Was it Waiahole that means, “to nourish with food, to nourish with love.” I’ve already forgotten. In two and half years Matthew has absorbed enough of Hawaiian culture, the history, the customs, and even bits of the native tongue, to be the perfect guide. And without exception the locals were disarmingly warm and friendly. Aloha is real.
We walked through the Royal Hawaiian, now surrounded by high rises, and out to the ocean. We took a group photo in front of the Don Hoh statue. Peggi sang “Hookilah” for us, one of her mom’s favorite songs. For my birthday we had oysters and French fries in the Sky Bar at sunset. Well, Matthew had the oysters. Peggi and I were a little squeamish.
In the morning, after coffee at Duke’s Place, Peggi and I walked along the canal that cuts through Waikiki. We walked one way the the first day and the other the next, covering the length and seeing quite a bit of the beautiful city.
We drove along the coast to the windward side of the island where we played in the surf, probably got too much sun, ate avocado sandwiches and drank lime seltzer. The following day we drove over the mountains and through a tunnel to the other side. Here in an isolated cove we sat under a rainbow umbrella, ate ahi poke and pickled onions that we purchased from a nearby shop. I bought a truckers hat in pink and orange that reads “Lei’d.” Peggi was telling Matthew and Louise about the snorkling sunburn I got in Cartagena. I tried to call up the photo but discovered we were off grid.
After dinner on our last night the four of us had a drink at the outdoor lounge in our hotel’s courtyard. The bartender recommended a local rum, something that tasted like scotch. We hatched a plan for the next visit. We’ll stay at Louise and Matthew’s place and they will stay at our place, the White Sands Hotel, a block away.
1 Comment
Jealous, come back. We miss you already.