In Germany and certain other European countries, Sunday is the day of rest for most. Deemed "Quiet Day," most shops and businesses are closed by law enacted in 1956, and the majority of the German workforce have a guaranteed day off. This regulation contributes to the work-life balance of many EU citizens.
Not every business is closed: gas stations and restaurants are usually open, inasmuch as Germans with free time like to enjoy a drive or a sip of wine and a good Schnitzel or other bite of fare.
Quiet Day also means a person is not allowed to perform loud tasks, such as mowing the lawn, hammering nails, sawing wood, or making other such disturbing noise, on a Sunday. Even vacuuming can get you a knock on your front door.
This is reassuring. There is no guilt in doing nothing, because you're supposed to take it easy.
Back in the States (and Hawai'i is no different) it's still go go go, even during these times of pan(dem)ic.
Today after a sizeable and leisurely breakfast (a German tradition), I grew weary of being inside for too long, even I could feel myself yearning to do something interesting. Having just arrived in Hawai'i, I didn't have many friends, and the dog hadn't yet made it over for us to begin our explorations. Going it alone, I got into my Jeep and picked a spot on the map.
Unfortunately, beaches and beach parks were prohibited during strict COVID ordinances, unless you went straight into the water from your vehicle, and straight back. Violations could result in a $5,000 fine.
"Hiking is closed," I heard a colleague jokingly say earlier in the week. How could they close the mountains? Was that possible? Was getting outside for fresh air against the law?
Restaurants were only dishing out to go. Museums had limited visiting hours if at all, and any nature preserves would likely now be eyed by the Polizei (police). I didn't want to risk getting arrested while trying to enjoy the planet.
Thrift shopping is a sort of sport and doesn't cost too much, and I couldn't get wet in the process. Deciding to go to a Goodwill store, I ventured to Pearl City, which is on the west side of Honolulu. Silly me, thinking it would be open during COVID, and on a Sunday. Target Store, surprisingly, was open... and packed, but the only thing I needed was to be in nature.
In Germany, dirt roads leading into forests are everywhere. Hiking alone or with a friend or neighbor was something we did on a Sunday afternoon, often followed by Italian dinner and wine on the plaza in our little town. Sometimes I'd head down the hill to Ramstein to hang out with my best buddies on their back porch or join them for a long Greek lunch with Metaxa brandy as dessert. These things became Sunday rituals.
Because of COVID, there wasn't any visibly open space anywhere in my travels that day in Hawai'i, though it was what I was seeking most. If the dog were here, wouldn't we have found some woods or a trail to turn onto? Not likely. I discovered later that there isn't a lot of open space in Hawai'i, except on the beaches, which are accessible by all.
In the States, Sunday Funday must be reconstructed, reinvented, and redone. The benefits: shopping and making noise.
However, I'd rather find the wild places where no one goes, where a dog can be let off his leash to run and pee and splash. Those days will come, even if we have to head out at dawn, before the masses get the same idea.
There are plenty of mountains here and there is lots of wilderness. I'll just have to figure out how to access those places. It won't be like Germany, but the rewards in nature should make up for having an official day off every single week.
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