Hey Gonzo~
I gotta tell everyone here about the huge cockaroaches that FLY & centipedes that hurt worse than 10 bee stings & mosquitos that are the State Bird!!!
Oh yeah~ & 400 inches of rain in 3 years when I lived in Hilo!!!
Add to that the fact that you start sweating badly before you even dry off from a shower & you've got The Complete Picture of Hilo, Hawaii!
Now here in SoCal I've got no probs with roaches, centipedes or mosquitos & the rain ain't too bad at all, humidity is mellow, & I don't sweat too much either.
Add to that the high today is a purrrrfect 72!
SoCal ROOOLS!
Well, I'm truly sorry to hear that you didn't enjoy your stay, Terry.
I'll admit that no place is
perfectbut I can leave my car unlocked here,
complete strangers smile and wave to me as we pass on the road,
I have chickens in my backyard,
no neighbors for miles,
the trade winds smell of ginger and plumeria flowers,
billboards are illegal,
graffiti is practically non existent
and I know my children are safe.
As for the weather?
Mark Twain summed it up thusly...
"The climate is simply delicious -- never cold at the sea level, and never really too warm, for you are at the half-way house, that is, twenty degrees above the equator.
But then you may order your own climate, for this reason:
The eight inhabited islands are merely mountains that lift themselves out of the sea.
A group of bells, if you please, with some (but not very much) "flare" at their bases.
You get the idea?
Well, you take a thermometer, and mark on it where you want the mercury to stand permanently forever
(with not more than 12 degrees variation)
Winter and Summer.
If 82 in the shade is your figure
(with the privilege of going down or up 5 or 6 degrees at long intervals),
you build your house down on the "flare" -- the sloping or level ground by the seashore --
and you have the deadest surest thing in the world on that temperature.
And such is the climate of Honolulu, the capital of the kingdom.
If you mark 70 as your mean temperature, you build your house on any mountain side, 400 or 500 feet above sea level.
If you mark 55 or 60, go 1,500 feet higher.
If you mark for Wintry weather, go on climbing and watching your mercury.
If you want snow and ice forever and ever, and zero and below, build on the summit of Mauna Kea, 16,000 feet up in the air.
If you must have hot weather, you should build at Lahaina,
where they do not hang the thermometer on a nail because the solder might melt and the instrument get broken;
or you should build in the crater of Kilauea which would be the same as going home before your time.
You cannot find as much climate bunched together anywhere in the world as you can in the Sandwich Islands.
You may stand on the summit of Mauna Kea, in the midst of snowbanks that were there before Capt. Cook was born, maybe, and while you shiver in your furs you may cast your eye down the sweep of the mountain side and tell exactly where the frigid zone ends and vegetable life begins; a stunted and tormented growth of trees shades down into a taller and freer species, and that in turn, into the full foliage and varied tints of the temperate zone; further down, the mere ordinary green tone of a forest washes over the edges of a broad bar of orange trees that embraces the mountain like a belt, and is so deep and dark a green that distance makes it black; and still further down, your eye rests upon the levels of the seashore, where the sugar-cane is scorching in the sun, and the feathery cocoa-palm glassing itself in the tropical waves; and where you know the sinful natives are lolling about in utter nakedness and never knowing or caring that you and your snow and your chattering teeth are so close by.
So you perceive, you can look down upon all the climates of the earth, and note the kinds and colors of all the vegetations, just with a glance of the eye
and this glance only travels about three miles as the bird flies, too.”
Eh, to each his own.
Hell, both you
and Hawaii are probably better off with you in Southern California any way.
Oh, and our state bird?
It's
the Nene.
