Under the pier at Hanalei, north shore of Kauai, Hawaii. Photo taken last month. Devastating floods over the last week, and especially hard hit yesterday was Hanalei. The pier has been demolished by the floodwaters. Sending thoughts of aloha to the people of Kauai.
Looking into Waimea Canyon from the ground floor level
Kauai’s Waimea Canyon. The Grand Canyon of the Pacific. Approximately ten miles long and 3,000 feet deep. We drove up the mountain on an afternoon that was a mix of rain and teases of sun. Once at the top, walking up to the lookout deck to look out and down at this spectacle of red dirt canyon, water falls,river, green patches and clouds was breathtaking. The clouds. It is pretty much beyond words.
There were quite a few people on the lookout deck, but I got lost in this view, and was by myself walking in the clouds.
The sun came and went for more clarity for brief periods. And the red dirt is a real thing; with the rain we had red mud on our shoes!
The copious amounts of rain received on the island in recent weeks created spectacular waterfalls (there are two waterfalls on the left in this photo, and one other one, can you find it?).
Next week we’ll visit another area of the island for a closer look at a pretty spectacular waterfall.
You can fly, or you can paddle; fast or slow; eventually everyone goes home.
Travel; going to an unknown destination, or returning to a place previously visited that has always had a little piece of your heart. New things in old places are always a possibility; so in the spirit of adventure with friends who offered to share their time share with me, I hopped on a plane and settled in with memories of happy times in Kauai. Looking out the window of the plane and down at the waters of the Pacific as we approached the island put me in a place of Zen.
Seeing the barge down in the water who knows how many feet down, and headed who knows where, made me think of my own travels over the last couple of years. Solo travel, with a destination researched minimally, more open to the wabi sabi of adventure with little structure, just letting the winds carry me where they might, and being where I was ultimately meant to be. It has worked for me every time.
The lesson I finally learned with this trip back to old memories is that things change. Memories are camouflaged behind morning mist and fronds of the past. Some things are not there any more
A photo from the past. This sculpture was on the beach of the hotel I had stayed at in the past; she was gone now. I used to put my lei around her every time with the understanding between us that she would ensure my return. A lot to think about while I was here, but my friends saw to it that we explored places on the island that I had not seen before. New memories are on the itinerary now, and I have to remember it’s up to me to
Inspiration for the beauty of minimalism found amidst the Rodin garden sculptures; a simple bench against a wall of rocks and bricks, under a tree. It was just there, all by itself, unassuming, amidst all the art. I wondered if placed intentionally (it did not look out at anything in particular), or just a gardener whose muse guided the placement. Always listen to your muse.
I will be on travel and will return in a couple of weeks.
It Had to be You, they sang, and a chanteuse of days gone by did a slow dance. The music and words reverberated off the D’Orsay Museum up several stairs, and several yards in front of them. Yes, it had to be you, Paris. Memories for me of years gone by, and here I was again. Wandering the streets is always my favorite way to soak up a city, getting a flavor of what it’s all about, to get a feeling of the place wherever it may be, the people, the life. Museums and venues are all wonderful to see works of art, but I find that the streets are works of art unto themselves. Let me take you there, to the museum of the streets of Paris as I wind up this series. Let’s stroll together for a little while.
And just like that, it was time to leave all this behind once again. Days of immersing myself into the history and mystery of Paris.
The Sunday Traveler is heading out into a new adventure this coming week and will take a break here for a couple of weeks. Until then.
It’s not easy to post a minimalistic photo and not attach words. Is it human nature to try to fill up space otherwise empty?
Traveling into times gone by in Paris. The Sunday Traveler was able to slip into that wonderful time machine for a few days. I’ll be wrapping up Paris next Sunday before slipping into another time zone. The clock is ticking.
For any of you wishing to see many more photos of Paris, I post on Instagram at angeline.am
Go out, take photos of the things that call to your eye. Simple, minimalistic scenes; it doesn’t have to be complicated. Relax. Put the camera down and take a nap if you must.
The Carrousel Garden of the Tuileries, right outside the Louvre. My friend and I had spent several hours inside the Louvre taking in as much as we could, decided to call it for the morning, and get on with our day. The one week granted to us in Paris made us think wisely of our time. The Tuileries run along the Seine between the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde. Stepping out of the museum into the cold early afternoon air was exhilarating, especially with a few moments of what seemed to be rare sunshine.
As we walked through a short piece of the gardens I noted such a sense of relaxation and people just being people.
The photo above is the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel.
Having a great time. Wish you were here.
