I forgot to mention to thank my one loyal follower Michelle. She gave me a lot of tips to try and make this blog better. She is far better than I am at this new social media experiment.
Please check out her blog at: http://myshal.blogspot.com/
Friday 30 September 2011
Afterwurds
There are some things I didn’t write about. Like the two Japanese girls in the next room that kept disappearing inside when I would come out on my lanai to read. Since the young Japanese couple that took over the room after you did the same thing, I can only assume it’s a cultural thing and I hope in my ignorance I didn’t offend. Through the connecting door on the other side of the room there was a suite. When I first arrived there was a Japanese family in there and they were very quiet. Three days before I left the Real Housewives of The Hazzard County Trailer Park moved in. ‘Nuff said!
Tips
Art on the Fence is well worth a visit. It’s free and runs every Saturday and Sunday. The Army Museum is really easy to get to, it’s in Waikiki , just past the new and rather sterile looking Trump Hotel. Admission is free. One odd fact about the Museum, is the only reason the building it’s in still exists, is because of its construction. They tried to tear it down in the mid 1970’s but the demolition contractor gave up in disgust and amazement when he could hardly put a dent in it. The Arizona Memorial, the Missouri Memorial, and the Pacific Aviation Museum Aviation Museum
Hard Work
Vacations are hard work. Mentally, emotionally, intellectually, and physically they are all hard work.
If you doubt that think about your last vacation. Deciding when to go, where to go, how to get there, what to do there, and that’s before you even book anything. How much time did you spend thinking about it?
Once you decide there’s the prep work of going. Booking the trip, online or through an agent? Shopping for new bathing suits, travel clothes, books to read, or even security friendly cosmetics. Who’s looking after your stuff while you’re gone? Tired yet?
Then there’s the travel itself. Carrying bags! Small seats! Europe is a couple of days to travel and get your jet lag settled. Then there’s the constant travel to get from one place to the next. Or it could be Australia , New Zealand , China , Thailand , or Vietnam
That’s where the real hard work comes in, opening the mind and soul to the new things you get to see and hear and feel. Some people can do it without thinking, most can understand the concept, but then there’s the “Frank & Lola’s”. They travel but it’s always with the same things coming out of their mouths, “Not like this at home.” And I use the names not specifically to target any specific ethnic group. Frank & Lola are from everywhere, every country, every town, and every kind of background.
One of the reasons I choose to travel in my a la carte fashion is because I have been part of enough tour groups to know that Frank & Lola are lovely and well meaning people, but to me they are mentally and intellectually vexing. And I’m on vacation, and I don’t want to have to work that hard to be nice and adaptive.
This time out I chose Hawaii Hawaii
Every vacation is work. It has to be to try and forget the “stuff” we left behind at home. Be it physical stuff like cars and houses, stresses from bad workplaces, or bad relationships. Whatever the reason you go on vacation, there is that work you have to do. That’s the whole reason we go on vacation.
Along the way if we open our hearts and minds to try and understand all the great new “stuff” we see on vacation, we are no longer tourists, but travelers.
It’s been fun writing this blog. I’m taking a bit of a break to write the full turtle story, and some new fiction. Re-entry into my life is progressing, but it’s harder than I thought. Two weeks of essentially living small on the beach makes it a challenge to try and care about the minor crises some seem to think are important back here.
Special thanks to Justin and Dana and Kepe, and all the great people of Jimmy Buffett’s At The Beachcomber for keeping me fed and watered and always feeling welcome.
Mostly thanks to those of you who took the time read this blog. The traffic numbers showed a good number of people I didn’t know, in countries where nobody knows me, found it interesting enough to keep coming back
The next trip is still up in the air. Perhaps a trip to Leavenworth , Washington around Christmas, and I’m currently toying with Italy and Greece
Until next time, Aloha, Mahalo Nui Loa, and A Hui Hou Kakou.
Sunday 25 September 2011
Late Check Out, Homeless Again, The Army Museum, Killing Time, Killing More Time, Flying Home
I was determined to hold on to the room until the bitter end. Check out time was noon and I didn't want to take the chance that housekeeping might move in early if I left for breakfast. So I had breakfast brought to me. Two poached with sausage, sourdough toast, potatoes, orange juice, tea, and a bit of A-1 sauce on the side. I ate on the lanai, listening to the surf, enjoying the morning breeze. Room service breakfast is an extravagance, again,, but truth is I'm tired from an interesting night's sleep, and I'm not sure if I won't fall back asleep again.
This is not a day to be tired. It's my last day. After noon I have nowhere to stay until I need to leave for the airport at 5. I quickly type up the blog post for Thursday, but resizing the images takes a lot of time. There are a lot of images for Thursday an it takes almost 90 minutes to get it all done. Then it's shower, shave, pack, check, double and, triple check I have everything, and wonder aloud if the bag is overweight.
I check out, stunned at the final bill, and head off after leaving the bags with the Bell staff. It's just after noon.
With five hours to kill the only plan is a rough one. I'll return to the Army Museum at Fort De Russy to see how much time I can waste there. Spending a couple of hours in a museum you have been to before might seem difficult. This museum has some new displays since I was here two years ago, and even the ones I have seen before I see in a slightly different light. My visits to other area museums have fleshed out some of the stories told here. One would think that there were only a few ways to tell the Pearl Harbour story, but with displays in different museums I learn more context.
I re-visit the General Eric Shinseki exhibit. A local boy from Kauai who showed great leadership and community skills from an early age. After joining the Army and graduating from West Point, he was deployed to Vietnam, wounded three times, twice winning the Purple Heart. He lost half his foot to a land mine, and later, more serious injuries in a helicopter crash. Long a believer that effective leadership grows directly from superior communication skills, he set about using his skills to inspire and lead, rising eventually to the Chief Of Staff Of The Army, and currently the United States Secretary For Veteran Affairs. Some of his advice on effective communication and leadership are posted here.
I also visit The Hall Of Heroes, an area set aside for local soldiers who had earned the Distinguished Service Cross, and the Congressional Medal Of Honour.
After a couple of hours I leave and walk across to the Starbucks on Lewers Street. With a Passion Iced Tea (sweetened) and a fruit and cheese plate I sit outside and check e-mail and do some minor news surfing. Gosh knows why I do that on vacation. That frustrates me enough that I shut down my notebook and pull out a fiction book to read. Better writing, fewer factual errors.
After an hour of wasting away, I wander across to the Peter Lik gallery to check out his photos. I have heard of him but never really paid attention to his work. Justin mentioned how much he liked Lik's work so I thought I 'd check it out. Nicely composed, rich in color, diverse landscapes, and each one so technically perfect I wonder if there was any “photoshop” magic involved. I don't think it out of spite or indifference to his talent, but rather that the editing of photographs has become so “normal” that I find hard to trust a great image anymore. I started photography in film, when it was expensive, especially for a two bit operator like myself, to pay for processing. As a result you paid close attention to the very basics of aperture, shutter, film speed, and ways to get the shot right the first time. One of the new tenets of photography is to shoot everything, bracket the heck out of it, and hope you get something you can enhance in post. It's the same approach that is taken in TV News. Camera guy shoots everything all the different ways he can, and then the reporter tries to put them to words, all the while the editor complains about who shot this crap. I guess in my world, doing it right the first time saves everyone the work of fixing it. But that got me way off topic, which should have been that Peter Lik shoots great pictures.
From there I just wander around. Through the half occupied Waikiki Shopping Plaza where only about half the stores are open and there a lot of for lease signs are up. All over Waikiki there are a lot more For Lease signs up than two years ago. The night before I saw a news item about how the number of visits to the island are down overall, but daily spending is up. The spending however, does not seem to be in some the higher end stores.
I wander down Kalakua, through King Place Market, once home to my parent's favourite pub, the Rose And Crown but now just a memory since it closed in 1988. I wander through the narrow passages and check out some of the curio shops, all while trying to make my way through the large tents of a farmer's market that compresses the few people in the market into thinking it's crowded and busy.
I leave just to get out of the crush of people and pass a statue I don't recall having seen before.
Kuhio Avenue, another major street. I pass t-shirt places, happy hour restaurants, ABC stores, and even couple of places that call themselves “Gentleman Entertainment Parlors”, and purveyors of “Adult Entertainment”. Looking at the size of the lock on the gate guarding the closed front door, not many adults are in the mood for entertaining. It looks like it's been closed for a while.
Wondering where the pictures are? The batteries ran out in the camera, and I don't have spares, and I don't want to pay ABC Store prices for a set.
So by now it's approaching 5 and I need to pick up my bags to ride to the airport. I lost the tag the bell man gave me. I'm sure will show up when I unpack all the crap I seem to have picked up along the way. Fortunately the guys find my bags and I take it into a public bathroom in the hotel to change out of shorts and t-shirt in favour Cloudveil pants and a Tilley shirt, then grab a cab.
The cabbie has been around a while and we swap stories about how much Waikiki has changed. About the corporate architecture, and high end stores, and he's amazed that I remember the old Waikiki Theatre. It's Art Deco architecture had to be replaced by something in tasteless white concrete to create room for the Atlantis Steak and Seafood and California Pizza Grill.
I check in at the airport, the bag is four pounds over weight so I spend a few minutes shifting stuff into my carry on. I have bought so much stuff that I bought a cheap suitcase to put it all in. My” travel light” mantra has been lost under a pile of new shirts.
Security is a breeze though they scan my KEEN walking shoes twice, and they never say why. The guy on the scanner points out something on the screen to a colleague. For all I know he could have said “Let's see how the haole reacts to having his shoes scanned twice and see if he sweats?” Ya' never know, and I'm just saying that sometimes you need to have fun at work.
Waiting for the plane I see that the incoming plane is late by 20 minutes. Air Canada's on time record is apparently not a corporate priority on this run. Out departure is almost bang on, only a couple of minutes late.
I am seated next a young couple with a small baby. A lovely and quiet little thing with calm and cautious blue eyes. I feel good about this travelling next to this quiet, angelic child. The cabin staff ask if I would mind relocating across the aisle to where there are two empty seats. This is to aid the couple so that the baby can have a place to lie the baby down so it doesn't have to be held for the whole flight. No problem. Though when I first booked seats the two they ask me to sit in had been taken. Oh well, changing seats is my gain, and the baby sleeps through almost the whole flight.
Not so for the freakin' screamer twins one row back. With the exception of about an hour, where everybody caught a nap, these two cried, fussed loudly, whined, and screamed. It seemed the only way these two could communicate with other members of the human race was to use maximum lung power. And man, what a set of lungs these two had between them. I felt bad for the parent's as it seemed, judging by their resignation to the noise, that this was common behaviour for the kids.
Don't get me wrong, I love kids even though I'm not parent. I get that they make noise and fuss and have problems keeping still. I used to be one, and I have brothers that I used to fight with on car trips and airplanes, and I have enough friends with kids (some of whom I have known since they were colic prone), that by exposure alone I know that the things kids do are the things kids do. But this was over the top.
The beer was much needed, but sadly the only came around once. And I can say the roast beef wrap served up by the Onboard Cafe is OK.
Customs is almost a breeze. I have to declare a couple of paintings I bought, but are having shipped. Oh wait, I forgot to mention that I bought two pieces by Heather Brown. I think I mentioned they really caught me when I was in the Wyland Gallery. So I fill out the customs forms for follow on items, get signed off, and I'm out the door.
I'm really beat, so rather than take the subway, or a cab. I blow the last of the vacation cash and take a limo home, finally walking in the door around 7.
I fall into bed, leaving the laundry and unpacking for later.
Later in the day I have family to visit, a special celebration for my brother, and some groceries to get. And I check in to bring some plates up to speed in the twirling maze that is the everyday world where I live.
This is not a day to be tired. It's my last day. After noon I have nowhere to stay until I need to leave for the airport at 5. I quickly type up the blog post for Thursday, but resizing the images takes a lot of time. There are a lot of images for Thursday an it takes almost 90 minutes to get it all done. Then it's shower, shave, pack, check, double and, triple check I have everything, and wonder aloud if the bag is overweight.
I check out, stunned at the final bill, and head off after leaving the bags with the Bell staff. It's just after noon.
With five hours to kill the only plan is a rough one. I'll return to the Army Museum at Fort De Russy to see how much time I can waste there. Spending a couple of hours in a museum you have been to before might seem difficult. This museum has some new displays since I was here two years ago, and even the ones I have seen before I see in a slightly different light. My visits to other area museums have fleshed out some of the stories told here. One would think that there were only a few ways to tell the Pearl Harbour story, but with displays in different museums I learn more context.
I re-visit the General Eric Shinseki exhibit. A local boy from Kauai who showed great leadership and community skills from an early age. After joining the Army and graduating from West Point, he was deployed to Vietnam, wounded three times, twice winning the Purple Heart. He lost half his foot to a land mine, and later, more serious injuries in a helicopter crash. Long a believer that effective leadership grows directly from superior communication skills, he set about using his skills to inspire and lead, rising eventually to the Chief Of Staff Of The Army, and currently the United States Secretary For Veteran Affairs. Some of his advice on effective communication and leadership are posted here.
I also visit The Hall Of Heroes, an area set aside for local soldiers who had earned the Distinguished Service Cross, and the Congressional Medal Of Honour.
After a couple of hours I leave and walk across to the Starbucks on Lewers Street. With a Passion Iced Tea (sweetened) and a fruit and cheese plate I sit outside and check e-mail and do some minor news surfing. Gosh knows why I do that on vacation. That frustrates me enough that I shut down my notebook and pull out a fiction book to read. Better writing, fewer factual errors.
After an hour of wasting away, I wander across to the Peter Lik gallery to check out his photos. I have heard of him but never really paid attention to his work. Justin mentioned how much he liked Lik's work so I thought I 'd check it out. Nicely composed, rich in color, diverse landscapes, and each one so technically perfect I wonder if there was any “photoshop” magic involved. I don't think it out of spite or indifference to his talent, but rather that the editing of photographs has become so “normal” that I find hard to trust a great image anymore. I started photography in film, when it was expensive, especially for a two bit operator like myself, to pay for processing. As a result you paid close attention to the very basics of aperture, shutter, film speed, and ways to get the shot right the first time. One of the new tenets of photography is to shoot everything, bracket the heck out of it, and hope you get something you can enhance in post. It's the same approach that is taken in TV News. Camera guy shoots everything all the different ways he can, and then the reporter tries to put them to words, all the while the editor complains about who shot this crap. I guess in my world, doing it right the first time saves everyone the work of fixing it. But that got me way off topic, which should have been that Peter Lik shoots great pictures.
From there I just wander around. Through the half occupied Waikiki Shopping Plaza where only about half the stores are open and there a lot of for lease signs are up. All over Waikiki there are a lot more For Lease signs up than two years ago. The night before I saw a news item about how the number of visits to the island are down overall, but daily spending is up. The spending however, does not seem to be in some the higher end stores.
I wander down Kalakua, through King Place Market, once home to my parent's favourite pub, the Rose And Crown but now just a memory since it closed in 1988. I wander through the narrow passages and check out some of the curio shops, all while trying to make my way through the large tents of a farmer's market that compresses the few people in the market into thinking it's crowded and busy.
I leave just to get out of the crush of people and pass a statue I don't recall having seen before.
Kuhio Avenue, another major street. I pass t-shirt places, happy hour restaurants, ABC stores, and even couple of places that call themselves “Gentleman Entertainment Parlors”, and purveyors of “Adult Entertainment”. Looking at the size of the lock on the gate guarding the closed front door, not many adults are in the mood for entertaining. It looks like it's been closed for a while.
Wondering where the pictures are? The batteries ran out in the camera, and I don't have spares, and I don't want to pay ABC Store prices for a set.
So by now it's approaching 5 and I need to pick up my bags to ride to the airport. I lost the tag the bell man gave me. I'm sure will show up when I unpack all the crap I seem to have picked up along the way. Fortunately the guys find my bags and I take it into a public bathroom in the hotel to change out of shorts and t-shirt in favour Cloudveil pants and a Tilley shirt, then grab a cab.
The cabbie has been around a while and we swap stories about how much Waikiki has changed. About the corporate architecture, and high end stores, and he's amazed that I remember the old Waikiki Theatre. It's Art Deco architecture had to be replaced by something in tasteless white concrete to create room for the Atlantis Steak and Seafood and California Pizza Grill.
I check in at the airport, the bag is four pounds over weight so I spend a few minutes shifting stuff into my carry on. I have bought so much stuff that I bought a cheap suitcase to put it all in. My” travel light” mantra has been lost under a pile of new shirts.
Security is a breeze though they scan my KEEN walking shoes twice, and they never say why. The guy on the scanner points out something on the screen to a colleague. For all I know he could have said “Let's see how the haole reacts to having his shoes scanned twice and see if he sweats?” Ya' never know, and I'm just saying that sometimes you need to have fun at work.
Waiting for the plane I see that the incoming plane is late by 20 minutes. Air Canada's on time record is apparently not a corporate priority on this run. Out departure is almost bang on, only a couple of minutes late.
I am seated next a young couple with a small baby. A lovely and quiet little thing with calm and cautious blue eyes. I feel good about this travelling next to this quiet, angelic child. The cabin staff ask if I would mind relocating across the aisle to where there are two empty seats. This is to aid the couple so that the baby can have a place to lie the baby down so it doesn't have to be held for the whole flight. No problem. Though when I first booked seats the two they ask me to sit in had been taken. Oh well, changing seats is my gain, and the baby sleeps through almost the whole flight.
Not so for the freakin' screamer twins one row back. With the exception of about an hour, where everybody caught a nap, these two cried, fussed loudly, whined, and screamed. It seemed the only way these two could communicate with other members of the human race was to use maximum lung power. And man, what a set of lungs these two had between them. I felt bad for the parent's as it seemed, judging by their resignation to the noise, that this was common behaviour for the kids.
Don't get me wrong, I love kids even though I'm not parent. I get that they make noise and fuss and have problems keeping still. I used to be one, and I have brothers that I used to fight with on car trips and airplanes, and I have enough friends with kids (some of whom I have known since they were colic prone), that by exposure alone I know that the things kids do are the things kids do. But this was over the top.
The beer was much needed, but sadly the only came around once. And I can say the roast beef wrap served up by the Onboard Cafe is OK.
Customs is almost a breeze. I have to declare a couple of paintings I bought, but are having shipped. Oh wait, I forgot to mention that I bought two pieces by Heather Brown. I think I mentioned they really caught me when I was in the Wyland Gallery. So I fill out the customs forms for follow on items, get signed off, and I'm out the door.
I'm really beat, so rather than take the subway, or a cab. I blow the last of the vacation cash and take a limo home, finally walking in the door around 7.
I fall into bed, leaving the laundry and unpacking for later.
Later in the day I have family to visit, a special celebration for my brother, and some groceries to get. And I check in to bring some plates up to speed in the twirling maze that is the everyday world where I live.
Saturday 24 September 2011
Update is coming - I Promise!
An Update is coming. Re-entry to the world has been busy, and the overnight flight was a nightmare (you'll love/hate or relate to the story) so I am physically thoroughly exhausted, and mentally fatigued and unfocused. There are a lot of plates I need to twirl in the next couple of days but I am hoping the last day of the trip will be posted tomorrow, Sept 25.
Friday 23 September 2011
Breakfast On The Veranda, Naval Ship, Beachwalk, Surfer Art, A Turtle Story Breakthrough, Last Roast, Last Sunset, Last Landsharks
I started my day with breakfast on The Veranda. Standard enough food fare but the view was great. Actually the food was pretty good, but when you compare food eaten with a great view I always find my ability to describe the food to be muted. To get to contemplate them both is inevitably expensive.
In my room I struggle with that day's blog post. Mostly because it's hard to write about nothing.
Later I head out to walk along the beach. I am low on inspiration, and story ideas. I put on my AquaSox because I plan to walk in the water, and get caught in a few waves. It's almost like the surprise you felt as a child when you feel that the perceived strength of the wave is stronger than you imagined it would be.
I walk west along the beach keeping an eye on the aircraft carrier sitting off the coast. When I see it realize when I was here two years ago there always a warship patrolling of the beach, and that this time there isn't one.
I come off the beach a few hotels up and stroll into the Wyland Gallery on Lewers Street. I had been meaning to stop by and wander through. Wyland is the artist who is most publicly noted for painting Whaling Walls on large buildings. He also is a painter who's works on sea life are quite sought after. In the gallery I am introduced to the work of a fairly new artist, Heather Brown. Her surf inspired art is bold in colour, and whimsical in it's portrayal of human form. I spend almost 45 minutes staring at assorted pieces. You can take a look at her art here: http://heatherbrownart.com/
Tearing myself away I take my time, ambling along back to the beach, contemplating the colours in the art and how they somehow manage to capture the way I felt when I was up on the North Shore.
Returning to the beach I slip and slide my characteristaclly uncoordinated way through the sand back towards my hotel.
At the surf break on the border of the Sheraton Waikiki and the Royal Hawaiian a crowd is forming. One of my turtle friends has decided to put in a close up show for the humans by playing inthe water close to the concrete surf break. And suddenly inspiration strikes and the final element of the turtle story falls into place.
Not having had lunch I think I might stop and get something at the beach bar, but it's full, so I return to my room, sit in the sun on the lanai, roast, and roast, and finish off the last of the beer in the fridge. Around 4 I take a long nap, waking in time to shower off the slimy remnants of sun screen and get down to the beach for my final sunset of this trip. This never get's old.
Then it's back to the room through a crowd that have stopped to listen to a guy playing steel drums. Unfortunately there is a guy 20 feet away playing a ukelele and singing through an amplifier. Shaking my head at the cacophonous confusion of musical styles, I continue on my way to do some packing, sit on the lanai, and cherish the last of my opportunities to think about nothing, for a very long time.
In my room I struggle with that day's blog post. Mostly because it's hard to write about nothing.
Later I head out to walk along the beach. I am low on inspiration, and story ideas. I put on my AquaSox because I plan to walk in the water, and get caught in a few waves. It's almost like the surprise you felt as a child when you feel that the perceived strength of the wave is stronger than you imagined it would be.
I walk west along the beach keeping an eye on the aircraft carrier sitting off the coast. When I see it realize when I was here two years ago there always a warship patrolling of the beach, and that this time there isn't one.
I come off the beach a few hotels up and stroll into the Wyland Gallery on Lewers Street. I had been meaning to stop by and wander through. Wyland is the artist who is most publicly noted for painting Whaling Walls on large buildings. He also is a painter who's works on sea life are quite sought after. In the gallery I am introduced to the work of a fairly new artist, Heather Brown. Her surf inspired art is bold in colour, and whimsical in it's portrayal of human form. I spend almost 45 minutes staring at assorted pieces. You can take a look at her art here: http://heatherbrownart.com/
Tearing myself away I take my time, ambling along back to the beach, contemplating the colours in the art and how they somehow manage to capture the way I felt when I was up on the North Shore.
Returning to the beach I slip and slide my characteristaclly uncoordinated way through the sand back towards my hotel.
Not having had lunch I think I might stop and get something at the beach bar, but it's full, so I return to my room, sit in the sun on the lanai, roast, and roast, and finish off the last of the beer in the fridge. Around 4 I take a long nap, waking in time to shower off the slimy remnants of sun screen and get down to the beach for my final sunset of this trip. This never get's old.
After the sun slides the last of it's golden light in the Pacific, I drop the big camera in my room, and head out for my last Landsharks of the trip. I am lucky, my favoured child of the universe status still intact, both Dana and Justin are working. I was hoping to see them one last time to say good bye, and thank them for helping make this the best Hawaiian trip yet.
After a meal of ribs in Guava BBQ sauce with a side of garlic mashed potatoes, and of course a few Landsharks its' time to go. Well OK, maybe one last picture of Justin and Dana.
Thursday 22 September 2011
Worst Blog Post Yet, Molasses Time Passes, Massage, Roasting Me, Nap, Prime Rib Dinner
I slept late. I felt quite slow and logy all day. Didn't do anything except read, and stare at the water. Staring at the water has become habit forming. Time passes like molasses and I dread the withdrawal when I leave.
That was how I spent the morning. I didn't go out for breakfast, or even a cup of tea. I locked myself in the room in a vacuum of thought. A Travel Somebody who's advice I Frequently follow said you should always be prepared to take a day off during your vacation. Learning and experiencing new and different things can overwhelm the senses and you should be prepared to take some down time. So I did.It just happened to be the morning of my massage. I had a wonderful deep tissue massage in the hotel's Moana Lani Spa. Yes, I pampered myself, just as with the Afternoon Tea the day before I left with a tremendous sense of relaxation and comfort.
In anticipation of another long, grey, and chilly Pacific Northwest winter. I spend the latter half of the day roasting in the sun, building up credits in my Vitamin D account. Slathered in sun block. But it turns out I might have missed a couple of small spots. Let's just say I now have some interesting gradations in my tan.
A long nap seemed called for as the afternoon wore on so around four o'clock I napped for a while.
I awoke ravenously hungry. Remembering I had eaten nothing all day I went and stood on the lanai trying to find some inspiration for a hearty dinner. I thought of Tony Roma's a few blocks up on Kalakaua but the last time I was there two years ago it had desperately needed a makeover, so I put that thought on the back burner. I thought and then quickly discarded the Atlantis Steak and Seafood place a block over. I swore never to return there after the last pathetic meal I had. And then I look down and realize I am right next door to the Outrigger Waikiki and another Waikiki dining institution, Chuck's Steakhouse.
So throw on some long pants and head over there for a wonderful beachfront dinner. With views of Diamond Head and the ocean to interest me I demolish a 12 oz, melt in your mouth slab of medium rare Prime Rib, a large baked potato with the works, a green salad and two bottles of Kona Longboard. I just barely make my way through it, and I sit there nursing my second beer because I'm not sure there's room for it.
The sun sets, I digest slowly both the marvelous food, and the beautiful sunset, feel the soft touch of the breeze, and suffer through another moment of vacation magic.
Not quite ready to turn in I leave Chucks and walk across the street for a couple of Landsharks, then head home to sleep.
Wednesday 21 September 2011
Late Breakfast, Lousy Internet Connection, Afternoon Tea, Tranquility, Roasting, Beer, Lava Lava Shrimp, More TV
I have slept well, and quite late. I stop by the Moana Lani Spa on the second floor to book a massage appointment for the next day. It is almost ten when I leave the hotel to find breakfast. A few blocks up the street I find Cheeseburger In Paradise, a close relative of the Cheeseburger Beachwalk over next to the other hotel. The food's the same, the waitress is friendly and smiles a lot, the kitsch on the walls is slightly different, and I enjoy the poached eggs and Portuguese sausage.
Walking back to the hotel to slave away on yesterday's post I pass yet another wedding party.
Oh Gosh!! Please make it stop already!! They are all the same. Every bride is breathtakingly beautiful and poised in flawless white dresses, and every groom looks nervous and frightened in a gray morning suit. They are like the movie Groundhog Day, the basics never change. What happened to matching Hawaiian shirts, while barefoot on the beach at sunset in front of the official of your choice? Sorry, my age is showing.
Back in my room I call for reservations for Afternoon Tea on The Veranda, and I struggle with a problematic internet connection. I'm being kind here and using diplomatic language. It keeps kicking me out in the middle of composing e-mail and I lose everything. Finally I compose outside of my e-mail and cut and paste usually just in time to get kicked out again. I'll spare you the creative use of verbal skills using language my elders would not approve of.
I take an hour or so to write up the blog post, and generally just wasting time. My reservations are for 2:15 and at the appointed time present myself to the desk, and am quickly escorted to a table by the rail of The Veranda.
I have never had a formal tea before, and looking at the other guests and how they are dressed I take a moment to congratulate myself on changing into long pants. This is not a shorts kind of place.
The tables linens are crisp and the silverware is real silver. At least I think it is I don't have a lot of experience with such things.
In fact the only reason I decided to do this, is because I have never done it, though I have always wanted to. One more bucket list thing scratched off.
Eugene, my waiter, brings me a tray of seven dry teas to view and smell. Of them all I choose the Veranda Blend. It has an aroma of vanilla and it seems to fit with the feel of the air and, sea, and sun.
The Veranda is located by the hotel's beach bar. The sea breeze flows gently through the area and I am getting more relaxed.
Eugene brings the brewed tea and pours the first cup. I am very taken with it. It is soft, gentle, and flavourful in way that is non cloying and suggests the hope of a long, quiet afternoon.
As I savour the tea and scenery, Eugene arrives with the first course. A mushroom soup that is flavourful and robust. I take my time, trying very hard to mind my best table manners. I'm actually trying hard to find my best table manners as they were taught to me. Please understand, it's been a while since I needed them. Most of my dining is casual, and living alone can lead to a degradation in the more genteel requirements of our society.
The soup is followed by a three tier service of sandwiches, raisin scone, and tarts and cakes. The sandwiches are small, delicate and flavourful. The egg salad and smoked salmon was my favourite. White bread, crusts cut off, nicely flavoured egg salad on top of a delicately slice of smoked salmon. The roast beef with watercress and a light horseradish was a very close second. I would have taken a picture but I was totally engrossed in the moment.
The raisin scone was still warm. The choice of butter or Devonshire cream was easy. The Devonshire cream of course. The pastries and cakes were all fabulous. I don't eat a lot of cake and pastry but these were worth the exception. Throughout the whole parade of deliciousness, the tea kept pouring. The flavours were all complimentary to the tea, but none were so close to heaven as the lemon grass sorbet that finished the dining. It was sheer smoothness with a light airy movement that melted on your tongue without any effort at all.
I sat in the chair, shaded from the sun, watching the sea and the people playing in it, the distant sounds of the surf and other diners, and I felt a moment of supreme personal tranquillity. For that moment, in this place, everything in my world was good and well, and at peace.
I paid the bill and retired to my room to sit on the lanai, watch the water, roast in the sun, read and enjoy what had just happened.
Around 5:30 I roused myself to action. I wasn't really hungry for dinner, the marvellous food experience of the afternoon was still far to fresh to contemplate anything heavy. Feeling a bit at odds with what to do I walked over to my favourite out of town bar and considered my options over a couple of Landsharks. Around 6:30 I order something different, Lava Lava Shrimp. Large shrimp dipped in crispy batter, deep fried then tossed in aioli sauce and served over Romaine lettuce. It's quite good but also heavier than I thought.
I have one last Landshark, nearly spilling the darn thing. I was squeezing the lime wedge when I lost my grip and the wedge torpedoes the beer causing a small mess on the bar top. I clean it up and Dana is curious at the small pile of napkins when she comes by again. I explain, she laughs, I feel silly, and uncoordinated, again.
Retiring to my room for the final time today, I watch the season premieres of NCIS and NCIS Los Angeles, and nod off easy.
Tuesday 20 September 2011
Hurry Up And Be Homeless, Should Have Done The Research, An Afternoon Of Eating Too Much, A New Hotel, 2 Broke Girls, Hawaii 5-0
I had to check out of the Sheraton Waikiki. No they didn`t throw me out for the all night parties, it was simply they ran out of room for me. A few weeks back when I booked my trip I was only going to be here until the 19th. Then a much loved friend had some words with me about why didn`t I stay longer. Actually she used some stronger words implying my mental capacity was somewhat limited, but she was totally right as she often is when it comes to my world. So I rebooked the flight home for a week later and then tried to extend the hotel stay. The hotel was full. They had nothing in what I wanted. No more room at the inn. So I found a semi oceanfront room down the street at the Moana Surfrider.
Now the Moana Surfrider is the Grandest of Grand Dames hotels here. It`s the oldest hotel on Waikiki, first opening it`s doors in 1901. For those of you who are math deficient that`s a seriously long time ago in hotel years. It`s also expensive.
But I digress. After pounding out yesterdays post I threw everything in my bags and departed. I left the bags with the Bell Desk and wandered off to find something to do for four hours. I figured to waste an hour at Starbucks reading, then walk the two blocks to the Army Museum at Fort DeRussy and stick my head in there for a couple of hours and then grab a beer, and then check into the new place.
The Starbucks thing I pulled off flawlessly. No problems at all. Feeling all full of tea and good reading I made my to the Museum. It was closed. Big sign on the door is quite clear that it`s closed Sunday and Monday. Dang it! If I had only done my research. Rather than stand there and cry, an activity sure to raise suspicions as to my mental state, I decided to do a full tour of the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Centre. This place is huge. I may not have given you the true scale of the place but it`s three stories high and two blocks long. There are all kinds of stores in there. A Harley Davidson store where you can buy all sorts of branded merchandise, a shop that sells nothing but baseball caps, Bob`s Ukulele shop where I saw a lot of handcrafted ukuleles with some going for over $600! There are fashion outlets, most of them high end, some not so high end souvenir stores (one of which had all kinds of law enforcement and emergency services badges and handcuffs), a quilt shop, the food court where I often eat breakfast, and well you get the idea. It`s big and open air so you are in and out of air conditioning so it`s quite comfortable. I spent some time in Tricked Out Accessories looking at i-phone cases. The guys in there were lot of fun to talk to and really knew their products. It`s always a pleasure to talk with friendly and knowledgeable people.
So after an hour of wandering through there I have had enough. I head across the street to Buffett`s for a beer and some lunch. Justin is again behind the bar and we talk waves and beaches, and travel (it`s the stuff you don`t plan that`s the most memorable), and I eat a great cheeseburger with onion rings,a dn drink more beer. I also get the chance meet Kepe. He`s a manager now. Two years ago when I first discovered this bar he was the first person that served me. His friendly banter and laughter inspired me to return over and over again on my last trip. Kepe asks if I want to try some new chicken wings they are thinking of putting on the menu. Even though I had just eaten what he described to me sounded great, so I downed a plate of them. I really hope they put them on the menu because they were another memorable experience. As I ate the wings I was reminded of how it`s the people that make you want to return to a place. You could have the best food in the world (a shout out here for Waimea Wings) but the human element makes the product better, and truly memorable. And that`s the way it`s been for me and Buffett`s. Kepe and the two Mike`s on my last trip, Justin, Dana, Keone, and Kepe this trip. It`s a very special talent to make a stranger feel at home, and these folks have it.
Feeling bloated and sleepy, I walk slowly back to the Sheraton to pick up my bags to walk them down the street to the Moana Surfrider. When I get to the room the first thing I do is take a picture of the new view because I know how much you all are going to want to see it.
I lay down to take a nap but sleep won't come so I read for a while until I nod off. That much food and beer can really have a effect on a person and I don`t even think of going out for dinner. Instead I walk across Kalakaua Avenue to an ABC store for beer, and some milk for tea, to stock up the room fridge.
It`s going to be a TV night. The season premiere of Hawaii 5-0 is on and I`ve been looking forward to this all summer. Before it comes on the series premiere of a new show call 2 Broke Girls comes on and I find myself laughing out loud at it`s humour. So it`s a night of beer, and laughs, and 5-0 and good sleep.
Monday 19 September 2011
A Slow Morning, A Competent Slayer Of Paper, A Walk Through Waikiki, A Slow Night Without Stars
I took it slow through the morning. Reading and a couple of cups of Awake tea on the lanai. I was saving my energy for the afternoon. My plan was to get over to Art On The Fence. It's a weekly showing of art by local artists. They hang it on the fence surrounding the zoo at the east end of Waikiki. It happens every Saturday and Sunday, rain or shine. There is always a broad array of styles and materials and content and on previous visits I have come away with a different and wider appreciation of creativity different from my own.
But it's not to be. I spend too long at the Royal Hawaiian Shooting Gallery. Located on the fourth floor of the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Centre, the gallery offers you a variety of firearm experiences, short of actually being shot yourself. I have come here for some research into the practical use of firearms. The last time I had any shooting experience was back in the mid '80s and a lot newer technology is being used. I am looking for information, and a shooting experience so that I have some knowledge and experience to draw on while writing about such things.
I have left this part of my research until mid trip because I want to let some time pass between shooting and having to go through airport scanners. I want to make sure any gunpowder residue is well and truly washed off. Kurt signs me up to shoot with a Glock 9mm, a Beretta 92 9mm, a Heckler and Koch .45 carbine rifle, a Colt Model 1911-A1 classic .45 automatic, an two revolvers one in .357 Magnum and one in .44 Magnum. We have a nice discussion on differences in gun laws between Canada and the US, and about the domestic wildlife differences we face between my hometown (bears, deer, raccoons, coyotes, etc) and Honolulu (wild boar in the hills). George takes me through a safety course and teaches me shooting stance, hand placement in different style grips, and other safety issues. We also talk a lot about cameras. He really likes my Olympus PEN EL-P2. On the range Bryan makes sure I have ear and eye protection in place, and I discover a small problem. I have difficulty lining up the sights on some of the guns because of my progressive lens eyeglass prescription. My eyesight is not so bad however to notice a number of bullet holes in the ceilings just above the shooting stations. Bryan explains that some people have had accidents cocking triggers while their fingers are still on triggers. My shooting skill is just average which is what I expect after many years without practice. However, just like so many years ago I still possess enough skill and talent to put enough bullets into paper targets to kill them. Overall I am unlikely to ever have the need to kill, wound, or maim pieces of paper, but if the need does arise I have great self confidence that I shall be able to acquit myself proudly.
Research done I find it's now well after 3. I have been in the shooting range for over 2 hours. I have missed my window to see Art On The Fence for this trip, so I just wander down Kalakaua Avenue. I stare in shop windows, ignoring the Ferrari store, the handbag shops, and dress shops. These all carry the kind of brand names and brand prices that would easily suck up most peoples monthly mortgage payments if they chose to buy anything. I ignore them like I ignore reality TV. I do stop in the lobby of the Moana Surfrider. I want to check on my reservation. Because I extended my trip after booking the Sheraton Waikiki, they were unable to accommodate my request to stay an extra week, so I'm moving a block over to the oldest, yet grandest hotel in Waikiki.More on this hotel in coming posts, and be prepared to see some great pictures.
Pleased that my reservation is intact I press on.
Just past the Surfrider is where the open spaces of the beach begin. Surfboard rentals, instructers, small shaded areas all vie for space.
There is a smell of sea air, warm sand, and suntanning products in the air. Just past the Police Substation is the statue of Duke Kohanamoku, Hawaii's first Ambassador of Aloha. Surfing great, movie actor in 20's and 30's, and Sheriff of Honolulu from 1934 to 1960. So they built a welcoming statue to celebrate his life and spirit.
I walk all the way to the end of the beach, take one last shot, and head back on the other side of the street.
The other side of the street has fewer high end shops. Instead there are 5 for $20 t-shirt places, along with Burger King, ABC Stores, more cheap t-shirt joints, and the International Marketplace. The International Marketplace has turned into a cluster of a lot of cheap t-shirt places, a lot of tacky jewelery places, some dodgy looking fortune teller places, and buried in the back, more t-shirt and jewelery places. I thought I saw a temporary tattoo place but I couldn't swear to it. There used to be a bar upstairs where my parents used to go, but it's closed and has a For Lease sign on it. I leave the market without one smidgen of regret and go to drown my expectations at Buffett's At the Beachcomber. I figure that since it's Sunday in America there has to be a football game on TV. And when there is a football game on TV the Landsharks are a reduced price, and so are the Waimea wings. Being a savvy consumer how could I possibly refuse such a deal?
On the way out I stop at the Margartiville store downstairs to get some t-shirts and a couple of Jake Shimabukuro CD's including his latest one Peace, Love, Ukulele. Believe me it's better than it might sound.
By the time I get back to my room sunset is over and in the dying light I see a lot of cloud cover where the sun usually goes down. I wonder if I missed a good one or a bad one.
I settle down in the dark with a gin and tonic and can't see any stars. The clouds are still there, so I sit and think of nothing at all until bedtime. And I'm happy to do so.
But it's not to be. I spend too long at the Royal Hawaiian Shooting Gallery. Located on the fourth floor of the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Centre, the gallery offers you a variety of firearm experiences, short of actually being shot yourself. I have come here for some research into the practical use of firearms. The last time I had any shooting experience was back in the mid '80s and a lot newer technology is being used. I am looking for information, and a shooting experience so that I have some knowledge and experience to draw on while writing about such things.
I have left this part of my research until mid trip because I want to let some time pass between shooting and having to go through airport scanners. I want to make sure any gunpowder residue is well and truly washed off. Kurt signs me up to shoot with a Glock 9mm, a Beretta 92 9mm, a Heckler and Koch .45 carbine rifle, a Colt Model 1911-A1 classic .45 automatic, an two revolvers one in .357 Magnum and one in .44 Magnum. We have a nice discussion on differences in gun laws between Canada and the US, and about the domestic wildlife differences we face between my hometown (bears, deer, raccoons, coyotes, etc) and Honolulu (wild boar in the hills). George takes me through a safety course and teaches me shooting stance, hand placement in different style grips, and other safety issues. We also talk a lot about cameras. He really likes my Olympus PEN EL-P2. On the range Bryan makes sure I have ear and eye protection in place, and I discover a small problem. I have difficulty lining up the sights on some of the guns because of my progressive lens eyeglass prescription. My eyesight is not so bad however to notice a number of bullet holes in the ceilings just above the shooting stations. Bryan explains that some people have had accidents cocking triggers while their fingers are still on triggers. My shooting skill is just average which is what I expect after many years without practice. However, just like so many years ago I still possess enough skill and talent to put enough bullets into paper targets to kill them. Overall I am unlikely to ever have the need to kill, wound, or maim pieces of paper, but if the need does arise I have great self confidence that I shall be able to acquit myself proudly.
Research done I find it's now well after 3. I have been in the shooting range for over 2 hours. I have missed my window to see Art On The Fence for this trip, so I just wander down Kalakaua Avenue. I stare in shop windows, ignoring the Ferrari store, the handbag shops, and dress shops. These all carry the kind of brand names and brand prices that would easily suck up most peoples monthly mortgage payments if they chose to buy anything. I ignore them like I ignore reality TV. I do stop in the lobby of the Moana Surfrider. I want to check on my reservation. Because I extended my trip after booking the Sheraton Waikiki, they were unable to accommodate my request to stay an extra week, so I'm moving a block over to the oldest, yet grandest hotel in Waikiki.More on this hotel in coming posts, and be prepared to see some great pictures.
Pleased that my reservation is intact I press on.
Just past the Surfrider is where the open spaces of the beach begin. Surfboard rentals, instructers, small shaded areas all vie for space.
On the way out I stop at the Margartiville store downstairs to get some t-shirts and a couple of Jake Shimabukuro CD's including his latest one Peace, Love, Ukulele. Believe me it's better than it might sound.
By the time I get back to my room sunset is over and in the dying light I see a lot of cloud cover where the sun usually goes down. I wonder if I missed a good one or a bad one.
I settle down in the dark with a gin and tonic and can't see any stars. The clouds are still there, so I sit and think of nothing at all until bedtime. And I'm happy to do so.
Sunday 18 September 2011
Beachwalk Breakfast, Nothing All Day, Cook It Yourself Dinner, A Walk Along The Beach, Ice Cream, A Really Fun Movie
Another sunny sunrise. It's getting monotonous. NOT!!!!
Breakfast is once again at the Cheeseburger Beachwalk around the corner from the hotel. It's up one level in the almost Waikiki Beachwalk development.
As I mentioned they do a decent breakfast. Eggs, bacon, or sausage, toast etc, for around $10. That's essentially half what I would pay at the hotel in far less fun surroundings. The food is decent though they have a habit of overcooking the hash browns. This morning I try the Portugese sausage with my poached eggs, and it's spiced just right.
While I eat I admire the surroundings. I enjoy places like this because of a visual cornucopia of items that can keep you occupied while eating.
And did I mention the grass skirts on all the staff members?
A big thanks to Joe for posing for me. As I walked back to the hotel it started to rain. Not hard but enough that I need to change shirts when I get back to the room. The rain here is warm, you can walk upright in it, and be content in knowing it's not going to last long. Not like at home where if it starts to rain you never know when it's going to stop. Could be days, or weeks, or in the darkest of winter it could be a month or so.
I spend the rest of the day reading, drinking Kona Longboards, and napping. I totally ignore lunch in favour of the large dinner I know I'm going to have at The Shore Bird.
Located beachside in the Outrigger Reef Hotel (formerly known many years ago as the Cinerama Reef Hotel), the Shore Bird is unique in that whatever you order meat wise you have to cook it yourself. It also has an all you can eat salad bar. The decor doesn't appear to have changed since I was last here in 1991. The beachside ambiance and view make it one of the best places to eat.
So I sit down, have a nice beer, order a 3/4 pound New York steak with a fully loaded baked potato and hit the salad bar while waiting for the meat to be delivered to my table. I'm most of the way through my salad when it arrives and I head over to the communal grill to give it 6 1/2 minutes each side to get it done medium.
It's all I can do to finish the steak, the baked potato (which is about half again the size of your average softball), and the salad. I have a second beer, and feel so bloated I can barely stand. A large group of locals are having a family get together at some nearby tables and it's fun to watch. They chat, try to maneuver seats so that favorites can sit next to favourites, and there's even a kid's table with grandpa there to watch over them, sternly but with love and humour in his eye. For me it's always a reinforcement of life to see families having fun in large groups. It's one of those universal human behaviours that convinces me that no matter where I go, we are all the same. I watch them for a while and then try and stand. It's an effort, so I decide to get some exercise and walk back to my hotel along the beach.
Another great sunset is coming and there always people on the beach to watch.
I slowly stroll along, stopping every so often to listen to the surf and the soft wind, and to take some shots of Diamond Head and the beach.
I decide since I have totally blown my diet this week that I'm going to indulge in something I rarely eat, Chocolate Ice Cream. In a marketing no-brainer there is a Baskin Robbins in the hotel right next to the kids pool. I get a single scoop to go and take it up to my room to watch the last of the sunset.
I order up another movie. Believe me it's cheaper to order it in the room that it is to go to a theater. The nearest one is a couple of miles away at Ward Centre. By the time you add up transport (even if it's The Bus), the entry ticket, popcorn and a drink you're over $20. The hotel movies are delivered on demand, in HD, and for a cost that's between $4.99 and $18.
Tonight's feature is Larry Crowne with Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts. It's fun, and I even find myself laughing out loud at some of the lines. After the movie it's straight to sleep, and a straight through night's sleep it is.
Breakfast is once again at the Cheeseburger Beachwalk around the corner from the hotel. It's up one level in the almost Waikiki Beachwalk development.
While I eat I admire the surroundings. I enjoy places like this because of a visual cornucopia of items that can keep you occupied while eating.
I spend the rest of the day reading, drinking Kona Longboards, and napping. I totally ignore lunch in favour of the large dinner I know I'm going to have at The Shore Bird.
Located beachside in the Outrigger Reef Hotel (formerly known many years ago as the Cinerama Reef Hotel), the Shore Bird is unique in that whatever you order meat wise you have to cook it yourself. It also has an all you can eat salad bar. The decor doesn't appear to have changed since I was last here in 1991. The beachside ambiance and view make it one of the best places to eat.
Another great sunset is coming and there always people on the beach to watch.
I order up another movie. Believe me it's cheaper to order it in the room that it is to go to a theater. The nearest one is a couple of miles away at Ward Centre. By the time you add up transport (even if it's The Bus), the entry ticket, popcorn and a drink you're over $20. The hotel movies are delivered on demand, in HD, and for a cost that's between $4.99 and $18.
Tonight's feature is Larry Crowne with Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts. It's fun, and I even find myself laughing out loud at some of the lines. After the movie it's straight to sleep, and a straight through night's sleep it is.
Saturday 17 September 2011
A Low Key Day, Dialogue Problems, More Wings, Visiting A Bar Planning To Kill A Fictional Someone, Hanna, Night Thoughts
I took a really low key day. I wanted it slow and easy, a day to just read and drink, and stare, with a side of intellectual freedom.
I took breakfast to go in the form of a bacon, cheese, and egg scramble croissant from the Paradise Cafe located in the Pa'ina Lanai food court of the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Centre. I prefer their breakfast burrito but I was looking for a change.
I ate on my room lanai with a cup of Awake tea from my room stash. After breakfast I churn out the Pacific Aviation Museum post and then retire to the lanai to finish a book. I'm behind in my reading.
Around 12:30 I need a change of scenery so I head over to Buffet's At the Beachcomber for Waimea wings and a couple of Landsharks. On the way I pass a mini-van with this sticker in the window.
I have to admit I've never seen one like this before. A lot of negative ones, and even some outright nasty ones, but never one so positive and upbeat, and frankly so suspicious looking. Almost as if the public outing of affection is some kind of atonement for a sin either real or imagined. My pessimistic side is coming out again.
I figure it's safe to start drinking because it's 5:30 in Kansas City. The server, Dana, never seems to leave the place but her enthusiasm for work and fun chats always leaves you smiling. I get to drink great beer and we chat about my home. I explain about the weather phenomenon we call "The Pineapple Express". She's never heard of it, and I can't blame her. After all who cares where the weather goes after it leaves your neighbourhood? For those of you who have never heard of it, "The Pineapple Express" starts in November just north of the Hawaiian Islands, and the the jet stream points the warm and wet cloud masses straight to the Pacific Northwest. It's how we manage such mild winters compared to the rest of Canada and the northern United States. So after an hour or so I wander back to my room for a nap. I pass that mini-van again but on the opposite side I see this sticker.
I figure either the feeling at the heart of these stickers is mutual, which I substantially and wholeheartedly applaud, or the sin that brought it about is mutual, in which case I can only feel a bit confused. Maybe my subconscious will sort it out during my nap.
After my lengthy nap I head back out to the lanai to stare at the water and to work out some dialogue issues with the turtle story. My friends the turtles are of no help today, for despite sitting out for over two hours I don't see any of them. Just one of those unspoken parts of life that comes along every so often, that when you really need a certain friend to help they aren't there. I never do fully solve the dialogue problem.
Instead I turn my attention to another fictional problem I am encountering in another story. How to kill someone at the bar out by the pool and get away without being stopped. Notice I said stopped not caught, for that's a plot device that happens much later in the story.
There is only one way to realistically sort this out so I wander down to The Edge bar with my notebook at hand.
Bellying up to the bar (substantial bellying in my case), I sit down and contemplate surroundings, opportunity, natural cover, potential avenues of access/egress, potential for noise cover, and a hundred other things.
As I take notes I shoot some pictures, stare at the sunset, drink a couple of Kauai Golden Ales, and slurp down a juicy and messy Fire Grilled BBQ Burger. In the end I figure this location has too many limitations, even in a fictional world, for what I need. Oh well, there are few more beachfront bars to investigate over the next few days.
Around 7 I head back to the room to give my brain a vacation. I pop open a Kona Longboard and order up a movie on the hotel PPV. I choose "Hanna", a movie about a 16 year old trained to be an assassin by her father, and their trials and tribulations going after the people who forced them into exile in the wooded wilderness of northern Finland. I enjoy the movie a lot. It has a full European cinematic tone and flavour, the music is beautifully interwoven with the sound effects, and the range of color saturation varies with the location and intent of the scene. Most of all the story holds together to make it seem not real, but implausibly plausible. In other words, great fiction.
I wake up around 3:30 to the quiet surf and the hum of the refrigerator. The surf has hit a resonant pitch in my sleeping mind and has provoked a memory of the beginning of a Jimmy Buffet song called The Coast Of Marseilles**. Opening with a soft slow surf, and the quiet musing of a mouth organ he sings,
"I sat there on the coast of Marseilles, My thoughts came by like wind through my hand..."
And after rolling through the lyrics a few times in my head, and a lot of other random thoughts falling through into the mental cracks, I fall back to sleep like a baby. The sound of the surf is unchanged, and unapologetic for the substantially slight disturbance.
** Note: lyrics used without permission. I hope he'll forgive me but I only have one follower, and about a dozen unidentified viewers/readers. Besides, head on over to i-Tunes and download the full song, or as I would suggest, with great gusto, to download the entire Son Of A Son Of A Sailor album. It has been one of my favourite albums since I first heard it in late 1978.
I took breakfast to go in the form of a bacon, cheese, and egg scramble croissant from the Paradise Cafe located in the Pa'ina Lanai food court of the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Centre. I prefer their breakfast burrito but I was looking for a change.
Around 12:30 I need a change of scenery so I head over to Buffet's At the Beachcomber for Waimea wings and a couple of Landsharks. On the way I pass a mini-van with this sticker in the window.
I figure it's safe to start drinking because it's 5:30 in Kansas City. The server, Dana, never seems to leave the place but her enthusiasm for work and fun chats always leaves you smiling. I get to drink great beer and we chat about my home. I explain about the weather phenomenon we call "The Pineapple Express". She's never heard of it, and I can't blame her. After all who cares where the weather goes after it leaves your neighbourhood? For those of you who have never heard of it, "The Pineapple Express" starts in November just north of the Hawaiian Islands, and the the jet stream points the warm and wet cloud masses straight to the Pacific Northwest. It's how we manage such mild winters compared to the rest of Canada and the northern United States. So after an hour or so I wander back to my room for a nap. I pass that mini-van again but on the opposite side I see this sticker.
After my lengthy nap I head back out to the lanai to stare at the water and to work out some dialogue issues with the turtle story. My friends the turtles are of no help today, for despite sitting out for over two hours I don't see any of them. Just one of those unspoken parts of life that comes along every so often, that when you really need a certain friend to help they aren't there. I never do fully solve the dialogue problem.
Instead I turn my attention to another fictional problem I am encountering in another story. How to kill someone at the bar out by the pool and get away without being stopped. Notice I said stopped not caught, for that's a plot device that happens much later in the story.
There is only one way to realistically sort this out so I wander down to The Edge bar with my notebook at hand.
Around 7 I head back to the room to give my brain a vacation. I pop open a Kona Longboard and order up a movie on the hotel PPV. I choose "Hanna", a movie about a 16 year old trained to be an assassin by her father, and their trials and tribulations going after the people who forced them into exile in the wooded wilderness of northern Finland. I enjoy the movie a lot. It has a full European cinematic tone and flavour, the music is beautifully interwoven with the sound effects, and the range of color saturation varies with the location and intent of the scene. Most of all the story holds together to make it seem not real, but implausibly plausible. In other words, great fiction.
I wake up around 3:30 to the quiet surf and the hum of the refrigerator. The surf has hit a resonant pitch in my sleeping mind and has provoked a memory of the beginning of a Jimmy Buffet song called The Coast Of Marseilles**. Opening with a soft slow surf, and the quiet musing of a mouth organ he sings,
"I sat there on the coast of Marseilles, My thoughts came by like wind through my hand..."
And after rolling through the lyrics a few times in my head, and a lot of other random thoughts falling through into the mental cracks, I fall back to sleep like a baby. The sound of the surf is unchanged, and unapologetic for the substantially slight disturbance.
** Note: lyrics used without permission. I hope he'll forgive me but I only have one follower, and about a dozen unidentified viewers/readers. Besides, head on over to i-Tunes and download the full song, or as I would suggest, with great gusto, to download the entire Son Of A Son Of A Sailor album. It has been one of my favourite albums since I first heard it in late 1978.
Friday 16 September 2011
Running Late, Pacific Aviation Museum, Pearl Harbor, Car Rentals, Dinner, Happy LSU Fans, Sunset
A couple of housekeeping notes. The interface I blog with keeps autosaving and sometimes the full words don't appear as I'm typing them. I proof read and spellcheck twice before posting but some mistakes are still getting past me. For that I apologize becasue it annoys me too. The other thing is if you want to see any of the pictures in a larger format, just click on them and a new window will open in your browser. To keep the image file sizes small I have had to make some sacrifices for quality. I apologize but this site is image rich and I don't want to take the chance of running out of space.
I'm running late. But you already knew that because I told you yesterday as I was rushing out the door.
I grabbed Venti Awake tea from Starbucks next to the hotel parking garage. I really craved a chocolate croissant but they didn't have any so I settled for a protein plate. Hard boiled egg, small scone, grapes, a small piece of cheese, and some apple slices. Healthy, wholesome, filling. I catch a break on the freeway as the traffic is light as air and I'm pulling into the Pearl Harbour Historic Sites parking lot just shy of 9:30 The parking lot opens just before 7 as the first trip to the Arizona Memorial is around 7, but my destination of the Pacific Aviation Museum doesn't open until 9. My firmly held belief in karma, serendipity, and my status as a favoured child of the universe is confirmed once more when I find a parking spot right outside the main entry.
After buying my ticket I am given the most unusual directions I have ever received when I am told to "turn right at the missiles" to catch my shuttle bus. Sure enough two versions of the Polaris ICBM are standing there marking the way. I was a bit shocked to find how small they are, especially when I thought about the size of the bang they were supposed to make when they got to their targets.
During the shuttle bus ride over to Ford Island there is a narration tape about different things we pass including a brief description of the attack on Pearl Harbour. Parts of the recording are in English and Japanese and some parts just in English. The parts about the mountain ranges to the north and the geologic formations and the warning to not take pictures of anything on the Naval Base until you are told it's OK are bilingual. The parts about the December 7, 1941 attack are in English only.
After a stop to disgorge passengers at the USS Missouri the bus proceeds to the Aviation Museum. The bus pulls up, the driver waves to someone at the museum entrance and begins to pull away. I say" This is my stop" and he apologises saying he didn't see me.
Through the entrance and showing my ticket I walk into Hanger 37, the main display hanger. A warehouse sized area with full size diorama exhibits highlighting the Second World War Pacific Theatre.
From a diorama of a Mitsubishi Zero on a Japanese carrier deck to a Guadalcanal landing strip.
There is a B-25 Mitchell of the type used by Colonel Jimmy Doolittle on his daring raid to bomb Tokyo only 5 months after the Pearl Harbor Attack. While it did no significant damage it was massive morale boost for America, and a shameful experience for the Japanese military who had boasted that no American planes could reach Tokyo.
The B25 on display has two autographs on the front landing gear door. These signatures belong to two surviving airman from the raid.
In another diorama you get see and F4F Wildcat in a scene depicting an airfield on Guadalcanal.
A Douglas SBD Dauntless Dive Bomber, a P-40E Warhawk, an Aeronca Model 65TC, and a Boeing Stearman N2S-3 round out the aircraft exhibits. The Aeronca plane is significant as there a few of them up and flying during the Pearl Harbor attack, and even though they were clearly civilian planes many of them were shot down anyway.
There a few flight simulators where for an additional charge you can take advantage of a more detailed version of Combat Flight Simulator to visualise yourself actually flying and fighting.
Next door to Hanger 37 is Hanger 79. The windows in the hanger doors still bear scars of the Pearl Harbor raid, There are bullet holes in the windows.
This quite large display area hosts a greater number of aircraft of varying types. A nose section with flight deck and radar/bombardier lower work areas of a B-52, a Space Shuttle basic training demonstrator are fun to see.
A Convair F102A Delta Dagger is here. I have seen one of these before at the Evergreen Aviation Museum in Oregon. The information at the front of the plane here though is a bit shy on mentioning the breakthrough that the Delta Dagger was at the time. It was the first true integrated weapon platform. The avionics, radar, missiles and onboard computer were a complete weapon. Though a bit crude by today's integrated standards, fifty five years ago this plane was truly the state of the art.
An F-14 Tomcat, and F-15 Eagle represent the generation of aircraft just past. Those are the airframes designed and built from the end of the 1960's through to the 1980's. The F-14 has been retired from Navy service and it's multi mission role has been taken over by the F-18 Hornet and it's variants.
I am pleased to see a Curtis P-40E Kittyhawk. These planes were used by Claire Chennault and his American Volunteer Group, otherwise known as the Flying Tigers, to help China fight off the Japanese onslaught in 1940/1941. If anyone remembers the 1970's TV show Black Sheep Squadron, Marine Corps Major Greg "Pappy" Boyington was with the Flying Tigers in China until the Pearl Harbor raid when he rejoined the Marines to fight in the South Pacific.
This particular plane however holds special interest to me. It was originally in service with Royal Canadian Air Force as a trainer, then sold, and even was a flying extra in the movie Tora, Tora, Tora. The planes was eventually sold to the owner of the cargo airline Flying Tigers who had it restored and painted to it's original 1941 Flying Tigers scheme. It is still a fully functioning and flyable aircraft. The horizontals on the rear have the signatures of some of the remaining Flying Tiger veterans who signed the plane during a reunion in 1981.
The back one third of Hanger 79 is the restoration shop where craftsmen work to rebuild and restore aircraft. Currently under repair are a T38 Lightning, an F-4 Phantom, and some Cessna Skymasters.
Along the right side of the hanger are a Sikorsky H-3 Sea King, a Sikorsky SH 60, an Bell AH-1 Cobra Attack Helicopter, and a venerable Bell UH-1 or Huey.
Hanging over head on the right side as you enter are a Korean War era Mig 15 an North American F-86 Sabre.
It's well after 12: 30 when I catch the shuttle back to the Visitor's Centre at the main gate. I wander through the missiles and torpedoes to look at the outside of the USS Bowfin, a WW2 era submarine exhibit.
I stand and look at the memorial plaques. One for each of the 52 United States submarines lost during World War 2, and each plaque bears the names of the crews who are now "On Eternal Patrol". It is a tasteful memorial, and a sombre experience to walk through.
I wander over to a large anchor on a concrete base and discover it's the anchor from the USS Arizona. The USS Arizona lies just across the way, where she was sunk along with several other battleships on December 7, 1941 with a tremendous loss of life, many of her sailors still entombed in the sunken ship.
In the picture you can see the Arizona Memorial to the left of the anchor, and the USS Missouri Museum at the left edge of frame.
With a new appreciation of the struggle and triumph in the Pacific Theatre I leave for the drive back to Waikiki. I turn in the rental Malibu and head to Buffet's At The Beachcomber for that American dietary staple, a fabulous cheeseburger with great onion rings. The onion rings are made from real onions, not those thin and spindly ones, but thick rings and nicely battered, but they aren't the A&W Onion Rings I love at home either. There is a football game on the TV's between LSU and MISS, whoever they are, but the only reason I mention it because a small group of female LSU fans (wearing team colors and all) are across from me at the bar having a great time supporting their team. LSU wins, and with these fans I'm surprised they would ever lose.
After a few Landsharks and some grins at the LSU fans, I head home just in time for another gorgeous sunset, some time with the stars, and a good night's sleep.
I'm running late. But you already knew that because I told you yesterday as I was rushing out the door.
I grabbed Venti Awake tea from Starbucks next to the hotel parking garage. I really craved a chocolate croissant but they didn't have any so I settled for a protein plate. Hard boiled egg, small scone, grapes, a small piece of cheese, and some apple slices. Healthy, wholesome, filling. I catch a break on the freeway as the traffic is light as air and I'm pulling into the Pearl Harbour Historic Sites parking lot just shy of 9:30 The parking lot opens just before 7 as the first trip to the Arizona Memorial is around 7, but my destination of the Pacific Aviation Museum doesn't open until 9. My firmly held belief in karma, serendipity, and my status as a favoured child of the universe is confirmed once more when I find a parking spot right outside the main entry.
After a stop to disgorge passengers at the USS Missouri the bus proceeds to the Aviation Museum. The bus pulls up, the driver waves to someone at the museum entrance and begins to pull away. I say" This is my stop" and he apologises saying he didn't see me.
From a diorama of a Mitsubishi Zero on a Japanese carrier deck to a Guadalcanal landing strip.
There a few flight simulators where for an additional charge you can take advantage of a more detailed version of Combat Flight Simulator to visualise yourself actually flying and fighting.
Next door to Hanger 37 is Hanger 79. The windows in the hanger doors still bear scars of the Pearl Harbor raid, There are bullet holes in the windows.
A Convair F102A Delta Dagger is here. I have seen one of these before at the Evergreen Aviation Museum in Oregon. The information at the front of the plane here though is a bit shy on mentioning the breakthrough that the Delta Dagger was at the time. It was the first true integrated weapon platform. The avionics, radar, missiles and onboard computer were a complete weapon. Though a bit crude by today's integrated standards, fifty five years ago this plane was truly the state of the art.
I am pleased to see a Curtis P-40E Kittyhawk. These planes were used by Claire Chennault and his American Volunteer Group, otherwise known as the Flying Tigers, to help China fight off the Japanese onslaught in 1940/1941. If anyone remembers the 1970's TV show Black Sheep Squadron, Marine Corps Major Greg "Pappy" Boyington was with the Flying Tigers in China until the Pearl Harbor raid when he rejoined the Marines to fight in the South Pacific.
Along the right side of the hanger are a Sikorsky H-3 Sea King, a Sikorsky SH 60, an Bell AH-1 Cobra Attack Helicopter, and a venerable Bell UH-1 or Huey.
Hanging over head on the right side as you enter are a Korean War era Mig 15 an North American F-86 Sabre.
It's well after 12: 30 when I catch the shuttle back to the Visitor's Centre at the main gate. I wander through the missiles and torpedoes to look at the outside of the USS Bowfin, a WW2 era submarine exhibit.
I wander over to a large anchor on a concrete base and discover it's the anchor from the USS Arizona. The USS Arizona lies just across the way, where she was sunk along with several other battleships on December 7, 1941 with a tremendous loss of life, many of her sailors still entombed in the sunken ship.
With a new appreciation of the struggle and triumph in the Pacific Theatre I leave for the drive back to Waikiki. I turn in the rental Malibu and head to Buffet's At The Beachcomber for that American dietary staple, a fabulous cheeseburger with great onion rings. The onion rings are made from real onions, not those thin and spindly ones, but thick rings and nicely battered, but they aren't the A&W Onion Rings I love at home either. There is a football game on the TV's between LSU and MISS, whoever they are, but the only reason I mention it because a small group of female LSU fans (wearing team colors and all) are across from me at the bar having a great time supporting their team. LSU wins, and with these fans I'm surprised they would ever lose.
After a few Landsharks and some grins at the LSU fans, I head home just in time for another gorgeous sunset, some time with the stars, and a good night's sleep.
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