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!
A beautiful but unassuming waterway runs right next to a busy street in central Kailua town. These two birds look as though they are waiting for an opening in traffic to cross the street. But both the birds and their home are much more important than they first appear. The Ae‘o, or Stilt, is a native of Hawaii and, standing 16 inches on bright pink legs, it is the tallest shorebird. The Stilt is one of four endangered native Hawaiian waterfowl that live in the Hamakua Marsh. To see them, all you need to do is walk along the stream or sit and watch for a while.
Hamakua Marsh is beautiful and tranquil. It is also a State of Hawaii wildlife sanctuary and is designated a "wetland of international importance" by the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands (a preservation organization based in Switzerland). Last month, its future became much more secure. A coalition of public and private groups purchased 87 acres on the ridge behind the marsh so that it can be preserved. At one time the ridge was slated for development as a retirement community.
The only clue to the significance of the space is a sign that shows drawings of the four endangered birds and gives their descriptions. That may soon change. Hamakua Marsh and nearby Kawai Nui Marsh (also a Ramsar designated wetland) are part of a big restoration project. The goal is to preserve native plants and animals while removing non-native invasive species. The two marshes have a rich history that includes native Hawaiian religious, cultural and ecological practices. In the future, they may have trails and programs for tourists and students. But don’t wait. It is just too easy to stop for a spell and admire the many waterfowl at home in their environment rather than a zoo or museum.
The proximity and openness of the marsh means it is not unusual to see the birds wandering around Kailua. I’ve seen ducks in the parking lots of most businesses across the street. Frequently, I wait for my bus along with a white crane who seems to be looking for a ride to Honolulu. I walk by the marsh often and am always struck by its beauty. The calmness of the water reflecting trees and the nearby ridge is beautiful even when not accented by the ripple of a passing duck.
The hardest thing about experiencing the marsh may be realizing that you are there. It runs along the mauka (toward the mountain) side of Hamakua Drive at the entrance to Kailua town. Several buses stop nearby and there is parking on the street or in nearby parking lots. Although the pending restoration is welcome and long overdue, it is a lovely treat to have the marsh free and openly accessible.
I had the opportunity to make a quick jump over to the Big Island recently, for a private gig with my fiddle player Lesley. We were asked to provide some tasteful Irish music for a scotch tasting event for about a dozen people. We obliged happily, as all expenses were paid and we were to be put up at the luxurious Hilton Waikoloa Village.
We flew over to Kona on Hawaiian Airlines, and I had no problem carrying on my guitar case/overnight bag. We had e-tickets, so I have the feeling that if I had checked in with a human I would have had to actually check my guitar as baggage and therefore risk it being destroyed. This was not the case, however, and my gig bg fit comfortably in an overhead bin. I am unaccustomed to hassle-free air travel, so the experience fostered some faith in the industry.
We went directly (to my vague dismay, as I had hoped to check in at the Waikoloa first) to the venue, Aloha Friday’s at the Kona Coast Resort. I was told that the timeshare development has been at 100% capacity for twenty years. There are quite a few amenities there, things like shuffleboard, volleyball, barbeque pits and a pool and spa. I’m not particularly familiar with the timeshare experience, but from what I could ascertain at the Kona Coast Resort, it is certainly a fine way to spend a vacation. Shell Vacations operates there, and offers a wide variety of recreational opportunities from the coast to the summits of the Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa volcanoes.
Between sets at Aloha Friday’s, I was served what may be the biggest and best rib-eye steak I’ve ever had the joy of eating. The service was impeccable and the guests were properly sated by the time the affair ended.
We didn’t get to the Waikoloa until after 10pm, so I was forced to rise early the next morning in order to make the most of my brief time of the property. Lesley and I did manage to have martinis and mojitos at the Malolo Lounge before turning in.
The Hilton Waikoloa is, to say the least, expansive. Our room overlooked the tennis complex and stadium. There are multiple swimming pools on the property, one of which is a saltwater pool fed by the ocean and populated by reef fish and frequent turtle visitors. I elected to lounge in a simulated lava rock grotto with a Jacuzzi. I am a world class Jacuzzi enthusiast. Cocktail service doesn’t start until 10am, so I was forced to go without a requisite vacation Bloody Mary.
I wandered over to the Dolphin Quest encounter area, where two teen siblings were entranced by the friendly and strangely human behavior of smiling dolphins. With only about a half hour to kill before making the drive to the Kona airport, I strolled among the Buddhist statues leading to Buddha Point, a jutting piece of real estate home to a large Buddha statue. I rubbed his belly and headed back to our room to gather my things.
My only regret about the brief sojourn is that I didn’t have more time to spend at the Hilton Waikoloa. It is an impressive property and our room was cool, quiet and handsomely appointed. The golf course is gorgeous, and should I make it back there, I will most certainly play a round there. Although I didn’t have much time, I found my experience t the Kona Coast Resort and the Hilton Waikoloa to be most worthy of recommending to anyone.
What image do you have in your mind if I say "art museum"? For some, it’s a stuffy display; others imagine pretentious hipsters with black clothes and bad attitudes. I don’t have those doubts, I enjoyed art museums when I toured Europe as a college student but they were large and scary. On my own, I felt lost but on a tour I felt herded.
Honolulu has the perfect antidote to art museum angst. The Honolulu Academy of Arts is a gem. It is fairly small and unintimidating yet it has an impressive collection. In addition to paintings, there are displays of sculpture, fabric, and sometimes photos or even furniture. If you want a tour, they are available. In fact, there are a number of free tours every day. It’s also easy to wander around — signs give you information about each item. The small rooms make viewing a very personal experience.
The first time I went to the art academy, I saw an exhibit of furnishings that people brought to Hawaii in the early 1800’s — some western, some from China and Japan. It was fun to see what people treasured enough to ship half way around the world. There was also a display of Japanese paintings. I know nothing about Japanese art, this was the first time I had seen it but the display and signs made it very easy to understand and enjoy. I actually got a lump in my throat while standing an arm’s length from a Picasso — just imagining him touching the same canvas then in front of me brought tears to my eyes.
The museum is arranged in a series of collections that are housed in small galleries around courtyards. You can spend a few minutes, a few hours or a few days exploring them. The academy shop sells books, prints, and unique gifts. As with the art on display, Hawaiian works are prominent. A cafe serves lunch from 11:30 - 2:00 pm. The art academy is closed on Mondays. The admission is $10 but seniors (62+), students and military pay only $5 and children under 12 are free.
Whether the art academy is your first experience in an art museum or you are an art connoisseur, you owe it to yourself to check it out. The building and its contents are a true treasure in the heart of Honolulu.
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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