Small Alohas in Oahu

I'm thinking back to my recent visit to Oahu at the beginning of the month, with nothing clearly important to say about it except that it was exactly what I needed to do for myself. So, I'll give you bits of aloha that I carried back with me.

I was in Honolulu for a week to visit loved ones. At one point, early in the week, I met a lady called Auntie by her friends, a short, roundish island woman who gives out warm embraces like others give out business cards, only I like the hugs much better. She asked me how long I'd be on island. When I told her "only one week," her face looked concerned, sad, and sincerely empathetic. "Oh, you really must stay so much longer than that. We are so laid back here. You cannot get the feel of it here in only one short week."

She hugged me and wished me much aloha. Like everyone who meets her, I smiled and wished she could be my auntie forever.

I swam at Sans Souci Beach a few times, and one morning as I was drying off I looked up high above me and saw white soft clouds tumbling slowly. Three white terns stitched along the edges of the clouds, perfect white against dark blue. The silent ballet far overhead was exquisitely peaceful.

I hiked the mile and a half through dense rainforest on the Pu'u Pia Trail to a point above the Manoa valley that offers a pretty vista including the steep tree-covered walls and peaks to the north and Honolulu to the south. Along the way, strawberry guava groves and ginger blossoms stood in counterpoint to almost solid green. I was sweating like mad, as I invariably do in any kind of humidity, but it felt great to exert myself. It's considered an easy trail by young men but would be a challenge for those with a tendency to trip over roots or twist ankles on loose rocks. I wore the same sandals as on the Kalalau Trail on Kauai, the indestructible Ecco sport sandals I have had for over six years. I saw only four other people on that weekday morning, including my hiking companion. Birdsong was a symphony of bright twittering sound, almost magical. Later, I sat in the shade of an enormous banyan tree at the Chinese Cemetery overlooking the same valley. They say there is perfect fang shui energy there. I am not going to argue. Peace and tranquility seem to have been invented there.

The immediacy of nature in the islands creates a much different balance between human beings and their environment than you can sense in cities and towns across the mainland. Life is circular, cyclical and rhythmic in Hawaii. The ocean and the wind always have the final word in any discussion. Mauka way, toward the mountains, is centering, literally. You look up to the center and highest points of the island, downward and outward the shore and then the far horizons where the Pacific stretches to infinity. Rain can pound hard and flash floods accelerate the degradation of the mountain slopes over time. What was once a mountain ridge or a coral reef becomes flat beach sand that is incessantly tumbled by waves.


I swam at Sans Souci or Ala Moana Regional Park beach every midmorning. One day I made a trip to Fresh Cafe to have an acai bowl. I was salt encrusted and felt pretty mellow after my swim, found the recommended little place on Montserrat, ordered and waited. The walls stood testament to the surfing-is-my-religion lifestyle of the cafe's patrons, young locals with their kids alike, all of us patiently anticipating our treat. Jawaiian music played and flip flops were everywhere. A large brown plastic Buddha smiled at me, he draped in plastic leis and surrounded by grainy, out-of-focus snapshots of what probably were pretty sunsets. I got back home later and realized what a mess I looked but did not care. No one knew me and will not likely see me again, incognito beach slob that I was.

We dressed up one night - skirt instead of shorts - but stuck to flip flops, and went to Town Restaurant in Kaimuki, a neighborhood of Honolulu. The Town slogan fits so well:  "Local first, organic whenever possible, with Aloha always." You know how you hear people singing karaoke at local pubs and think, "well, that was pretty okay?" and then hear Etta James sing "At Last?" That's the difference between nice food and Town's food. It's the real deal, the whole package. Young talented chef, integrity, vision, style, young energy and attention to detail. So, we had lovely fine drinks, food that nourished our hearts and souls and then walked home in the warm Hawaiian evening with our shirts fluttering in the playful breeze. We could not have asked for better and were very well pleased with it all.

It feels like whatever love is, the island winds and oceans tumble and splash with it. The moon rises up through it in the nighttime and the sun bursts forth with it in the morning in neon explosions of color. Auntie's dismay at the news of my brief time in the islands was born of her lifelong knowledge that love and aloha are at home in the small things of life in Hawaii.

I promised Auntie I will return; I would anyway even if I had not promised her. I must, for so many reasons, but most of all - aloha.

Chinatown, Kings and Queens

Time for a bit of architecture and history in Honolulu today.  But first, Chinatown.

Today I parked my Mini Cooper and took off on foot into the heart of old Honolulu, seeking out the oldest clues to people and culture of the old Hawaii, wherever it might be.  I headed first for Chinatown.  This part of town has narrow streets lined with old brick buildings dating back to the earliest days of the city in about 1910.  The heart of Chinatown is the Cultural Plaza, a brick-lined and busy courtyard where, on one side, an indoor market bazaar houses fishmongers, butchers, and produce vendors.  Time seemed to have suddenly warped back about 50 years.  Produce as fresh and varied as I have ever seen before lined the walks and filled stalls throughout the building.

I took my time and shuffled along slowly, trying not to appear conspicuously like a tourist, but the camera in my hand as well as the fact that I was at least 8 inches taller than most people and did not speak an Asian language at all kind of gave me away.  No one cared though; everyone went about the business of selling and buying goods, bartering, examining vegetables with a critical and expert eye, rearranging stacks of fruit.  It was quiet but busy; peaceful but energized.

I found myself standing in front of a fish vendor's counter.  All signs were in Chinese characters and a couple of fans with grass fronds flew around above a display of rock fish on ice.  Two large fish tanks held swimming, breathing, not-long-for-this-earth fish.  Two very spry-looking and petite Asian ladies were eyeing the fish, frowning and dickering with the vendor who had a fine-mesh net in her hand, waving it for emphasis as she spoke.  One of the short ladies indicated something, a deal was made and Net Lady went to work.  She reached into one of the tanks with her net and snagged a pale rock fish, about 12 inches long, and then showed it to the little lady.  Little Lady nodded and stepped back to wait.  Net Lady dropped the wriggling fish into a plastic bag and set the bag on a wooden chopping block, picked up a bright red plastic mallet, took aim, and then banged the fish on the head with it.  Dead fish.  Then Net Lady took the fish to her back counter and rapidly gutted, descaled and filleted it.  Done in 60 seconds.

I walked on and saw more tanks of sacrificial fish who were oblivious to their fate.  Tripe, bones, knuckles, chops and ears were laid out in neat displays, all very clean and fresh.  The only fragrance I detected was that of the ocean, a very good indication of cleanliness and freshness.  A sign said "chickens feet" next to a pile of pale disembodied feet ready for a pot of, what, I don't know, foot soup.  A rosy pink pig head wrapped in plastic looked up at the ceiling, surrounded by pork chops and other mysterious items you never see in standard supermarket meat counters.  Fascinating.

I walked out of Chinatown back into the Western World, looking for The Palace.  The Royalty of the islands included kings and queens who spent a good amount of time building large impressive mansions in the area.  Queen Liliuokalani's brother built a grand one, and it stands in all its glory right in the middle of the city, surrounded by a wide spreading lawn and shaded by huge trees all 'round.  I did not have a reservation to take a tour, but I walked the perimeter outside of the iron gate lining the property and admired it.  I'll see if I can go back later.

I saw the Hawaii State Capitol Building, which is enormous and very unlike any other capitol building I've seen before.  Most of them have Roman-style domes, pillars, cornices, etc.  Since Hawaii was named our 50th state in 1959, the architectural styling of this capitol is deliberately east-west in appearance, very modern and unusual.  It also reflects the natural and unique features of its island homeland.  Its columns are palm tree-like; two main areas sloped in part like a volcano; the center is open to the sky, and the entire building set in a large pool, just as if it, too were an island.

The whole area of the heart of downtown is beautiful, open and park-like with vast open lawns and towering tropical trees that provide shade and a graceful natural dignity to the setting.  Many buildings are open to the public and can be accessed very easily on a walking tour.  It's flat and very scenic.  They are too numerous to count and describe here, but I did spend about two hours walking among them and enjoying the impressive features of as many as I could.  Standouts were Washington Place where the governor lives, a gracious-looking wooden colonial house; St Andrews Cathedral, dedicated in 1867, and made of British building stone; Kawaiahao Church, where you can still hear Hawaiian-language hymns if you go to church there on Sunday (note to self: don't miss this ever again); and the King Kamehameha statue (he was the first unifying king of the islands).  He was a handsome buggah in his feather cape and helmet; locals adorn him with hundreds of huge long leis on King Kamehameha Day.

I finally found the oldest hint of early, early human life and customs in the area:  A fresh water spring with a pretty splashing fountain next to the Mormon Chapel and King Lunalilo's tomb.  This fountain and pool are where the earliest royals in Hawaii took baths and purified themselves.  Most especially, a Queen Hui, who lived long ago, enjoyed this very pool and bathed while sitting on the lava rocks still present.  Even though the pool has been made into a fountain now, one hunk of lava is marked with a bronze plaque and is original there.



Feeling pretty footsore but satisfied with my self-guided tour, I had lunch at a Thai restaurant downtown and then took off for Kapiolani Park in the Waikiki area where I took a nap and gazed at clouds, palm trees, the ocean.

The wind is still blowing hard, keeping the windsock straight out horizontal; it's posted about 1/4 mile offshore near the Canoe Club at the park's south end.  The ocean is big, bigger than ever, blue as the eyes of Triton.  I am never tired of it, especially this island version:  Warm, sparkling and beautiful.

Hawaii is my Groove This Week

I flew the Groove today and ended up in Honolulu, which is pretty far out of my usual groove, wouldn't you say?  The day started out early from the airport.  I was squished into a seat the size of a hamster cage and was further compressed courtesy of the seated passenger in front of me who reclined her seat all the way back into my lap.  I think she wanted me to give her a neck massage.

Seated next to me was an older gentleman, apparently from India, who never spoke a word but was murmuring in his native language with the young family across the aisle from him.  They were a young Indian couple with a small boy, probably age 2, who was in constant wiggle mode.  The parents did as good a job containing him, but he was 2 and he wanted to get loose and go.  He squealed, screeched and tried to get away, but -- credit to the parents -- they kept him distracted and occupied as well as can be expected of any parents in a confined space for five hours.  I've seen and heard lots more obnoxious and upset kids on flights before, so it wasn't that horrible.

The irony was that the airline was featuring the movie Where The Wild Things Are.  The boy was a handful for his mom right up to the moment when the movie began and then dropped off to deep and peaceful sleep.  Last I looked, his mom was sitting with a glazed stare, watching the screen as the boy sprawled across her lap, head resting on her crooked elbow.  He looked like an innocent angel.

Hawaii caresses you from the moment you first meet her.  So it was today:  Soft warm air, flowers, pretty girls and guys with surfboards carried on scooters zooming around town.  The lifestyle here is busy but still slower and definitely easy going.  People wave you in from merge lanes on the freeway and drive more slowly.  Compared to almost everywhere else I've driven a car, Hawaii is easy and nearly fun.

After I picked up by my rental car (Mini Cooper convertible - my splurge on this trip) and went over to Kapiolani park, the large urban greenspace at the base of Diamond Head that offers mellow views of Waikiki and the mountains beyond.  I ate, chatted with strangers who seemed friendly and interesting, watched tiny waves lapping the shore and planned out my coming week.  Nice start so far.  Vacation time, and still in the groove.