Leavenworth is one of our most frequented jaunts. Just a couple hours drive from home, be it the towering Cascades in the backdrop or the never-ending rows of antique shops, the place is a sheer delight. It is a world in its own, where timelessness and the bustle of tourists create a colourful palette together.
However what strikes me the most are the cutesy, dangling shop signs, each unique in its own and with oodles of vintage character. Even good old Subway couldn't escape a hint of the old world in this charming village.