An International Day in Honolulu

Honolulu, like most big cities, gets up and roars from before dawn on through the day and late into the night.  On the stretch of playground called Waikiki, the bus system is an arterial flow of people borne in large vessels to every reach of street and highway.  It's all about pleasing tourists, moving them  around, feeding them and seeing to their every need.  In quieter parts of Waikiki, you can hear the rustle of palm leaves in the tradewinds, the soft swish of waves on the long beach, and small Hawaiian doves calling gently.

This morning, we went to Chinatown to buy groceries for tomorrow.  We parked at the Aloha Tower complex nearby and walked a few city blocks to the middle of Chinatown.  This oldest part of town is nearly a separate nation, distinguished by its nearly total dependence on Chinese culture, started back in the 1840s or so.

The Chinese immigrants who were brought here as laborers more than 150 years ago gradually recreated China complete with all its delicacies, fabrics, art and customs, and the many city blocks that were the heart of the community are still in use today.  All signs are written in Chinese as well as English, and you get a sense of both Disneyland and foreign territory as you walk around.  The Disney aspect comes from the scaled-down size of things including many diminutively sized people bustling about their business.  I felt very tall.  A very long line of people was formed outside of the Lee Bakery on one street.  We didn't want to stand there with them to find out what was so amazing, but found out later it was pork buns.

With several bags of produce in hand, we piled all of it into our car and drove a little way south to Ala Moana Park, a sprawling city park with a fine large lagoon where I swam for a half hour or so.  It was fun to stroke along and see parasails on the western horizon, Diamond Head to the south and the Honolulu skyline to the east.  There were  few rainbows now and again and other folks out for runs or swims with me.  Paddle board riders floated by talking story in pidgin.

Next, we drove across the road to Ala Moana Shopping Center, a shopping mecca, where we shopped for Thanksgiving dinner supplies.  Thai food back in Waikiki was pretty good, not the best, and then we stopped for a nap back at the hotel.

On an impulse, we put our swim suits back on, walked over to Waikiki Beach - two blocks away -  and shopped around for an outrigger canoe ride.   Everyone shoves the canoe into the edge of the surf, gets in, gets a 20-second lesson on how to hold a paddle, and off you go to join the lineup of surfers, hundreds of them.  The helmsman turns you around, tells you to paddle like the dickens and you catch a wave and go powering along to the swish of whitewater, keeping up with surfers standing on their boards next to you.  We surprised one guy swimming back out.  He saw our outrigger coming straight at him and ducked under water just in time to avoid a new buzz haircut.  

To top off the day, we rounded up our two loved ones and found a wonderful Indian and Nepalese restaurant in Kaimuki, not far from their home, called Himalayan Kitchen.  Kaimuki is an old community that could be called a suburb of Honolulu to the southeast a bit.  It has always been home to blue-collar workers and students, and its main business district is definitely eclectic.  In the one-block area where the restaurant was, we found nine other ethnic cultures represented in cuisine.  Locals in the know flock to the hidden gems in Kaimuki.  After a fine meal in a warm and hospitable setting, we walked home in a spritzing effervescence of rain, tired out, heads full of Thai, Chinese, Nepalese and Hawaiian culture.  

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.