top of page


Without a plan, we decided to move to Maui. We ended up staying for four and a half months! What a paradise. There are abundant amounts of tropical fruit falling around your feet as you walk. Bananas, guava, avocado, starfruit, passion fruit, and bread fruit just to name a few. In our little town of Hana, there were a few wonderful restaurants to choose from. My favorite foods from the traditional Hawaiian culture were Poke (marinated cubes of raw fish with veggies) and Lao Lao (meat steamed in banana leaf). We caught fresh fish on the beach and cooked them over an open campfire…and I learned about how good simple seafood can be. There is honestly not much more that can be expressed in words, life was simple, there were good friends, and good food. Notable experiences include: Going underwater volcanic bubble cave diving, swiming on a black massage stone pebble beach, a red sand beach, and the world famous Hamoa beach. There was an amazing truck turned restaurant on the side of the road with a crazy chef who looked like an Indian version of “Doc” from back to the future, he taught me the importance of “mastering time” as being the secret in the kithen. Down by the beach a few days a week you could find a jolly local fisherman serving up some stew, steamed vegetables, roasted wild boar, and rice. The only other two restaurants in town were a Thai family serving traditional Thai food under bananna trees, and an old food truck morphed into a house that only served breakfast by an eccentric, loud, mom of three from Boston. The best I must confess, I have saved for the last: The legendary pizza night’s every Friday and Saturday on the side of the beginning of the “hana highway.” This treacherous cliffside road has over 800 some bends and 40 some one lane bridges with gaps in guard rails, questionable safety, possible landslides, and drunken maniac locals driving camouflaged monster trucks. But I digress, the pizza was fantastic, and all around a big campfire with live music hosted by “Hana farms” a questionably dubious WOOF’ing farm that accepted the many wary dredlocked idealistic tourist in exchange for free labor. I almost forgot “coconut glens,” just up the road a local fresh coconut ice cream stand with a willy wonka inspired theme park for kids. When we were not dining out, we got free fresh vegetables from a local CSA from working on the farm once a week, and simply picked up amazing food from the grass everywhere we walked. After living here for some time, we needed a shift, and so after talking about it for one night flew to Europe a few days later.

bottom of page