The Turning Point Trip — The Positively Wandering Travel Diaries ©

Kaua’i

It was a random day in April of 2022 when my auntie asked me a question that would ultimately change my life. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, even as a young child, I dreamed of spending my time hopping from country to country on a full-time basis, but soon found myself sucked into the void of building a career above all else. So, when she asked me if I wanted to go to Hawai’i with her—already paid for nonetheless—I couldn’t say no. I was twenty-five years old and still had not traveled further than road-tripping to other states. It was becoming sad, like my dreams were slipping away to appease an idea of life I did not create for myself.

I scheduled a week away from the job I was working at the time (of which I soon quit shortly after), booked a round-trip ticket to Denver, and packed a duffel bag. I couldn’t remember any other time in my life up until that point that I felt so much excitement. Imagine living the majority of your life in the Midwest, daydreaming endlessly of wandering around beautiful places, and suddenly finding a trip to Hawai’i sitting in your lap. It was almost as if… it was fate. I was born in Italy, I spent most of my younger childhood going back and forth between there and Germany, where my father was stationed. I moved to the U.S. when I was eight years old, and aside from small trips around the mainland, I’d spent my whole life since in Indiana.

I remember departure day well, I took a half day from my miserable work-from-home job, and had Adam take me to the airport. I went through TSA very quickly, and then proceeded to have a drink while I sat and waited for boarding to begin. I spoke on the phone with my parents about my trip, one of the last times I ever talked with them. Then I waited patiently, as I let my mind wander about the views and feelings I’d experience in this incredible journey.

My first flight was a handful of hours to Las Vegas. I sat next to a couple that coincidentally happened to live in the same area Adam and myself did, and we frequented the same Kroger for groceries, the one off Kentucky Ave. They were going to elope in one of those chapels with an Elvis impersonator as their officiant; something we had often talked about doing ourselves. They were nice people, but not the crowd I would surround myself with, personally.

My layover in Vegas only lasted about an hour. I used the time to use the restroom and then sit by the gate and reflect on my life. As happy and thrilled as I was that I was finally going on this astonishing adventure, there was a part of me that was very upset with myself that this would be my first one. I had promised myself when I was young that I would move far away from Indiana to a new place by the time I was twenty-two, and then start traveling to new countries on a regular basis. But there I was, three years later and just now going to explore a remote island, and it was not even my idea. I had begun to question many of my decisions leading up to this age, even the good ones. I shrugged off the negativity and enjoyed the present and fleeting moment I had in The City That Never Sleeps.

I boarded my next flight and headed to Colorado. Flying out of Vegas in the nighttime was mesmerizing, city lights rose from the desert in a way no photograph would ever do justice, at least none that I could attempt to take with just an iPhone and no skills. The town dimmed and faded away as the stars in the sky took over the scene in a display of nocturne magic. Before I knew it, I was flying into Denver.

Two cities I’d never been to before, just within a couple hours of each other. It was the beginning of a new addiction. I made my way off the plane and into the airport, and immediately got lost and confused. It did not help that my duffel bag was cumbersome and heavy because I had packed books I did not need. I always take a couple books with me, even though I own a Kindle. I’ve never had to take a shuttle to ground transport before and had no idea where I was going. Auntie had to guide me through on the phone as she pulled her Suburban up to the arrivals area.

I finally found my way to the exit, greeted her after not seeing each other for about a decade, and then headed to a nearby hotel for the night. She lives in Castle Rock, and it was too far of a drive to do in the dark in the middle of a snowstorm, especially since we were leaving for LAX the next morning as a short stop on our way to the island.

I’ve always loved the feel of hotel rooms, hotels in general. Somebody phrased it perfectly, “I really enjoy just existing in hotels. The long identical hallways. The soulless abstract art. The weird noises the air conditioner makes. Strange city lights in the window. Six stories off the ground. Strangers chatting in the hall. Nothing in the dresser. No past, but an infinite present.” I found that posted to the internet. I saved the picture because it touched me, but I have no way of finding out who the anonymous person was, or where it came from. It makes it even more delightful. If you ever happen to read this, OP, I see you.

The stay was short, and then we were back in the large and confusing Denver airport. We had some drinks to warm up, let the anticipation build through excited chatter, and then boarded our first flight for the day. Flying over the Rockies gave me a sensation of wonder that I had previously only dreamt of in my sleep, the views below awakened a wanderlust within me that reinforced my previous feelings of disappointment in the lack of adventure my life had sustained. I knew I was still very young, but I had hardly done anything I saw myself doing when I looked into the future previously, and it made me feel ashamed, and I believe I experience the passing of time differently than most; I can feel the minutes slip away from me every passing hour, the days blend together seamlessly as yet another month passes me by with no accomplishments to smile about, no books published, no art sold, no travels to gather stories from. That’s how it was, until this trip, and the next year that followed. [SEE BLOG POST: A Leap into My First Sojourn.]

The wintery, snow-capped mountains fell away into a terrain that shifted into the dry and treacherous deserts of Utah. The scenes were captivating, and I could not get enough of the sights. This was the start of an obsession to always obtain a window seat, the journey is part of the adventure after all.

When we arrived at LAX, we spent a few hours there. We drank some more alcohol, we ate food to refuel, and we people watched. I still enjoy to people watch to this day, though I have grown out of making rude comments about strangers I know nothing about. It’s an ugly part of human existence, and I now do my best to catch myself and put a stop to it and allow my mind to occupy itself with greater ideas.

The flight to Hawai’i was about six hours, and it was getting dark, even with the three-hour time difference. Eventually I could see nothing outside of the window, and reading on my Kindle made me so tired I had to doze off for a time. I dreamt of knights and dragons and island torches. I was reading A Song of Ice and Fire: A Dance with Dragons, otherwise known as the fifth Game of Thrones book. When I awoke again, we were about forty minutes away from landing in Lihu’e, Kaua’i.

We got off the plane and strolled into the small, wooden, dreamy island airport. As I’m writing this article, it’s been almost exactly one year and six months since I took this trip, but I remember this moment with such clarity that it may as well have just occurred last month. I stepped outside of the fairytale port, and it was dark beyond the lights overseeing ground transportation. I could not see the island, I could not see the beauty surrounding me, I could not see the wonder of the most beautiful of the Hawaiian Islands, the Garden Isle. But in that moment, a strange sensation drifted through the naturally purified air and entered my nose, traveled into my bloodstream with no prior filtration and sank into the pit of my heart. It clutched its warm grasp around my soul and sent a transmission through my brain that gave the skin on my body a tingle, rousing goosebumps, and made my eyes water. It was as if the Earth momentarily dissipated beneath my feet and left me standing at the edge of a fabled and otherworldly fork in the road, and I had to choose whether I would turn right or left. A soft breeze whispered in my ear, “Home.”

I looked to my auntie, “Katie… I don’t know how to describe this right now… but I think I’m supposed to be here. I think I’m supposed to live here.” I couldn’t make much sense of the words coming out of my mouth, I felt shaken to my core and honestly, rather silly. She laughed and proceeded to figure out where our shuttle was, and I did my best to shake off the energetic presence that lingered on my shoulders as I helped her. I would’ve laughed too, who would’ve thought I was being so serious?

We finally found it and were taken to the resort we were going to be staying in. When we reached the information office, it was closed and all that was posted to the door was a phone number. We had to call it to find out how to get into our room but had to wander around the outside of the quaint condo buildings to find it. I enjoyed this experience; it was part of the adventure. Foliage lined the outdoor paths leading to each structure, dimly lit by small mushroom lamps lining the pathway, truly a storybook setting. It took about a half hour for the whole ordeal to unfold by the time we were able to enter our condo, where sleep took hold and we rose to the sounds of roosters at four o’clock in the morning.

I dressed in my bikini and coverup, and we headed out in the still dark atmosphere to walk across the way to some shops, the sky slowly lightening as the minutes passed. We picked up some coffee and headed back for a quick stop at the condo before going to catch the sunrise on the beach. On the walk back, I was engulfed by dense, lush foliage twice, three times taller than I, banyan trees I’d never seen before, palm trees different than what I’d seen in California, and a welcoming spiritual presence that hugged me. I saw feral chickens convening in flocks as if they were pigeons. I noticed the lively geckos all over and the giant snails in the grass. I looked ahead at the beautiful green mountain in the distance, misty clouds covering its peak; I watched it, admiring the imagination of what lurks in its forests. I drank in new smells I’d never encountered before, the cleanest dirt, the crispest air, the color green. I felt as if I’d been transported into a different world. I felt like I was in a different country, how could this possibly be part of the United States? I would learn later in my own research how unfortunate and detrimental the U.S.’s illegal occupation of Hawai’i truly was, and why even I consider Hawai’i to be its very own special place, not just another state. When we entered back into our condo, I sat on the back porch and sipped on my coffee, looking out into the fantasy garden and the ocean beyond.

Sunrise climbed above the horizon, giving way to an enchanting scene below. The greens were greener than I’d ever seen, the native plants more exotic than I imagined. I became engulfed by wild magic both old and new, and felt once again that sting in my heart, like I’d found what I’d been searching for, held it in my hands, but had to let it go soon. I fell in love, deeply and hopelessly with the ‘aina, enamored in such a way I’d never felt before for anything, or anyone. It felt how I imagine a reunion must feel with family and an individual that had been missing for some time. I felt like I finally found the missing piece in my life, home. I looked around, imprinting the sights into my memory because the pictures weren’t going to be enough to revisit, I let the wonderful natural smells intoxicate me, and I listened to the birds and the roosters and the waves, and I did all to hold back tears.

We took the rest of our coffees with us as we made our way down the wooden steps from our upstairs condo and headed for the beach. As we approached, I began to smell the salt in the air, and my olfactory sense triggered childhood memories of Italy, specifically the beach house owned by my auntie and uncle from my mother’s side. The ocean in the morning became my new favorite color, the slate blue of water reflecting the color of the lightening sky above, calm ripples hurdling toward the shore after the night’s chaotic waves rushing the sand. I slipped out of my footwear and practically ran to it, sinking my toes in the wet sand and letting the sea wash over my feet. The sand was a soft, ultra-light khaki I had seen in photographs, the water was room temperature. I closed my eyes and remained like that for a few minutes, before opening them and watching the waves crash against a nearby bed of black volcanic rock. Beyond, on the opposing side, lay a series of condos embedded between palms and a stretch of beach that just continued endlessly. The scene could have easily been turned into a postcard.

We spent all day on the beach swimming, sun-bathing, and gazing out at the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. I cut my foot on some coral because I was ill-prepared, but that was okay. I watched the palms sway in the soft breeze and allowed my mind to wander far away in the idealism of refunding my ticket back home and just staying. I watched children brave the waters quicker than I did, wondering if they were locals. There is a saying Hawaiians have for the sea, “Never turn your back on the ocean.” It carries the same warning as what I was always told as a child when I still lived in Italy, “The ocean is not your friend.” I was careful in the water, ensuring I did not go farther than I could touch, it had been almost twenty years since I’d stepped foot in the sea. I’m not even sure the Pacific can be compared to the Mediterranean Sea, in all fairness—the water is so different, and still so beautiful.

The first sunset was a painting in the sky created in real time by the Old Gods. I watched it with intent, I wanted to capture it in my mind and never let it go. The way the sun left brush strokes of crimson and gold leaf in the tinted clouds above the blue water left me gazing across the miles of dusty blues as if I’d just experienced love at first sight. I became infatuated with the charm of the picturesque landscape before me. I could feel a spiritual enchantment emitting from the ground beneath my feet, a presence so powerful that I wondered if I was light-headed from possible jetlag. I did not question it, I let it overwhelm me until I couldn’t bear the idea of only staying for one week. The resolution to that problem came one year and three months later.

I had walked back and forth between the beach and condos a few times that day, each time finding myself more and more perplexed with a growing obsession as each species of plant in the gardens captivated my attention and held it through the entirety of my strolls… the Garden Isle, indeed. The oldest of the inhabited islands, Kaua’i is the third eye chakra of the world, a place where souls enter and exit the Earth plane. It is believed by the ancient legends that when we’re given life we first enter the island, and then we return to it once we’ve used the energy we’ve borrowed—a beautiful garden of life and passage. I have never been an individual of religion, preferring to walk the path of agnostic secular humanism, but I have never felt so connected to an idea as I did when I found that research after a conversation with my other half’s late cousin, George. The magic I felt was not in my head. It is known that Kaua’i is a place of healing and inspiration, that when visitors leave they feel a cathartic weight lifted and have a new outlook on accomplishing their goals in life.

As dusk gave way to twilight, the little mushroom lamps lighting the pathway came to life in a show of fairytale wonder. Plants towering over me turned dark and became silhouettes against a darkening sky. Away from the light pollution I’d experienced for the majority of my life, I could finally see the beautiful night sky above. Stars dotted the black in a show of millions of twinkling lights, and above a black sea where the waves fearlessly hit the shore in a natural Earth phonetic rhythm, I felt that Heaven must be real, for I couldn’t possibly be alive in that moment, I must have passed away unbeknownst to myself, and ended up in the most serene environment the Gods could place me in. For the first time in my life, I was briefly at peace. I could feel radical changes being planted into the core of my being. I listened to the sounds of the night: rustling in the brush, rushing water, distant chatter, and the low croak of some sort of reptile.

A couple days had passed, and the enchantment did not dim. Even when I stayed out in the sun too long and felt my body suffer the consequences. I have never been sunburned in my life. As an Italian woman, my olive-toned skin darkens in the sun rather than reddening. This time was different, this sun was different. It was not diagnosed, but I believe I became sick with sun poisoning. My right calf and ankle had swelled to twice their normal size, I became faint, and before I knew what was happening, I had been thrown into the first and only panic attack I’ve ever had. I did not know how to handle it; I thought I was having a heart attack. I hope to never experience that again, losing total control over your body and sobbing hysterically with no way to stop it is terrifying. The tightness in my throat spread to my chest and it was so painful I thought I was experiencing the last few minutes of my life in a flash of white-hot misery. I was sweating profusely, and my back was so hot I could have sworn I just pulled it away from a scorching furnace. My nervous system experienced an imaginary eight ball of adrenaline and suppression. Fire coursed through my veins as my head pulsed with a dizziness that almost knocked me off my feet.

I had to cancel my booking for the zipline tour in Koloa, something I really looked forward to, I couldn’t wait to see the amazing forest zipping past, wind whistling between my ears and the trees, the beauty of the island held still in a video flying through the air. After a nap for a few hours, everything including my leg was much better. My skin peeled for almost a week later, and then ended up with a golden tone stronger than I’ve ever had, sun-kissed freckles flecked across my face and all. I left my heart in Hawai’i, but some of Hawai’i came home with me.

Though I did not get to go on ziplining, I was no less enchanted with this mystical place than I was before the sickness took me. By the next day, it was as if nothing had happened to me at all. Part of me wondered if the attack was a mixture of the sun exposure and an increasing anxiety over leaving this place that felt like home to go back to Indiana, the place that felt like prison. I did not linger on the reasoning for it long, I did not want that memory to corrupt the rest of the experience for me. We went horseback riding at CJM Country Stables and it was a wonderful adventure I will never forget. It was the first time I had ever been on a horse, and I absolutely loved it. I played in my mind like I was Daenerys Targaryen riding through the Red Waste to take back Westeros. For that moment, I got to be a child again, pretending and imagining and being encompassed in a bewitching new environment. We rode by the beautiful mountains, the majestic cave where the filming of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides was filmed, and a wonderful, secluded beach in the crescent of the mountains that also happened to be a nude beach. The freedom of the few people below enjoying it was powerful.

The rest of the week was spent strolling through the resorts, eating at restaurants and making sandwiches at the condo, swimming some more, and drinking too much alcohol and smoking too many cigarettes. It was the most fun I’d had in a long time, but I could not shake the feeling that I was missing the point of being there. See, I was not meant to be there. My auntie originally booked the trip as a birthday gift to herself and had my cousin as her second person. My cousin dropped out of the trip, and that left an open and already-paid-for spot up for grabs. So when she asked me to join her, of course I jumped on it. Things like this do not just happen, and they certainly don’t happen to people like me. This all happened for a reason, and it was driving me insane trying to figure out why. But one thing I did know for sure was that this would not be my last time in Kaua’i, and certainly not Hawai’i as a whole.

We met up with my auntie’s friends, Bill and Ginger. Ginger had sold everything and moved to O’ahu where her son lived, and Bill had made the move in his early twenties. Oh, what a marvelous adventure it would be to make a drastic one-eighty in life and move to Hawai’i while I’m still young, I thought to myself as I spoke with them and learned more about the culture and what it’s like to live there. At the time, I was studying for a real state license in Indiana to become a broker and secure a healthy financial future for us, my auntie is a broker in Colorado, and Bill is a broker in Hawai’i, and at one point he had mentioned if I ever did move down there and got the appropriate license we may be able to work together. I wouldn’t know until much later, after becoming licensed that I would find myself bored and uninspired as a realtor and would set the idea away in pursuit of a career in writing and creating. Still, the happenstance of potentially having some sort of work set up through a connection was impossible to ignore as nothing less than a sign that I was meant to go on that trip, and I was meant to have these experiences which would later lead to dropping everything I thought I wanted in favor of becoming a life-chaser.

My suspicions continued to grow as the days and nights passed and I had begun to scheme on how to move to the islands someday. On the last night of the trip, we went out to eat at a restaurant where a local band was playing nearby. The strangest part of the trip occurred at that point in time. The band played my all-time favorite song, Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues. I had first heard the song in Tim Burton’s Dark Shadows as a teenager and my soul wrapped around the music and danced with it. I couldn’t believe my ears. Of all the songs they could have played, I believe that was a very random one. And for me to have just happened to be there while they decided to play it left me speechless, staring at the sushi I’d just ordered with a dumbfounded expression on my face and a puzzle I needed to solve quickly. I did not solve it quickly, I laid in bed for many moons crying and figuring out how to return in the form of a sojourn rather than a vacation. I did not want to stay in a resort the next time I came, I wanted to get to know the locals, learn more about the culture, find my reason for coming back. Hawai’i did something to me that I had a hard time explaining to folks back home. It took me awhile to realize there was no need to explain anything to anyone, there hardly ever is.

Our last morning was a bittersweet one. On the one hand, I clearly wanted nothing more than to stay in Paradise. On the other, I was ready to be with my partner and pets again. I was ready to dive into the research it was going to take to make moving to the islands a reality. We spent the morning walking to Poipu beach for the sunrise and to see the famed sea turtles, or Honu. They were magnificent, so large, so wise, so tired of seeing humans crowd them, I imagine. We did take a photo near one, and now looking back I think we were closer than what’s respectful… only about three feet away rather than eight, and that I feel shameful for. As the dawn broke over the horizon and the sun rose higher in the skies, the Honu began to turn and make their way back into the water. Knowing that was my last sunset before returning home made me feel gloomy and had me seriously questioning every decision I’d made up until that point. Just the night prior I lay awake in bed and thought to myself how possible it would truly be to live the life of adventure I’d always wanted. That idea opened doors that I did not know I held the keys for until about six months later.

Leaving the island was heartbreak. I watched it fall below on a rainy day, as the waves sprayed the shores, and eventually the green mountains were no longer in sight, and I was left with limitless blue and white. I gazed out of the window awhile, and then closed it and fell into a sleep I can only describe as subpar half-napping. I told myself there was no reason to be sad, I’ll be back again someday soon.

I left my heart in Hawai’i, when I came back home I had changed. There were some pieces missing and some pieces gained. It was the beginning of a turning point in my life. The trip that changed everything. I was not the same person when I returned, I had awakened to possibilities only a lunatic would attempt. Kaua’i was the first stop in a tumultuous development that would set the tone for the very rest of my life, and visiting the island sent me into an upward spiral of accomplishments I’d dreamed of since I was a young child.

Ua Mau ke Ea o ka ‘Aina i ka Pono. “The life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness.” Hawai’i is a very special and sacred place in this world, Kaua’i being the island I hold dearest in my heart. It has been a pleasure and an honor to have been fortunate enough to experience the beauty and majesty and supernatural characteristics of the land. It was a journey I will never take for granted, and I will be grateful for the rest of my life to have had the blessing of being touched by Kaua’i, and letting the island shift the rest of the plans in my timeline to safeguard the ultimate goal of spending all my trips around the sun in the joyous state of eternal and genuine happiness and serenity. ©