Home of the $20 Pineapple & Lots of Marching Around

Lots of great street art

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The farmer’s market in old town drew me in the next day. I was there fairly early (10ish), and only the produce stalls were set up. I can’t stress how few tourists were there then and throughout the rest of the day in old town along Kamehameha Ave, the main drag. The Governor’s request a few days ago that visitors postpone their trips had real impact.

Oh, the flowers and fruit. Nearly everyone had the same foods, so it was a random choice except for a gorgeous bouquet of Anthurium and other local flora in a hand-made basket of leaves for my friend – I bought the last one there and wished I could get one a week for my own table. 

Planning on spreading the wealth, I went to another vendor and selected a papaya, a mango and a pineapple. For which I was charged $31. After I picked myself up off the concrete, I went to my car making one mental excuse after another as to why that was OK. I drove around the block, parked in the same spot and marched back. I took the fruit out of the bag one by one, and asked the prices (which I should have done in the first place). Papaya= $2. Mango=$9 (“But it’s special, imported!”) – she got that one back. Pineapple=$20. I didn’t see the gold leaf on it, and she said, “But it’s a white pineapple, and I can’t take it back because I’ve already taken the green leaves off.” 

I was handily had, with a very expensive pineapple. I marched to the car, got my phone and marched back. I took her picture, told her she should be ashamed of herself, and that I would make her famous (well, infamous, but I didn’t want to go into detail). Haole Revenge! So here she is, The Premium Pineapple Purveyor of Hilo Farmer’s Market; do not buy from this scoundrel! Or at least ask the price...

You can't hide behind that $6 mango, lady!

The fruit was delicious, even the pineapple. Even the one third of it that was close to rotten, but darn, I paid for it, I’ll eat it!

The big, not particularly inviting KTA

Hilo Surplus

I did walk around old town, passing lots of hairy brown-tinted surfers and the occasional change-requester, joint in hand. The buildings remain charming, though crying out for a loving touch of maintenance here and there. The real local action is on the side streets, with the big KTA discount grocery (on Mamo St. near Keawe – good lomilomi by the pound here)... Hilo Surplus (great camping equipment, Mamo near Kilauea),

Puna Chocolate Co. (Keawe St. near Furneaux – what can I say: brilliant chocolate, locally grown, ground and packaged), and my secret go-to, L&L barbecue on Kino’ole St. at Mamo. Yes, it looks like a dump with a steady stream of customers, and everything is actually made to order. I miss L&L already.💖

But that night is when things really got interesting…

ROAD TRIP! Setting up House in Eugene

Image: A.N. Smith-Lee

It being Saturday, the first thing we wanted to do was 1. Eat breakfast 2. Go to the Eugene Saturday Market/farmer’s market downtown. The Saturday market was filled with craft items such as tie-dyed T-shirts (a big fashion item here, judging from the number of people wearing them on the street), earrings, paintings, essential oils and several booths with glass pipes – pretty, but I wonder how hot they would get once lit. We cruised the produce side which was full of gorgeous stuff, from Thomcord grapes to 10 different varieties of peppers. No doubt, this is a fruitful growing region!

After wandering around scouting for a breakfast place, we came upon an extremely popular waffle place (waffles are as ubiquitous as tie-dye here, and infinitely more digestible – or so I thought). The name was Off the Waffle (there’s some kind of pun here, but I’m not getting it. You’re off your waffle if you eat there?). Our waffles were undercooked – raw in the middle – but I wasn’t sure if this was some hip Eugene style and I was too uncool to appreciate it or....I asked our seatmates, and found out, no, not supposed to be raw. The waffles were topped with an undercooked egg (in fairness, they did ask me if I wanted it hard-cooked). Within the hour, I had all the symptoms of mild food poisoning. I’m sure this isn’t the norm for the place, as it really was packed (and they offered me a $30 coupon when I told them about it – no, thank you very much).

We returned to the hotel (and the wonderful hotel bathroom…sorry, TMI), and attempted a late lunch at Sweetwaters on the River after things had calmed down a little. Great salads, though they were short-staffed that day and we spent way too much time looking at the (admittedly pleasant) view.

A novel fence in the Whit    image:A.N. Smith-Lee

We cruised the latest up-and-coming (and somewhat funky), neighborhood, the Whiteaker, known as "the Whit" by locals, notable  for it's artists and murals.

Next, a trip to Springfield, home of the Simpsons! No, not really – just a fair-sized town east of Eugene. We decided to take Rte. 58 along the Willamette River out to Lowell to see what a covered bridge looked like out here in the west (saw plenty of them in Pennsylvania – another fixation, like lighthouses). Unlike the covered bridges I saw back east, this one didn’t seem to have the same function; though useful for keeping snow off the road, the ones in Pennsylvania usually were privately built and came with a toll. Whether that was the case here, I couldn’t find out.

The Dexter Reservoir outside of the town of Lowell captured the light beautifully, but as we drove east along the river into the cascades we were missing something: a river. It was shallow or dried up the farther we got into the mountains. This was shocking, especially since I imagined Oregon to be considerably wetter than central California. The concierge at the hotel said they had experienced “a California summer” – meaning no rain since May. Apparently, those who poo-poo global warming don’t travel north much.

Somewhat discouraged, we decided we needed beer – dinner at McMenamin’s North Bank was everything we had hoped, and after a beer flight and burgers, we were downright cheerful.

It was our last night in Eugene, in our lovely room at the Valley River Inn. The Inn was the largest Hotel and convention center outside Portland when built in the early 70s, and played host to Elvis Presley, the Bolshoi Ballet, Bill Clinton and other celebs. It’s still the town’s big ticket, and the location is great.

Saturday August 3 –Totem Poles and No Brakes!

I woke fairly early and walked a few blocks to the corner of Davie and Bidwell streets to the Red Umbrella (1707 Davie St.). I had scouted this place the day before; it advertised a “real Canadian Breakfast”—lots of meat! A true old-fashioned breakfast place, I had the aforementioned breakfast with two eggs, home fires and sausage for $6, plus coffee. All was acceptable except for the home fries—I suspect they roast a bunch in the oven, then reheat them on the griddle, making a somewhat dried-out and chewy product. I once asked a man I was dating, "why do you like going out to eat so early in the day?” He responded, “How can you ruin breakfast?” Well, there you have it.

I researched bike rentals and found one on Robson St. close to the apartment—when I told Joe the price ($30/day, plus $10 overnight, plus $20 the next day), he said, “That seems high”. He was right. On Denman St. between Robson and W. Georgia, there were at least five bike rental places that were all cheaper, including Bayshore (745 Denman St., www.bayshorebikerentals.ca), and Stanley Park Cycle (768 Denman St., www.stanleyparkcycle.com). Being a real cheapskate (or cheapcycle), I opted for EzeeRiders (1823 Robson St., 604-331-1789) at $25 a day. They threw in a helmet (mandatory) and lock (I asked for it), and informed me that sidewalks were off-limits. The bike was somewhat embarrassing—a pink one-speed emblazoned with a breast cancer ribbon. As I rode off, I noticed a cluck/clunk sound but ignored it. I won’t make that mistake again.

It was my intention to round nearby Stanley Park (10K, about 7 miles). A seawall surrounds the park (it starts at the Vancouver Convention Center, near the airtrain’s Waterfront Station, one stop north of where I got off), rounds the park and goes far beyond the park into town. This was the best cycling path I’ve ever been on—doesn’t get much more scenic than this! The path was one-way, and wide enough to pass in most places.

My first stop was the totems, probably the most popular tourist spot in Vancouver, at least judging from the buses parked in the lot. 

The Narrows

Once again, I appreciated the graphic beauty of indigenous art of Western Canada. On through the narrows, with giant piles of brilliant yellow sulpher across the strait, around the point to the piling place of Kent Avery, who spends many of his days balancing rocks one upon the other.

Kent Avery, at work

When I reached the end of the park on the other side, I decided to continue on, cross the Burrard Bridge, and tour the famous Granville market. The seawall continued, and I missed the turnoff for the bridge, going under it—however, the ride was so pleasant I continued. I discovered the seawall went all around False Creek—another very scenic seven miles. Knowing my energy wasn’t infinite, and relying on the excellent mapping provided by the city, I decided to take an aquabus water taxi to Granville Island, and ride home from there. 

The Aquabus (www.theaquabus.com) took me and my bike from David Lam Landing to Granville for a couple of bucks and a lot of charm. It makes stops all over False Creek, and is an excellent way to get around.

Granville Island’s Public Market is justifiably famous. Dozens of craft shops surround the covered market, which is a warren of seafood, meats, fresh produce, baked goods and more, rivaling Seattle’s Pike’s Place Market in every way.


I bought salmon jerky from Longliner Seafoods, amazing bread and a cinnamon roll from Terra Breads, fresh blueberries ($2.99/k!) from Granville Island Produce, and settled myself on a bench overlooking the harbor to enjoy a spontaneous lunch.

When I returned to pick up my bike, parked with a hundred others, I was disturbed to find that I no longer had a front brake—part of the assembly had fallen off! I cycled back to the bike shop over the Burrard Bridge from Granville Island (carefully, very carefully), though I spent very little time on public streets thanks to the excellent bikeways. Nervous, nonetheless, I brought the bike in, explained the problem, and asked for a discount—they gave it to me immediately. 100%. I think that little pink number will no longer be in the rental line-up.

The Burrard Bridge, up close and personal

See the video: http://vimeo.com/71997462.