I had always said that I wanted to take a special vacation for my 40th birthday, and who better to celebrate with than Robb, of course, along with my best friend and sister, Steph, and Lester. While Steph and I may have had some true “beat-down” fights over clothes when we were in high school, I can’t imagine my life without her now. She’s not just my sister; she’s my best friend. I would do anything for her, and I know she would do the same for me. I’m truly lucky to have her in my life!


We had the chance to explore a coffee farm, and I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when I read about how Kona Joe Coffee came to be. The founder was an orthopedic surgeon who, after getting tired of the chaos of his job, decided to make a big change. He moved to Hawaii, got married, and learned how to grow, manufacture, and produce coffee. Inspired by his story, I even tried to convince Dr. Hartwig to start his own coffee farm, offering to come work for him, but unfortunately, he didn’t think it was a great idea.
It was fascinating to see how they trellised the coffee plants using wire to keep the spindly stems upright. I’m thinking it might be a great idea to try something similar with our tomato plants!
We had to try the product of course.


Once we got back to the house, we packed up and set out to hike to the beach area near our place. The location was particularly interesting because it was right next to Hawaii’s last remaining fishing village. The village was a tight-knit community where everyone shared resources, and nothing was sold for profit until everyone’s basic needs were met. It was such a fascinating concept of communal living. They had information about the village posted on the church, and there was also a fruit and vegetable stand where villagers could take what they needed for free, while outsiders could purchase what was available.
What struck me most was the contrast between the village and the multimillion-dollar vacation home where we were staying. It bordered some of the poorest areas on the island, and I couldn’t help but wonder how the locals felt about it. Were they resentful of the wealth surrounding them, or did they appreciate the tourism dollars that visitors brought in?
Another thing that really shocked me was the trash situation on the island. There’s no local trash collection service, so all the waste has to be shipped off the island. People have to drive their trash to a transfer station and pay to dispose of it, which has led some of the local residents—especially those in poverty—to simply pile trash up in their yards. It was heart-wrenching to see old cars and piles of garbage scattered around. There were times when I would see an old, wrecked car just filled with trash, sitting unused by someone’s home. It was such a stark contrast to the natural beauty of the place.
The fishing village also had its own school, which allowed the kids to help out with fishing during peak seasons. It was clear that the community was incredibly resourceful, but it also highlighted the challenges that came with living in such an isolated and economically strained environment.

We followed a path toward the beach, but it wound through people’s backyards, and some had signs warning against trespassing. As we walked, Steph and I came across two tombstones, which definitely made us feel a little uneasy.
The hike was brutal, but the view was worth it when we got there.
I found a palm tree growing out of a coconut, and let me tell you, I wanted to take it home so badly! I must have told Robb a dozen times that I wanted to bring something back with me. But in our research before the trip, we learned that you’re strongly discouraged from taking anything from Hawaii. Not only is it unlikely to pass inspection, but we also read that you’re cursed for life if you take anything off the island. So, despite my desire to sneak something into my suitcase, I had to leave it all behind.
These are the homes that were right next to the expensive vacation homes. Many of the homes didn't have glass in the windows. They had sheets hanging over the windows and cardboard as doors.