Only we weren’t in Ashland. My wife and I were snorkeling at a place called "The Tunnels" on the north coast of the island of Kaua‘i. The most exotic-looking fish I had ever seen — in or out of a fish tank — were swimming all around us. Right in front of my goggles. Yellow fish, purple fish, striped fish, large fish, small fish. Hand God a paintbrush and this is what you get. Snorkel at 11 in the morning under the magnifying glass of perfectly clear water with your back to the blazing sun and God will paint you a bright and painful pink. I know this from experience.

Thanks to the generosity of a friend, we had a place to stay for 12 nights in the town of Hanalei which sits on a bay notched out of the north coast of Kaua‘i. "Hanalei" means wreath or crescent-shaped, and into its waiting arms a river and several streams end their journey down from Kaua‘i’s many mountain peaks. The house where we stayed was alongside one of those streams and a very short walk from the nearby secluded beach.

With each passing day we let the island work its magic on us, washing away our cares with the rolling surf and occasional rains. We walked the beach immersing ourselves in the sounds of unfamiliar birds, the sight of lush tropical flowers and other flora nested among mountains whose flanks looked like a green-encrusted combination of chiseled stone ridges and massive cones left by some giant beachcomber dribbling wet sand into pointy, towering blobs.

That was Kaua‘i you were looking at when you saw "Jurassic Park," "6 Days/7 Nights," "Raiders of the Lost Ark," "King Kong" and "South Pacific."

Kaua‘i’s latitude is 22 degrees, which is nearly half that of the Rogue Valley’s 42 degrees. That means that on a clear night and from the right place, you can see the Southern Cross, the constellation that New Zealanders have emblazoned on their flag. The two clear evenings that I went out stargazing I managed to find a spot where the Southern Cross stood just above the ridge of a mountain range.

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Hawaiians call the Southern Cross "Hanaiakamalama," and to see it I had to pull off the highway at one of those scenic vista spots announced by a roadside sign. There I stood, binoculars and star map in hand, covering my eyes from the lights of passing cars as I peered across the valley below and into the night sky.

Passers-by must have wondered what this wacko tourist was up to staring at a scenic vista that, at 10 p.m., was clearly not visible. What was clearly visible in the skies above was a sight I’ll remember long after I’ve forgotten about my sunburn.

Spending time on an island 2,000 miles from the mainland gives you the distinct feeling of both isolation and insulation. An ancient culture exists just below the surface of 21st century trappings and people weave seamlessly in and out of the two.

Life moves at a decidedly slower pace. Fifty mph is the top speed on the highway. With no Daylight Saving Time, the sun is still the main arbiter of the passing days. People gather on the beaches and roadsides to watch their beloved sun perform its daily ritual of rising and setting.

Exotic flowers — which are everywhere — also adorn shirts, dresses and shops. Folks say "Mahalo" instead of "Thank You." The understood and unspoken watchword is "relax."

Like the days, Hawaiian music is both mellifluous and evocative. We were introduced to the recordings of a number of Hawaiian musicians, especially IZ — Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole — the popular 700-pound singer who died in 1997 at 38 and whose mellow-as-honey version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" is featured on many movies and TV shows. You can’t hear his music — most of which is sung in Hawaiian — without being touched by it.

The Hawaiian language shares the lyrical qualities of Hawaiian music. To hear it spoken, I attended the Sunday service at Wai‘oli Hui‘ia Church. The minister and assistant led prayers and hymns in both Hawaiian and English. It’s something from another world and another time to experience "The Lord’s Prayer" ("Ka Pule A Ka Haku") and "Just a Closer Walk With Thee" ("Ka Himeni Ka Pule") sung in Hawaiian and accompanied on piano and ukulele by people wearing clothes with flowers printed on them.

Just being in Kaua‘i was something from another world and another time — a state of mind that you hope to bring home with you and maybe even spread around.

Maika‘i Kaua‘i, hemolele i ka malie ... Beautiful Kaua‘i, peaceful in the calm.

Mahalo.