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From Hawaii to Mexico to Hollywood - A traveler in the Pacific(They really do say Aloha alot in Hawaii). I hope this letter finds you well and If not, then think of crispy red Irish man in a grass skirt, attempting to Hula in Hawaii. Everything is sweet, sunny and tutti-fruiti in the Never Never Land that is the Pacific Ocean. It was recently told to me that Valentines Day was approaching and I realized that since I embarked on my travels, two months had passed like an unexpected morning fart. (But not with the same vulgarity of course) Anyhow today I find myself docked in the Hawaiian port of Nawilliwilli. It is one of five Hawaiian Islands I will visit before before sailing onto Mexico and then onto Los Angelas. Each time we dock I have the day off which leaves me plenty of time to explore. In Hawaii lies one of the world's most active volcanos, Kilauea Volcano. It is presently erupting, so on arrival in Hilo, Hawaii, my number one priority was to find some lava (followed extremely closely by priority number two: Don't step in the lava). A hired vehicle was acquired and eight Broadway singers and one failed Irish Hula dancer (that's me) set off on a quest to locate a lava flow. The journey lasted a little over an hour and involved plenty of singing on their part and a whole lot of miming on my part. Once at the foot of the Volcano we trekked for almost two hours up the mountainside until we finally reached the lava flow. It was an incredible sight. It was red hot and it was oozing down the mountainside. I stood within a foot of the lava flow and then suddenly remembered priority number two. The next day presented a new agenda: A Reconnaissance Mission. I required a personal torch and penknife so I headed to the nearest overtly ugly and oversized brick-house, commonly own to all as Wal-Mart. It was here I came close to becoming Hawaii's first Irish terrorist. I arrived into the store with my small Puma bag and headed for the home electronics section. I decided to acquire a trolley in case impulse buying took over (which incidentally did). After a solid half of browsing, I was yet to find my torch. One particular Isle looked promising so I disguarded my trolley and went exploring. When I returned to where I had left my trolley ten minutes later it was gone and almost instantly I heard an announcement over the PA, "A suspect package has being found by our security team in one of our in-store trolleys. This package will be destroyed unless the owner claims it from the security desk immediately. The package is a blue Puma bag." Short of calling each of the half dozen security officers ignorant buffoons who should eat themselves and save us the burden of their existence, I spent half an hour hearing a lecture on 'Since 9/11...'. Another day and another port...My favorite port of call is the beautiful metropolis that is Honolulu. It is splendid. Huge sky-scrapers, palm trees everywhere, plenty of wide open beaches, restaurants, malls etc. Last month I attended a day long festival which celebrated Polynesian Cultural. There were people from Hawaii, New Zealand, Samoa, Fiji, Tahiti, Tonga and the Islands of Marquesas. Each country performed traditional dances and songs, offered foods and made most outsiders incredibly jealous by showing them how amazing beautiful their country is. Highlights for me included learning now to play the nose flute, breaking open a coconut and drinking its contents and of course the Hula dancers! I think secretly it may have been a competition between the Polynesian ladies of who could vibrate their body the fastest and for the longest duration! If so Samoa won. Some day I may Hula too. Don't be surprised though if I arrive home with a vibrating suitcase! Another day, another port...Viva Mexico! Mexico is quintessentially as you know it. Those customs you think are true, are true. It's hot and dusty. Everyone drinks Tequila. Everyone wears Sombreros and when it says 'Insanely Hot' on the menu, it is. I actually know the exact point where it all went wrong. I asked the waitress, pointing at the menu, "Is this hot?" She explained to me for two minutes about the dish that I had requested but I didn't understand one single word she said. Not one. I should have left then but I smiled back at her and nodded in agreement. She smiled and said what I think was 'Hot!' and repeated herself and left. My dish arrived in what can only be described as a small cauldron. It was a large black pot, supported by two legs, like a catamaran. The sauce inside bubbled, it was red and it had amongst other ingredients, what I later found out to be, cactus and chillies. I took a bite. It took about half a nano-second for my entire mouth to engulf in heat. Nothing short of volcanic. My first thought and how wrong it was, was to try to keep my composure and not cry in front of my people I was dining with. "A little firey" I croaked and ate another mouth full. After just two minutes I was sweating. My body did not like Mexico. After five minutes I attracted the attention of the waitress, who came over and quizzed me like a bad drunk in a bar. In my best Mexican accent I whispered "It's lovely", scared to open my mouth in case I'd burn her eyebrows off. She began to fill the water jug, which I had just previously devoured, fearing that spontaneous combustion was imminent. Next time I'm in Mexico I'm ordering nachos. On a final note I recently spent a day in Hollywood. I waltzed up and down Hollywood Boulevard, passed the famous Graumans Chinese Theatre, gazed at the beautiful Kodak Theatre where the Oscars are on this month and read all the names of the stars on the Walk of Fame, whilst most importantly, carefully stepping over the many many junkies and hobos that have made their this street their home. Saddest of all however was the non-existence my greatest hero. There was no plaque, no poster, no star to the greatest of them all, Mr. Kubrick.
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