It is summer. And I am feeling a bit pāpaʻa, as in ʻili pāpaʻa lā (see #2 above). After a week in Tahiti and two days in Waikīkī, plus some time in Waipiʻo, I am feeling pāpaʻa. Notice that pāpaʻa has a kahakō over the ā. Without it, papaʻa means tight and secure. A far cry from being overdone from heat.
I donʻt know about you, but pāpaʻa was one of those staple words when I was growing up, along with pau, ʻauʻau, lepo, pupule, pīlau, hauna (omg, there seems to be a trend going on here). Love my toast all pāpaʻa. Or the pāpaʻa part of the puaʻa kālua (roast pig) when it comes out of the imu, skin all stuck to the wire, peeling it off when itʻs still hot and crispy. Maybe it was because hanging out and then living in Mākaha there were plenty opportunities to get all pāpaʻa in the blazing sun. That is what I love about this summer: the fond memories it conjures up of summers in Mākaha, going to the surfing beach falling asleep under the coconut tree shade only to wake up an hour later and the shade is totally gone and your body is all pāpaʻa, then jumping into the water and walking home along the beach. Or going to paddling practice during the week and races on the weekends. Beach all day. Everyday. Plenty chance to get pāpaʻa.
Iʻm going to enjoy my pāpaʻa-ness this summer because once work starts again in August, my days of lounging will be far and few between.
Pāpaʻa koʻu ʻili i ka lā. - My skin is tanned from the sun.
He palaoa pāpaʻa kēia. - This is burnt toast.
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