The Curse of Hawaii

I'm off to Hawaii very very soon for a winter mini break. I last ventured to that horrible holiday destination in 2012. It's been a long time between mahalos. The first time I went I fell in love with it immediately in a very serious way. Now it's kind of a long distance thing. And before you ask, no, Honolulu never comes to visit me.

The reason I'm going to Hawaii in July is because my home town is thoughtlessly covered in gross wintery frozenness.  Also, I have a borderline pathological hatred of cold weather.

When I last returned to the beautiful, exciting, relaxing slice-of-heaven that is winter in Canberra, Australia, from the vastly boring, conservative public service mini-metropolis of Honolulu, I noticed something really strange - Canberra is nothing like Hawaii. It really needs to pull up its skinny hipster jeans and try a bit harder to be more like a tropical island and less like itself.

Canberra makes it really hard for me to like it most of the time.  It's the geographical equivalent of the so-called friend who reels you in but then keeps letting you down by being a cold-hearted biatch.  I don't know what I did to deserve ending up in a place that apparently doesn't do beaches, palm tress, pineapples or coconut water. 

Hawaii has screwed with my head.  At lunchtime I currently walk around depressing, cold, grey Canberra, full of depressing, cold, grey public servants when what I should be doing is hitting up Waikiki like Hawaiian surfer girl.

So I'm trying to remember all the hideous experiences I've had in Honolulu, like the time my suncream ran out and I had to buy emergency suncream, and the time I thought my donut lilo was deflating but it turned out to be a false alarm.

Remembering these horrible moments helps keep me strong during these dark days. Mahalo.