Your Aloha Preview - September - "Walking in Waikiki" - "Strolling into Fall" - Kaimuki

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Your Aloha Preview - September - "Walking in Waikiki" - "Strolling into Fall"
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Courtesy of Cloudia Charters Author of Aloha Where You Like To Go?

Walking in Waikiki
With Cloudia Charters
Strolling into Fall

I still remember landing at HNL on my first night here in Hawaii. I had given my winter coat to the friend who drove me to Newark Airport, said goodbye to my old life forever, and endured a 12 hour non-stop flight. The air at Honolulu Int'l Airport smelled sweet as we stepped into it for the first time. It is always reliably sweet, especially when returning from somewhere far away. But the first time: it is a revelation! That first lei I received was fragrant and invisible. Riding along the darkened H-1 I spotted a fascinating building. "I wanna check that out." Newbie Newcomer Malihini (me) said. I had not yet heard of the Bishop Museum, the world headquarters for Polynesian studies. Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop had bequeathed her royal fortune to the Kamehameha Schools (another of our great institutions on a hill). Her beloved husband, Charles Reed Bishop had came here from Boston as a young man and started our first real bank, Bishops Bank ( today's First Hawaiian Bank). In her honor, he used considerable funds to construct and endow the museum in his wife's name. This Summer, Hawaiian Hall re-opened after extensive refurbishment. The Pili Hale (grass house) on display there is the last such structures in the islands. It was dismantled from it's Kauai site around 1909 and brought to the museum where generations of scholars and school children have cherished it. It has now been re-woven of fresh pili grass on it's original wooden framework, in part by high school students from the Hawaiian Academy of Farrington High School (where I facilitated an after-school group for a couple of amazing years). Farrington is a hard knocks school in an urban (for Honolulu) setting with a large number of immigrants (Samoan, Micronesian, Filipino, et al). I know that it meant a lot to those kids to touch their own cultural greatness, and to contribute to our Hawaii.

That first night in the taxi I couldn't guess what a powerful role these magical islands would ultimately play in my life. I was "fresh off the jet" (like some of the kids) with only my fantasies, hopes and dreams about Hawaii. Her reality is so much richer that I could have hoped! It took me some time on the neighbor island first, but I ended up irresistibly drawn back to this great town. I drove my own Honolulu night taxi for a while, and even wrote my little novel "Aloha Where You Like Go?" about it. . . . Here we say that rain is a blessing. But we're all relieved that Hurricane Felicia fizzled to a tropical depression before approaching our islands, bringing us only sweet, tropic rain. Steady and delightful Trade Winds usually keep such storms safely to the south, or blow them apart before they reach here. And now that the oceans are cooling seasonally, Hawaii is a very good bet for a pleasant weather visit. What are you waiting for? Summer Time is Bon Dancing Time in Hawaii. . . Some Buddhist temple, somewhere on the Islands, is hosting their annual event most every night of the season. This ancient Japanese custom invites the ancestors to come join us in the dance under the lanterns & moonlit sky. Longing to hear the traditional music, and to experience it all, we drove into Manoa Valley (Behind Waikiki) on a recent Saturday night. There we saw the musician's tower, with everyone dancing counterclockwise around it. Gay lanterns and finger food made it anything but a solemn experience. I knew that here in Hawaii everyone is welcome to dance, but still I was glad to see that we didn't stand out in the large varied & happy crowd. It was more like a fair than a ceremony. We even saw Honolulu's mayor dancing in a kimono (He's a tall ethnic Samoan but had the moves down ;-). Neighbors of every age and ethnicity danced in kimono and street clothes. Some just watched and swayed. Everyone was smiling and EATING: My kind of crowd! Though there was drumming (including some amazing TAIKO drumming) the music was mostly recorded. Everyone may not have been local Japanese, or a member of the temple, but being there meant that we were all Hawaii people, sharing the special things that make us so unique. Many of the dance moves were thousands of years old. I thought I recognized hoeing and other agricultural gestures. "Towel Dances" perhaps recall the joy of the FURO bath. Then, a Line Dance was announced, and everyone danced to the country classic "Elvira" in perfect Texas Two-Step!! Only in Hawaii!!

Some say that the ancestors actually dance with us at Bon time, that they are sometimes momentarily glimpsed across the happy crowds. When you are a kid, ancestors are ancient history, possibly including a grandparent you knew, but they are all old. As you pile up the Summers, there probably are more and more of your friends and family who have gone to join the ancestors. There is some comfort, and more than a tint of immortality, in dancing with them. Maybe they will catch our eye momentarily in the frenzy. Maybe it's just some resemblance or living memory that we see in the colored light - maybe not. . . As we left the temple and walked up the gravel driveway, the night was quiet and perfect. We walked past big old houses and a few unfortunate Mc Mansions lining one of Honolulu's oldest and stateliest residential streets. The fairy music from the temple wafted sweetly in the scented air. Suddenly a very old Local-Japanese man with white hair, and an old fashioned Aloha Shirt, was walking the same direction with us. We greeted him. He seemed friendly but in his own thoughts. We exchanged a few aloha words and walked along the quiet, empty street. When we neared my parked car I offered to drive him home. He just walked on and said that he didn't have far to go, just a "few houses down" and thanked us. I said that I would watch him safely up his driveway but lost sight of him beyond the streetlight. Perhaps this local man was once a Manoa resident, many many years ago, and on this one night every year he walks her beloved Summer sidewalks again, enjoying his memories. I hadn't noticed him at the dance. . . maybe he'll walk Oahu Avenue again next year, when the moon is high, and ancient music echoes from the dance at the temple. . . . I wish him well on his walk. . . PS: Driving past the President's boyhood Punahou School at the mouth of the valley I could see the Night Blooming Cereus glowing like diminutive lanterns on the old rock wall. Lovely!

Portholes are tiny things really, so when I leave this keyboard, straighten out my back, and go out on deck, the Waikiki skies are like the sudden rush of a strange and wonderful intoxication. So it felt special as usual when I left this desk and got in my kayak to paddle through the gathering dusk again last evening. I like the way that droplets of water dripping from my raised paddle ruffle the calm, if swelling surface inside the Ala Wai Small Boat Harbor. I paddle past moored boats, twigs and flotsam; the occasional branch gliding like a baby sea dragon. Passing the Hawaii Yacht Club I could see friends having a Friday Pau Hana (after work/happy hour) libation as the retiree band set up. Across the channel, a festival occupied Magic Island with turning amusements, scented smoke of carnival-cooking, and the sounds of the world's greatest municipal band: The Royal Hawaiian Band. The channel pulsed with pleasure boats. It's rather enjoyable when outrigger canoes paddled by 8 or so strapping guys go by. I can smell their healthy manhood, and a tinge of sizzle passes across the water level. Suddenly I am in the Hawaii of times immemorial. . Outriggers paddled by wahine (women) inspire me in a different way, but inspire me they do. I can hear the steersman calling for a change. "Hup" Did you hear that? I'm just enjoying the present. Out beyond the last jumbled rock jetty where the fishermen play, is a stretch of shallow protected water. The wave-breaks and surfers are still further out, and it is too shallow for boats here, creating a special, Caribbean-y space for kayakers, stand-up paddlers, and small, one-person outrigger canoes. Out here, I put my double ended paddle across my knees and turn to look at the mountains of Oahu wreathed with weather, clouds and light behind me. I salute Diamond Head at the other end of Waikiki, attended by sunset's technicolor clouds, stories, and legends. Just me alone with the sky, the sea and the sound of my own heart beating - or is that the surf pounding? I enjoy resting on the churning bosoms of mama ocean as they heave and gently rock me this way and that. This is where the sea turtles feed in the early evening shallows. Suddenly I feel that they were all around me. I search each capricious little wavelet raising it's slap. I watch for turtle heads to break the surface and take their breath. Seeing the turtles is not just about seeing them, not even their brown sentient eye gazing across the wavelets at you. No, experiencing turtles fully is to have them surface near enough to hear their ancient exhale. Then you know that someone else is near; that you are hearing a sound older than Chant & Hula in these islands. There they are, lazing near the surface, floating in the currents as I am; Bobbing for food, and raising their heads to breathe and look around. Carefully I prevent the paddle from drumming against the kayak. I just float and look. Then stealthily I paddle closer. Close enough to see dark shapes gliding just beneath the surface. "I love you guys," I think aloud, enjoying the ocean-evening cathedral among my fellow congregants. Western clouds and Waianae mountains glow like instructive and beautiful stained glass. The sea and land pour brackish incense into the nave that steeples my little boat-pew. Sailboats, powerboats, paddlers and surfers play beyond the reef. But the turtles and I are alone in a sepulcher of solitude. Time stopped pre-historically. Then one of them swims right by and under me at arms length. I can see the patent leather patterns on her dear head, and the graceful flap of her flippers (more graceful than my paddle). Breathlessly I admire the jade of her shell, and her vaguely Asian, olive brown eyes. I could swear she looked right at me. This is turtle city, right here off Waikiki. And you are welcome anytime! From out here on the water, sky and heart are unobstructed. The sky is a piano concerto. Sweeping passages of cloud and color interlace; arpeggios of torn cumulus notes glissando into every shade of emotion, settling, finally into exultation. . . . Today a sneaky, confident little Autumn is laying her clues everywhere around Waikiki. These trade winds carry the scent of hemispheric cooling. The Canada Geese of my heart begin to flutter and to Honk. Soon Canadian Snow Birds will be joining on life's beach. So much treasure for the plunder!

This weekend will find me eating and celebrating at the Rediscover Chinatown Family Festival, eating and celebrating at our annual Greek Festival, and eating and celebrating at the closing ceremonies of Duke's Oceanfest. Of course, I haven't seen the Friday papers yet, so there may be some food and celebration on deck that I'm as yet unaware of. What can I tell you? Life is a feast here at Waikiki. Honolulu's Fall Arts Season smells great, and the Top of Waikiki restaurant is still revolving. Not to mention the new and quirky popping up around here all the time. So if you haven't been here in a while, this season would be a fine time to visit us again. Just:

"Remember to go outside everyday and walk on the Earth and look around at the beauty – the birds, the trees, the flowers blooming. Put your mind at ease by remembering the cycles of Nature, which are endless and renewing constantly. We are part of that Nature – and are also renewing. Don’t lose faith in that which is timeless-your heart, soul and nature. We are all related" Mitakuye Oyasin

So I'll be looking for YOU. . . . when I'm out walking in Waikiki. . . .
A L O H A!

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Kaimuki, Hawaii News Item

Your Aloha Preview - September - "Walking in Waikiki" - "Strolling into Fall"

Kaimuki, Hawaii
News Item