Surf, pain, bureaucracy, great food, and a ghost story

Paddled out at Kuhio Beach again on Friday, right through the crowd at Canoes. It's mayhem out there. Beginner surfers paddling, drifting; canoes doing loops; and catamarans plowing through the middle of it all, blaring air horns every half-hour or so.

Found a little peak, going right from Pops, and surfed out there for a while. When I first got out some guy was up and riding a long wall toward me, going right, so I paddled to my right, his left, aiming for the white water, giving him the open wall, down the line. He looked at me a couple of times and as he closed in it was pretty clear I was going to  make it by him, except he leaned back and shot his board straight at me.

I dived under and ducked the whole mess. Came up wondering if he did it on purpose. He asked if I was okay and said, "I didn't see you until the last minute and I couldn't do anything."

I watched him for a while after that and he was pretty kooky, so I took it that he really couldn't do anything about it and didn't have enough experience/confidence to figure out we were going to clear each other. You never know with surfing. There's always some guy you run across who's trying to send a message. I guess life's like that, too.

The joys of surfing Waikiki. Wear your helmet!

After about two hours I was wiped out and headed back in. Slow paddle through the mayhem. I was sore. Still feeling it today. That little thing that sticks out below the center of your rib cage, above your belly? Kinda tongue-shaped? It hurts like hell this morning. Gotta get that in shape!

I took the BZ T-20 out at the Wall this morning for about an hour. Dropped into a couple of mushy walls and got little lip to roll me. I'm gonna call it a semi-rollo. New patented move, right here, spongers. Had to hang it up before I got tired because my chest was too sore.

After yesterday's surf session, I rode Da Bus over to the motor vehicles department on Dillingham. More mayhem; stood in line for two hours to submit my forms. The woman checked them and sent them over to the cashier. It was after 4p, so they were closing and I have to go back another day. I've got one week to get in there and avoid having to go through the long line again.

Hard to feel bad for myself, however. Woman next to me in line ran into a friend who pointed out the older woman ahead of us in line who had been there for five hours. Oy!

You'd think they could use the take-a-number system and let people wait it out. Apparently, that technology hasn't made it to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, yet. Ugh.

From the MVD, I walked over to the Bishop Museum, stopping at a restaurant on School St. called Mexico. They served mexican food. I had some ceviche and a margarita, which served to cool me down and take the edge off the stomach. I'm pretty sure that since I've been here at least 90% of my protein intake has been in the form of raw fish.

Ono!

At the museum, my friend Alton was telling his Okinawan WW2 stories. There was a large group of Okinawan attendees, just about everybody in a crowd of about 200. The stories were supported by a musician playing traditional Okinawan instruments. The set of stories was well-received by the crowd and the overall show was a big hit. Finishing up with a traditional eisa; just about everyone got up and danced.

Afterward, I went to dinner with a large group from the show at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant on River St., New Hanagasa Inn. Looks can be deceiving! The food was excellent and plentiful. The woman running the place found out Alton was a storyteller and set him up with the karaoke mic and a flashlight; after she turned the lights down, Alton told a ghost story. Fun!