March 5 - Random travel around Honolulu

     This was our last half day with the car, so we decided to drive through Waikiki before returning it to the rental place at the airport.

Part of the long beach at Waikiki.

     See the white bird at the right side of the photo?  It's a pigeon, not a seagull.  As I mentioned before, in our two months in Hawaii, we haven't seen a single gull.  Another bird that you won't see here is a crow. They were native to the Islands and are called 'Alala by the Hawaiians.  However, the last two living in the wild died over a decade ago.  (Around 100 remain in a captive care center in San Diego.)  

     That's pretty weird to me.  In our travels it seems the two most successful families of birds are the gulls and crows, seemingly able to live just about anywhere.  You even find gulls in the desert - the state bird of Utah is a California Gull for heavens sake.  I guess it's just one more thing that makes our 50th state unique.

Picnic lunch at a park on the beach.

The view of our picnic table through the banyan trees.

 Wind powered off-shore ...

... and flower-powered on.

This god of the forest hoists a mighty weight.  What's he doing here?

Most photos of Waikiki include a view of Diamond Head.  I thought I'd be different and give you a Diamond View.

After the "War to End All Wars", Honolulu built a natatorium in Waikiki as a sort of liquid War Memorial.  Only in Hawaii.  

The place is nearly in ruins now, although the city did put a coat of paint on it a decade ago.  But really, did it ever make any sense?  Here you are on one of the most swimmable ocean coasts in the world - miles and miles of awesome beaches - and you put in a salt water pool?

The one square mile of Waikiki has over 60,000 hotel rooms, making it one of the most densely populated spots in the US.  And yet, strangely, I'm quite attracted to it.  If you like people watching, this isn't a bad place to be. In fact, it isn't that far out of the realm of possibility that Diana and I return some winter and take a room for a week.  Maybe we'll learn how to surf then. 

It probably won't be here, however.  The Royal Hawaiian Hotel, built in 1927 and one of the first hotels in Waikiki, has rooms that start at $325/night, and that's without a view of the ocean.

Still, can't you imagine me paddling Diana around the waters of Waikiki?  Romantic, isn't it.

 For our last remaining minutes with the car we stopped briefly at Keehi Lagoon Beach Park.  It lies only a few hundred yards from the airport, and yet from this vantage point it looks like a tropical paradise, doesn't it.  

A different view shows how close the park is to the industrial area.  I don't think anyone swims here - instead it's a starting point for Hawaiian canoe racing.  From the lagoon there are protected waters all the way to Waikiki.

We returned the car, happy that after eight weeks of driving around Hawaii I managed not to hit anything, or anyone.

      We took the bus to our last Airbnb in the Harbor Towers in downtown Honolulu.  After stowing our stuff and showering, we walked down to Chinatown.  Unlike similar C'towns in other cities, Honolulu's doesn't feel as exotic when you walk around the neighborhood.  For one thing, it's not the tourist attraction that it is in other cities.  There are street signs that include Chinese characters, markets and stores and other shops packed with typical Chinese goods, and a few buildings have architectural flourishes evoking China.  But in those other cities, you feel like an interloper - a rare Caucasian wandering through the streets of Asia.  

     In Honolulu, the entire city is majority Asian, so you don't really cross a racial boundary as you enter Chinatown. Sadly, the streets were fairly empty when we were there, except for a crowded block where a movie or TV scene was being filmed, and many small groups of homeless people lurking on corners or sleeping in doorways.  

    We wanted to eat Chinese food, so we walked up and down several streets until we finally settled on a small diner.  I didn't take a photo, but later, while touring the Hawaii Art Museum, I discovered a painting that included the restaurant.

       The building on the left on the corner of the street was our dining spot.  Like Chinese restaurants everywhere, we had hundreds of poorly translated choices on the menu.  We tried asking questions, but the proprietors spoke little English.  Still, we had pretty good meals.

     More entertaining were the people we talked to while we were there.  A couple in their forties sat at a table near ours.  He was Asian, had a buzz cut, and wore a white T-shirt that only partially covered extravagant tattoos on his powerful arms. He had lit three incense sticks and was mysteriously waving them around as he sat at the table.  The owner began bringing out plates and plates of food to them - we didn't know how they'd eat it all.  Diana asked the woman about one piled high with greens, and on her husbands signal, she offered some to us.  This began a conversation that lasted over an hour.

      It turns out he's a Buddhist monk who has studied with master monks in the US and Thailand.  They were in the restaurant because a friend of the owners had asked him to come to their struggling place of business and expel the bad spirits that resided there.  He took no money for the service, as far as we knew - the abundantly burdened table servied as thanks from the owners.

     Interestingly, he didn't speak any Chinese, being Hawaii born and bred, and depended on his wife to interpret.  They became rather evangelical about his special connection to the spirit world.  She showed us many photos on her phone of the master monks they had met, people he had healed, and even photos of bad spirits she had taken in that very room while we were there. (Looked like dirty windows to us, but who are we to judge.)  Anyways, he informed us that he could tell we were good people, which, to tell the truth, was a relief.  We do tend to give ourselves a certain amount of credit for not being too much of a burden to the planet and its inhabitants.  But to have our fine opinion of ourselves confirmed by this future master was comforting.

     Tony, (for that was his name), told us that we should live our lives without worry, because, since we were good people, angels were protecting us.  After we left the restaurant and headed back to our place along darkened streets populated by shadowy figures, I tried to remember his reassuring words.  Still, we kept up a lively pace.  And somehow, we made it back, safe and sound.