Hawaii Day 5/6

Friday, April 20, 2007/Saturday, April 21, 2007

Last day. Bummer.

Fortunately, early rising and a 1: 00 flight allow me some time to say my goodbyes to Oahu. I get up and get all my stuff packed and ready before heading out to breakfast. As this is the end of my trip and my cash has quickly evaporated, I head back to Keo’s for breakfast. Once done, I take a last leisurely stroll back to Queen Kapiolani’s garden to get the shots I missed earlier.

On the way back to the hotel, I walk back along the beach. There are two women entering the water just after their on-shore surfing lesson. The instructor is standing on the beach giving them instruction while they’re busy shivering and shouting that the water is too cold. They must be new on the island.

As I try to capture some water as a souvenir, I realize that this would have been easier yesterday when I was in shorts. The Hawaiian surf catches up to me and before I know it, I’m in cold water up to mid -calf. So much for wearing my Nikes to the airport.

Back at the hotel, I strip off the soaking wet sneaks and socks, pack them away, and don a new pair of shoes. I check out and get the car. This time, I know exactly where I’m going so the trip doesn’t take very long. I return the car, take the shuttle back to the airport, and go through check-in at United’s outdoor counter. The attendant looks a little flummoxed by the giant Hawaiian ganja I seem to be carrying. I tell her that it’s a walking stick that I’ll probably have to check it. She agrees and places it in a big plastic bag, along with my bamboo roll, and begins the arduous task of taping it up.

While she’s busy, another attendant comes over and checks all my boarding passes. “Back to Atlanta, huh?” I grunt a response. “You seem really happy about that.” Another grunt. I’m really not looking forward to that long series of flights. I don’t want to leave Oahu with so much unseen and I’m not particularly looking forward to returning to Atlanta. I’m in a bad way all around.

The trip from Oahu is noticeably quieter than the trip up. No games about reaching the mid-point to the mainland although the entire flight crew is based in Oahu so they still say ‘Aloha’ and ‘Mahalo.’ I don’t even attempt to sleep, just listen to music and read my novel. About an hour before we land, I start to get really antsy. Uh oh. I remember this. I had a similar feeling 3 years ago when I flew from O’Hare to LAX. That time, as my blood pressure dropped into the toilet, I stood up to go to the bathroom and fainted before I ever got there. This time I know better. I stay in my seat, drink some water, and hunch over as much as I can in the cramped area. A few deep breaths and the strange sensation passes. Whew. There is no way I am ever exiting another United flight in a wheelchair. Once was more than enough and I don’t want to get a bad rep with the airline.

Since United, once again, doesn’t serve any food, I get a quick meal at O’Hare before boarding the next flight. I settle into my window seat, quietly hoping that the other seat in the two-seat row will remain empty so I can stretch my legs. No such luck. But … it’s not all bad.

This is Chad. He sat next to me and instead of just nodding or smiling like most people do when seated next to a total stranger on a plane, he introduces himself and we shake hands. I immediately pick up on an accent and ask him if I had heard correctly. Turns out that I had – he’s from the small town of Perth in Australia and this is his first trip to the states (and the Western Hemisphere). He’d just taken a 7 hour flight from Australia to Malaysia and then an 18 hour flight from Kuala Lumpur to LA and yet he’s still quite chipper and polite. And excited. He’s practically bouncing up and down when the plane takes off (he loves anything that goes fast and had brought along a couple of motor-cross magazines). He looks like a cute little Aussie bunny – just like the ones in those hair care commercials. (Okay, technically that animal is a kangaroo but those are just really big bunnies to Australians.)

Yes, ladies, he is young, firm, and fully packed … and, of course, he’s winging his way to his woman who attends Notre Dame. It’s rare that I’m attracted to anyone so it stands to reason that he would be gay, married or ready to wed his girlfriend and bring her back to Australia as soon as she graduates in May. He shows me a picture of a young Panamanian woman frolicking in the surf – pretty, blond, thin, yadda yadda yadda.

We chat for a while before the movie comes on (The Holiday – an okay movie but not exactly the rom-com it claims to be considering that it wasn’t really that funny). I want to ask him some more questions but don’t want to grill an unavailable man, especially after I find out his age. He mentions, as we’re about to land, that the little bottle of Jack Daniels he’d bought had really put him to sleep. He doesn’t want me to tell anyone that he’s not quite 21 yet and this was only the second time he had engaged in underage drinking. Yes, at a mere 20 years of age the boy is 16 years my junior. God, I feel old. It sucks that I’ve become Mrs. Robinson when I never got a chance to be her daughter.

I hesitated before asking for this picture but hell, I’ll never see the kid again and it’s not often that I meet a young Aussie hottie. As you can see, he was more than obliging. He also managed to put a smile on my face for the rest of the morning even as we went our separate ways. Thanks, Chad.

(I know it’s pathetic that this little nothing of an encounter is the most exciting thing to happen between me and a man in, oh, forever. But look at that picture. Can you really blame me for doing a little fantasy cradle-robbing? Sigh.)

The flight to Atlanta is pretty uneventful though I finally get to stretch out a little. There is an empty seat between me and another guy (no chit-chat with this one – he’s busy talking to his boys who all live in Atlanta). Onto MARTA and back to the POS.

I’m glad, as always, to come home and find my house still standing. And I haven’t been robbed. Cool. The cats and my plants survived the week and I have the whole weekend to re-acclimate before the coming work week. The first thing I want to do is load the pictures from the digital into the computer. I open the front pocket on my suitcase … and loudly curse. The batteries have fallen out of the camera. I don’t have a memory card so when the batteries are taken out – you guessed it. All the pictures are lost. I am still mad. How is it that the camera survived the trip to Hawaii, survived me carrying it around for the first two days of my trip and then crap out just when I’m ready to download the pictures? It’s just a good thing I always carry backup cameras or I’d still be cursing.

My second nasty surprise comes when I open the main part of the suitcase. I had noticed that the camera pocket had some lotion in it and I couldn’t understand why. Now I know. I’d put the lotion bottle in the mesh pocket inside the suitcase and the top had come off. There’s Lubriderm here, there, pretty much everywhere. Fortunately, the big towel that I always carry to the beach had been draped over the clothes so at least they were clean. Towel needs to be laundered but that’s the least of my concerns. I clean up what I could then say screw it. I’m more concerned about the two disposable cameras which are also covered in lotion. I dash out to get the pictures developed and am incredibly relieved to find the film intact. So, instead of my whole stash, I’d lost only 40 pictures of rainbows and Chinatown, beach shots and balcony views. No matter. I’ll just have to go back and take some more.

Well, that’s pretty much it. To go along with my tropical tan, my allergies have come back in full force. The itchy eyes and congestion made me realize that even with all the flowers and trees in Hawaii I wasn’t allergic to any of it. After only a week of wearing makeup and being trapped indoors, my chin immediately broke out in zits. Oh yeah. Good to be home again.

It all just makes me want to get back on the road again. A little bit of travel always makes me want more. Before I even left for Hawaii, I had the thought of going to Florida. My friend Craig had sent me a DVD he’d recorded about Hawaiian hotels when I was planning the trip. The DVD also had specials on Cabo and Florida on it. One of the Florida hotels was a Disney owned Animal Kingdom deal where, if you have the right room, you can view wild animals on the property’s man-made Serengeti right from your balcony. It’s pricey -- $289 for a room that faces the animals but I honestly think it would be worth it. For one night, that is. I was thinking of going in August but that depends on a lot of other factors. Like I wrote on the first day of this travel log, change is brewing. I’m not sure where I’ll be in August or if my money will be earmarked for something else -- relocation, perhaps? Time will tell. 2007 has already proven to be a very interesting year.

Hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my latest adventure as much as I’ve enjoyed reliving it. Aloha and mahalo!

Hawaii Day 3

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

I’m trying to do a quick breakfast this morning since Chinatown is on today’s schedule. The guidebook suggested getting out there pretty early to avoid the worst of the crowds and the growing heat. I leave the hotel on foot to find out that once again, it’s raining. I pop into ABC to buy an outrageously expensive umbrella then it’s over to McDonalds.

One of the first things I notice is that there is an Asian choice even on this menu, more fish and rice. They even offer chopsticks. The trashcans, instead of saying Thank You like they do here, say Mahalo. I like that. I don’t particularly like the prices but you have to consider that everything is imported to the islands and that costs money. I grab my meal to go and take it across the street to one of the covered sitting areas that overlook the beach. Everything is still wet so I eat while standing up. The table next to me is full of natives listening to a radio playing island music. They’re singing along and talking when one of them points out to the water. Now there’s something good that came from the rain. A gorgeous rainbow is arcing right over the ocean. I’m grinning like the tourist that I am. That right there is how you do breakfast.

As an added bonus, I realized after I’d finished my biscuit that the bag was still heavy. I looked into it and discovered a plastic container full of pineapple. I didn’t notice the sign at the time but every meal from McDonald’s comes with this very Hawaiian fruit as a treat.

Breakfast finished, I walk back to the hotel and get the car. I’d mapped out the route before hand so I only get slightly turned around before I find my way. Chinatown is spread over several streets that are teaming with tourists and natives alike. There are a lot of food stores, restaurants, and souvenir shops. The array of meats and vegetables sold in the markets is bewildering. I don’t recognize half of the stuff and I’m a little scared of some of the raw forms of the stuff I do recognize. And I’m still not sure why anyone but a vampire would need pig’s blood.

I had two main souvenir goals in coming to Chinatown; a nice pair of chopsticks and a carved walking stick. The chopsticks were easy. One of the first shops I stopped in carried a boxed set of 2 pairs of sticks made out of jade as well as some cheaper wooden ones in nice carrying sacks. The shop, like most in Chinatown, was full to capacity with everything from wooden carvings and teapots to samurai swords and decorative fans. No walking sticks though. The search continues.

There are tours through Chinatown but I prefer to just walk. It’s a bit strange to be head and shoulders taller than everyone on the sidewalk but it does make navigating easier. I wander into a couple of seriously well-stocked bead shops. Again, pearls are cheap and plentiful and I can’t resist buying some. Don’t know what I’ll do with them (I’m not even beading much lately) but at least I’ll have them.

While Chinatown is infinitely interesting, it’s also quite tiring. I’d been walking for a while, realized I couldn’t find the dim sum restaurant I wanted to visit, and I’m getting really tired. I make a lazy loop on the outskirts of Chinatown and find that it borders a finger lake with gorgeous purple flowers growing on the banks. I rest a while then start thinking about heading back.

Dude, where’s my car? I could have sworn it was by a main street but I swear that this doesn’t look familiar. My left foot is starting to hurt. Still I trudge up one street and down another, getting my hopes up any time I spot one of a number of parking lots. But no luck. I look on longingly every time The Bus comes by, knowing that I could just hop one and be back on Waikiki beach in a manner of minutes. I could just tell Dollar to go pick up their own car. I’m sure they know Chinatown a lot better than I do. Ohhhh, I’m starting to get whiney.

Oh look. There’s Legend Seafood, the place where I wanted to have lunch. See? It never fails. When you look for stuff you can’t find it. Get lost and suddenly everything is right in front of you. I cross the street and stop for lunch.

I really need to eat out more. I’ve always wanted to try dim sum and this place is supposed to have the best on the island. This is not a tourist trap. The many tables covered with white tablecloths are mostly filled with Japanese natives. There is a huge sparkly chandelier in the middle of the room and several waitresses pushing carts of covered bowls and plates. The hostess takes me to a seat and sets out some water and tea. Thanks to my visit to England, I’ve developed a taste for tea. This stuff is pretty good even without sugar. A woman comes over and offers stuff from her cart. I have absolutely no idea what’s she’s talking about or what I’m about to eat but I take one item and refuse the rest. She marks my little scorecard and moves onto the next table.

There were no forks on the table and since I wanted the full experience, I decided to take my chances with the chopsticks. I am very proud to say that I didn’t starve to death and I managed not to flip food on myself or others. Pretty cool, huh? (It didn’t hurt that the dumplings were about the size of a small bagel – if I had had rice, I really would have starved.)

I think one of the women from the next table can tell I’m clueless (was it my color that tipped her off?). She points out the menu and tells me to be on the lookout for the carts that have the items I want. I know I don’t want the chicken feet (I’m not that adventurous) but I do have the chicken puff thingies (3 on a plate), the shrimp dumplings (3) and the happy beef something (they look like ground beef rolled up lasagna-style). The chicken thing was good but the shrimp thing was covered in this scary cellophane-like material that felt like clammy skin on my tongue. Ewww. The beef stuff was okay only there was way too much of it.

With only half the food eaten, I’m very stuffed. That’s another thing I noticed while in Hawaii; I didn’t have much of an appetite. Oh, I’d eat to keep from passing out but it wouldn’t take much to fill me up. I sit at the table with a dazed look on my face and sigh at the thought of trying to find the car again.

I finally get up, take my little score card to the cashier, and pay the cheap bill. Back outside, it’s up one street and down the other for at least another half hour. Okay. Now I’m starting to get annoyed. Why didn’t I pay more attention to where I parked? Haven’t I already been down this street? Where is it leading me? Turns out the street I happened upon let out onto the side of Chinatown that faces the docks. I kept following it and sure enough there’s the parking lot. Deep sigh of relief. I’d honestly had thoughts of forever wandering Oahu Chinatown – I’d die of exhaustion and end up as the legendary ghostly traveler, just another story to add color to Chinatown’s history. Did I mention that I was tired? And loopy?

I was never so happy to see a gray Corolla in my life! I paid the outrageously high bill and high-tailed it back to Waikiki. I ditched the car, changed clothes, and headed straight for the beach. After laying out my mat, water and book, I went for a little dip.

There’s a part of the ocean that is blocked off by a retaining wall so that the water remains relatively calm. There are only a few baby waves and it only gets to be about 5 ½ feet deep. Nothing can make the water any warmer though. I wade out for maybe a half hour or so before heading back to the beach to lay out.

This is just what Waikiki encourages you to do: absolutely nothing. Sure, there are plenty of sights to see, lots of shopping and tours to take. But there is nothing to compare with just chilling out on the beach. I lay there reading my book in no hurry to do anything else. When it started to rain, I pulled my towel over me and when it stopped raining I took the towel off. It’s just that easy.

After maybe an hour or two, I decided to get up and take a walk around. I followed the shore in the opposite direction from the main hotels. There is a resort on the water and some kind of preserve. Or maybe that was part of the aquarium. The aquarium itself is a small building that’s almost directly across the street from the Honolulu Zoo. Since Kalakaua in this direction becomes Diamond Head Road, I decided to follow it. It’d be nice if I could get an idea of how far it is to the start of the trail.

(Long story short – I couldn’t)

On the way back, I stop at a gorgeous spot marked as Queen Kapiolani’s Garden. I’m snapping shots when my digital camera decides it is finished. I had no idea how many photos it held but I certainly thought it was more than 40. Oh well. At least I know where the park is so I can go back.

Back at the hotel, I do a little exploring and find the resort’s 2 pools on the 3rd floor. Hoping against hope that the nearly deserted pools are heated, I dip a toe in one. Nope. Just as cold as the ocean. I lay out anyway until I realize that the third floor is just as windy as the twelfth. I go back to the room to change.

When I get back onto Kalakaua, I see that the tiki torches are already lit. Darn. This is supposed to be a big ceremony according to one of my free mags and I missed it. A man dressed in native attire runs down the street with a big torch and lights all the torches along the street. Maybe I can check it out tomorrow.


Waikiki is even busier at night than in the day. On the beach, I can see a crowd of people gathered around a bandstand. There are musicians and dancers entertaining the crowd with Hawaiian music. I catch a bit of the show then keep on walking.

On the other side of the street, I notice a man standing on the sidewalk. He was noticeable because he was dressed in a gold suit with gold paint on his face and hands. A gold top hat was on his head and a gold umbrella was in his hand. Even the cup he’d set out for tips was gold. It reminded me of the blue man I’d spotted in Covent Garden in London. Striking, but it didn’t compel me to give him any money. I shook my head and kept walking.

I wander past hotels that have their own entertainment at night. That’s one thing you really note in Waikiki – there’s always music playing somewhere. Whether above me on the balcony of a hotel or on ground level around the pools, something’s always going on. I had every intention of going out dancing – it’s something I missed out on when I was in Europe. But whether it’s the time difference, the atmosphere or the fact that I’d been walking all day but I have absolutely no energy left to do much but find a meal and sit down. There is a Wolfgang Puck restaurant near my hotel. I order a pizza to go and take it back to the room. I can’t sit on the balcony because of the wind so I just sit by the open balcony door and eat while watching the lights of the city.

Hawaii Day 2

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Not surprisingly, I’m up early today. 5:00 am to be exact. It’s still dark outside so I don’t get up right away. I do some channel-surfing and find that most of the familiar basic cable channels are there. Hawaii, despite being 3 hours behind, seems to be on Cali time as far as national programming (I can tell from the TNT shows). There’s a tourist channel and channel that mirrors it only in Japanese (that was strange at first but I’d find out later that it’s just standard practice in HI). The same Asian hostess is on both channels talking about local restaurants, a big swap-meet on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays and a bunch of other local activities. I showered and dressed, knowing instinctively what my first stop would be. Need you ask?

As I leave the hotel, I take a closer look at the lobby. It is, like most buildings in HI, half open-air. The main desk is right beside the entrance which is just a big open space (there is no door). There’s a restaurant, a couple of tourist info booths in addition to the concierge’s desk, and a gift shop. I look but sail right past these things on the way out the door. Taking a left, I pass an ABC Store. They sell the basic convenience store stuff along with souvenirs. Later. Water’s calling. I cross Kalakaua with other early risers and right in front of me … the lovely Pacific Ocean. How I’ve missed it.

There are statues and fountains along the sidewalk with benches scattered here and there. Nearly parallel with Paokalani is a pedestrian pier that extends into the water. There are a couple of fishers (there are plenty of colorful fish in the water below), more tourists, and even a woman on the beach doing yoga. Sunbathers are few at this hour but there are some people in the water. I can also see stands of surf-boards and a bunch of other hotels that are right on the beach, including the W Hotel which really stands out because it’s painted pink.
Before I allow the lure of the water to suck me in, I decide to get the lay of the land. Waikiki is a big walking city. It’s pretty much designed to make everything easily accessible to the hotels so that tourists don’t have to look far for anything. This is the only way I can explain how every other store is yet another ABC Store. You can literally be walking out of one and see the next one right down the street. I was to learn later that there are 37 in the Waikiki area and each one is a little different in design and the products they carry. Talk about market saturation!

Most of the stores are closed this time of the day but while walking down Kalakaua, which is the main drag, I suddenly feel a strange sense of déjà vu. Now I get it. Champs Elysees from two years ago. The street is lined with high-end fashion and jewelry stores; Fendi, Coach, Tiffany, Bulgari, you name it and it’s here. Waikiki, it turns out, is just Paris with palm trees. But, since I find myself with no more money now than I had then, these stores might as well stay closed all day. They’re not getting any of my grip.

Some of the restaurants along the street also have familiar names: Cheesecake Factory, Burger King, McDonalds. Planet Hollywood (one of the few left standing) has a really cool dolphin fountain in front of it. Some of the buildings are free standing while others are parts of bigger buildings or add-ons to hotels.

Since the higher end hotels are located directly on the beach, there are more than a few limos everywhere. You can even hire them on the street in front of the hotel like taxis. For the rest of us peons there are buses that will take you pretty much anywhere you want to go. The major transit system is simply called The Bus and travels all over the island. The tourist TV channel said that most attractions will arrange transport from any hotel in Waikiki. Very convenient considering that some of the sights are pretty far away and parking at any hotel will cost you (valet at my hotel was $15 a day in advance).

I was sort of looking for Duke’s, a highly recommended restaurant for breakfast. But since I can’t find it, this place called Keo’s will do.
They have a $4.99 breakfast special that sounds right up my alley. I sit on the patio watching the tourists go by while planning my next move. It’s interesting to note that the practice of catering to the Japanese applies to restaurants as well. I’d already noticed that, unlike here where every sign is in English and Spanish, in Hawaii the signs are all in English and Japanese. Keo’s serves an Asian breakfast of rice, miso soup, fish and steamed vegetables. A popular Hawaiian breakfast is a beef patty on top of rice smothered in gravy with an egg on top. Sounds interesting but I’m sticking to the very American eggs, bacon, and pancakes for this trip. Kona coffee is a Hawaiian staple. Every restaurant serves some blend of it.

Heading back towards the hotel on the other side of the street, I stop by the International Market Place. This is an open-air gathering of booths selling souvenirs, clothing and jewelry surrounded by larger stationary shops. Pearls are very big here, hence very cheap, and there’s a stand where you can shuck your own oyster and pick out the pearl. Can’t get any fresher than that now can you? I noted the post office on the second level, bought this pretty floor length red dress with a Hawaiian print on it, and was back on my merry way.

Now that I’d been fortified, it was way past time to take a walk along the beach. I’d purchased one of the bamboo rolls that ABC sells -- it’s easier to get sand off of them than off of a beach towel. Since I didn’t have my suit, I figured it’d just lay out for a while. I took off my shoes, dug my toes in the warm sand and exhaled. Ahhhhh … out with the stale Atlanta air and in with only briny tropical breezes. It’s a beautiful 80 degrees and the sun feels too good on my exposed skin. Yeah. That’s the stuff.



I’m just watching the waves and feeling that total body relaxation come over me when I noticed a group of Japanese teenagers enter the water, a girl and two guys. The girl was in a little bitty bikini making me think she really needed to eat a sandwich (visible ribs are just not attractive; I don’t care what Parisian designers say). She’s cowering in the water while one of the guys splashes water on her and I’m trying to figure out what her problem is. It’s only when I get up to test that water that I find out that Hawaii water in mid-April is freezing cold. Bummer. I started to think twice about the jet-skiing and the swimming with dolphins/sharks that I’d planned to do. Jet-skiing was one of the main things bringing me to the island. I’d even marked down a place in advance in the guidebook. But I have a hard time getting past the thought of that cold spray flying in my face.

I got a taste of that while just lying on the beach. The sky started to cloud up a little bit and it started to spit rain. Well, that was a rude awakening, feeling that cold water on my sun-warmed skin! I hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella for the trip (didn’t think I’d need one). But I couldn’t really be mad. The rain didn’t last long and you know there has to be some moisture in April (how else would the island stay so lush?).

I walk back to the hotel to wash the sand off and get rid of my purchases. I was a little wary of buying that dress because it’s cut kind of small. And sure enough, when I try it on, I quickly discover that while I can get it over my hips, there is no way in hell that it will cover my ample bosoms. And this was a XXL. Thanks. Now I feel fat. Like seeing women in bikinis on the beach wasn’t bad enough. Since the store offered no refunds, only exchanges, someone would be getting a very nice souvenir from the islands.

I go out to sit on one of the two chairs set out on the small balcony and weigh my options for the rest of the day, such as hiking Diamond Head or going to Chinatown. But I’m not ready to get in the car and tussle with maps and road signs just yet. Actually, it’s really nice just to sit outside. The view is killer and being on the twelfth floor means that there are some cool breezes to be had. It is with great effort that I leave my chair and go looking for some lunch.

As recommended by the guidebook, I decide to try the Cheesecake Factory. Seated at a large table by myself and feeling highly conspicuous, I ordered some fish tacos and looked at one of the many free publications that are offered along the street. I noted, as I had at Keo’s earlier, that you have to watch where you step, even while inside. The patio doors are open and it’s very common for birds (mostly pigeons) to fly or walk into the building. No one pays them much attention as they walk around and peck at any stray food on the floor. Just don’t kick out at any strange movement you might see near your feet or the feathers will fly.

There are a couple of women at the table next to me and a single woman on the other side of them. I listen intently as the seasoned Hawaii visitor tells the two women that they must rent a car and head to the North Shore (already on my plan!). She tells them that the difference between there and Waikiki is like night and day. Oahu is the most populated of the Hawaiian Islands with most of the folks and the commercialism centered in Waikiki and Honolulu. The North Shore is just pure nature and raw surf. I can hardly wait!

The tacos were made from fresh albacore, the fish of the day. Very unusual and filling. The meal was interrupted, though, by the fire alarm going off. The waiter was at my table at the time and we both noticed that while everybody looked around, not one of them moved. It’s not like there was any smoke and we were only a few feet away from the patio. The waiter guessed that as long as none of the wait-staff were fleeing the building in terror, everything was still cool. Even a potential fire doesn’t phase the relaxed atmosphere of the islands.

They give you some really huge portions in that restaurant. With leftovers in hand, I figured I'd walk off some of those calories by going even further along Kalakaua. If you stay straight on the road, past all the chi-chi stores, you cross over a bridge with a pretty view of the water on either side. Just beyond that is the Hard Rock Café. And I thought I’d have to drive to get there. Cool. I collect the t-shirts so I stopped in and bought one then continued on my way.

Kalakaua intersects S Beretania which is just the route that I marked out to get to Chinatown. Hey, since I could walk to the Hard Rock, maybe I could walk all the way to Chinatown.

(Long story short – I couldn’t.)

On the way back to the hotel, I caved and stopped by the Fendi store. I’m met immediately by an Asian woman who points out that the purses I’m eyeing are cheaper than they are on the mainland. So, instead of paying $1000 for that F covered bag, I’d only pay $925. Boy. What a bargain for me! I love Fendi bags; I’ve even owned a couple. But I certainly didn’t pay that much for one. Hell, my whole trip to Hawaii was about the price of one fine Italian handbag.

I looked around for a few more minutes while the woman and I chatted. I told her where I was from and when she heard Atlanta she mentioned that her husband was stationed there. That is one hell of a long distance relationship. She agreed saying that the plane trip was the reason her husband hadn’t been back to the island in several months. We had a nice conversation. Sure, she was just tailing me to make sure I didn’t swipe anything (same thing happened in the Paris store), but at least she was friendly about it.

I think I probably logged about ten miles on my feet and now I’m completely wiped as I drag myself back to my room. Even though it’s only around 6, the time difference is making it feel a lot later. If you ever want to really mess with your body clock, do some traveling. Hawaii is six hours behind Atlanta’s EST and just like in Paris, which is five hours ahead, my body is confused as hell. Up by 5 means down by about 8 so I spent the rest of the evening trying to will myself to stay awake and go out for dinner. No such luck. I lay in my darkened room, watching TV in that weird half-awake half-asleep state until I finally gave up the ghost and turned in.

Hawaii Day 1

Spring has always been a good time for me. Not only does it mean that winter is finally over, but my birthday’s in April (which for me has always meant taking some vacation time) and I usually have some money coming in from different places that I can play with.

For starters, my year-end bonus from Cox was twice as much as it usually was. I put half of it towards paying my home owner association fees for the rest of the year. But instead of saving the rest for next year, I decided to finally get a new computer through Cox’s employee purchase deal with Dell. I’ve wanted a new machine for years now. My old one just won’t play nice with any new software or new devices. This new machine has the just launched Windows Vista and already has internet software loaded onto it. Sweet.

Then there’s the tax refund which was also bigger this year than last. I put some of this money away for next year’s HOA fees and bought myself a truly nifty photo printer. But what to do with the remainder of the money? I could put it away for a new car. My car is an ancient POS and does need to be replaced before it explodes. But … no. I could put it towards the mortgages or the credit card. Nah. After some calculating and research, I made my decision. I would give a very charitable contribution to the good people of www.expedia.com and their friends, United Airways and the fine state of Hawaii.

I’ve sorely needed a vacation for quite a while now. I didn’t do any real traveling last year so I knew I had to get out of the state this year. I’d thought about going back to England (I’m really addicted to those stamps in the passport!). But then, during one of my frequent bouts of pretend time on the aforementioned travel website in January, I found that flights to Hawaii were particularly low. Prices are usually around$800-1100 for a round trip ticket. I found a flight for the low price of $513. Oh yeah. I pounced on it.

After some more research, both online and at the bookstore (Oahu Revealed by Andrew Doughty and Harriett Friedman was invaluable – color pictures, frank descriptions, and maps), I found a hotel that offered a special Deal with Wheels rate. $90 a night for a room and a car rental. Technically, you don’t need a car on Oahu but the book recommended it and after being there, I completely understand why.

So, by the end of February my trip was all set. Good thing too because my nerves were getting more frayed with each passing day. I hate Atlanta. The traffic, the sprawl, the ridiculous amount of pollen. Work was nuts, I felt the pressing need for change and I have no idea what to do about it. All of these distractions barely left me time to feel excited about the trip. My co-worker, Kathlene, was kind enough to remind me … and everyone else she happened to talk to. She helped me focus on what I wanted to do when I got there and what I needed to do to prepare. I appreciated that.

April rolled in and the weather, which had been warm for a couple of weeks, suddenly turned cold. My last week before vacation had me shivering and practically pulling my hair out. Fortunately, Friday the 13th was my birthday and I took the day off. I went out to breakfast (I do love the IHOP), did some last minute shopping for the trip, and went to the Dogwood Festival in Piedmont Park. I haven’t been to this annual festival of art, greasy food and dog shows in a couple of years. It’s always a nice way to spend a day in the park and it’s a good thing I did go on Friday. It was the last really nice day before the rainy weekend. I spent the time indoors, packing for the trip and doing some final cleaning.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Monday morning meant show time; up early and off to MARTA. I had made arrangements for a pet sitter to come by twice that week to look after the cats, water the plants, and bring in the mail. I was a little wary about giving my keys to a strange person and letting them know that I would be out of town. Practically like I was telling them to just back a moving van up and steal all my stuff (not that I have that much of value to begin with). But the company I found is fully bonded and the sitter seemed like a nice woman. And, I reminded myself, people hired sitters all the time. Better someone from a legitimate company than a neighbor or kid off the street.

It takes an hour to get to the airport from MARTA. Thanks to my bloodsucking credit card company I had some rewards points stashed up that I decided to cash in. I exchanged a bunch of them for a $100 gift certificate from Circuit City with which I bought one of those new-fangled MP3 players that I’ve been hearing so much about. My love train with technology continues as Creative Zen I bought is wonderful. I listened to it during the trip and tried to get myself into vacation mode.

The lines for security have not gotten much better at the airport. The one I had to enter at 8 am was wrapped around the corner. It moved quickly though and this was one of the rare occasions that I was scheduled to leave from the T Concourse. This meant that I didn’t have to take the train to my gate, saving me a lot of time. I grabbed some breakfast and waited for my 10:03 flight.

I officially hate United. I wasn’t too fond of them when I flew to Cali a few years ago and my opinion has just been lowered. I knew they skimped on legroom but, since that last trip, they seem to have gotten the memo that there are some travelers who are taller than 5’5’’. For the low, low price of $135 you can get bumped to the special business class where your legs won’t get crushed into your chest. The offer was made when I checked in but I was not eager to pay these people any more money. Their method of getting back at me for being cheap was to not feed me. That’s right. Over the course of 3 flights on the same airline, the only thing these cheap bastards would feed me is a lousy bag of pretzels – which I never ate because I hate pretzels. Oh, the people in first class still get fed, but for the sardines in the back they offer a selection of snack boxes for $5 a piece – cash only and correct change please. You must be mad.

The good thing, though, about being on the same airline for all flights is that when you get off one plane, your next gate is not very far away. The bad thing … well … this could actually happen on any airline but I’m still going to blame United. The two hour flight from Atlanta to Chicago went quickly. The Chicago to LAX (4 hours) and LAX to Honolulu (6 hours) flights were different stories. There were screaming kids on each flight, the idiot sky-waiter on the plane to HI practically threw pretzels at me and then tried to crush my legs with the tray table, and I couldn’t get any sleep. Can you tell I still wasn’t quite in the vacation mode?

The interesting thing on the last flight was that the staff started to say ‘Aloha’ and ‘Mahalo’ (thank you) and we played a game to prepare for Hawaii. The attendants passed out little cards and as the captain gave us info on speed, distance and time, the passengers had to guess the time we’d reach the mid-point in the flight down to the second. I was close at 4:47:23 but no cigar. The winner won a gift basket for Hilo Hattie, a very prominent chain store in Hawaii.

About a half hour before we landed in Honolulu, the noisy kid in the next row finally fell asleep. Of course. I trudged off the airplane to a rather unimpressive terminal. It was small and most of it looked to be under construction. It was nice though that between the terminal and the baggage claim, you have to walk through this covered but open-air walkway. You get your first taste of the balmy Hawaiian nights and then you get the official greeting.

I know. It’s not as good as a lei and a kiss from a buff native man but it’s still nice.

I grab my bag and head outside to wait for the shuttle. Boy, am I punchy. It may be 8 pm in Hawaii but my body says it’s 2 am and way past sleepy-nappy time. At the Dollar counter, the woman tells me that since the hotel is paying for the car, all I’d have to do is bring back the voucher they’d give me when I checked out. She also tells me that for $20 more per day I can upgrade to a convertible. The Jeep Wrangler they offer is actually more my speed. I’ve always loved that vehicle. It just seems exciting and adventurous. But … Hawaii is expensive enough with any extra ‘perks’ so I ask her not to tempt me. I instead head off for the 2007 gray Toyota Corolla (which is the sensible car that in my more logical moments I plan on purchasing – except in the non-sensible color of red).

New, unfamiliar car; at night; in a strange city; when I’m half-dead. Oh yeah. This should be fun. Thanks to Kathlene I had mapquested the directions to the hotel from the airport and tried to consult them while I maneuvered my way onto the road. I got on H-1, the major highway and direct route to Waikiki, and realized that despite being thousands of miles away from the mainland, I was still in the US. There were the same green road signs and the same occasional rude driver. Other than the really unfamiliar street names (Kalihi, Nuuanu, Liliha) it was just like home. And there was something else familiar. When I finally figured out how to turn on the radio I found that it was tuned to a hip-hop/R&B station that sounded just like the station I listen to here, even down to the same Beat the Buzzer contest. Granted, instead of fielding calls from people named Lequicha the names leaned more towards Lelani and instead of Maverick, the local DJ, I was listening to someone called ‘Island Boy’. The homogenization of America continues.

Okay, where the hell am I? I managed to make the right exit but I think I missed my turn. No, can’t turn there, that’s a one way street. That sign says Keeaumoku. Boy, that’s a funny name. And it’s also not where I’m supposed to be. Great.

After a few wrong turns I finally got to Kalakaua Street. From there I just had to turn left onto Paoakalani … and there it went. I was a little too busy taking it all in; the pedestrians, the lit tiki torches, the stores, the palm trees, the lights! Now I’m getting excited. It’s all so much!

I circle around and find the hotel. There’s no parking on the street. There are spaces, of course, but they are all taken. After a couple more circles, I spot the entrance for valet parking at the Ocean Resort Hotel Waikiki www.oceanresort.com). Whew. I got here and I didn’t hit anyone or have a head-on collision (there are a lot of one way streets and jay-walking pedestrians). Dropped off the car, checked in, and dragged my body up to the twelfth floor. My room is at the very end of the hall. Opening the door, I immediately see that my balcony door is open and gives me a great view of the lights of Waikiki. There are hotels to either side of me and what appears to be a school across the street. In the distance to the right is Diamond Head, which at this time of night is just a dark hulk.

After acquainting myself with the small bedroom with its twin beds, small fridge and safe, I quickly got ready for bed and settled in. I’d had a really long day and I wanted to be as fresh as I could for my first day in paradise.