In which we lurch around the Dole Plantation

Back when I used to visit "home" at regular intervals, my father and stepmother would invariably treat me to one of their vicious, stupid arguments over minutiae. A disagreement would begin with one of them recounting an anecdote and the other interrupting to correct an irrelevant detail: no, the event occurred on Monday instead of Tuesday; no, they were having deep fried lobster that day, not hot dogs; no, they were definitely visiting the town of Frog Plop, not the town of Bug Hop.

Blammo! Just like that, they were off and running. A disagreement over the date of an event would be good for a two hour fight. It would culminate in shouting, the inclusion of every other unresolved argument they'd ever had, slammed doors, thrown objects, and threats of divorce. You may not be surprised to hear that they've managed to stay married for thirty six years, but most of the time they don't live in the same house. But by gum, they've stayed married, and isn't that what counts?

Anyhow, here I am having a similar meaningless argument with myself. Did we do the beach trip I previously wrote about the day after we got in, or two days later? Gosh, I sure thought it was that Sunday, but then again, maybe the Dole Plantation trip was on Sunday. I'm confused. I suppose it's only a matter of time before I start shooting myself the finger in the mirror, calling myself filthy names, and threatening to divorce myself. Or maybe I'll just admit that minor details like that don't matter and post the photos regardless. Isn't that part of why we go on vacation, after all? To regain some perspective about what's important?

Thus, on Sunday (or maybe it was Monday or even Tuesday) we headed off to the Dole Plantation in Wahiawa, smack dab in Oahu's central valley. It was something of a tourist trap, but what the heck? There's no time like a vacation to play credulous tourist! By all means, bring on the frozen pineapple whip and little choo-choo trains!

One of the Dole Plantation's features is its World Famous Pineapple Maze, the "largest permanent hedge maze" in the world.

Wow. A pineapple maze! What hidden delights might it contain?




Very few, as it turned out. Much of the inside looked like this:




…. and this:



The name Pineapple Maze is somewhat deceptive: the maze was pineapple-shaped, not made of pineapple bushes. The bulk of it was actually made of hibiscus. Had the plants been flowering rather than recently hacked into submission, they would have been lovely. However, they weren't and they weren't.

I forget how long it took to stagger around the darned thing and reach all of the checkpoints. An hour? Two hours? I was half comatose from the unhealthy breakfast I'd eaten, so the time passed in a blur. Meanwhile, the folks at Dole Corporate were chuckling their larcenous hearts out. "Bwahahaha! We just had a family of three pay eight bucks a head to lurch around in the bushes in 80+ degree heat! A sucker's born every minute, eh Dr. Bromeliad?"



Okay, it was kind of fun. My kid definitely enjoyed it. However, in my humble opinion, the best thing about the maze is the view of it from above. That's the only place you can tell that it's shaped like a pineapple. Otherwise, you could be slogging through a bunch of bushes pretty much anywhere.




Dole also has a small botanical garden.





Wow. Pineapple bushes! Who knew that you'd find those at the Dole plantation?




Sometimes when I'm out and about, I think "____ (my mother-in-law) would really enjoy this. Too bad she's not here." This was one of those rare times when I actually thought "You know, she'd really enjoy this, but I'm glad she isn't here." You know why? I'm disorderly where plants are concerned. Stuff pops up willy-nilly in my yard and my garden. Half the time I don't know where it came from or what it's called. Cherry tomatoes, for example. Today I found a bush of those growing at the TOP of my six foot tall strawberry tower. Where did they come from? I don't even LIKE cherry tomatoes and have never grown them before. But I guess I'll leave them. One of the neighbors will probably eat them. The other day, the lady across the street said she likes tomatoes, but they cost so much that she doesn't buy them anymore.

Anyhow, this tendency of mine quietly distresses my mother-in-law, although she'll bite her lip and try not to comment. She would have been all over this garden, listening to the audio tour and filing away the facts. However, sometimes I just don't care what a plant is called. I don't care what botanical family it's in, whether it flowers or makes a stink like a rotting horse carcass, or whether cave men used to smoke it to get high. Sometimes I just want to look at the darned plant and not think about all of that.

In case you haven't guessed, that's a really long-winded way of saying that I don't know what this thing is called, but I think it looks interesting.



More neat-looking plants. I don't know what these are called, either. So sue me.



There was a pond in the botanical garden. It was pretty. This photo isn't.




The pond had a number of water lilies. They were great. This photo? Again, not so much.




What kind of plant is this? I don't know. Maybe it's a palm. I sure think the light looks interesting going through its leaves, though.



I thought this would make an interesting photo. I was wrong. I seemed to have a lot of that happening that day. Meh.



Awww. A baby fractal. It's so cute and fuzzy. Actually, it's part of a fern. They have that whole self-similar fractal thing going on. That's part of why I like them.



Is that a pistil in its pocket, or is it just glad to see us?

(Oh, okay. That's probably a stamen. Spoil my dirty joke, will you?)




Of course, no trip to the Dole Plantation would be complete without a ride on the Pineapple Express!



The train took us on a tour of part of the plantation. There were carefully labeled rows of pineapple bushes, mangoes, cacao bean bushes, macadamia nuts, and Oompa Loompas. I'm sure it was every bit as realistic as visiting Tomorrowland at Disneyland.



In lieu of human workers, there were cheerful, smiling plywood cutouts. Notice how the figures are dressed … gloves with heavy pants and long-sleeved shirts. Can you imagine how that must have felt in 80 degree plus heat? However, not wearing such clothes must have been worse. Evidently the leaves of the pineapple plant share a certain kinship with razor blades. Thus, in the old days, workers could either get jabbed and cut up by the leaves, or don heavy clothes which made them swelter in the heat. Hopefully the advent of machinery has reduced some of the misery associated with pineapple harvesting.



Oh, look! It's Plywood Cutout Man and his noble steed, Sparky the Wonder Horse! I guess he's keeping an eye on the other two.



Well, okay. That's a pretty view. I hope the workers used to enjoy it while they were harvesting pineapples and having their flesh cut into ribbons.



This is a pineapple field after the pineapples have been harvested and the plants have been turned under. I think the machinery in the background is used for harvesting.




Outside the botanical garden, fairly close to the stop for the little train, there's a pond full of koi. Voracious, desperate, ravenous, leaping, greedy koi. If you like watching koi beat each other's brains out in order to reach koi food and the occasional pebble tossed by a school child, this is the place for you. Do let me know if you'd like video. I have some.



You know how I often look for epiphanies and lessons learned? Here's today's: I'm so thankful that I don't have to swim around in the same water that I eat and crap in. Also, I'm glad that my mustache isn't made of skin.