I'm eager for Sherry and the kids to arrive Saturday. Primarily because I miss them. But also, I can't wait to see what they think of this place. Waikiki, I think, was designed for Caroline. Though I think Sherry and Sam will like it here, too, this is a Caroline destination if I've ever seen one.
My best way of wording it is this: If you forget where you are, you think you're anywhere else in the U.S. (with one big exception . . . keep reading). I'm sitting here beside the pool: the chatter, sounds, money, food . . . all seems like anywhere else in America. Then you look around and you realize that the line between outside and inside is blurred. Heck, there's really no front door at this hotel. One just walks in the lobby, which is more like a big porch. Then you see the palm trees. Then you realize there's something different.
At today's workshop I found myself engrossed in an excellent lecture. The conference room, the language, the colleagues . . . could have been Plymouth Meeting for all I knew. But then I walk outside to go to Hangar 79 and . . . volcanic mountains and Hickam Field.
|In Hangar 79. You may note bullet holes in the glass panes, bullet holes left by Japanese aircraft.|