Before I moved to Hawaii, I knew what a palm tree looked like.It was tall and skinny with big green leaves on the top, like the ones in beer commercials, or lining Hollywood streets or on Gilligan’s Island.Now I know that is what ONE palm tree looks like, but it has many cousins.
On campus, many palm trees wear nametags.They are tall or short.They are sleek or shaggy.There are many varieties of palm trees, all roughly similar.When I see them, I’m pretty sure they are palm trees, but I’m also pretty sure they don’t fit the stereotyped image that I had in my pre-Hawaii mind.
I spent lot of my first year here thinking, "who knew?" and never more often than when finding new varieties of palm tree.It was a revelation that this term describes a class of objects, not a single instance.I am fortunate to spend time on the Manoa campus of the University of Hawaii.There is a special brochure for the many special plants and gardens on campus.One garden near Hawaii Hall is devoted to palm trees.
The brochure explains "many of these palms were planted in the early part of the 20th century by botany professor Dr. Joseph F. C Rock who envisioned the campus as an outdoor classroom."The brochure describes many other wonderful gardens on campus.It is published by the Manoa Chancellor’s Office.
I might have encountered the wide variety of palm trees in other places in Hawaii.But I wouldn’t have known what the palms are called or had such ready access to variety without the campus collection.I don’t really know much about Dr. Rock, but I’d like to thank him for providing the visual display that I pass daily.The Manoa campus is truly an outdoor classroom; enhanced by Dr. Rock’s many palm tree varieties.
It amuses me to see the way palm leaves are collected each morning by grounds keeping crews.These leaves are HUGE!They only look small because they are very high up.One time, a palm leaf was lying beside a car and they were the same length!On early morning walks across campus, I watch the daily collection of fallen leaves and the pink puffy clouds behind the leaves still on their various palm tree hosts.
My favorite memory of the Honolulu Symphony at the Blaisdell Center Concert Hall is a performance of Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf when I was a schoolboy. When I say that I’ve never slept better, I don’t mean to imply that it was boring. I mean that it was one of the most sublime experiences I’ve ever had (so was a Blues Traveler concert I saw there once).
The Honolulu Symphony kicked off its 2009 Halekulani Masters Series last weekend with an appearance by the seemingly unlikely trio of banjo virtuoso Bela Fleck, composer and double bassist Edgar Meyer, and North Indian tabla master Zakir Hussain. It’s been a long time since that wonderful afternoon of Prokofiev when I was a kid, but I’m happy to report that the Honolulu Symphony continues to provide that same rapturous experience.
Executive Director Majken Mechling gave a moving speech about the Symphony’s goals and its hopes for the future. A longtime symphony supporter was recognized with a warm ovation before the symphony thrilled the room with The Star Spangled Banner and Hawai’i Pono’i. It was a deeply stirring start and Mendelssohn’s Symphony No. 4 in A furthered my belief that the Honolulu Symphony is among the finest orchestras in the world.
After the intermission, Bela Fleck, Zakir Hussain and Edgar Meyer took center stage to perform a triple concerto for banjo, double bass and table Meyer himself composed. A tapestry weaving elements of classical, bluegrass and otherworldly table, the piece was masterful in its incorporation of the symphonic element. By the time the lights were turned on, the trio graciously accepted no less than three standing ovations. At one point, Hussain joked, “Sit down, we’re going to play some more.”
It’s hard to discern locals from visitors at an elegant affair like the symphony, but I’m sure there were a more than a few lucky and akamai tourists who were able to fit it into their vacation itinerary. If more did, maybe concerns about its financial future would be less grave.
Recently I wrote that I try to schedule a stop on the west coast to break up the flight to Hawaii.A reader commented: "I agree with wanting to stop in LA, but I worry about changing planes another time for fear of them losing my luggage! I would hate to be on vacation with no clothes! Plus we will be getting on a cruise ship 3 days after arriving in Hawaii. What are your thoughts?"
It is fairly rare to loose luggage en route to Hawaii, but I would still have the same worries.Who wants to think about a dream vacation in Hawaii in whatever you wore on the plane?Relax.It’s actually as easy as answering two questions.First, what is easy to replace in Hawaii, and second, what would make your vacation really unpleasant if you didn’t have it?
First: tropical-weight casual clothing and swimwear are probably easier to find in Hawaii than your hometown.And, unlike many cities on the mainland, they are in stores year-round here.Honolulu has world-class shopping, everything from big box discount retail to extremely high-end luxury stores are within easy access by walking, cab or bus from hotels in Waikiki or where cruise ships dock.Replacing clothing might be an extra expense, but it is not difficult.You might want to under-pack deliberately and consider your Hawaii purchases to be wearable souvenirs.
The second comes in two parts.First, shoes: although there are shoes from drugstore slippers (flip flops) to designer creations on sale here, it is harder to be comfortable in new purchases.It doesn’t matter so much if my pants are a little long or my jacket is a little loose, but if shoes don’t fit correctly they leave blisters.Second, what are you pickiest about?If replacing your dinner jacket (for a man) or evening wear (for a woman) concerns you, make a note of that.For many women, swimsuit shopping is one of the rings of hell.Although you might find a fun new swimsuit here, don’t make it your only option: bring one you like and plan to purchase a spare.
OK, now you know everything necessary to insure your Hawaii vacation is successful from your carry-on bag.You already know to first include any prescription medicine, eyeglass prescriptions, camera and other electronic equipment in your carry-on.So, you have space for one or two items plus what you are wearing.This is what I do: wear my broken-in comfortable walking shoes (think sneakers not hiking boots), a pair of long pants (the only ones I bring) and a light semi-dress jacket (again, the only one I bring).In the carry on, I pack a swimsuit, a tank top that can be worn under the jacket or a blouse, or alone with a long skirt or sarong, and one pair of shorts.I have a pair of slippers that can double for beach or dress - if I didn’t have them, I might be tempted to squeeze in one pair of dress sandals that already fit and are broken in.I’m not much for jewelry, but even if I were I’d leave most of it at home and look for fun, casual pieces in Hawaii.
Anything extra can go in your checked bag, but only fill it half way to leave room for the wonderful things you find to buy on the islands!
After a mid-morning tour of the Manoa Heritage Center, Rick and I planned lunch before returning to our afternoons of study and sailing. Our tour guide suggested the Wai’oli Tea Room nearby. I had heard a mention of it but hadn’t really figured out where it was or how to get there. As it turns out, we walked the few blocks farther up into the Manoa valley, but it is also on a local bus route from downtown Honolulu and parking is available.
The tea room is a quaint Arts and Crafts-style bungalow with a wide porch (called lanai in Hawaii). Seating is available outside or in the dining room. A gift shop is in another room inside. The menu offers light main courses, sandwiches, salads, soups and daily specials. Prices are moderate and service is extraordinary. It has an intimate feel — like lunch on the porch at Grandma’s house.
The weather in Hawaii changes significantly in a very small distance. I have walked from the Manoa valley to Waikiki but the difference in climate is amazing. Up the valley, it is cooler and there is more rain. During our lunch, moisture misted frequently from the sky. It wasn’t really heavy enough to be obtrusive, but the lush vegetation demonstrates appreciation. The coolness of the mist and breeze would make tea there a welcome respite on any hot afternoon.
But the tea room serves up tradition along with food and (nonalcoholic) drink. It was created as a vocational training opportunity for women and children who took refuge at the adjoining Salvation Army home. Formal dedication ceremonies in 1922 "brought together elected Territorial officials, friends, Salvation Army staff and dignitaries from mainland America." Afternoon tea was served for the first time and soon it was a popular stop for locals. This account is from a book, Come Back to the Wai’oli: A Brief History of the Salvation Army Wai’oli Tea Room by Bette McAbee-Vincent Stillwell. I bought it from the gift shop instead of dessert. Double win: 0 calories and a double serving of history.
Just on the surface, the tea room is a serene oasis of nourishment for body and soul. With the additional helping of history, it is irresistible. I haven’t finished the book yet, but when I do, I’m going back for afternoon tea.
I heard somewhere that the native people of Alaska (or somewhere cold and frosty) have many words for snow. Similarly, there should be a handful of names for the rain in Hawaii. I was expecting big rain — you know, the torrential, tropical storm from TV and movies. There were a couple of times this past winter where the palm trees seemed to be playing limbo — how low can you go? It was high wind, driving rain and frantic swishing of palm leaves. But, seriously, that was maybe twice. For much of the year, rain is far more varied and subtle.
Often, rain comes in a sudden downburst, especially on what is called the "windward" side of Oahu. Out of nowhere, rain pelts down rapidly and then stops just as quickly. Sometimes I get off the bus in Kailua (windward Oahu) and see puddles of standing water where a "storm" has just passed, but I walk home bone dry. Other times, the surprise is on me — literally. There is rarely a warning from thunder or lightening, the sky just starts leaking suddenly. The change can be almost instantaneous. I remember walking under a covered walkway on campus. I walked under the building and not more than 20 paces later, I emerged into rain.
The third type of rain is a gentle mist. It doesn’t really seem to be falling at all; it’s just that the air gets moist. One woman on a tour bus said, "I thought someone was misting plants on a balcony or something, but I looked up and it was just the sky." This type of mist is common in the valleys of Oahu — up from the beach. It’s one reason rainbows are common. As a (male) schoolmate said, "On the mainland, rain was cold. Here, you just take off your shirt." That is less true for women, of course, but the point is well taken. Even in ‘winter" the rain is rarely really cold. It may be slightly chilly and damp enough to be uncomfortable. That’s about it.
Just as the weather varies within walking distance on any one island, it is also somewhat different from island to island. A friend who once worked in Hilo assures me the rain there doesn’t play peek-a-boo the way it does in Manoa. I’ll visit someday to confirm that.
The unpredictability of rain has two interesting results. First, rain is not really a hindrance to most plans. Just go ahead and enjoy the cool break. Second, it explains why students at UH carry their umbrellas in the outside pocket of backpacks originally designed for water bottles. When you need an umbrella in Hawaii, you need one quickly!
On a recent trip to the Pittsburgh area, I resolved to accomplish two things relating to Hawaii-Aloha.com. The first was to find a signature dish somewhere in the city and compare it to Hawaii’s own signature food, the good old plate lunch. My other objective was to approach my return to Honolulu as a first time visitor.
I had a barbeque chicken sandwich at Heinz Field during a Pittsburgh Pirates game, but it lacked the requisite uniqueness of a signature dish. After a call to friend with a native’s knowledge of the steel town, I was directed to an establishment named Primanti’s, which features “The Primanti,” a diabolical sandwich creation that is certainly worthy of being called a Pittsburgh specialty and a comparison to my beloved plate lunch.
Architecturally, the Primanti begins with two inch-thick slices of fresh baked bread. From these humble beginnings the sandwich becomes a decadent, heart stopping behemoth of spicy Italian cappacola ham, more cheese than should be legal, fresh cut French fries and a pile of coleslaw. It should be noted here that I am by no means a “big eater.” I generally eat when I’m hungry and until I’m full. I’ve never been much of a plate-cleaner. And I’m definitely not a “foodie.” But the Primanti was so delicious as to be almost otherworldly, and I hungrily devoured the monstrous sandwich and washed it down with a Yeungling Lager, a regional Pennsylvania brew.
I’ve never experienced anything like Primanti in Honolulu, so I thought long and hard about whether it may actually surpass the plate lunch as the perfect signature city dish. And then I realized that although the Primanti is wildly delicious, it’s only made at Primanti’s. Plate lunches are made all over the state of Hawaii, often with unique flourishes and more choices than can be accurately numbered. Each macaroni salad is different from lunch joint to lunch joint, portions are always generous and options for pork, beef, chicken, fish or even veggies are practically limitless. So my verdict is this: the Primanti is an exotic gem of gastronomical genius in Pittsburgh, but the plate lunch in Hawaii is very much more of a signature food, a cherished part of our local identity.
My second objective was considerably easier to accomplish. We arrived at the Pittsburgh airport at 7am. Security was a breeze and the bar was thankfully open. I enjoyed my customary preflight cocktail before boarding our United Airlines connecting flight to O’Hare International in Chicago. A brief layover was over quickly and we were soon in our seats for the painfully long direct flight to Honolulu. I say painfully, because frankly, I’ve always found air travel to be tedious at best, and more often than not flatly unpleasant.
But I’m happy to report that that has changed in recent years. The flight was long, but the flight crew’s service was cheerful and frequent. I even got free headphones (didn’t airlines used to charge an arm and a leg for those things?). As we approached the airport I was again taken by the beauty of these islands, and could easily imagine the wonder and excitement that first timers to Hawaii must feel as their plane banks around the reef runway and the Koolau Range grow from streaks of myriad shades of green to looming mountains. The ocean leaps up to greet visitors (and returning journalists), and by the time they make it out of baggage claim into the balmy trade winds, most seem immediately enraptured by these islands and excited for what experiences await them in Hawaii. So, while we like to say here “Lucky We Live Hawaii,” it can also be said that “Lucky We Visit Hawaii.”
I expected beaches and water when I came to Hawaii, but I was surprised by the beauty of its mountains. They are so sharp and stark — the only reference I had was that they looked like the misty mountains in Japanese prints. I enjoy my daily commute through the mountains from Kailua to Manoa, which often involves driving (or riding, in my case) through a cloud. So the opportunity to visit the Manoa Heritage Center was interesting to me both because I go to school in Manoa and because it tells the history of the Manoa valley.
The Center is actually a big, old house and a big backyard that just happens to contain a traditional sacred space called a heiau. Tucked into a residential neighborhood, you would walk or drive by without noticing anything of import. In a way, that’s appropriate. The significance of the Center is that it chronicles the way humans have lived in the Manoa Valley for centuries. It has always been a nice place to live, grow food and worship.
The heiau is an enclosure made of rock walls fitted together without mortar. It is said to have been built by inhabitants of the islands who pre-dated the ancestors of native Hawaiians, people called the Menehune. There were many such spaces on the islands. At one time, the Manoa valley had a dozen. But this heiau now is the last intact one in the area. It is small, which our guide said indicates it was an agricultural heiau, dedicated to rites promoting food production.
Visiting the Center is done only through organized tours. Our tour guide explained the history of the big house, itself on the National Register of Historic Places and home to one of the early western families who moved to Hawaii. Its flower garden is dedicated to a female native Hawaiian healer who saved the life of a very premature baby when western medicine failed. Our guide recounted how the heiau was saved from "development" twice. It commands a view of the valley that was recommended for the construction of the big house and again later for housing. Each time, descendents of the founding family thought it was more important to preserve the historic temple.
Surrounding the heiau is a demonstration garden that contains plants native to Hawaii and some that now live only here. There are signs so you can identify what you are looking at and the guide explains how the plants were used. Many of the plants are endangered or at-risk. She also gave a good description of the ahupua’a system of the native Hawaiians, in which districts ran from the mountains to the sea, providing livelihood and food for all in a communal arrangement.
The Center is very close to the hotel areas of Honolulu. The tour itself lasted about an hour. I can’t think of an easier or more informative way to experience a slice of Hawaii history in a morning or afternoon. The entry fee is modest: $7 for adults, $4 for seniors/military, children and students free! You will want to contact the Center in advance to arrange for the tour, however. You can do so through their website: http://www.manoaheritagecenter.org/Manoa_Heritage_Center/Home.html
If you live near a beach, you probably already know that taking precautions to avoid sunburn can be much more than just slathering on more lotion. However, our recent mainland visitors were from the midwest. They knew what made sense at home: long sleeves, hats, and so on. They wondered how to translate that to a beach vacation without missing out on the fun. I think avoiding sunburn is the single most important factor in making sure you have great vacation memories of Hawaii.
The first thing we did was to avoid outside activities at mid-day. That much is common sense. But until I moved to Hawaii, I did not know about rashies — the tops that look like tee shirts but include sun protection. Both men and women wear them and they come in short or long sleeves. The one I got for our visitor was SPF 50. It is more comfortable than massive amounts of sunscreen alone and you don’t have to worry about missing a spot. Our visitors also didn’t want to look out of place, but locals commonly wear protective clothing and head gear. Even after a year, if I go out without my hat I come back with a pink nose.
Two more practices were easy but I didn’t think of them on my first couple of trips. First, choose a beach with shade, if possible. For example, Kailua beach has shade along much of it. That allows you to spend more time outside but somewhat sheltered. If a shady beach isn’t on your agenda, take an umbrella or tent. Again, locals take tent-tops when they plan a day on the beach so you won’t look like you’re over doing it. Second, watch the time. The beach often has a light breeze and doesn’t feel sweltering, so it is comfortable to stay out much longer than is wise. Don’t wait until you feel hot to call it a day.
On our first visit, Rick went kayaking at Kailua beach (while I was stuck in a conference room). He took all the precautions I just mentioned and still came back with a raging sun burn — on the tops of his feet! Feet who spend most of their lives inside thick socks and hiking boots are pretty surprised when they first see the tropical sun. Don’t overlook any exposed flesh when you’re applying sunscreen.
A final note. Everything I’ve just mentioned (sunscreen, rashies, hats) is available fairly inexpensively at local supermarkets, convenience stores or drug stores. You don’t need to pack it along, just remember to make sun protection your first stop when you arrive.
A former classmate recently posted an online note saying that she wished she could read a book in the Japanese Garden at the East-West Center. She is in Indonesia, so it’s not an island she is missing — it’s the serene surroundings of this wonderful garden. The Japanese Garden is behind the Hawaii Imin International Conference Center, which faces East-West Road near the University of Hawai‘i campus in Mānoa.
I happened upon the garden while staying at the East-West Center for an academic conference. Its beauty is magnetic even if you are unaware of its symbolism. The stream in the center of the garden has three levels representing the way a river begins in the mountains, flows down and across the plains ends in the sea. In Japanese tradition, this symbolizes life that begins in turmoil, steadies in adulthood and slows to "a tranquil, majestic senior citizenship." (This description is from the East-West Center website, linked below.)
I often see people meditating or reading silently in the shade of the garden. There are schools of very large, very colorful fish that glide through the stream. I try to visit the garden in the morning to be able to watch them. At mid-day, they hide from the direct sunlight inside rocks or by hugging the stream bank. The Center website says the fish are carp, which symbolize valor.
The creation of the garden was a joint project funded by a 22 businesses in Japan. Specialists from the United States, Asia and the Pacific worked together on it. Pretty much every piece of the garden has a symbolic meaning — signs tell you about them or you can read about them on the website.
A traditional Japanese Tea House is located at the end of the garden near the waterfall. It is used for special events, so it is closed unless a tea ceremony is scheduled. I was able to peek inside while staff were preparing for one such ceremony. I had just been reading about traditional Japanese furnishings (or the lack of them) and the use of tatami mats as flooring so it was a sort of real-life illustration.
I promised my absent friend that I’d take a book down to the garden and spend a moment enjoying it on her behalf. I plan to send her a photo — the garden is so beautiful it’s hard to take bad pictures there. But no photograph, no matter how stunning, can capture the sense of serenity that envelops it. For that, she’ll have to pause and remember.
I love watching the kite boarders at Kailua beach park. The kites fly gracefully along wind currents pulling the board across the water. In between, the human being attached to both must navigate skillfully. Almost any day, you can watch new learners taking lessons from ever-patient instructors — I always want to cheer when they finally manage to grab the surf board with their feet while keeping the kite aloft and rise to skim the waves. Some days the kites are lined up in a sort of holding-pattern along the beach waiting for their turn for take-off. It all depends on the wind. No wind days bring less entertainment.
At the other end of the beach, kayakers head out for the flat island that is a bird sanctuary. Some are on their own, others are on tours. The line of yellow kayaks wobbling unsteadily after the leader remind me of baby ducks swimming in their mother’s wake. Some people rent kayaks in Kailua town, others at the beach center across from the entrance or the rental truck near the beach.
Kailua beach really is a family park. It is shallow and calm enough for babies and young children at the water’s edge. The sand is great for sandcastles! Many people sunbathe, read books or bob about in the water. Others wind surf or kite board or kayak. or stand up paddle. There are activities for any skill-set, or none. Later in the evening, fishermen set up their poles as people stroll by for an evening walk. Kailua beach is dog-friendly, as long as the dogs are friendly. Many of the dogs and owners seem to know one another. Not all of them pull their dogs on a surf board while swimming, but I have seen this same dog several times and he always seems to be having a good time.
Not only are there a variety of activities on the beach, you could arrive with absolutely nothing and have a good time. The beach center across the street contains stores that rent kayaks, kite boards, surf boards or bicycles. You can even buy a swimsuit there. On the beach itself there are no concessions so you’ll want to buy pizza or shave ice at the beach center or a sandwich or beach burger at the Kalapawai Market right at the entrance to the beach. Of course, it also has sunscreen, water and the rolled beach mats that are more popular than beach towels. TheBus has a stop a couple of blocks from the beach. Parking is hard sometimes - the lot is small for the number of people who want to enjoy the beach. Drop by for some of the best people-watching on the island!
Before I moved to Hawaii, I knew what a palm tree looked like. It was tall and skinny with big green leaves on the top, like the ones in beer commercials, or lining Hollywood streets or on Gilligan’s Island. Now I know that is what ONE palm tree looks like, but it has many cousins.
After a mid-morning tour of the Manoa Heritage Center, Rick and I planned lunch before returning to our afternoons of study and sailing. Our tour guide suggested the Wai’oli Tea Room nearby. I had heard a mention of it but hadn’t really figured out where it was or how to get there. As it turns out, we walked the few blocks farther up into the Manoa valley, but it is also on a local bus route from downtown Honolulu and parking is available.
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