Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“Oh, dat's too bad bra, sorry,” they chorused, sympathetically.
I nodded, thanked them, and walked out. That was bad news. It took all the wind out of my
morning sails. I loved my sister, but she was very accident prone. I recalled the time when
she had ridden a bicycle to school and had been struck by a car. She was all cut up and
bruised and spent about two weeks in bed.
There was nothing I could do apart from sending a telegram saying I had received the news
and that I was praying for her rapid recovery. I stopped in my tracks and turned around,
stepping back into the post office. I sent my parents a telegram and, saying goodbye to the
friendly clerk, walked out towards the Lanai Service Station.
As I walked I was conscious of the tall, dark green, Norfolk pines that filled the space along
the roadside and beyond the town. They were a very fundamental part of Lanai. The ser-
vice station would have been just another ordinary garage where one could fill up with gas
or diesel, have his car serviced, or arrange to tow in a breakdown, had it not been for the
forest of giant pines that stood majestically tall and silent as a backdrop. It was a charming
sight: the old, green, wooden buildings of the station with its ancient petrol pumps were
almost like the nostalgic, old, Norman Rockwell Coca Cola adverts on the billboards of
yesteryear; I could almost see an old Chevy parked outside if it hadn't been for the old,
faded, green, army Jeep relic!
I walked through the entrance and was greeted by a young, dark haired woman who sat at a
desk. She looked up, smiled, and asked if she could help me. She wasn't Filipino, perhaps
Portuguese I figured; there was a large population of them who had immigrated to Hawaii
over a hundred years ago to work on the cattle farms and sugar cane plantations.
“Good morning, yes, I was wondering if Mike was in. I believe he's involved with the Tri-
logy Charter Company from Maui.”
“Yes, he is their brother-in-law. I think he's in the back with a customer. Please wait here,
I'll go and see.”
She returned after a while with a tall, handsome man in his mid-thirties.
“Let me guess,” he said grinning, “You must be the owner of Déjà vu in the harbor?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. How did you know?”
“We don't have too many South African single-handers staying in Lanai,” he laughed eas-
ily. He was Australian, judging by his accent. “We heard about you last week already from
Ken down at Kaumalapau. It's a small town; word gets around pretty fast.” He laughed
again.
