Perhaps the only consistent feature of an Untourist lifestyle is inconsistency itself. One day we are in a new city, like Salt Lake, in a part of the U.S. we've never been, with great people we've just met. One day we are on the open road, another day we are staying with family and painting walls or installing a misting system. And then one day we are playing Bingo with a group of seniors in Hilo, Hawaii.

Our being here has allowed Helen (Fred Sr.'s wife) to virtually move-in to the VA Home, spend time with her hubbie and look out for his care. We watch the house, take care of the cats, and drive in for daily visits to see Pop and give Helen a "real" meal break (you can only eat so much hospital food!) So, for a week or so now, we've actually had a routine, a relative pattern to our days, and that, in of itself, is an adjustment. Welcome to a day of Hilo life!

Wake up naturally, ahh. If it's sunny in Mountain View (about every third day) go out for a homemade workout. Haul gravel to attempt to convert the lava-bedrocked, jungle terrain into a yard or get the weed-whacker to strengthen your biceps and fight back rainforest weeds that grow as fast as your blade spins. Perhaps go for a run, dodging mangy dogs that pop out of overgrown driveways and chase you down the pot-holed thru-way they call a road in Eden Rock.

Eden Rock is classified as a subdivision, but you've often got to redefine familiar terms to understand their Big Island meaning. Think thousands of acres of untouched temperate rainforest. The ground is not dirt, but lumpy miles of lava rock overgrown with big-leafed plants that occasionally burst with colorful flowers in unusual formations. A rich white guy who claimed gazillions of land back when the U.S. stole the islands from the Native Hawaiians (or bought, or colonized, or depends on who you ask,) decided to sell off a chunk. I can only imagine it was christened "Eden Rock" to conjure notions of paradise without lying completely--you live on a giant mass of volcanic rock, a few thousand feet below the ever so active Kilauea Volcano, who might, at any minute, send more hot, flowing rock to replace your dream home. One acre lots were sold for around a thousand dollars each, and the rest, was TBD. Electricity? Well that depends. How far into the subdivision are you? Do you have neighbors willing to split the cost of running a line? The power company might get out your way. Water? Well, that's not a problem in Eden Rock, unless you plan on drinking it. It rains over 300 inches a year, usually in the form of a light drizzle, on and off throughout a day, some light showers in the evening, slow and steady. Build yourself a big cistern, collect that rain water for household use, and you'll never run out. Though you will have to make the thirty minute drive to town to fill up your drinking water canisters. Heat and Air Conditioning? No problem, you don't need them. It's 78 degrees everyday, though you might want HVAC to ward off the mildew that invades every surface of your home...mad humidity. A homeowner's association was formed and they've slowly faught the county for roads, which has resulted in a maze of some paved, some not, some with more holes than pavement, and some just rutted paths of mud that would test the best of 4-wheel drives. The result is human creativity at its finest, in the absence of zoning. People live in the containers that other people used to ship their belongings here from the mainland. People live in elaborate tents or broken down buses. People live in open air vacation homes with car ports and fancy driveway gates. There are expats, outlaws, retirees, and big businessmen. The whole gamut, it all comes together in Eden Rock.

Anyway, after you've gotten your exercise and cooked up a good breakfast, you have a few options. Depending on your wake-up, you might have time for a beach run. Perhaps the best thing about Eden Rock, is that you are never very far away from sunshine. Wrap down and around the island a bit, and you will never fail to find dry, sunny skies in Kehena. This involves a 30 mile drive along highway 130 toward Pahoa, a proper highway with a dramatic end, "Road Ends - 1 mile" That's right, due to a lava flow in 1990, the road just stops, you are forced to turn off onto an adjoining road to make your way to the only surviving beach on that strip of the coast, and the most stunning. You know where to park because other hunks of junk (like your Dad's 1995 Aerostar prone to stalling) will be parked alongside the road. You walk to the edge of the cliff and look out over endless ocean that crashes against rock walls and outcroppings, and slips onto the black sand beach of the cove carved out in a giant half-circle from the cliff face. Palm trees hang over the edge, decorate the back walls of the cove, provide shade for an afternoon nap when you've had your fill of island sun. And clothing here, is optional. So you can enjoy being completely natural, and bask in natural skin treatments: let the sand loofah it, the sun kiss it, the waves moisten it. Take a deep breath before you resume your hike back up the winding cliff trail to your car, in which you will spend another 30 minutes to arrive in downtown Hilo.

Enter the brand new Yukio Oktsu State Veterans Home. It's painted a sunny yellow, has hard-wood laminate floors throughout, a cheerful activities calendar and a staff that remembers the "residents" names. Watch out for Mr. Kuvo. He likes to sit right by the door, with barely an angle to the TV, and is prone to hollaring out "help me" though apparantely this is more of a tick than an actual cry for help. At any rate, it can be a shocking way to begin your afternoon. As you exit the elevator onto the second floor, Rebecca will almost certainly greet you with a fabulous smile, while she at the same time engages patients in one of the daily activities: singing, ball toss, movie showings, the ever popular bingo. Gloria will probably be joining in, though her speech is impaired, she wears a new fresh flower in her hair each day and loves to play. Sam will be working hard in the corridor, reahbbing his hip by doing rounds with his walker, no time to join in the fun, but he likes to do his physical therapy where all the action is. Whatever you do, do not go down the left-bearing wing. That is where the mystery screamer resides. She can be heard throughout the day and night doing just that, screaming, but I haven't the guts to explore the agony. Instead, continue forward, around the circular nurses station, and arrive at room 258, your father's private room, and have mixed hopes--hoping he's awake so you can hear some more stories, hoping he's asleep so that he's comfortable, resting, and not in pain. Some days he'll sleep through your entire "shift," some days he'll wake up, and be lucid, and you can Skype video conference call brother and sister in Minneapolis so they can see and talk to Dad. Either way makes for a good day.

We are still exploring Big Island evenings. Cook-outs at the neighbors for authentic Hawaiian cuisine off the grill, nighttime lava viewings, next week their is a big art crawl downtown, sounds like a big event for this sleepy town. It's a matter of asking around, exploring, or not, as many evenings we are content to sit under the stars, listen to nature's sounds and just enjoy.