Israel #3 - Welcome to Jerusalem

Shalom! We are here in Jerusalem safe and sound. As we adjust to this new time zone, we’re taking delight in all the sights and sounds of this wonderful city.

When we arrived on Thursday, our first task was to lay in some food supplies because, not only did Shabbat begin on the next afternoon (with almost everything closed for 24 hours), but Memorial Day and Independence Days will follow in quick succession. So we wanted to be sure we had enough food in the apartment to last us about a week. Shopping in the grocery stores and corner supermarkets is a challenge because most goods are labelled only in Hebrew. We’ve had to rely on pictures. Dad did try to talk me into buying a cleaning product he thought was laundry soap, but I was pretty sure it was something else since the pictures were of sparkling clean ovens and toilets! Nevertheless, we’ve succeeded in acquiring enough food to fill our fridge. Shop staff have been unfailingly helpful even when they don’t speak English.

Yesterday, we took a cab to the Old City and walked through the Armenian Quarter. Our first stop was a restaurant called the Armenian Tavern. From a simple door on the street, we went down some steep stairs into the basement which is lavishly decorated. We had the most wonderful lunch of grilled meats, grilled vegetables and pita bread. Afterward we walked out of the Old City by way of the Zion Gate and visited Mount Zion and the Upper Room. We saw many tour groups -- some from Indonesia and Sri Lanka, some from Germany and Spanish-speaking countries.

The Upper Room is not, of course, the same room where Yeshua (Jesus) and the disciples had their last Passover together and where the disciples waited for the coming of the Holy Spirit at Shavuot (Pentecost). Rather, it is a room built by the Crusaders about 900 years ago in the spot traditionally believed to be the location of the original Upper Room. The architecture of this room reminded Dad and me of the many churches and cathedrals we saw in France some years ago -- and not surprisingly since this room was built by men of the same period and nationality.

This morning we took a cab to the Garden Tomb and spent a wonderful hour wandering about the gardens of this pleasant and relaxing place. How delightful it is to step away from the crowds and heat to spend a few moments in the place that may have seen the most amazing day in history -- when the Lord rose from the grave!

Afterward, we walked down the street to the area of the Damascus Gate. A few steps away from the Peddlers Market, we found the entrance to King Solomon’s Quarries or Zedekiah’s Cave. This amazing cave system was a quarry, some believe, for the stones of Solomon’s Temple.

“Solomon also had 70,000 porters and 80,000 quarriers in the hills, apart from Solomon’s 3,300 officials who were in charge of the work and supervised the gangs doing the work. The king ordered huge blocks of choice stone to be quarried, so that the foundations of the house might be laid with hewn stones” (1 Kings 5:29-31).

Others believe this cave system was where King Zedekiah hid from the Babylonians when Jerusalem was besieged and destroyed.

Whatever its origins, it is the largest artificial cave ever discovered in Israel. The cave mouth, right below the Old City wall, was blocked hundreds of years ago and rediscovered in 1854. It was opened for tourists in 1985, with a pathway and lights through the cavern. The cave extends under the Old City itself. That’s some basement! At its longest, the cave is about 230 meters. At its widest, it is more than 100 meters. Its average height is that of a four-story building.

Dad, Krista and I walked through the caverns (Mom stayed at the top and guarded the entrance from any stray Babylonians). It was a fairly easy stroll down and not difficult to climb back up. In many places, the marks of ancient quarrying is clear even to the novice. Much of the stone removed from the cave was Melekeh stone, a soft white limestone that becomes very hard when exposed to the sun and air.

After we emerged from the dark, cool and humid cavern back into the warm sun, we entered the Old City by the Damascus Gate. What a change! In the quiet cave we were the only people. Entering the Muslim Quarter of the Old City was wall-to-wall people, loud recorded music and non-stop calls from shopkeepers. We slowly made our way through the narrow, busy bazaar. Eventually we reached a quieter, more open bazaar where Krista spotted a store selling leather sandals. The shopkeeper found her a pair she liked … and the bargaining began! My sister is not shy and soon she was walking away with her new shoes for her price.

We finally reached the Jaffa Gate and took another cab home. We’re enjoying a well-deserved rest, building up our reserves for tomorrow when we go to Tel Aviv for a special ceremony at an air base. Memorial Day begins tomorrow evening, followed by more ceremonies on Independence Day, so we may not have a chance to write again for a couple of days.

Shalom from Jerusalem!

Here are some more pictures Krista, Dad and I took (click for bigger):

Views from Mount Zion

At the Garden Tomb

Zedekiah's Cave

Entering the Old City by the Damascus Gate

Krista Buys Shoes

A Bead Shop

A Bread Seller

A Spice Shop

A Door Handle in the Old City

Israel #2 - Beurlings and Bagels

The car is packed and we're ready to head to the airport!

I mentioned in my previous note that the catalyst for today's journey from Toronto to Israel was the Israeli government's desire to honour my uncle, George Beurling. Canadians who lived through World War II will probably remember reading about George in the newspapers. Younger Canadians may remember studying about him in history classes at school.

Let me refresh your memories by telling you a little about George Beurling.

George was born in Montreal almost 90 years ago. As he grew up, George became a wonderful athlete -- swimming, diving and mastering marksmanship. But what George loved to do more than anything was fly; piloting an airplane was his greatest joy.

One day, England declared war on Germany, and George said, “Maybe I can help.” Soon he was helping in Europe as a fighter pilot with England’s Royal Air Force.

Before long, everyone was amazed at his almost supernatural eyesight and his genius with air strategies and the way he had completely mastered the science of deflective shooting.

By the end of the war, George had shot down more enemy aircraft in his Spitfire fighter plane than any other Canadian pilot. When he returned home to Canada, he was received with great fanfare and was regarded as a singular hero.

Not long after this war, the Jewish people of the world began to prepare for another war, which they knew would take place as soon as Israel proclaimed her independence. So the call went out for Jewish airmen who could help defend the new state of Israel.

George said, “Maybe I can help.”

But when he volunteered to join the fledgling Israel Air Force, they said to him, “You can’t help, you’re not Jewish!”

Then the enemy nations came to George and said, “Come and fight for us instead. We will give you a great deal of money!”

But George answered, “If I fight against Israel, I know that I will be fighting for the wrong side.”

So he persisted and eventually convinced the Israeli Air Force to accept him as one of their fighter pilots.

The Israelis sent him from Canada to Rome. From Rome he was to fly an airplane to Israel but, just after his plane took off, it caught fire and crashed. George was killed. He was only 27 years old.

The Jewish people buried him in Israel and inscribed on his gravestone, Killed in Action.

Even though I was born after George's death, the events of his life have shadowed me most of my life.

Like George, I was carefully nurtured from birth by believing parents and grandparents. In fact, my father led me to place my trust in Jesus when I was only three years old.

Like George, the heroes of my childhood were the men and women of the Bible, people like Moses and Daniel, Esther and Paul. I was taught to be like them -- to honour God, to serve God and to love God as they did.

As a child, I thought that since the people of the Bible were Jewish and we were like them, then it logically followed that we were Jewish too. After all, my grandfather read his Bible in Hebrew, and I knew that my Uncle George, the great hero, was revered by the Jewish people and was buried in Israel. Didn’t that mean we were Jewish too?

As I grew up, I gradually realized that we were not Jewish. It was quite a disappointment to me. But I had to admit that all the bagels on Bathurst Street -- and I love bagels! -- could not change the fact that I was a Gentile.

Nevertheless, at an early age, I began to understand that God’s work in my life was not rooted in my identity, but in His. God loves me because of Who He is, not because of who I am.

The Jewish community has continued to express appreciation for George and an interest in my family. Sometimes, this has been difficult for me to understand. George has been a story to me. He died decades ago. Yet the Jewish community keeps telling his story over and over.

Then something happened to ignite my passion and compassion for Israel and her people. In 1985, an Israeli official spoke briefly at the funeral of my grandfather (George’s father). The Israeli said that Grandpa had given to Israel the greatest gift a man could give -- the life of his son.

I could not believe my ears! How I wanted to make this man understand that what he was describing was precisely what God Himself had done for Israel as well as the whole world! He gave the life of His Son!

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life" (John 3:16).

Many of the Jewish people of Israel and Canada have identified the Beurling family, my family, as righteous Gentiles. Well, I am a Beurling who wants every Jewish person to know that my righteousness is not because of my name. Like any other person on this earth, Jewish or Gentile, the only righteousness I will ever know is because of Messiah Jesus. He is our righteousness.

"But by His doing you are in Messiah Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification, and redemption, so that, just as it is written, "LET HIM WHO BOASTS, BOAST IN THE LORD" (1 Corinthians 1:30-31).

My next post will be from Jerusalem!

Israel #1 - Israel by Invitation

Shalom,

Later this week, I have the privilege of heading to Israel with my family. This won’t be a typical guided tour of the Land. I highly recommend visiting Israel with a tour group (I've been on three organized tours myself), but we're looking forward to the informality of this trip. Here are a few things that will make our trip different:

• Our visit will last for three weeks, not the usual eight or ten days of a guided tour.
• Rather than staying in a hotel, we’ve booked a three-bedroom apartment in Jerusalem for the duration of our stay.
• Instead of travelling about on a tour bus, we plan to use public transit, cabs and a rental car.
• We’re going to shop in local stores and markets for our food – not hotel restaurants.
• We’ve planned and arranged most of our itinerary on our own rather than rely on travelling with a guide.
• We plan to visit some of the typical highlights of a tour, but at our own pace.
• We’re going to visit a number of less well-known tourist sites that don’t make it onto most tour itineraries.

But there’s another element that will make our trip a little different.

Last summer, my father, Rick Beurling, was contacted by a representative of the Israeli Ministry of Defense and invited to visit Israel as their guest. The purpose of this invitation was to honour Dad’s brother, the great Canadian WW2 fighter pilot, George Beurling (often called Buzz Beurling), who joined the Israeli Air Force in 1948 and who died before Israel’s War of Independence had ended.

Dad has been asked to lay a wreath at the Israeli Air Force service on Pilot’s Mountain outside Jerusalem during Israel’s Memorial Day (April 19); this day honours those who have died defending Israel or by terrorism. On another day, he will also have the privilege of attending a military memorial service for George at his grave in the Haifa Military Cemetery. Additional plans include a visit to one or two Israeli Air Force bases.

Needless to say, my mother, sister and I decided to join Dad and “supervise.”

We hope to have many moments when we can explain to Israelis just why Christians love the Jewish people. (Because of the Jewish Messiah, of course!)

Lord willing, we’ll arrive in Jerusalem on Thursday, so start watching the blog for our reports on Friday!

Maui #11 - Goat Cheese & Craters

This morning we headed up the side of Haleakala to the Surfing Goat Dairy. We'd had reservations for their Grand Dairy Tour. The Dairy is located on the lower slopes of the huge volcanic mountain, Haleakala. We followed the directions carefully, but we still ended up on the wrong road. Our little car sped up the hill while Hilary and I tried to read the map. Instead of driving up the correct road and arriving on time, I took the Scenic Route and looped up higher on the mountain and drove down to the goat farm.

We zipped into the parking lot about 10 minutes late (Yikes!). One of the staff members spied us and waved us into our parking spot.

"Are you the Canadians?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered. "I'm sorry. We got terribly lost."

"That's the good thing about living on an island," he grinned. "You're never lost for long!"

We joined about 15 other people, including three or four pre-schoolers, and walked over to the goat pens with the owner. This farm was started by a German couple. She was a school teacher and he owned a large software company. I think they moved to the US some years ago. When they moved to this location, they decided to start a small goat dairy, making goat cheese just for their own consumption. However, it began to grow quickly. Now they have about 20 different flavours of goat cheese, ship it all over the world, win contests for goat cheese and made a profit of about $250,000 last year.

They have two kinds of goats: Alpine and Saanen (I think those were the names). The owner, Thomas, introduced us to each goat by name. He refers to the females as "The Ladies."

After a leisurely stroll around the edges of a couple of the pens, Thomas took us back to where the goats are milked. There, one of his staff showed us the system they have for milking the does. He always referred to the goats as "The Girls" and he, also, knew each one by name and temperment. He had kept about six of The Girls back from the regular early morning milking so that we'd have a chance to see the process.

The goats were starting to line up to enter the milking area (they get fed as they are milked). It was very amusing to see two of the goats line up and then give up their places for the Alpha Female. She didn't push them out of the way, but just got in line behind them and watched as they both moved out of her way.

The staff guy began the procedure, talking about milking techniques and tricks the whole time. Then, before hooking The Girls up to the milking machines, he gave us a chance to milk one. Hilary overcame her hesitancy and gave it a shot. And the milk just shot out!  She said it felt "gross."

Next, Thomas took us into the milk processing area. He told us how, about 50 years ago, dairy experts put together an 1800-page manual for all dairy farmers. Even as a goat farmer, he's required to follow these procedures. Thomas said that the problem is that the manual was written for farmers with cows and without modern milking machines. As a result he had to spend thousands of dollars installing a series of sinks and water systems in the first room of the dairy. These sinks were intended for dairy farmers to wash themselves and then their milk cans before taking the milk from the dairy. But Thomas doesn't need to use milk cans! This whole room is redundant. He said they use the sinks for washing herbs and vegetables.

The room where the milk is pasteurized and the cheese is made was spotless. The pasteurizing machines positively lit up the room they were so shiny. The cheese process was very interesting, but Hilary got a little bored. Of course, her biggest problem is that she thinks she doesn't like goat cheese. Silly girl. When it came to the cheese tasting, she wouldn't try even one mouthful. All the more for me! Goat cheese is one of my favourites.

At last we finished in the dairy and headed for some picnic tables where Thomas trotted out almost every flavour he has going. There was cheese with horseradish (surprisingly good!), cheese with fruit, cheese with herbs, cheese with chilies, cheese with grape leaves (my favourite), cheese with smoked fish (my second favourite), plain cheese, and others I've forgotten. They were all fabulous -- and very mild. I rather like the zing most goat cheese has, but this cheese had only a tiny zing. Anyone would enjoy it. Hilary would have loved it if she'd tried it.

And that was the end of our tour ... a very pleasant few hours.

From the goat farm, Hilary and I headed further up the mountain. It was partly cloudy (even with a few drops of rain falling occasionally) at the farm. As we drove up the hillside, we began to drive through the clouds. Our destination was the summit for a hike into the crater.

As we drove through the increasingly dense clouds, we just hoped the clouds would end before we reached the top. Sure enough, they did. Gradually, we saw more and more light and soon were driving in brilliant sunshine.

At the Visitor Centre (about 100 feet below the summit), we parked our car and donned our sweaters. It was much, much warmer than it had been last week at dawn. It was still windy, but didn't feel like it was going to blow us off the mountain. We loaded up with our backpacks and water and headed for the trailhead.

Sliding Sands Trail goes from the Visitor Centre directly into the crater. As we started the trail, we walked slowly around the edge of a small rocky hill and then over the lip of the crater and down into the moonscape. We walked slowly because, at that altitude, the air is quite thin. Even going downhill, I wanted to take it easy. The trail is quite easy to walk. It gently hairpins down the first steeper section and then loops across the wall of the crater, heading further in and farther down. We only went to the first real overlook and then we headed back, very slowly. We couldn't go more than a very short distance, before we'd stop so that I could rest and catch my breath. Even Hilary said, "What were we thinking?!" She says she wouldn't do the hike again. And we didn't go nearly the distance others were going!

It really was a wonderful experience and I'm really glad we did it. The colours in the crater are spectacular. The other-worldly-ness (is that a word?) creates such a unique experience. It was even warmer in the crater, but we wore our sweaters because we could feel the sun starting to burn us through the thin air.

Once we made it back to the car, we sat for a while and had an orange and water. After a suitable rest, we headed back down through the clouds one last time. Haleakala is a fabulous place to experience!

And that was our day.

Maui #11 - Lava Rocks!

Today wasn't a very active day. We started a bit late with a visit to the beach across the street. There were no red flags this morning, so we played in the waves a bit. It's quite easy to get past the breakers and bob about in the rollers where the water is still quite shallow ... except when a big wave passes. Hilary lasted about 20 waves and then we headed in and back to the pool. She can dive and do somersaults endlessly in the water there, with regular visits to the hot tub. I even had a little time to read my book.

Later, dry once again, we headed south of Kihei to The Shops of Wailea, a very upscale shopping centre. After cruising the very expensive shops, we decided to keep going south to see where it would take us.

The road south along the coast here quickly leaves the beautifully manicured and watered lawns of Wailea and enters some of the most harsh and rugged land I've ever seen. As soon as the irrigation ends, the scrub brush and prickly trees/bushes begin. Then you reach the lava flow.

This last firey breath of Haleakala happened several hundred years ago, prior to about 1700 most think. At first, we thought the black stuff we started driving through was very roughly ploughed earth. Then we realized it was nothing of the kind; it was solid lava. I've never seen such rough, forbidding countryside.

This is a protected area, so the road is largely unimproved and you aren't allowed to park or leave the road. The road is very narrow in spots (I pulled to the edge a number of times to allow others to pass) but fairly straight and low.

It looks as if the lava escaped from a spot partway up the mountain and just oozed down to the ocean. I can just imagine the heat as it ate up the countryside and then the hissing and steaming as it reached the ocean.

Once it had cooled, some Hawaiians built a village on top of the remains of the lava flow. The ruins of the stone foundations and walls can still be seen at the end of the road. The stones they used were, of course, volcanic rock. Stone walls made of this black material can be seen all over the island. Most are of a newer vintage, but they look the same as the ancient ones, so you never know how old they are.

After all this lava, we decided we needed some more personal time in the hot tubs and pool ... that's how we ended our day!

Maui #10 - The Road to Hana ... Sort of

This morning, we left good and early - our plan was to made the drive to Hana. Everyone who goes to Maui learns about The Road to Hana. Hana is an isolated location at the eastern edge of Maui. Between Hana and the rest of the island lies the huge mass of the volcano, Haleakala. You can't really go through Haleakala, you must go around. There's a rough road at the south edge of this part of the island, but the general consensus is that it's not suitable for tourists' rental cars. The road that squeaks along the north edge of the island - narrow, winding, surrounded by rainforest, spectacularly beautiful - is The Road. Although it's only about 50 miles long (depending on which section you measure), it takes at least two hours to drive, much longer if you stop for waterfalls and other photo ops.

We started out by getting a full tank of gas and then making a pit stop at McDonalds (not many bathrooms or gas stations after this). The weather wasn't great; showers and very overcast. Other islands east of us had flash flood alerts, but Maui was only expecting a little rain.

As we headed east on The Road, the foliage grew greener and greener and thicker and thicker. We drove slowly through funky Paia, known as the home of some of the state's most idiosyncratic people, and saw some interesting folks. The buildings are older and sometimes ramshackle, but quite picturesque. My favourite store sign was "Pizza Paia."

As we drove on, the rain fell harder. The flash floods causing havoc on the other islands are caused by rainfall in the mountains that rushes downhill, overflowing streams and causing landslides and sinkholes. Maui, although not experiencing the same heavy rain, has many, many streams running past The Road to the ocean. They say flash floods can happen at any time. I was keeping a close eye on the rain and road conditions.

Not too many miles beyond Paia, the road began to snake about (although not as severely as it does further on). I also started to notice small streamlets running across the pavement. I also saw a some spots where the rainwater was puddling on the road quite a bit. This started to concern me; I could envision some kind of washout cutting us off from getting back to our condo. So, at the first opportunity, we made a u-turn and headed back to other part of the island. I'm writing this the morning after this non-adventure and have just learned that there was a landslide later in the day, not too far from where we turned around. The road was closed for safety, so I guess we made the right choice! If we have a chance, we may try The Road to Hana again before we leave for home.

On the way back Kahului, we stopped briefly in Paia to check out the shops. We also went into a postal outlet to buy stamps for our postcards. We asked the clerk, a friendly resident of Paia, about possible nearby public bathrooms. In typical Paia style, he suggested we exit by his back door, go around the corner to a local bar & grill, enter by their back door into the bar area and use the washrooms at the back where "no one will hassle you." Hilary thought this was far too unconventional and was not going to step foot outside his back door. So, we went out the front door of the postal outlet, into the front door of the restaurant and asked the host if we could use the bathrooms. No problem!

We also stopped at Ho'opika (or something like that), a world-famous surfing and wind-surfing location. From a cliff top lookout, we counted and watched 35 surfers catching the waves.

Our next stop was the Queen Ku'uma'ana Mall. If I remember correctly, this Queen was one of the wives of King Kamehameha and became a Christian when the missionaries arrived. Her example encouraged other Hawaiians to believe, as well. She also introduced many laws (such as against murder and theft) and practices (schools, etc.) that changed the lives of Hawaiians much for the better.

We also made a stop at the Sugar Museum, learning way more about sugar than anyone should know - especially someone like me who has no sweet tooth. After that, I just wanted some bread!

We ended our day with some quality time at the pool and hot tub and watching a rented movie.

What did Thomas Magnum say? Just another day in paradise!

Maui #9 - Remembering

We had a wonderful time last week at the Old Lahaina Luau. This morning we enjoyed Part Two.

Ho'omana'o means "remember" and is a new production of the same company. We left our condo at about 7:15 in the morning and headed back to Lahaina on the west side of the island. Once again, traffic near Lahaina slowed us down. Hilary was convinced that we would be late, but I had timed it to the minute! We were greeted at the same location as the Old Lahaina Luau with fresh juice (each cup was topped with a beautiful lei flower) and a kukui nut lei.

By the way, leis are made of many things. The kukui lei is made up of dark, shiny nuts about the size of small walnuts. Other leis are, of course, made of different kinds of flowers. They're quite fragile and will lose their freshness. My favourite is the shell lei. Even they offer great variety. There are slim, single strands - like the ones we've been collecting from Hilo Hattie's. There are others that are thick and heavy with shells. Some are made of an assortment of shells. Others are made from a single kind and colour of shell. There's one that we see quite often made from small yellow shells that look a lot like kernels of corn.

Back to Ho'omana'o. Some Internet sites called this event as a breakfast luau and Hilary has picked up that description. However, it really wasn't a luau at all; it's more of an education event. The goal is to provide tourists with a better understanding of the ancient Hawaiian way of life.

The morning began with a great breakfast buffet. There was pork hash (left over from the pork cooked in an imu, or underground oven, at the luau the night before), bacon, scrambled eggs, frittata, Portuguese sausage, French toast stuffed with mango, yoghurt and granola, fresh fruit and more.

There was a much smaller group for the morning event - perhaps about 40 or 45 people. We were all seated in the same area where Hilary and I sat for the evening luau, only this time we sat at tables. Just behind us, a young man played his guitar and sang Hawaiian songs; it was just gorgeous.

After our breakfast, they divided us into three groups and led each group to a different area along the beach. The plan was that each group would visit each of the three learning centres. Our first half hour was devoted to learning about hula. We sat on benches and chairs under the palm trees and listened to a Hawaiian man tell us about the history of this beautiful dance. I've forgotten his name (they all told us their Hawaiian names, but I usually only barely caught the string of syllables!), but he has competed in hula and teaches hula each year in Japan. His two assistants demonstrated all the special tools used in hula. Most of the tools are used to create a rhythmic sound or pleasant movements.

As we watched the two female assistants demonstrate several different dances, I listened carefully to the teacher chant and keep the rhythm on a huge gourd drum. I was interested to hear the clear difference between singing and chanting. Although he did change pitch a many times, there was a monotone element to the whole thing. It was definitely not sung - much less so than something like a Gregorian chant. Another interesting element was the way the dancers answer the chanter at different times - antiphonal chanting!

After demonstrating different dances and tools, it was our turn. Two people learned how to use a dried gourd filled with beans and trimmed with feathers, two others learned how to use small drums (to set the beat) and we learned how to use bamboo sticks that had been split into loose ends. (We held one in each hand, hit them together three times and then tapped them gently over the back of our shoulders. It made me think of pictures of flagellation, but it was quite gentle. The goal was to create a different sound between hitting the sticks together (a harsher sound) and the sound of hitting the body (a more muffled sound). The name of the sticks translates into something related to skin something something.

Once we had all "mastered" our instruments, we used them together while the teacher chanted. We did pretty well! Ha! The next stage was to add foot movements. All three of my left feet came into play. (This is one of the reasons I always sing on music teams and don't participate in Messianic dance!) Even Hilary had trouble keeping her bamboo sticks going while we did the very simple steps. Arghhhh. There was a lot of laughter.

Soon it was time for each group to go to a different learning centre. At our next stop we learned about Hawaiian food, weaving and fishing. One assistant showed us how to throw a fishing net.  Hilary did pretty well with a keiki-sized, or child-sized, net. The teacher was a Hawaiian woman who seemed to enjoy telling us about her people's customs. She was a heavy-set woman in a sarong (all the staff were wearing sarongs) and had a very easy going, pleasant manner. She laughed a lot, especially at herself.

While we were watching her assistant throw the net in the waves, she spied a mussel of some kind on a nearby rock. She asked the net-thrower to get it for her and she raved about how tasty it would be ... raw. Someone asked about other things that would be gathered from the sea and she started telling us a story about the first time she'd collected a particular delicacy. I missed the complete description of the creature she was hunting, but it sounded like a crab or some kind of crawling creature. After collecting a whole pail of them, she left the pail in the kitchen sink overnight. In the morning, before she'd put her contacts in, she had to go scrambling all over her house to find all the creatures who had escaped the pail in the night. It was strange to hear this non-modern-looking Hawaiian talking about contact lenses and tvs.

One aspect of Hawaiian life I found interesting was the way in which the Hawaiian leaders had organized each community and land use. The Hawaiian communities were organized from mountainside down to the ocean in long strips. In other words, each community (and there were many) had access to each kind of land so that they were able to provide for themselves in every way. The mountainsides and valleys were used for agriculture. The valleys and ocean sides were used for living areas and community activities. The ocean sides and oceans themselves were used for collecting fish and seafood. It reminded me of the Habitant strips of land along the St. Lawrence.

While the teacher was talking to us, one of the assistants pounded a taro root into poi. It looked a little like kneading bread. We tasted this paste that is so loved by the Hawaiians. It's really very bland and sticky. Definitely an acquired taste. They offered us a chance to try a raw fish mixed with poi. I passed on this golden opportunity, but some of the women who tried it, thought it was great. The teacher talked about how this kind of fresh poi was so much better than the commercially available poi, which is watered down because of "a shortage of poi."

One of the assistants demonstrated a little weaving and presented Hilary will a small tropical bird with a very, very long tail - all created from palm fronds. It will go nicely with her woven basket.

Our last learning centre was all about Hawaiian warfare. Different weapons were demonstrated. Some were wooden or gourd tools, edged with shark teeth. Very frightening looking things. I found this section least interesting, but perhaps the warm ocean breezes were starting to get to me. At the end of this session, one of the assistants gave Hilary a temporary tattoo on her arm. By the way, I've never seen so many tattoos as I've seen here in Hawaii. They seem to be on almost every local or Hawaiian person you see. The designs are tribal rather than the typical ones seen in North America (hearts and logos, etc.). They're quite attractive, but I think there is a great deal of religious symbolism involved.

After this last session, all the teachers and assistants did a last gentle hula for us and then we said goodbye. It was a great morning. I enjoyed it more than the evening luau, but Hilary said she preferred the evening with all the exciting music and dance.

Our next goal was to ... shop! We worked our way through the Lahaina Cannery Mall across the street, then we headed north a few miles to the Whalers Village Mall. We didn't buy anything more than some ice cream (very expensive brand-name stores), but we really enjoyed the 40-foot long whale skeleton and the Whaling Museum.

Ka'anapali seems to be a beautiful area. Green mountains are behind the town and the blue ocean and soft beach are before it. It was very busy and warm, too. After seeing all we wanted to see, we headed back to Lahaina to get a closer look at the gigantic banyan tree on Front Street. It covers a huge area. I'm not sure it's bigger than the one in Florida at Edison's House, but it is mighty big!

We strolled a few blocks up Front, looking into many of the shops. Hilary also talked me into buying pearls in a mussels, as she did a few days ago. My first mussel contained a beautiful silver pearl. They offered me a second, free mussel and Hilary was very proud that she picked out one that contained TWO pink pearls. This really is quite a scam that encourages you to pay bigger bucks for the settings, but it's a lot of fun.

On the way home, we stopped at a lookout where it's quite easy to spot whales. And spot them we did! We saw at least three, spouting and flapping their tails about.

It was a great day!