Three weeks in Hawaii felt less like a vacation and more like a necessary escape—one that began far from palm trees and sunshine.

I was living in New Zealand, and it was winter. The kind of winter where rain doesn’t just fall, it lingers. Days blurred together under grey skies, shoes never quite dried, and the sound of rain tapping on windows became constant background noise. After weeks of damp air and heavy clouds, I reached a point where staying felt impossible. I didn’t just want to go to Hawaii—I had to.

While packing, the contrast was almost absurd. On one screen: endless rain forecasts in New Zealand. On the other: dramatic headlines about Hawaii issuing its first hurricane warning in over 20 years. Trading one extreme for another felt reckless, but also right. A flight across the Pacific later, I left winter behind and chased warmth, even if it came with uncertainty.

Landing in Hawaii felt like stepping into another world. The air was soft and warm, the light golden, the ocean endlessly present. For the first few days, everything felt calm, as if the islands were offering reassurance after the tension of weather warnings and long flights. I walked barefoot, swam at sunrise, and let the sun dry not just my clothes, but something heavier I’d been carrying.

The weather never fully settled. Winds rose unexpectedly, rain arrived in sudden bursts, and the sky shifted moods within minutes. It was nothing like the cold, soaking rain of New Zealand—this rain was warm, dramatic, alive. And then there was the land itself. Volcanoes were erupting, and from a safe distance I watched lava glow against the night sky, slow and unstoppable, reminding me that Hawaii doesn’t pretend to be gentle.

By the second week, the chaos faded into balance. The hurricane threat passed, skies cleared, and life flowed easily again. I stopped running from the rain and started understanding it—how different places carry different kinds of storms.

The final week was quiet and deeply grounding. I moved slower, breathed deeper, and felt grateful for the contrast that had brought me here. Leaving constant rain for sun, trading winter for fire, choosing movement over stagnation—it all made sense.

Three weeks in Hawaii weren’t just a holiday. They were a response to endless rain, a leap of faith toward light, and a reminder that sometimes, the best journeys begin because staying where you are is no longer an option. 🌧️✈️🌺