Soon soon after our arrival on Moloka'i, I used to be asking yourself if we might built a blunder.

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Fresh from the lush and flowery ambiance of Honolulu, my spouse and I discovered ourselves gazing parched pink earth and desiccated shrubbery. It seemed like the middle of nowhere. Even the small airport jogged my memory of all Individuals stop-of-the-earth tiny island airstrips I'd flown into while in the South Pacific: roll-absent stairs for getting from the plane, a little,…