THE VACATIONING ITALIAN

Copyright (C) Luigi Semenzato, 1992.  All rights reserved.

DAY ONE

It sounded like one of those things it's fun to talk about, but are
never going to happen.  We were having dinner at an Afghan restaurant
on the sleazy section of Broadway in San Francisco.  The discussion
turned to windsurfing, and then to Hawaii.  I can't remember who made
the proposal.  ``Wouldn't it be fun to spend a week windsurfing in
Maui?''

That feeling of improbability was still there as we moved through the
open walkway at Maui International Airport, towards the baggage claim
area.  The wind, strong and warm, was shaking the palm trees and
making my head spin.  My value system was confused.  I knew I was very
close to a tropical beach.  My friends, my wife, even my baggage
stopped mattering.  My mind was focused on that single moment when I
would step on the board and leave the grey world of sand, stone,
asphalt, brick, and concrete, to be pushed by the strong but gentle
hand of the Wind God into the blue world of air, sun, water, and
high-speed face-plants.

The sixth member of the expedition, Piero, brought me back to reality.
He called me from the curb.  ``How good to see you!'' ``We made it!''
we greeted each other.  He had flown that morning from Los Angeles.
The rest of us were on the same plane from San Francisco: Martha,
myself, Lex, Alessandra, and John.  Those who read my Rio Vista trip
report will remember John, the crazy Australian; and Martha is the
same Martha of the Sardinia trip report; but Piero is not the same
Piero.  This Piero is big, likes cigars and opera, and is a famous
bachelor who gives no hints about his love life.  He learned to
windsurf on Lake Garda, which he remembers fondly, but does not see
too often any more.  Maui was just a substitute for him.  Closing his
eyes on the wave he would soon see the snow-covered mountains rising
steeply from the shores, and hear the laughter of a forgotten child.
Sniff.

Lex and Alessandra are a modern couple---not as modern as Martha and
me, but almost.  They still haven't figured out they are adults.  They
met at MIT.  He invited her to a dinner party at his place.  He picked
her up, and on the way home they stopped to buy groceries.  As they
arrived at his apartment and parked the car, the phone was ringing,
and they run upstairs in a hurry.  The other guests started arriving.
People were chatting and having fun.  At about 10 p.m., a guest said:
``Lex, wasn't this supposed to be a dinner party?''  Lex remembered.
``Oh yes, right, oh my, I left the groceries in the car.''  He and
Alessandra went down.  The driver's door was wide open, but the
groceries were still there.  It was then that Alessandra realized this
was the man of her life.

Our apartment was in South Kihei.  We drove across the isthmus
connecting the two volcanos, a smooth downwind drive through sugarcane
fields.  It was early afternoon.  On the other side, we saw the water
up close for the first time.  A strong offshore wind was sweeping its
surface, giving it a blue-black color, with crisp tiny whitecaps like
diamonds on dark velvet.  How could I possibly wait?  We had no
equipment yet, so I had to.  But it wasn't easy.

At the apartment we called rental outfits and bugged them until one
agreed to give us a 20% discount.  We crossed the isthmus again.  The
store was near the airport.  The clerks were nicely tanned,
cool-looking, wore swimming trunks and had strange accents (we should
speak).  An hour and a half later they looked a bit tired, a thin film
of sweat on their foreheads.  It is possible that we changed our minds
a few times too many, but if their colors had been a bit more
coordinated, things would have been much easier for us too.

Fragments of the discussion at dinner.  Lex: ``What length board did you
get?'' Luigi: ``I got a nine-o.  What do you have?''  Lex: ``Piero and
I both got nine-eights.  John?''  John: ``Mine is an eight-six.''  A
gasp, raised eyebrows, nods of assent.  Martha: ``One of the few times
when men brag about having a smaller one.''

The night did not bring peace to our tormented souls.  The wind was
hitting our building with unrelenting strength, hissing and whistling.
It felt as if the windows could pop out of their frames any second,
exploding into myriads of tiny shards.  A shower of fragments fell on
our bed, then the moonlight changed them into glowing fish-insects
that floated away.  I was asleep.

I woke up once.  A cat outside was calling: ``Maui, maui.''