30 December 2010: “Danger Box Jellyfish !!!” Waikiki, Honolulu, USA

 

We hit the stratospherically-famous Waikiki beach, hoping for some of Hawaii’s finest sunshine. But, oh no! Within minutes the blue skies turned grey.

Adopting typical British foolishness and assuming a zero threat of melanomas, we surely didn’t need any suntan lotion in the midday sun, did we? Unsurprisingly, we well and truly lobstered ourselves.

With further sheer idiocy, we also overlooked the abundant "Danger Box Jellyfish!!!" warning signs scattered along the bay. A future chat with a Waikikian doctor, and we would find out that these particular jellyfish come to shore on the ninth day after the full moon. Guess what day today  was?

Holly was stung on her elbow in a kind of whiplash pattern of tentacle-shaped welts. The Baywatch lifeguard vinegared her up, but nothing stopped her howling like a banshee for half an hour. She really was in pain, and I tried to jolly her along with assurances that she will have a cool claim to fame, providing that she doesn’t kick the bucket in the next few minutes. All very Dr. House – what doesn’t kill her will make her stronger.

We actually saw five jellyfish victims writhing in similar states of woe - all children. Intrigued, I tried to work out why these bothersome invertebrates were bulls-eyeing the under 10’s. In a flash, my theory came to me … they were all peeing (or worse) into the sea, and the warm water was attracting these tyrants to their prey, like sharks to chum.   

I netted a 10cm long jellyfish in our frisbee and felt a bit like Steve Irwin, or more realistically Johnny Morris, as a mob of excited tourists swarmed around me to witness this dangerous creature from the Big Blue Sea.

Then I was left holding the bloody thing. I couldn’t put it back in the Ocean in front of everybody, and I didn’t want to take it home as a trophy. For sure, I couldn’t be bothered to trek out and search for a bin, so I buried it and hoped it wouldn’t resuscitate itself from it’s shallow grave. At least not until I had gone home.

Apart from these minor setbacks I am loving Waikiki. We are five minutes walk from the laid-back surf beach and it's brilliant to sit back and just people-watch. The beach life is a welcome reward after the mayhem of Christmas celebrations in southern California, especially Disneyland.

 After an easy kitchenette dinner (oh! the luxury of a hotel), we sourced out some After Sun and an off-licence. Toting a frisbee and a brown paper bag of booze, we shimmied off to the beach.

I fear somewhat illegally, like a couple of over-aged hippies, we got hammered on the beach, in charge of three young children playing by the water’s edge.

Our carefree, boozy night out was curtailed by Daniel throwing handfuls of sand high into the air and watching it scatter like raindrops on a Spring evening. Half a bucket-full behind the eyeballs and he shrieked hysterically in panic and in pain.

Fearing a night in the ER with scratched corneas or something similar, we held him until he fell asleep and crossed our fingers that he wouldn’t wake up infected or otherwise damaged in the morning.

And with that, we took our last snooze in our luxurious double bed. Tomorrow we would head over to New Zealand and start camping out under the stars.

Aloha Hawaii !