Kauai = Raw Heaven

If there is a heaven, it looks an awful lot like Hanalei. This tiny surf town on the northern side of Kauai, the northernmost and smallest of the Hawaiian islands, is as close to paradise as one can get. Obstensibly, the draw is a semi-circular bay whose water is placid in summer but produces killer waves in winter. Towering over the bay is an ominous mountain, home to the wettest place on earth and therefore covered by clouds most of the time. But the sun shines in full glory on Hanalei, only slipping away for brief showers that are always followed by brilliant rainbows.

Abundant natural beauty, check. But even if Hanalei didn't have the perfect beach (as well as a dozen other perfect beaches within driving distance), it would still be an amazing place to live. The little town has everything I could want: an organic food shop, fish market, fantastic yoga studio, crystal and gem shop, a couple of really good restaurants and a few clothing shops (and they only sell summer wear, of course, as it's always summer weather in Kauai). Everything is within walking distance, so no need for a vehicle unless it's the 2-wheeled variety.

And with the lush tropical folliage that the rain showers provide comes my number one reason for loving Hanalei: tropical fruit. The fantastic selection, along with lots of lovely vegetables and other goodies, can be purchased at the farmers markets held twice weekly. Papayas, mangoes, mountain apples, apple bananas, the sweetest pineapples you've ever tasted, young coconuts with their hydrating water, lychees, black and white sapotes, soupsop, jackfruit, starfruit...on and on. I also picked up many different varieties of greens, skinny Japanese eggplant, okra, organic sprouts, tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, carrots, avocadoes, and some lovely local goats cheese. All of this bounty is spread on folding tables in a green field, overshadowed by mountains and trees.

We arrived on Tuesday at 2:45 for a 3pm market start. Because the markets are small and popular, people crowd around a roped-off entrance as if awaiting admittance to a nightclub. But in a much more egalitarian fashion, everyone rushed through at 3pm on the dot. In a frenzy, I paid $12 for a sugarloaf pineapple - sounds steep, but believe me, it was a mindblowing pineapple, all sweetness and no acidity. With my grandmother, sister, boyfriend's sister and dad, and friend, we managed to collect quite a haul. Here we are contemplating it back home on our lanai:

Any doubt yet that this is heaven?