Sunshine, water, pontoon boat, a bottomless madras, diving lessons, some tunes by the fire and plenty of silliness made up camping 2011, which oddly didn't culminate in a late night scolding from a park ranger. Maybe we're all getting a bit more sensible these days.

We arrived in Oahu on a Tuesday afternoon. Our Czech cab driver apologized profusely for being late as he fumbled to grab two leis out of a crumply plastic bag while he was merging onto the highway. Okay fine, not the "Aloha" we were looking for, but he gave us a good tip about the five dollar overnight parking at the post office down the street from the hotel we were staying for the week. Luggage dropped off, we left the room quickly to escape the allure of sleep and walked to Duke's to slurp down a few slushy drinks. Toes in sand, we wandered down the Waikiki sprawl trying to keep our eyes open until a reasonable hour, it was a long flight.

The next morning we jumped in our red mini convertible and began our tour around the island. Pat did most of the driving while I was the clumsy magellan holding the ipad and following the blue dot on google maps. The week passed quickly in a whirlwind of greens and blues. We hiked up a muddy mountainside navigating a path over snarly roots and prickly brush. I felt like a bad ass until we passed a group of barefoot locals. We got tossed about on ATVs at the Kualoa Ranch as mud splattered and rain soaked to satisfy the Kate Austen in my mind.  We snorkeled in Shark's Cove and although the uncomfortable climb down over unfriendly rocks made me grouchy the little nemos and doris swimming about amidst the coral lightened my disposition (well, that and the reminder that my biggest challenge that day was putting on fins). We stumbled upon gigantic sea turtles at the "survivor" beach. Yes, we found directions online to where the Oceanic crash scenes in Lost were shot. Yes, we are big dorks. And yes, we pretended like the stretch of land actually looked "familiar". We splashed and sun soaked at Lanikai Beach and wondered why people enjoy paddle surfing. Heading back to our hotel from the North Shore we curved around the coast and had to stop when we saw Makapuu lookout. We jumped over the stone fence to improve our vantage point. The way the ocean swirled and met the sky and rock reminded me that God is an artist. We jumped into turquoise waves and spit salt water out of our mouths, rinsed sand off our feet and devoured fresh pineapple.  We drove up to Diamond Head at sunrise and ate piping hot malasadas at Leonard's Bakery. We sipped on mai tais and pear gimlets at Morimoto overlooking the harbor and wondered how we were going to adjust back to Chicago "spring".

A long flight over many miles landed us back home with tired limbs and sun kissed skin. Thanks to everyone for suggesting scenic spots and especially for my Uncle Don for his incessant reminders to wear sunscreen.

I love exploring new places, seeing the beauty in cracked walls and fading paint, meeting new people, smelling the air of another country, drinking the local beers and tasting different kinds of empandas. What I don't like so much is sitting on a tour bus when you can't crack open the windows and feel the wind in your face. When you can't stop and walk around and stop time in an abandoned bull fighting stadium in Uruguay or capture the beauty of horses hanging out in a forest tied with ropes to trees, eating and waiting patiently for their Uruguayian cowboys. There are photos that will only be in my head because the opportunity to capture the moment was fleeting. I can still keep them tucked away in my memory of a place.  I took this photo with my little Canon point and shoot because my DSLR's battery died. I was sitting in the  back of the bus as the sun was setting over in Chile and in the other direction you could see the moon rising over the mountains.

City tour in Buenos Aires today, stopped at La Caminito Road, the touristy area of La Boca. This little area fed my love of photographing crumbly walls and fading paint and worn and weathered things. I loved this little collection of mailboxes. After using my broken spanish to order an Argentinian beer and an empanada we jumped back on the bus and headed over to La Recoleta where Evita is buried. People spend an awful lot of money preserving a space for themselves and their families when they're dead.  The juxtaposition of tourists with cameras and coffins that you can see through mausoleum doors was eerie.  The little line from the Cappuccin Crypt ran through my head "as you are we once were, as we are you soon will be".

A beautiful blue sky cool breeze day in Buenos Aires ended with a tango show at Viejo y Almacen. Back at my little room without a view at the lovely Hotel Sofitel but lacking the inspiration to write anything. For now then I will let this photo speak for itself. As photos should most of the time.