Alooooooooooooooha! (and jet lag)

I write this final entry on our trip to Hawaii at noon on Tuesday. This jet lag thing has hit us hard. I woke up in Honolulu Saturday morning around 6:00 a.m., posted our Pearl Harbor photos and finished up our packing. After a full day consisting of touring the Kualoa ranch (where Lost and lots of other films are filmed), we dined at the Crouching Lion, then popped into the PCC to see the amazing IMAX film we missed during our full day there, then took one last magnificent windward drive back to our hotel to pick up our luggage, swing by Obama's high school :) and head to the rental car agency and the airport. We were on the plane by 9:00 that night, attempted to sleep (with varying degrees of success) until we arrived in Houston Sunday morning (5 hours later than our adjusted internal Hawaii clock) and to Ft. Lauderdale by 3:30 Sunday afternoon. By the time we crashed at 10:30 Sunday night, we all felt as though we'd been up for 48 hours. While I was exhausted and ready to sleep at a "normal" hour last night, the kids were still fighting Hawaii time. By 3:00 a.m. they were finally asleep, but it took me another couple of hours to fall back asleep. So, yes, JET LAG!

That said, our last day on Oahu was a fun one. The one hour movie tour around the Kualoa ranch was fabulous, as it provided great views of the two mountain ranges that surround the ranch, as well of the ocean below us. 6 generations ago, a doctor bought this land for $10,000. Now his great-great-great-great- great grandchildren lease it out to film companies for $25,000 a day (if they want all tours postponed) in addition to whatever filming fees the ranch charges. Not bad. Filmed here - a scene from Jurrassic Park, Godzilla, Mighty Joe Young, You, Me and Dupree, 50 First Dates, Pearl Harbor, the Africa scenes from the t.v. show er, and, of course, all of the jungle scenes from Lost. Our tour guide was great fun, a huge fan of Lost who had met Josh Holloway just last year and was still aglow from the experience. They will return in September to film the final season. She pointed out where Hurley and Jin got the van to drive, Hurley's golf course and the area where Jack had to search for his lost golf ball, a bunker that served as an "Others" venue, and other such moments of Lost history.

Our lunch spot was lovely, the IMAX film on coral reefs amazing, and the glimpse of Obama's private school enlightening (it is smack in the middle of the city! cool). Thanks for sharing our journey with us. As Dana remarked when we departed our final tour bus, this is likely the last time we'll hear "Alooooooooooooooooooooha" for quite some time.

Pearl Harbor

While I know Clay is eager to learn the details of how we managed to be coaxed into becoming members of Hilton's Grand Vacation club (aka got suckered into buying a time share), he will have to wait a bit longer to get the nuts and bolts. Today's entry must focus, of course, on Pearl Harbor. I will say that I've never walked into a meeting more certain of the outcome (get in/ get out/ get ourselves to the ticket gate by 9:30 -- the meeting started at 8:30) and been more wrong :) As precious minutes passed, we wondered if we'd get shut out of the memorial two times in one week, but Ken (our new best friend) told us that Friday and Saturday were usually the two best days to get tickets, as they are the transition days when people arrive or leave the island. He also told us that this is the first of three "Japanese weeks," that coincide with the school vacation in Japan. This explained why we often felt more like we were walking around Tokyo than Honolulu.

So... Ken was right. We left the hotel around 12:30, got to Uncles, his lunch spot suggestion - a fish market and restaurant smack on one of the piers and a clear favorite with the locals - by 1:00 and finally pulled into the parking lot for Pearl Harbor just after 2:00. And we got tickets! The memorial closes at 5:00, but we had just the right amount of time to visit the Arizona (which is very much timed - first you watch the movie, then the Navy escorts you over by boat, you stay your allotted time, then back on the boat for the trip back) and the accompanying museum and grounds - all with our beloved audio tour. The great part about going so late was that we didn't feel as though we were fighting with thousands to get a glimpse at an exhibit. The boat to and from, along with the actual memorial itself, was certainly full, but not uncomfortably so. And when we returned, most of those on that trip to the Arizona with us concluded their visit and headed to their cars. So we had the museum and grounds blissfully to ourselves.

Until the Japanese invaded. Around 4:30, what appeared to be a couple hundred Japanese tour group members arrived and swarmed around one exhibit after another, listening to their Japanese speaking tour guide describe what they were seeing. It was an odd sensation. When a guard told us it was time to leave, I asked him if such groups often arrived so late in the afternoon. He said that some of the groups don't visit the Arizona, so they just come to see the museum. When one pesky adolescent boy pointed to a model of the wrecked Arizona under the memorial and said to his father, "look at that mess! Why would anyone want to go visit that anyway?" Maddie had to remind me that he was just a child.

On the flip side, one of the most moving moments for me was at the memorial itself, where an older Japanese woman placed a flower wreath on the ground where the names of the fallen are etched. She then bowed to the names. Very touching.

The memorial itself is one of the most powerful I've ever seen - on par with the Vietnam Memorial in terms of the stark design somehow being exactly right for what must be conveyed. The designer created a space where one can look out at the tiny pools of oil that still deposit on the ocean top some 60+ years later, can see parts of the battleship that peek over the surface, can look down one large opening to watch the fish swim over another part of the ship. The place is all about cross breezes, staggering views of the mountains over which the Japanese dive bombers arrived undetected (actually, they were detected - they were just mislabeled as a group of American planes that was expected to arrive that morning), and quiet contemplation.

Apparently many of the survivors of the Arizona have chosen to make the ship their final resting home; a Navy officer explained how small funeral ceremonies are held right on the memorial, which conclude when a diver takes an urn of the soldier's ashes to place in a special room on a special shelf reserved just for those who have already been buried at sea, long after the rest of their shipmates. Of the 25 remaining survivors, 18 more have chosen to be buried this way when they die.

I hope some of my photos capture the power and beauty of this place. Kerrie wondered if she would be able to visit. The way the whole memorial is set up makes it almost impossible not to feel reverant but also inspired. Watching the film before we took the boat ride over, reading the stories (and letters) of the men who died that day, and walking over the sunken ship itself, all made me feel very close to history. This experience was similar to visiting the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas. You could more easily imagine - and therefore remember - the lives of these men as you stood in the same spot those lives came to an end.

Hanging Loose on the North Shore

There was little worrying and lots of kvelling (as I can't think of another word that sums of the activity of being proud :) as I watched Maddie and Daniel take on some perfect beginner waves on a gorgeous morning on the North Shore. The two other students, both grown men - Toshi, from Japan and Jim, from Calgary - were as pleasant as could be. Their wahini instructor was a bit cross at first, telling Daniel that if he couldn't walk the beach with the surfboard on his head (after giving him no instruction as to how exactly he should do that), he wouldn't be able to surf. She is one of these tough broads who thinks her toughness is somehow endearing. It's not :)

That said, she took care of my kids on the water, making sure they got the opportunity to ride some waves. While Daniel never got fully up, he got better and better. From the shore, I took a deep breath each time his board flipped over, waiting to see if this was the time he was going to join me to build sand castles on the beach. Never happened. He'd flip the board, climb back on and give it another try. The smile on his face as he would ride a wave - sometimes on his knees, sometimes one foot up - let me know he wasn't just miserably trying to prove to his teacher that he was tough enough. The photographer who accompanies them out on the water (and from whom I bought the two most vivid photos of them surfing) was fabulous. He attended the same school Obama did (albeit much later) and assured me Hawaiians are very proud and glad to have a President who comes from his state; they're just too laid back to show it. Most important, he totally looked out for Daniel on the water; he gave him tips, reassurance, and generally kept his spirits high.

When he got out of the ocean to head back to the shop and prepare the photos, he told me "your son is great, and Maddie is a natural." I was thinking the same thing from my spot on the shore, but it was cool to hear a native Hawaiian say it :) She took to the board from the moment we arrived on the beach, carrying it to the water as though she'd been doing it her whole life, paddling tenaciously to get her next wave. The instructor warned her students that paddling uses muscles they likely don't use much and that they'd be beat by the time their lesson was over. I was so impressed to see Maddie paddling more energetically than Toshi and Jim at the end of the couple of hours they'd been out there. Meanwhile, she rode several waves and was just about glowing over her accomplishment (though in typical, abashed Maddie style).

Dana had a great dive, seeing four sea turtles and getting to swim through the lava tubes we learned about on Hilo. He said shore dives are far more awkward and exhausting than boat dives, as you have to navigate the sun bathers, shore rocks and trek to the beach all with oxygen tanks strapped to your back. He doubted it was worth it as he was cautiously making his way to the water but remembered how glorious the underwater world was once his group made it beneath the surface.

We made our way back to our hotel by hugging the windward coast and watching the dramatic scenery change as a mild storm moved through - covering the moutains in grey clouds. Quite impressive. Our dinner at the famous Alan Wong's (Obama had much of the restaurant staff fly out to Washington to cook some fancy meal and meet and greet) was a fine way to end a perfect Hawaiian day. Maddie had been eager to hum one of her favorite songs from Lilo and Stitch while surfing, so the trip was complete once she had taken a "Hawaiian roller coaster ride."

Polynesian Cultural Center or Mormon Missionary Outpost?

Either way, they sure can put on a fire dance :) Today's all-day activity was to visit the North Shore's PCC. Fodor's suggested it had the most authentic luau on the island and another guest had raved about what a wonderful place it is, so... we bought the "ambassador package" (which has now taken on all sorts of other meanings) and headed to the PCC. And it is quite a great way to spend the day. The kids got to try to make fire (only a couple of people in our group were somewhat successful at actually getting their wood to smoke), Maddie got a (temporary) tattoo, and we all got to watch a Samoan climb a coconut tree, play all sorts of Polynesian games and learn about the culture in Samoa, New Zealand, Tonga, Tahiti, Fiji, and, of course, Hawaii.

The odd part was realizing more and more as the day went on how our tourist dollars were not simply "helping the students here (at the nearby Bringham Young University) pay for their college tuition" but actually financing the "apostles" and their brethren to go to each of these islands to recruit these students. We started the day feeling we were "cousins" as part of one big, happy ohana (family, for you non Lilo and Stitch viewers). By the end of the day, we wondered if this wasn't yet another one of their subtle (or not so) attempts to indoctrinate us.

But, hey, it was one authentic luau! :)

Seriously, the students seem content, are getting the opportunity to earn a first-rate education in one of the United States that still resembles in culture and appearance their own homes, so I guess that's a good thing. Still, it felt a bit "Heart of Darkness" to me all the same. Especially when we took an afternoon canoe ride in the rain ;) Off to take photos of my intrepid surfers... where I doubt that the alohaing surfer boy instructors will call us "cousins." Maddie is hoping for a "wahini," which seems to be the ultimate compliment for a female surfer in these waters.

Obama's Oahu

Yesterday morning, I cobbled together a bit of information about Obama's time here in Honolulu, figuring we could take an "Obama tour" after our time visiting Pearl Harbor. Alas, our 9:45 arrival to the memorial left us without possibility for tickets for the entire day! So... we were off to the Dole Plantation and my Obama tour. The kids have been "throwing shakas" since we arrived, so when I found this photo of Obama doing the same I just had to include it. Michelle Obama once said, "You can't really understand Barack until you understand Hawaii." I don't know if I "understand" Hawaii, but I've now driven around his neighborhood (Makiki), eaten in his neighborhood Zippy's, walked his favorite beach, snapped a photo of one of his favorite spots for a plate lunch (Rainbows Drive-in), and sat in front of the location of his very first job (Baskin Robbins on King Street). We drove past about a dozen buildings that might have been the apartment where he lived, but I hadn't searched out a specific address (if one is easily to be found), so we weren't sure. Strangely, his school was not appearing on our GPS, so we might have to go in search of it on another of our island drives.

Two observations: first, I loved how absolutely ordinary the majority of his existence here in Hawaii was. The neighborhood he grew up in is just minutes from the populated Waikiki beach but feels like a different world. There is no sign of the ocean, no drop dead gorgeous views (though I'm curious if you could get a glimpse of it from the 10th story where he lived). It was filled with barber shops and dives that pass for restaurants. I have also been shocked by how little mention there is of Obama anywhere. In North Miami, I pass by easily a dozen shops on my way to work that have their windows filled with Obama memoribilia. Not here. It's as if nothing phases this state - and perhaps that's what Michelle meant. "No Drama Obama" may very well be the state of mind he learned by growing up in Hawaii. I finally did spot one little shop, a locksmith of some sort, with the propieter sitting outside and a "Yes We Can" sign nestled amidst a bunch of other papers in his shop's window. I decided the 12 story apartment building sitting next to his little row of shops was most likely Obama's childhood home :)

My second observation is that as ordinary as his neighborhood is, his favorite beach is equally breathtaking. It is on the Windward coast, about ten minutes from his home, and it is called Sandy Beach. However, its nickname is "Break-neck beach," as dozens suffer neck and back injuries here each year due to the crashing surf. Somehow, the laid back nature of most of Hawaii combined with the willingness to take risks in the water for the thrill and adventure of it is making perfect sense to me. The drive to Sandy Beach Park is magnificent, all rocky cliffs and crashing waves. The beach itself is the only we've found peppered with benches, as locals like to go there to watch "the Show."

Our time at the Dole Plantation was fun, too. The acres are beautiful, James Dole's story fantastic (grew up in Boston, went to Harvard, came to Hawaii with $1500 and a horticulture degree), but the real highlight of the day for me was watching my kids frolic on their President's favorite beach. Today is the Polynesian Culture Center and what is purportedly the best luau on the island. Tomorrow surfing lessons for the kids and a dive for Dana. And we'll once again try to get into Pearl Harbor on Friday.

North Shore - the "true" Hawaii

Or so you read in the guide books and see on signs prominently posted at various points on that side of the island. Now it is certainly no more "true" a Hawaii than what we saw in Hilo, Maui or Kaua'i, but I can understand why residents of Oahu want to make sure a tourist gets beyond Honolulu and Waikiki beach to see their true version of this island paradise. We headed off in search of Turtle Bay, both a beach and now a famous resort, residing at the northern tip of the island. It takes about an hour to get there, and we passed the Dole Plantation and lots of pineapple country on the way. As Waikiki is on the southern side of the island, we basically took a highway (which turns from 6 lane bona fide to 2 lane coastline hugging) straight through the island. We had lunch there in a charming restaurant right on the beach, where you can choose from inside tables or those literally sitting on the sand. After an hour with the top down in the convertible, we opted for inside :)

My trusted Fodor's promised that the producers often used the 48 acre property of Turtle Bay to film scenes from Lost, especially beach and cove scenes. They also promised that further west on the island, if we opted to drive that far, we would come across a secluded beach, where we "might see no other living person for hours," that is also a favorite filming spot for beach scenes on Lost. While recognizing the beaches was a bonus, finding a secluded spot was a priority... so off we went. When we arrived, we found this spot is also a favorite of windsurfers, who happily rode the waves off the shore. Still, their presence hardly made us feel crowded. And within a minute of setting feet on sand, we saw evidence of the other selling point of Mokule'ia Beach - sea turtles are abundant here. They are enormous. And they swim and frolic right next to the small rocks (the non-selling point) that cover the shore. We must have seen 7 or 8 over the couple of hours we were there enjoying "all the joy of being stranded on a deserted island without the trauma of the plane crash." Honestly, how can anyone not appreciate Fodor's? :) After a faded rainbow in the distance offered a clue we should pack up and get out, we finally left the beach under a light shower of fresh rain and headed back to civilization aka the "fake" Hawaii.

Dinner was back in Honolulu at 12th Avenue Grill, which advertised "modern" Hawaiian food. Not sure what that is, but it sure was tasty. This morning (it's just after 6:00 now), I will wake the family and we will head off to Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona. Maddie, who just studied it this past year, and Dana are giddy with excitement. I'm a bit apprehensive, especially given that we can't walk into an elevator in this part of the island without being surrounded by Japanese. I'm ready to surrender already. Kidding, of course, but it is quite a phenomenon. Hmmmmm..... maybe that's what they mean when they say the North Shore is the "true" Hawaii. :) Until tomorrow. The photos are from Turtle Bay and our own secluded Mokule'ia (as well as one of the "county," as the North shore is known, we passed on the way home and of Maddie and Daniel passing the time in the back seat :)