I didn’t see the big moon rise on March 19. I went out on the stone jetty at Sans Soucis Beach and saw a pretty good sunset, blocked only be a pair of young lovers at the far end. He was taking romantic shots of her in pseudo hula poses against a backdrop of the sea, ships and sunset. The moon rose in the opposite direction, behind the hills and the heavy cloud that hung there, so I didn’t see it until later from the condo balcony.
On Sunday I made the mistake of visiting downtown Honolulu. There were some beautiful Victorian and modern buildings to look at, but all were shut, nobody was around and eventually I had to leave in search of a washroom. I found plenty of activity in Chinatown, the widest variety of Oriental physiognomies, fruits, vegetables, fish, fowl and seafood I’ve ever seen. Many of the buildings are old and worn. I was tempted to take a picture of a homeless man asleep on his rags under a faded sign for a bar, ‘Paradise Lost’, but decided against it. It seemed callous to snap a shot. What struck me as being sadly symbolic was his place of rest. I was so overwhelmed by the sights that I forgot my quest for a toilet. I eventually did get hungry; however, and contemplated eating at one of the many food stalls. Everything looked and smelled tempting, well, everything but the tripe, but the memory of being sick in Mexico made me hesitate until it was too late and I just jumped on a bus and went home for a fried egg sandwich. Writing this makes me disappointed in myself and tempted to return to Chinatown on Tuesday to eat there before I leave Honolulu.
On Monday, I took a long ride on The Bus 11 past rows of homeless people living under tarps tied to fences along the sidewalks, their loaded shopping carts marking the outer limit of their space and acting as second tie up for the tarp. I was going to hike around the Aiea Loop Trail. I faced a lot of walking that day, over a mile from the bus stop up the road to the park where the trail begins and then up and around the five mile loop and back down to the bus. Fortunately, on my way back down the road to get the bus home, a nice guy who was driving friends to the airport offered me a ride to the airport bus stop. It turned out that the best view of Pearl Harbor was from the top of his road, not from the loop; although, the loop did provide some excitement. The path was mostly volcanic rock and red dirt (Hawaii has as much red dirt as P.E.I.), some of which was slippery after rain the previous night and parts of it were narrow ledges with steep sides. At one point it dropped almost straight down to a 4 lane highway far below, and I could only look for a moment.
On Tuesday and Wednesday I took The Bus to Makapu’u Point. I wanted to climb to the lighthouse there, but the first day I didn’t because I started talking on the bus with a couple. He turned out to be from Thunder Bay and to have worked for about 2 years at Richardson’s Elevator with Bill; she was a much younger Japanese woman on holiday in O’ahu for ten days. I think they had just met and were having a bit of a fling. She didn’t speak much English. We talked until we arrived at Makapu’u, by which time he had told me that I’d never make it to the lighthouse and back in time to meet Sally’s friend for tea at 2:00 at a hotel on Waikiki, which I had arranged to do, so I walked with them along the beach, looked at some seals in Sea World and got on the bus again. The next day I did take the hike and it was great, really, really windy but great.
As one of the many constants of this trip has been wind, it is in keeping that I was not able to take the ferry to the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor the next day because of the wind. I got up before seven to get there early and miss the rush, which I did. Plus a nice man at the ticket wicket gave me an entry for the 9:35a.m.show and ride when they were supposed to have been filled up for that one. But in spite of all that, our ferry was cancelled, as were all the others for the day, because of 40 to 50 knot winds on the harbor. They were wild, and although there was a murmur of discontent when the announcement was made, it didn’t amount to much because nobody wanted to end up joining the poor men, 1117 of them, whose bodies were left where they died, on the Arizona, as the U.S.A. went to war.
On Thursday I walked through the pink Royal Hawaiian Hotel, Joni Mitchel’s ‘pink hotel’, and along Waikiki Beach. After all my hikes, I see clearly what she meant by ‘pave paradise, put up a parking lot.’ And for that and other reasons, the lines, ’you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone,’ have been on my mind lately. Waikiki beach is splendid, but the buildings, to paraphrase the Saskatchewan farmer whose comment about the Rockies has always made me laugh, ‘sure do block the view.’ I took the bus to Kailua and joined Caroline, Mara and Sharon, Caroline’s niece, for a girls’ night out. We had dinner out and slept over at Sharon’s place. We got up before six to climb to ‘The Pillboxes’ to watch the sunrise. The view was wonderful. There were lots of young people including a group of cadets at the top. Except for Manoa Falls, every hike I’ve taken on O’ahu has been connected with the military and most have ended with a pillbox. With all the looking out that was being done, it really is amazing that there was no warning of the Japanese invasion on Dec.7, 1941. But the film at Pearl Harbor largely explained that. Even the Japanese were surprised by the fact that their mission was such a complete success.
I have had a very good introduction to Hawaii thanks to the Pollock, Shepherd and Gouveia families with whom I have eaten, slept, hiked, swum, talked, worked, gardened, shopped and generally lived as one of the family and to Sally and Mario who gave me their condo and left me guidebooks without which I would never have found some of the natural sights I have seen.
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