“Goodbye, Vacationland,” a nonfiction piece by Christine Fadden (fiction, ’09) appears in the most recent issue of Louisville Review.

Our accommodations were fancy by archaeological standards: not the usual motel or tent. We had a real house, where we would sleep like babies after twelve-hour days walking in the wind and sun, cutting our way through vines and branches, lifting our legs over underbrush like mounting a horse a thousand times an hour, and setting our feet down with a hyper-awareness of those damned sinkholes—just the size of a boot (ankle breakers) or a baby pool (journey to the center of the earth). These were the stressors of a day’s work in Hawai’i, out past Hana, Maui.

After work, pau hana. Back to the house with the feral cats, poisonous centipedes, and self-strangling gardens. Cold beer, shower off dirty sunblock, suck papayas on the porch. Cook, read, and hit the sack despite knowing that waking up before the sun in six hours means another ride through the Hawaiian dawn in the back of the Jeep—intestines, spleen, kidneys, liver, all slamming against the stomach so there is no question of eating breakfast before arriving on site. …[Keep Reading]…