Mmmmmm.....coffee

Thursday the 19th was our last day in Hawaii. Sadness! But the day was not a complete bummer because we saved something really cool to do for our last hurrah: the coffee farm tour. Woohoo! Being coffee freaks this was definitely a highlight for us.

Our resort was right in Kona, and Kona is to coffee what Napa Valley is to wine. There was something like 600 coffee farms on this main drag right near our hotel, and most of them welcome you right in to taste their goods. It's awesome-- you just walk in and the coffee is right there waiting for you. Just grab a cup and help yourself. And they often ply you with treats like freshed baked Oatmeal Cherry Coffee Cookies and Chocolate Covered Coffee Beans-- bonus! We really only had time to go to three farms, but we easily could have kept going (file that under Reason Number 8392355632115 why we'll be returning to Hawaii!).

The first stop was Hula Daddy (gotta love that name) where we spent the highest sum we've ever paid for a single pound of coffee (60 bones!!). But that particular award-winning coffee was a gift for a highly deserving couple who happen to be even bigger coffee freaks than we are, so it was money well spent.

Next stop was Kona Blue Sky Coffee. This place was phenomenal and now that we are back home in New York I know that we will be placing mail orders for more coffee frequently. Amazing coffee aside, this was our favorite stop on the tour for purely educational reasons. We learned a lot from our sweet Nebraskan tour guide--I can't remember her name, but she was the cutest thing ever. She met her boyfriend at school in her home state and followed him home to his home state. Very sweet. But I digress.

So here's a little pop quiz for you based on the cool things we learned on our tour of Kona BLue Sky:

Which tastes stronger: medium roast or dark roast?
The dark roast.
Duh! That was a gimme. Try this one:

Which has more caffeine: medium roast or dark roast?
The medium roast!
Shocker, right?

We also learned that peaberry is not a type of coffee unto itself. Apparently, peaberries are mutants (and I mean that in a good way!)that occur in about 5% of the cherries on a coffee tree. The cherries contain the coffee beans, which 95% look like what you think of when you envision a coffee bean-- you know, the thing that looks like it's sort of split down the middle in two neat halves? Well sometimes the cherry produces a bean that looks like it's missing its other half. The peaberry is that small, flat half-size bean. Why is this important? Well, it's not important really. But it does taste good! Coffee made from just the peaberries has a distinctive, robust flavor that is very nice. Try it! You like. I promise.

Volcanoes can teach you a lot about marriage: Part 2

Okay, now for Chrystalle's side of the story! I'll agree with Mike on one thing: the day did get off to a good start. On Tuesdays at the resort they have a 6:30a.m. spin class, so I got up nice and early and had an awesome, kick-ass workout. I'm not sure how many of you are into exercising in the morning, but there's just something about it that makes you feel so good about yourself and really makes you want to continue doing healthy things all day, starting with, say, eating a healthy breakfast. Which is why when Mike and I sat down at the restaurant I knew exactly what I wanted: oatmeal and fruit. Mike was not impressed with my order.

"Why don't you get the buffet?"

"Because all I want is oatmeal and fruit."

"They have that at the buffet!"

"But why would I order the whole buffet if all I want is oatmeal and fruit?"

"Because you might see something else you like."

Right. Okay, so putting aside for the moment the fact that I HATE buffets-- they make me feel like an animal at the trough filling up my feed bag-- "seeing something else I like" is precisely the problem with buffets. My husband is not a calorie counter. He does not understand that if I look at a menu and order a single healthy item, I have successfully avoided the temptation of whatever diet disasters could have befallen me at that meal, like buttermilk pancakes or Belgian waffles or whatever other belly-busters they have to offer. If I go to the buffet, then I have to avoid the diet disasters again and again and again as I walk up and down in search of the healthy fare. It's just too tempting and not worth the hassle.

"I don't want anything else. I just want oatmeal and fruit."

I think Mike got the point, but he always has to have the last word. "Fine. Just saying though, there's a whole vat of oatmeal at the buffet."

Aaarrrrrgh. But putting that minor irritation aside, we had a very nice breakfast down by the beach and when it was over, I was very psyched about going to the volcano. Seriously! Plus we were going to go the long, scenic way so that we could see the entire island. I was genuinely looking forward to it.

Which is why I was so disappointed when it turned into a bust.

So why exactly was it a bust? Was it because as a girl I am genetically incapable of enjoying volcanoes? Is the female of the species too prone to bouts of hunger or chills or maybe just general misandry to understand the awesomeness of such an adventure?

Or is it possible that perhaps the day was not quite as enjoyable for me because IT WAS 60 DEGREES OUT AND RAINING AND MY HUSBAND TOLD ME NOT TO DRESS WARM?!?! And could it also have something to do with the fact that WE WENT WITHOUT FOOD FROM 8am UNTIL 4pm?!?!?! Hmmm, I'm thinking that maybe the fact that I was starving and freezing had something to do with my displeasure.

Yet interestingly, when Mike shares his version of the story he neglects to mention that I asked him not once, but TWICE whether or not I should wear long pants and he said NO. He also neglects to mention that we finished breakfast at 8, that I had gone to spin that morning and only had a bowl of oatmeal and some fruit for breakfast, that I finally asked around 2 if we could stop for lunch, and that we didn't actually GET any food until 4pm. Jeez!

I'm all for being fair, so I would like to share Mike's responses to my contentions.

To my point that I was freezing, Mike responds that he "didn't know it would be that cold." And here we have Marriage Lesson Number One: do not assume that information provided by your husband is factual. Because apparently, he does not need to familiarize himself with the facts prior to doling out information. In other words, Mike, if you didn't know it would be cold, why did you tell me how to dress? Why not say, "Hmm, I'm not sure if you should wear pants. You should check the web to see what the Volcano State Park suggests."

And to my point that I was starving, Mike says "Well, I told you to get the buffet!" Thus bringing us to Marriage Lesson Number Two: men have larger storage vessels than women do. Whereas I get full quickly and prefer to eat five small meals a day, my husband is on the Eat Till You Barf plan. If I tried to eat the way he does, I would be sick for hours. If not days. So no wonder he didn't want lunch --I wouldn't want lunch either if I could shove down the equivalent of three breakfasts!

So like I said, volcanoes can teach you a lot about marriage. Next sight-seeing trip, no matter what Mike says, I'm packing sweats. And snacks.

Volcanoes can teach you a lot about marriage: Part 1

I hate volcanoes.

Actually, I don't hate volcanoes at all. I happen to think they are pretty freakin' cool. But Mike says I hate volcanoes, so there must be something to that, right? If you ask my husband, his takeaways from our visit to the Volcano State Park on Hawaii's Big Island are that (1) volcanoes are for boys, and (2) he made a massive mistake in "dragging" me there. I have my own takeways from the experience, including (1) boys are more likely to give you faulty information than admit they don't know something and (2) once a boy has made up his mind about something, trying to convince him otherwise is a lot like trying to talk your way out of a speeding ticket: you can try, but ultimately it's less painful for everyone if you just accept it and move on.

In the interest of fairness, I'm going to do my best to give Mike's full side of the volcano story first. Then, I'll do a second blog post with my side. I can already feel all you married people shaking your heads at us. Ah, the joys of marriage are just beginning!

Mike's Version of the Events Transpiring on Tuesday, November 16
The day got off to a great start. Months ago when I made the reservation for this hotel, I selected the Bed and Breakfast plan which meant that our breakfast was already paid for up to $75. The Four Seasons has an awesome spread called the Ultimate Buffet for $44 that includes anything and everything you could possibly want: made to order omelets and waffles, an Asian station with shrimp fried rice, classic Continental items cereals, fruit and pastries, and all sorts of other good stuff. Talk about getting your money's worth! I mean, how can you go wrong with that? Logically, I went with the buffet. But what does my wife order? A $9 bowl of oatmeal and an $8 plate of pineapple. Are you freakin kidding me? Ehhhh, what on earth is the point of that? Why not just get the buffet? They have all the oatmeal and fruit up there you could possibly want! I tell Chrystalle this, and she says "But all I want is oatmeal and pineapple."

"Right, but you can get that with the buffet!"

"But why would I get the buffet if all I want is oatmeal and pineapple, which I can get a la carte?"

Uggghhhh. I could see this was going no where. But given that I had already paid for this all-inclusive breakfast, I was damn well going to get my money's worth. Round One at the buffet I got a ham and cheese omelet, shrimp fried rice, potatoes and tomatoes. Then for Round Two I got a full Belgian waffle and some fresh berries. The guy at the buffet even asked me if I wanted a half waffle or a full, but I told him, Go Ahead! Give me the Full! What the hell, right? I nearly exploded, but hey, at least I got what I paid for.

Okay, so breakfast down, we set out for the volcanoes. I warned Chrystalle that it was going to be a looooonnnnnnng day. We were going to drive around the entire island AND do the hiking trails at the volcano park. She said that she was excited about it, and against my better judgement, I took her at her word. The whole time I could hear the voice in my head saying, "Michael, she's going to hate this. She's going to get there and hate it and then she's going to ruin the volcano for you! She's going to rush you out of there because she's cold or hungry or her feet hurt or she's bored or who knows what else! Abort, Michael. ABORT!" But I ignored the voice and got in the car. I am not a smart man.

Two hours into the drive she has to go to the bathroom. Of course. I pull over into a gas station (we're on the wet side of the island now so it's raining pretty steadily) and she gets out and steps right into a puddle. Great. Now I've got to hear about how her sneakers are wet. I can tell already this is going to be awesome.

Another two hours later, she wants coffee. So we pull over again, this time into a 7-Eleven, for coffee and a pack of macadamia nuts. And we're on our way again. One hour later, we arrive at the Volcano Park. Again, she has to go to the bathroom. (Why oh why do women have to tinkle so much??) So she disappeared for a while and i got to scope out the visitors center and map out our course. And man, this place is even cooler than I thought it would be. There's active volcanoes you can actually hike down into, and there's even more craters that you can walk all over. Plus, at the end of the Crater Drive, you can get right up to where the last volcanic eruption covered over the street. You have to leave your car a half mile back from the edge of the lava, but you can walk it and then continue walking on down to the beach to see where the lava ran into the ocean. And then you can actually see the steam where lava is STILL flowing into the ocean! That's unbelievable!

At least, that's what I thought. As predicted (I am so good. I totally called this one) Chrystalle was not impressed. She was cold. Granted it was a little chilly but really it was just the rain that was making it uncomfortable. But who cares? What's a little rain? We're in a volcano! All I could think was please let the rain stop. She won't be miserable if the rain stops.

But the rain didn't stop. And soon, she wouldn't even get out of the car. So we're driving through the most awesome park on earth and my wife is sitting in the car while I get out to look at stuff. She wasn't complaining, but I felt like a jerk just leaving her in the car. So I end up jumping out, taking a 2-second peek at everything, snapping a picture, and then running back to the car, all along the map of the park. And the whole time I've got this internal monologue going, on one side, "I've got to get her out of her before this gets ugly" and on the other hand "I'm never coming back here! I have to see everything!" Ugh, what a mess.

And then, right as we are about to get to the coolest part of the whole tour-- the lava that ran over onto the main road-- it happens: "Mike, do you think we could stop for lunch soon?"

Oh Great Merciful God, NOOOO!! Not that! There is nothing scarier in life than my wife when she's hungry. Good Lord. As soon as she said Lunch the clock began to tick. And the voice in my head boomed "Michael, you have less than one hour before TOTAL MELTDOWN." But we were so close! It was only another 20 minute drive down to the end of the road, and then a half-mile hike to get to where the lava ended. I had to see this. It was worth the consequences. Besides, maybe being hungry for a while would teach her not to eat like a freakin bird. I told her to get the buffet!

It was 2:20 when the Lunch clock began to tick and it was 3:12 when got back in the car after hiking over the lava. I would have liked to have hiked all the way down to the ocean, but I'll take what I can get. Chrystalle was not looking good so I knew we were approaching Hunger-CON 5. "Don't worry dear! We're gonna get you some food!" Weak smile from my wife in reply. Oh boy, this is looking ugly. Please Lord, just let me find a restaurant!

But there are no restaurants. We are on the dead, undeveloped side of the island and there is NOTHING. So I'm driving. And I'm driving. And there's still NOTHING. And before long I can see out of the corner of my eye that she is curled up against the door in a fetal position with her eyes closed. Jesus. Lord, don't do this to me! I'm going to have to hear about this for the rest of my life! But finally, after almost an hour of driving, we found the saddest gas station you have ever seen in your life. Chrystalle flys out of the car like a bat out of hell and buys a bag of pretzels and a Diet Coke. And she is happy again. And all is right with the world. Except that she thinks I am an insensitive jerk who thought for days about how to torture her and came up with the volcano frostbite starvation treatment.

Maybe she's right. But hey, I'm new at this married stuff. Now I know. No matter what my wife says, ahe is still a girl and would still rather be at the spa than at the volcano. And while I love her very much, I will never take her to do boy things again.

You can take the boy out of The Bronx...

...but you can't take The Bronx out of the boy. Did you all know that Mike is originally from The Bronx? Well, it's true. He may have only lived there a year before his family moved to Beacon, but clearly those formative months in the Boogie Down left their mark. So with his origins in mind, let me tell you a little story about my husband. (P.S. Please keep in mind that this is NOT a knock against The Bronx! Being from Queens myself, I got nuttin' but love for the boroughs!)

On Monday, when we arrived on the Big Island from Maui, we were about 6 days into our 10 day vacation and were both running pretty low on clean clothes. I was down to my last pair of socks and Mike was totally out of boxers and golf shirts. We had thought about getting some of our essential items cleaned while we were on Maui, but the rates at our last hotel were absurd: $3 per pair of socks, $12 per shirt, and so on. Thus, you can imagine our delight when Mike found a single-use packet of Woolite in the amenities basket here at the Four Seasons! We had been planning on doing some hand wash once we got here anyway, so discovering laundry detergent in our room was just a huge plus. Not one to waste time, Mike went to work immediately on filling the tub and cleaning his clothes. This struck me as mildly amusing as I had never seen anyone do hand wash in a tub before. But hey, I guess the tub makes sense if you have a lot to clean. Or if your clothes take up a lot of space. Typically my hand wash consists of unmentionables that fit neatly in the sink, so it never occurred to me to fill up the bath. But I'm digressing. To continue painting the picture: Mike is cleaning his shirts and shorts in the tub and I am digging through my suitcase to find my dirty socks and other workout paraphernalia (might as well make full use of the tub now, right?). Before I can even pull the last dirty item from my bag, Mike is all done and carrying his wet stuff past me into the room. I assume that he needs to get into the closet so he can hang up his stuff, so I move out of the way and head right into the bathroom. Mike was kind enough to drain the tub once he was done, so I turn the water on and start to refill it. Then I grab the Woolite from the counter only to discover that he used the whole thing!

-- We now interrupt this story to give you some critical background information that will really help put the climax of the drama in perspective. A friend of mine happens to know the CEO of the Four Seasons on the Big Island, where this story takes place. My friend put a call in to his friend, who then made sure that we were given not just the usual 4S treatment, but some extra special 4S treatment. When we checked into our room, we not only found the champagne and massage gift certificate that I mentioned in my last post, but also a personal note from the CEO inviting us to dinner on the house as well as a day of complimentary ocean activities like snorkeling or canoeing or whatever else appealed to us. I also think, although this was never stated, that this friend had a hand in seeing that our cabana was on the 18th hole of the golf course. Pretty nice, right? Especially since the CEO doesn't know us personally. Okay, so as I return you to your regularly scheduled blog post please keep in mind that we were being treated as special guests at the hotel and would eventually like to meet the CEO and make a good impression. --

Slightly irritated now that my husband used all the soap, I turn around to ask Mike if by any chance he had found two packages of Woolite. And what do I see when I turn around? There, outside the double doors to the patio, looking out on the golf course where a few fine linksmen are concluding their game, is my Michael, hanging up his laundry over the side of our balcony. Ahhhhhhh! I mean, we might as well have packed some engine parts to strew all over the front lawn. If ever there were any unspoken rules of how one should comport oneself at a fine hotel, NOT stringing clothes up out the window has to be one of them! Add to that the fact that the clothes in question were in one of the most conspicuous spots on the entire property -- directly in view of the golfers as they drove up to the 18th hole -- and that fact that we were given special treatment by the CEO, the laundry faux pas could not have been more mortifying. Can you imagine if the golfers had actually complained or mentioned to the pro back at the shop that there was some riffraff hanging clothes up on the course?? Ohmigod. These are all the thoughts racing through my head. I didn't say anything, but I guess Mike could tell by the look on my face that something was wrong.

"Pretty Bronx, huh?" he laughs.

"Ha!" Nervous laughter from me. "Yeah, um, actually, maybe we could just hang those up in the bathroom? Or the closet?"

"They'll dry better out here though."

"True... but they look a lot less embarrassing in here!"

We came to a mutual agreement that maybe there was a better place for the clothes. A compromise, if you will. I hung some of his shorts off the back of the chairs on the balcony, out of sight of passersby. And the rest we hung up in the closet.

But the story doesn't end there! In the most perfect, ironic, comical ending ever, we left our room shortly after the hand wash incident to go tour the resort property. Remember, we had only just checked in the hour before. And what do we find not 100 yards from our cabana? A laundry room, complete with washer AND dryer (and soap!), for guests-use only.

Quick Poll

While reading the last blog update, my husband looked at me quizzically and asked "Redonkulous?" This struck me as pretty funny at first, but now I'm curious who else was confused. So tell us: do you speak Mike or Chrystalle?? ;)

How many of you are familiar with the term "redonkulous"?

• I am, and use it myself frequently along with "Bananas."
• I sorta am -- but didn't think it was a word people actually used in conversation.
• I'm not, but I figured it out from context. I always aced those "reading comprehension" tests!
• What the F is redonkulous??!!

Created on Nov 19, 2009

View Results

poll by twiigs.com

Yeah, so, about us coming home...

We're so not leaving here. Our cabana is on the 18th hole (Mike is presently out playing his second round of golf today), we're eating breakfast each day right on the ocean, and the fitness club here is unreal. In the middle of my spin class yesterday, a man came in with chilled towels for us all to refresh ourselves with. That's awesome! And the cardio equipment is set up so that some machines are outside so you can enjoy the fresh air, while the rest are inside in case you want air conditioning. In fact, it's beautiful and breezy here right now, so I think I'm going to go see if one of those outside elliptical machines is free...

OMG We Heart the Four Seasons

Warning: you may really, really hate us after you read this. So proceed at your own risk. I am about to tell you just how insanely, redonkulously well we are being treated here in Hawaii. Those prone to fits of jealous rage may wish to stop reading now.

Separate warning for ADD types: if you really don't have the attention span to read this whole long post, I'd recommend just reading point 3. It's a highlight.

Still here? Alright. But you can't be mad now at us now at the end of this post because you were fairly warned.

In a nutshell, we are being spoiled rotten. Prior to Lanai, we had never stayed at a 4S so we didn't really know what to expect. But now that we are here in at the Four Seasons Hualalai Resort in Kona, there is a clear pattern in their service model and so I have no qualms about telling you what you can expect if you should ever lodge with them:

1) Expect to be greeted at the airport. These people do not slack off and wait for you to come to them to start the pamperage. Nope. Whether you need a ride, as we did in Lanai, or not, there will be a representative from the resort there to extend an "Aloha" (or the local equivalent if you're not in Hawaii). Here in Kona we booked a rental car, so the 4S greeter just gave us a friendly smile, tagged our bags for the bellman (to make things smoother once we arrived at the hotel), asked if we needed anything, and then continued on her merry way.

2) Expect check-in to be a really enjoyable experience. How bizarre does that sound? After the way we were welcomed in Lanai, with hot towels for our hands and fresh juice, I was actually looking forward to checking in at Kona. And I was not disappointed. There was the same hot towel treatment, and this time we got delicious tropical cocktails in these really cool miso-soup type bowls. Plus the whole check-in deal goes down while you are sitting on a comfy couch-- the receptionist comes to you to go over everything. Clearly a vast improvement over the usual waiting in line at a counter jazz.

3) Expect them to acknowledge special occasions. We were so surprised by the complimentary treats and champagne at the last 4S, but this time around the bar was set, so our expectations were higher. And man oh man did the Kona 4S come through. Veuve, baby! We're talkin' primo bubbly wrapped up all nice and pretty for us in our room. And that's not all! Kona talked to Lanai and found out what they did for us there, so this time instead of a dessert tray to go with our champagne, we got a gift certificate for a couples' massage! What?? Redonkulous. That's what.

4) Expect them to greet you by name. This may not be as impressive to everyone else as it is to me, but they make it a point here to find out your name and greet you by it, everytime. Given that I absolutely cannot get enough of hearing "Mrs. Anstett," you know I'm loving that :)