From the Oahu Coast Back to The Groove

The Manoa Valley was stormy and windy, with rain coming down in pattering showers all night and a cool 67 degrees.  I set off for Honolulu early in the morning to explore for a little while before turning my car in and then going to the airport.

First of all, I had to have my cuppa Joe, so I tried out Great Harvest Bakery in the financial district, right across the street from the Hawaii Electric Company along a narrow lane.  The bakery is a cheery place that gives out large samples of their loaves, sells scones, sweet rolls and other delectables as well as coffee to go or eat in.  There are only four stools that line the window, and the counter is decorated with painted tin pots stuffed with bright pink cosmos daisies.  Baked goods were voted "Best Bread" in 2008 by the Honolulu Advertiser readers.  I think I agree, although Manoa's bakery around behind the Safeway store is running a close race with them.  Both require determined searching.

The air was filled with whisping, backlighted drizzles and rainbows arched across the sky.  Clouds were scudding overhead and sheets of gray rain in the distance over by Diamond Head looked dark, cold, wintry.  Scooting along the Ala Moana Boulevard, I decided to explore the large park that goes by the same name.  Its right across from gigantic Ala Moana Shopping Center, the country's largest outdoor mall.

The park is very large and part of it juts out beyond the boat harbor.  Joggers and walkers were out in number, as were a few locals fishing off the rocks and bantering in pidgin.  I needed to walk after my scone and cappucino, so I joined in the flow of energetic people getting their morning constitutional.  The city was to my right and Waikiki was way off to my left, as was the again-approaching storm.  No one looked to be deterred by the oncoming shower and the air temperature was warming actually.  Shirtsleeves and sandals were fine.  I think the looping course that took me along the perimeter of the main part of the park was about a mile around, maybe a bit less, all flat.  The views of the city were really nice; I appreciated the new vantage point.

I found the local swimmin' hole, a much better place than Queen's Beach for serious swimmers; Ala Moana is much more protected, much bigger and is lined by a very mildly sloping beach.  Next trip, I'll be in there.  Surprisingly, I never got in the water once the whole week, save a little ankle-sloshing walk once or twice.

My walk finished just before the shower hit.  I drove back to town and said a fond farewell to the cute little Mini Cooper that had been a zippy conveyance for my explorations.  The convertible top was useful on warmer, slower days.  I rented it from Little Hawaii car rentals, by the way.

It was very difficult to say good-bye to Oahu and its people.  I really hated to go for many reasons.  I'll go back; I'll return many times.  The ocean is so big there and so alluring.  The island seems simply to be a hopscotch point for those of us who are so often in a water-sport-loving groove.  Now I'm back in Pacific Grove and curious to see what comes next.  I'll let you know.

North Shore and Waimea Bay

Another day, another big cappucino in paradise.  I'm hooked.

I pointed the Mini Cooper's nose north today and let her have some rein, so off she zoomed to Haleiwa, a dinky and charming little town north of the pineapple plantations and east of the Waianae Mountians, the oldest range of extinct volcano remnants that make up Oahu.  I returned to the Haliewa Cafe where I'd enjoyed some pretty puffy pancakes in the past.  It's the only place I've been where you can see huge prints of north shore surf as you eat good grub, all in a funky local's-love-it setting.  This time I ordered a breakfast burrito and packed it off to see if I could find any decent-looking surf, for which this coast is so famous.

The prettiest beach along the north shore is Waimea Bay, a half-moon-shaped stretch of white sand hemmed in by tall mountains, a river that flows out into the bay from a canyon sacred to the original Hawaiians, and a tall art deco tower to the east.  I got there about 10 AM and found the parking lot half full, a good omen.  I sat on the beach, munching my burrito and watched locals dashing into the green-blue waves, one after another, to play in the surf.  No stress left in my bones, no sirree.

It was a 4- to 6-foot shorebreak, meaning I could hear the swish of the surfboards on the waves all the way up until they quit the wave in about 2 feet of water.  The acoustics in the bay are pretty remarkable; you can hear that kind of detail from about 100 feet away from the water's edge or farther.  They say that on big-wave days when the liquid mountains reach 30-40 feet, the sound they make is like guns going off up the valley.

After I'd had it up to here with handsome, muscular bronzed surfers dashing about in the sparkling surf, I drove the little Mini across the street and up a long beautiful drive to the Waimea Falls Park, a preserve and botanical garden run by the Audubon Society.   The walk was much easier than yesterday's walk, and the setting is much more parklike; they offer nature walks and talks every couple of hours.  There were a modest number of other visitors there, but most of the time I felt like I had the place to myself.  You walk on a gently uphill slope that curves and meanders past large plantings of tropical plants, arranged by geographic region.  The walk culminates at a 50-foot waterfall where a pool entices hot and foot-sore walkers.  There's even a lifeguard who can provide a life vest for a fee.

That was it for me.  Back to the car I walked, taking pictures of the exotic plants and enjoying the twittering invisible birds in the canopy overhead.  I saw one tree whose leaves were as large and round as serving platters.  Another had flowers that bloom white and gradually turn red.

All of Hawaii is suffering from its version of a drought, even though everything looks green and lush.  The riverbed running through the park is dry as can be.  The falls were running today, but after not too long the stream drops underground through the porous lava stones.

I'll be flying away home tomorrow, back to the Grove and all the rain they've been having.  My island adventure was too short but very good.  Lots of traffic on Oahu in every direction all day long.  Everyone and their dog has a car.  If you go to Oahu, buy Oahu Revealed (bright blue cover with a satellite view of the island) and look for things off the beaten path; you'll save money and find the relaxed beautiful island that you dream of.

China, Hawaii style and the Lyons Arboretum

After a giant-sized cappucino and some time with my guide book, I set off on foot again this morning.  Back to Chinatown to get some more photos and wander streets I'd missed yesterday.

It's obvious that the earlier you get there, the better the produce is and the wider the selection will be.  As I walked along side streets, I saw the lei makers' tiny shops, ladies busy at tables stringing leis.

Most markets are clustered inside large buildings; several vendors sell similar items such as fish or meat or manufactured delicacies.  I found a few Vietnamese pho cafes that looked very tempting, but I kept on walking.  A dim sum restaurant where a woman ladles the delicacies into dishes from bamboo steamers stacked high in the window caught my eye.

I detected the aromas of a few herbalists and walked along the long racks of cooking equipment in another store.  Chinatown tickles all my sweet spots:  Fresh food, cuisine, foreign language, open-air markets, visual feasting.

After taking an hour or two to peer into nooks and crannies of the Chinese culture done Hawaiian style, I walked back to my car, unloaded my purchases and then turned to the Aloha Tower and pier area, which is much more commercialized.

Maybe it wasn't fair to the Tower to have come directly from bargainland where life is real, but the area felt very touristed and too similar to the Cannery Row in Monterey for me to find much joy there.  There are true commercial businesses at the pier, but much of what you see is meant to lure those who have just stepped off a cruise boat or a large tour bus, both of which dump out their human load at frequent intervals.  That's fine, everyone seemed happy to be visiting the shops, and it's scenic for sure.

I would recommend the Gordon-Biersch restaurant at the farthest end of the pier for lunch or happy hour; moderate prices, large portions.  There's a bistro right at the entrance near the parking lot that looked attractive, but I went for the Seabright Fish lunch truck parked at the curb and was very happy.  The menu is written in Chinese and English.  I ordered the special Sea Bass Plate Lunch.  It took about 10 minutes to prepare and was a box full of salad, rice, mango chutney, a hunk of bread, a bit of corn on the cob, salad and two sizzling hot fillets of fish sauteed and seasoned lightly and not overdone.  Slice of lemon and I was all smiles; $9.95, including a bottled water.

Changing gears, I headed way up the Manoa Valley to the Lyon Arboretum to see jungle foliage and endemic plants featured there.  This valley is shaped like a funnel where the wide end is just above Waikiki at about the campus of the University of Hawaii.  The valley is narrower as you ascend to the final destination:  a pretty waterfall, when it's running.  Hawaii has been experiencing a drought, so the fall was just trickling, according to a couple who'd hiked up earlier than I was starting out.

The Arboretum is co-managed by the University and affords students as well as professors a 200-acre private preserve to study plants, birds, and the ecosystem native to the area.  There are many species of non-native plants and birds, but the volunteers and hired gardeners have established a good number of specimens of natives as well.

The steep and jagged peaks form nine valleys that feed into the land occupied by the arboretum, and all the flanks of the valleys, which look like fanned blades, are covered with a dense growth of trees and brush.  I recognized a lot of plants that I would normally only see as houseplants back home, but here they are enormous and lush.  It isn't flowering season, so blossoms were scarce.

The Manoa Valley in that upper reach is unusual on the leeward side of Oahu in that it scoops up as much as 200 inches of rain per year.  Today was dry and actually mostly sunny, and the wind even cooperated, staying light and easy.  One couple walking at a very leisurely pace was dazzled by the size of the hibiscus plants, frustrated that in north Los Angeles where they live frost zaps their hibiscus every winter.  "I tried three times to grow them, but they died!" the lady exclaimed, "We had to come all the way here to see healthy hibiscus."  They do seem to grow like weeds around here, and decorate the freeways and public places, producing a pleasant tropical backdrop.

After a dinner of noodles bathed in sauteed veggies from the markets I'd visited earlier, the day has now come to a close, and a very pleasant one it was.

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.

The Windward Side on a Windy Day

As it happens, winter comes to paradise just as it does in other dots on the globe.  Winter, Hawaii style, consists of blustery wind, some rain and not as many flowers blooming; a sort of lesser degree of paradise. I've been in a sleeveless shirt and short pants all day.  72 degrees and widely scattered smiles.

Heading north of Honolulu this morning in the rain, we took H-3, the zillion-dollar "interstate" highway that connects the military community north of here, heading east to Kaneohe on the windward side where there's another military community.  Up over the pali (cliffs) you go, then you enter a long tunnel that angles downward and still eastward through what seems like more than a mile of highway.  You emerge to view an eye-popping vista of the beautiful tropical windward side of the island.  Compared to the leeward side, this side is wetter, greener and much more in keeping with what you imagine a tropical paradise to look like.  The highway skims along the mountain side, over the tree tops and curves gently to the south.  Very impressive.

We headed southward to Kailua, a thriving community with some interesting places to visit, including a large multi-ethnic, multi-religious cemetery and memorial that, in my opinion, features a beautiful Chinese pagoda and reflecting pool with koi.  It's serene, peaceful and immaculately kept.  You're noticing by now that I haven't remembered the names much as I write.  I didn't take notes today and I don't have a guidebook, so I'm not much of a travel help; I'll write the names after I've researched a bit.

There is a very pleasant coffee shop, Morning Brew, in Kailua where we had breakfast pizzas and I had a cappuccino - large, frothy and beautifully topped with a leaf pattern formed by the coffee traced through the foam.  Well done, barista.

Then, we succumbed to the allure of a terrific bookstore next door called The Book End, a combination of new and used books -- classic literature and modern works -- complete with stacks of books from floor to ceiling.  Amazingly enough, after at least an hour of browsing, we each bought one book apiece, quite a feat of self-control.

After tearing ourselves away from the stacks, we pointed the Mini Cooper north past Kaneohe Bay to tour the northeast and then north shores as we made the loop of the island.  The little car was fun to drive along the winding course, sporty and responsive in the corners and traffic where we encountered it. The coast is dotted with what are tiny communities made up of a very few ramshackle homes as well as long stretches of public beaches.  The ocean was choppy and the wind fairly high, so there was no chance to swim or sun.  Jagged remnants of old volcanoes whose sides are covered with lush growth loomed on our left.

Onward past shrimp shacks and Turtle Bay, a giant-sized "resort" that's far from any of its peers in Honolulu.  Then the mecca beaches of Sunset, Waimea and Pipeline came into view on the left, world-famous on good days, but blown out today and dangerous.  Only a few surfers were in the water at Waimea, but the conditions were pretty marginal.  No chance for sun or sightseeing outside the car.  At one point at the east end of Sunset Beach, tourists were admiring three kite boarders -- surfers who use a parachute to power their surfboards over the waves.  They were ripping fast, back and forth far offshore, looking impervious to the wind and choppy surf.

That was it for us.  Back home for dinner with some friends, and we were happy and content.  The wind continues for now, but they say this is what we are to expect in the winter here.  Not so bad.