There's a cruise ship in town.
It's big. It's ugly. It's full of tourists.
I wrote the following as a diary entry in 2022 and rediscovered it going over said diary entries as inspiration for this newsletter. It features chaos, live-action Maui from Moana, and my very sardonic husband.
Emile and Miri want to use their Saturday to go for an adventure. I suggest to Martin that we go.
“It’s Saturday, on the most touristy part of the island,” Martin says, levelling a stare at me that says you are either wildly optimistic or absolutely crazy. “I was looking forward to a morning with my book and my pai1.”
Still, he folds to peer pressure and we pile into the car.
Emile and Miri say they want to go to Snack Mahana. Snack Mahana is a local favourite; a beautiful little eatery, on the edge of the lagoon with little rays swimming by as you eat.
This time, however, we spy the looming abomination of a cruise ship in the bay. Ovation to the Sea, it’s called, a long, low office building floating on the water. Thousands of rooms and beds, millions of spoons, of tiny packets of butter, of pieces of single-use plastic. The floating hotel is probably decked out with a pool and a casino and a big dining room where your meals are served on trays.
If there’s a cruise ship in the bay, Snack Mahana will be mayhem. Instead, we go to Taoahere Beach House for cocktails, tuna tartare, tuna sashimi and fries.
We then go to the Tropical Garden. The road is a steep angle and the car grunts as it climbs. We can smell the petrol burning.
There’s a tiny carpark. We realise, too late, that there’s not enough room to turn around in there.
More cars arrive. An Asian tourist and his pretty, doll-like partner (camera on tripod in hand) try to pull in. “No room!” I keep repeating to them, holding my arms up in an X. They smile, nod as if understanding, and then try to progress inside anyway.
The boys are hot and irritated. “Go, go!” Emile barks at us as he tries to manoeuvre the ute in the tiniest of spaces.
“See? This is what you get for coming to these places on a weekend,” Martin says, shirt off and sweaty, shrugging in an I told you so kind of way.
Eventually a mini-van leaves and we can park. The view is impressive, down to the sparkling bay. The snack is cute, and we share homemade gelato in four different flavours (lemon, guava, passionfruit and mango).
As we eat our gelato, we watch the mayhem below unfold.
Not one, not two… but six safari-style 4-wheel drives are coming up the hill. They have six or eight seats in the open-air back filled with people on tours. Someone has to make a stop-start u-turn down below. The car careens wildly down the steep asphalt before the wheels catch and they continue in a more controlled fashion.
“Should we get going before we get stuck?” I ask. In the distance, the strong sun glitters on the bay.
“No we must stay and watch the chaos, Lisette,” Martin says, voice gleefully dark. “Enjoy the schadenfreude.”
Emile sprints down and positions the ute in the spot closest to the exit. We’re not going to let ourselves get trapped.
A guy who looks like Maui from Moana jumps out, broad tattooed chest gleaming with sweat, hair long and luscious down to his shoulders. He’s wearing a braided wreath on his head with fronds that fall over his face, his smile is big and goofy as he directs his tourists.
It’s incredible how much the tourists here look the same as each other. We watched them, having been disgorged from the monstrosity Ovation of the Sea, wandering along the side of the road, presumably in search of something to do or something to eat. They are big with red faces. The women wear loose florals and unflattering hats. The men wear polo shirts, runners with long socks, long shorts, caps. They all have practical (read: ugly) backpacks.
The tourists being dropped here at the Tropical Garden might be from Florida. One of them is wearing a shirt that says Sloppy Joe’s, Key West. Another is in head to toe khaki as if on an actual safari, with thick, coke-bottle glasses and a wide southern accent.
Maui down below backs his truck up. He’s decorated it with fronds of auti on each corner. The cars are packed neatly in tight lines like a tiled floor. They completely block in the three sensible hatchbacks at the back. Maui backs a little too hard and bumps the car behind him.
We decide to leave as the tourists swarm, chattering. Do you want a beer? Where do you order? Oh, there’s the counter. Fresh pineapple…
As we walk back down the hill, Maui is coming up. He’s lost the goofy smile, his broad face is all business.
He says something in rolling French to Martin, who laughs and responds. After he passes, I ask Martin what he said.
“If we’re one of the cars at the back, we won’t be leaving for at least another hour,” Martin says.
A bright, lemon-yellow Citroën tries to enter the carpark just as we are leaving. They must back up to let Emile out first. The wheels skid and screech on the road with the smell of burning tyres. The car slips a little downhill, towards us, and we all experience a jolt of panic before their tyres find purchase.
We get out of there quickly, before the Citroën can lose control and smash into the front of our car.
We drive back towards the main road. Far below, out in the bay, the Ovation to the Sea waits for its passengers like a fat toad waiting for flies.
Reading, watching, thinking about…
I recently rediscovered this website which is a fun music wormhole to fall into. From the creator:
Every Noise at Once is an ongoing attempt at an algorithmically-generated, readability-adjusted scatter-plot of the musical genre-space, based on data tracked and analyzed for 6,291 genre-shaped distinctions by Spotify as of 2023-11-19. The calibration is fuzzy, but in general down is more organic, up is more mechanical and electric; left is denser and more atmospheric, right is spikier and bouncier.
A fun way to discover new artists!
If you need some creative prompts for inspiration. I’m struggling to find time for any creative work, and even this newsletter is a stretch, but I’m keeping this in my back pocket for when I do.
I have binged two seasons while breastfeeding and I’m sad there isn’t a third (yet). The costume design is to die for!
*A pai is an empanada-like pastry filled with fruit compote. Popular flavours include banana, pineapple and guava. Flavours I am unlikely to try include pate and whipped cream.