Discussing veggie vittles with my mystery travel companion.
On the second day of my Hawaiian adventure, we got settled in our new digs. This meant a trip to the Waimea Farmers Market, located on the Big Island.
A lovely palette of produce.
After acquiring the necessary provisions, we grabbed grub for lunch and sat with a mix of locals and tourists. It seemed like every other person was visiting from somewhere else. I wonder the locals tire of talking pleasantries with tourists. If they are, they never let on. Locals spoke with us as if we've sat at the farmers market with them every week for years.
Once filled up on farmers market fare, we wobbled back to our behemoth rental SUV monstrosity and barreled down the mountain back to our condo. All that shopping makes a girl thirsty, and that can only mean one thing: It's Miller Time. We had beers in the fridge but nary a beer bottle opener could be found. We looked high and low to no avail.
Finally, after many exasperated attempts, I jimmied a bottle open with the side of a can opener and elbow grease. Imagine trying to open a bottle of beer in the same way you'd open a can of Campbell's soup. It can be done but I don't recommend it.
Do not keep a Canadian from her beer.
Once the beer was sloshing around in my belly, I ran back to the store for yet another provision:
Oh those Hawaiians. Such a sense of humor.