Knee Deep on Aloha Friday

2nd favorite pic from my vacation.

What would you do if you had one day left on Earth?  This is one of my least favorite hypothetical questions.  The answer to this question is inevitably something you haven't done, wish you'd done, or regret that you haven't done already.  None of these thoughts are particularly pleasant and usually lead to the mass consumption of junk food, booze, or daytime television (depending on how a person deals with brief bouts of depression).  I thought about this hypothetical while trying to decide what I should do on my last day in Hawaii.  Then, in pretty predictable fashion, I stumbled through a pretty uneventful day that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Everybody has those movies that they see on cable and have to stop down to watch no matter the situation.  Anyone who knows me knows that if Teen Wolf is on tv, I'm probably in for the duration.  Teen Wolf was on tv that Friday.  So, after sleeping til around 7 (my latest sleep of the trip), I sat on my friend's couch and watched a movie I've seen roughly a million times, with a phenomenal mountain/sunrise Hawaiian view just to my right.  Winnnnn In The End

Similar to one of my X-mas purchases.

I got up and made my way to the Alamoana Center to pick up some souvenirs.  The previous sentence is not a typo.  I actually shopped while on vacation.  I hate shopping with all my being.  I've never hunted for a better buy, a slightly nicer pair of shoes, thought it would be fun to look around a new store, etc.  But in this instance, I saw an opportunity to get Christmas shopping out of the way and totally avoid a duplicate-gifting situation.  Anyone who knows my aversion to ordering the same entree as someone else at a restaurant, can probably guess that it's quite the kidney punch when I get somebody a gift they've already received.  So, for the first time ever, the majority of my Christmas shopping was done in early October.  POW, POW!!

I can't divulge any of the gifts I got, because half of the people that read this are related to me, and that would be no fun.  The only purchases I can discuss are for those that can't read (my nephew Riley and nieces Claire and Katherine).  If they have progressed significantly in the last few months and read the ramblings of their Uncle Ben, then they totally deserve the X-mas sneak preview (Wait a minute!  What am I saying?  Sister pull them away from the computer right away!  I mention adult things in this blog, like meth and Hello Kitty)

I found a store that looked pleasant and Hawaiian-gifty enough for holiday purposes.  I was a bit misguided by the store's name, Sand People.  I assumed my shopping experience would go more like this: Sand People.  It was slightly less painful.  I did find the greatest toy shelf in shopping history.  Tons of Hawaiian style toys, puzzles, dolls, books, etc.  I was two seconds away from buying Riley a hippy van model car with a surfboard on the roof, until I saw the price tag.  It was awesome, but not quite that awesome. 

So, after I load up on toys for kids ranging in age from 4-8, I made my way to the register.  I asked the cute shop girl if she could help me out, which she replied "Of course, I can!"  Now, I 'm an idiot when it comes to women.  I will readily admit this.  The subtleties of flirtation are usually lost on me.  That being said, this girl dug me.  Could it be that I was the only dude in the store, and thus the only one who could be manipulated into buying more Sand People products with a well-placed batting of the eyes?  Sure.  But she didn't sell me anything, she only answered one question of mine, and most of our conversation took place after my purchases were already made.  Did anything come of this?  No, but I did learn something.  It is impossible to look like a bad-ass when buying an under-the-sea puzzle, a cloth rainbow fish, a package of rubber duckies, and a curly-haired mermaid doll.  Impossible!  (Note: I bought the mermaid doll nearly a month before my niece dressed like a mermaid for Halloween!  All I do is win, win, win!)

After shopping, I walked down to the water.  The incredible open-air mall that I've previously described in more depth, is within walking distance of Waikiki Beach.  I stepped into the water just to enjoy the ocean one last time on my trip.  Knee Deep  is a fun song by Zac Brown Band that I probably listened to a dozen times on my trip.  Most of the country music on my i-pod seemed out of place on the island, but this song always seemed appropriate.  If you need a visual for my last dip into the ocean, the redneck in the video is close enough to what I looked like at that point.  If you aren't familiar with it, give it a watch/listen."Knee Deep".

I'm gonna write one more blog entry about my last night on the island, to wrap up my trip, and explain Aloha Friday!  I'll try to not wait a month to write the next one.

Waikiki and Me: Part 2

Look at that laid-back, unshaven kid enjoying a tasty Lava Flow on his vacation!

After Mu-nu* left my general area, and returned to his station, I began to lounge.  And lounge.  Then, I lounged some more.  And the day just slowly continued to be more and more awesome.  I'm not a guy who needs bright lights, 3-D idiocracy, or the bells and whistles of an overblown entertainment extravaganza.  I enjoyed just watching the ocean exist.  I got to lazily sit and watch the sun shine on a beautiful beach and slowly tumble into the ocean.   

Last Chance to See by Douglas Adams is a great beach read!

I am, however, very guilty of succumbing to one beach cliche.  I have no problem admitting it.  When presented with the opportunity, I totally caved in and took the lying on the beach photo of my feet.  I have no good excuse for this, but it just needed to be done.  I typically hate the idea of over-photographing life as opposed to just living in the moment.  A photo does not prove that you had fun.  And I truly dislike the Corona commercials implying that one beer can make an otherwise dreary day turn into a wonderful beach vacation (do you really have to escape reality if you're on a Rocky Mountain ski trip).  But in this scenario, it's just fun to remember where my size 12 hobbit-feet have been.  And that I caved, and drank a 6-pack of Coors Light.

I decided to do a mid-day flip onto my stomach for tanning purposes.  The last bit of good sun was about to clock out, so it was time for me to flip over if any balance to my "tan" was going to be achieved.  This turned out to be a moot point, since it was a cloudy day.  Plus, I will never have a good tan.  If there is someone out there more entrenched in the farmer's tan (or banker tan I guess is more accurate) than me, I haven't met them.  18-year old Ben would be embarrassed at how white 28-year old Ben has become.  For the flip, I did need some sunscreen assistance.

That's when I approached my Latina neighbors.  I had heard very little English coming from this crew, but was reasonably confident that my broken Spanish and their broken English combined could get my back properly sprayed.  Walking up to a group of 5-6 women is never easy.  Maybe some guys can easily roll up to a group of women with no backup, but not me.  I humbly asked for some help, and genuinely made two of them laugh with my mangled attempt at Spanish.  This was going pretty well.  Until, Alpha Girl stepped in.  Alpha Girl sat in the middle of her crew, seemingly to be the geographic center of attention, if not the actual center of attention.  She had felt it necessary to get overly-dolled-up for the beach, and as far as I could tell had dominated all conversation within her group.  She wasn't particularly cute, and her body language reminded me of one of the bratty rich kids from Mexico City I taught during my days coaching tennis at Newks.  She could smell my folksy, Southern charm from a mile away.  And she did not like it!

Alpha Girl's response to my simple request was "Can't you do it yourself?"  Truthfully, I could have done some arm dislocation and gotten some spray-on sunscreen to moderately protect my back, but we're talking about harmful UV rays (Hawaii technically closer to the sun than Texas, or so Angela told me).  So, I said "I really can't, I'd appreciate the help."  And of course the cutest girl of the group quickly popped up to give me a friendly spray-down.  I did my best to keep a friendly face mid-spray, while staring down at evil Alpha Girl.  After I offered my spray buddy a beer for her efforts, Alpha Girl quickly shook her head that no beer would be accepted by anyone.  But I really wanted to try out my new ruffie collection.  Oh well.

Just, wow!

My great day on the beach was coming to an end.  Mu-nu came and took my beach chair at 5:00pm.  This came after Alpha Girl asked him "where the hot clubs at?"  I laughed out loud when I overheard her say that(of course she digs Mu-nu the Terrible).  My chuckle prompted two of her friends to laugh at her ridiculous attempt at charming Mu-nu.  This also prompted one last evil Latina stare for me.  She didn't realize I am impervious to hot girl scorn.  Apparently, 5:00pm is when the beach is closed and chairs aren't allowed.  I actually called him Mu-nu when he tried to take my chair, which may not have helped my chances at keeping the chair longer.  Hopefully, "mu-nu" isn't an old Hawaiian curse word or something.  And then, amazingly Ryan showed up to join me at the bar.

Scratchin'

We enjoyed some good tunes, a few drinks, some baseball talk (Go Rangers), a few more drinks....it was a good time!  Angela joined us, and ordered an odd drink that I had yet to try.  It was called the Tropical Itch.  While the drink was alright, the unusual twist on this island concoction, was it replaced the normal swizzle stick with a full length back-scratcher (in case your "tropical itch" was in an area that was less than accessible).  Big points for originality!  It also led to my favorite picture of the trip (shown above).  This drink was a surprising medalist in my favorite alcoholic drinks of the trip, with the Lava Flow obviously taking home the gold.  The Lava Flow is a combination of a pina colada with a strawberry daiquiri (sorta).  In typical Hawaiian fashion, they added a wedge of pineapple and a little umbrella, just to remind me that I'm not in Texas any more.  If anybody can successfully make this in Dallas, I will be your friend forever... or not;  which ever scenario you prefer as reward for making this drink for me.

Having had two big dinners the previous two nights, we collectively decided to drink our dinner on this evening.  Or maybe, we just didn't want to move far from the live music.  Or my waitress who hated to see me without beverage even for a minute.  Or the lava flows.  Tomorrow will be my last day in Hawaii, so I'd better make it count.


*I was asked by someone if I hated Mu-nu the Terrible, and obviously the answer is no.  Think of him as Newman from Seinfeld.  A 20 year-old, beach chair carrying, Hawaiian version of Newman.  When he made an appearance during my day on the beach, I reacted much like Seinfeld would have if Newman suddenly appeared......"Hello, Mu-nu".

Thursday: Waikiki and Me

If I had a Mac, I would probably just put together a cool collage of pictures from my day at the beach and let the images speak for themselves.  I don't have a Mac.  I probably couldn't put together a stylish collage if my life depended on it.  And I'm not much of a photographer.  So, written word it is.
 
I made it to Waikiki beach without much trouble.  There were no bus-stop missteps.  No side-trips to the middle of nowhere.   Just me and my trusty backpack (Ryan's trusty backpack) and a solid traveling party of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Ray Charles, and Robert Earl Keen (this may sound like an odd traveling party, but throw them on the ipod and tell me you can't listen to those three all day).  Side note on backpacks: They are great!  I kinda wish I had a need to carry a backpack with me, but I really can't justify it.

I make it to the beach and decide to take a walk up the beach to get the lay of the land and figure out where to plant myself for the afternoon.  I start by walking past two sand volleyball courts, and realize despite how lousy I am at volleyball by Texas standards, in Hawaii I would be a laughing stock.  There were little kids that would have mopped the floor (beach?) with me.  Not little kids like 16-year olds nearing manhood, I mean little 11 year-olds would have kicked sand in my face (metaphorically, not actually cuz they were nice and I'm still big).  These would be the only formal volleyball courts I would run across in Waikiki.

On my little stroll down Waikiki beach, I learned a few things.  Not all food is better in paradise.  Tourists will buy anything on an island, if you add a little umbrella to it.  To me, saying "aloha" doesn't feel as natural as "howdy".  Shaved ice is not the same thing as a snow cone.  The Hawaiian people, and sometimes the visitors, have an incredibly high threshold for shame.  Most rules have an exception, as long as the general principal behind the rule is not violated.  Alpha girls exist everywhere.  Don't kick the tires of a bike/ paddle boat, unless you want to incur the wrath of Mu-nu.

I have to introduce Mu-nu (not to be confused with Ru-nu which is Ryan after I've had 4 lava flows).  Early on in my stroll, I see something I've never seen before.  It's a paddle boat that looks like Nerf made a bicycle that floats.  It was lime green and on the shore stood taller than me.  I was obviously curious, so I start snooping around and give the large floating ball portion a little kick.  That's when I first met Mu-nu.  He quickly informed me, that I wasn't supposed to kick his s#&@!  I explained to my new island friend that I was only curious, and I don't think I hurt this one member of his bicycle-paddle-boat fleet, by nudging it with my bare foot.  I was told (and I'm censoring this cuz kids could be reading), that I needed to take my "self" outta here bra, unless you got "loving" money to "mother loving" rent this "salsa".  I never felt in danger or that the authorities would be called (what authorities, there is no law on the island).  His tone never got loud or overly violent, just more controlling than those I had encountered in my time on the island. 

So, I went on my way and tried to come up with a proper nickname for this overly protective, unnecessary-boundary-setting, end-all-be-all of the beach floating rental market.  Being in a World War II mode from my visit to Pearl Harbor, my nickname thoughts drifted to WWII infamous bad guys: Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, Hirohito.  Again calling on my limited knowledge of Hawaiian language, which is limited to the Chuck/Kunu character in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, I went through the possible Hawaiian names of these notorious badmen.  I chuckled to myself over the idea of referring to someone as Stu-nu, Hi-nu, or Hiro-hunu!  (and briefly considered the Nurse Ratched character from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, but then his nickname would be Nurse Runu which would be uncool since my good buddy's fake Hawaiian name is Ru-nu)  I decided on Mu-nu (Mussolini in my fake Hawaiian).  We'll see him again.

I enjoyed a decent burger at the Hula Grill with a view of the beach.  The food, Longboard beer, and service were all ok, but it was not the kind of place I could hunker down for a few hours, so I didn't linger too long.  I did see a group of "business men" on their lunch break enjoying some cocktails with little umbrellas in them (the drinks not the men).  Bankers wear aloha shirts in Hawaii.  No ties, just Hawaiian shirts that could double as a waitstaff uniform at Senor Frogs.  Anyway, I think my lack of wardrobe aptitude would be acceptable if I worked in this place.

On the walk back to the spot I'd picked out, I grabbed a shave ice.  Being a veteran of the ice with flavoring industry, I figured me and the shaved-ice-cart proprietor were paisans.  We were not.  He corrected me when I asked for a snow cone.  He insisted I pay in cash.  He was over me being there rather quickly, so I vacated his little portion of sidewalk.  I quickly ran into another shaved ice guy who looked much more friendly, and I wondered if there was some sort of shave ice turf war I'd stumbled into.
Who wants to learn about shave ice?

After 5 beers, I realized nobody cared if I had a cup or not.

After learning that the sun lounger chairs around the hotel pools were not to be moved, I saw a chair rental place.  For a small fee, they rented me a chair for the afternoon(I passed on the umbrella cuz I'm a man not scared of the sun).  I asked if I could get a drink for my afternoon on the beach, and was informed that the bars didn't serve drinks on the beach.  But the hotel convenience store sure would.  Apparently, the small convenience store didn't care about litter, or glass shards, or public intoxication.  When, I brought my six-pack of Coors Light (exotic , I know) to the cashier, she asked "Is that all?"  It almost sounded like she was encouraging me to buy an entire case for myself at 1:00 in the afternoon.  Tempting, but no!  She even had a free, red "party solo" ready for me free of charge.  She knows her clientele.

With my afternoon well planned, I returned to the chair rental place to find out where my chair was being placed on the beach.  And to my surprise, who is at my service, moving my chair wherever I choose?  Mu-nu the Terrible!  His face turned a new shade of "sorry bra"-red, when he saw me.  I didn't pull an Abe Froman on him or anything, but it was still pretty fun to feel him stew-ing in his own skin.  He tells me as he's carrying my chair that he has a great spot for me, and plops me down mere feet from a group of 6 young, attractive Hispanic women.  At first I'm thinking well done Mu-nu, then he unnecessarily presses my chair over his head a few times to show just how buff he is.  Yeah, he can handle a 15 pound piece of plastic.  Bad bull Mu-nu.


*This story is way longer than I thought, so I'm going to split it into two parts.  Part 2: Coming soon.*

Wednesday: Pearl Harbor

I like me some history.  Not so much proper English, but I do like me some history.  History was always my favorite subject in school.  Whether it's due to parental influence or just the way my brain works, I truly enjoy learning and in many cases re-learning about the events that shape a culture.  Hawaiian culture is rich with history, both since statehood and before.  Seeing where the Japanese attack on December 7th, 1941 took place is seeing where one of the truly major events in our country's short history occurred.

Wednesday morning, I started out pretty early to make sure I had plenty of time to see the USS Arizona Memorial.  My first attempt to make it out to Pearl Harbor didn't go so well, so I over-prepared and made sure I knew my walking path to the bus stop, route times, etc.  It was over a mile walk to get to the proper bus stop, but the traveling party of Bob Marley and the Wailers kept me company (Marley is huge in Hawaii, and for some reason that makes sense).  I made sure the bus driver knew my intentions, just in case there was another missed stop fiasco.

Upon reaching the main ticket office, I asked when was the next available ferry ride to the USS Arizona Memorial and was told the next spot open was at 11:30am.  It was just past 9am.  They usher a different tour group every 15 minutes, so the fact that there are 9 trips that are already full this early on a Wednesday in October speaks to the number of visitors to this place throughout the year.  So, I had a little time to kill.

Shots of the area known at Pearl Harbor

There was a small walk-through museum that told the story of the lead-up to the attack and a detailed description of the actual day.  An angry little Chinese man sat outside the entrance, selling an audio assistant to the museum.  While there was no charge to enter the museum, this guy was charging for these audio headsets.  He wasn't being very nice to the man in front of me and seemed a bit petty and out of place in such a solemn place.  While waiting to overpay for one of these headsets and deciding whether this man was employed by the museum or an independent seller of headphones, a nice lady offered to give me her headphone set.  I gladly accepted, saved some money, forgot all about the unhappy little man, and gave my first "mahalo" of the trip.  Did my southern drawl sound a little funny saying the Hawaiian phrase?  Only that lady could say for sure, because it just feels strange saying it back home.     

Random thoughts from my visit:

1. I am a plaque reader.  If this wasn't the case, my two hour wait would have been pretty dull.  I'm not sure if I'm in the minority here, but when visiting a museum of any kind I end up reading every piece of plaque information I can soak up.  However, each individual plaque has about three sentences to gain my total attention (or read the entire entry).  There weren't many snoozer entries in this museum.

2. Nearly half the visitors at the memorial were Japanese.  This is the case all over the island, but this was the only spot where I noticed.  This is obviously not a bad thing, but it is interesting how far we've come in a fairly short amount of time.

3. This attack took place during peace time.  The war was certainly already going on, but our involvement was limited.  Our stance of non-interventionism since World War I had been eroding over the year leading up to the attack, but we were still trying to sit this one out.  The US had not officially entered the war at this point, which can certainly account for the level of surprise and military success of the attack.

4. Most accounts agree that our defenses would have been able to successfully repel a ground assault or a battleship lead naval assault.  The idea of an attack from the air seemed very unlikely at the time. 

5. Over 400 planes were launched from a Japanese aircraft carrier for the attack, and unfortunately this was something we were not ready for.  The Japanese only lost 29 planes in the early morning attack (20 on the second wave which is probably why the planned third wave did not occur).  This method of transporting attack planes in large numbers via aircraft carrier changed warfare and made the strategy of using battleships nearly obsolete.

6. Special torpedoes were developed so planes could drop them and not have them wasted by hitting the ocean floor instead of their intended targets.  The shallow waters around the island of Oahu made an underwater attack incredibly difficult.  The Japanese developed this special torpedo to combat this exact problem.  To successfully launch them, planes had to fly low (under 60 meters if I remember right), slow down significantly (sometimes by lowering landing gear), and get dangerously close to their intended targets. 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Type_91_torpedo

7. I couldn't help but recognize the celebrity voices used for both the video and audio portions of the tour.  I'm pretty sure the voice of Jamie Lee Curtis lead us through the audio portion of the Arizona Memorial walk-through.  Abby Bartlett herself, Stockard Channing, was the voice-over during the video before the boat tour.  I thought these were two interesting choices, but they were pretty solid.

8. The USS Arizona still sits under water.  Those who manned this ship were entombed within it and were not able to escape.  The memorial was literally built on top of it's resting place.  Oil can be seen in the water around the sunken battleship, because a small amount of oil (about a quart/ day) still leaks from it even now.

The names of the men entombed on the Arizona.

9. I learned that 2386 people died that morning.  1177 of those were the direct result of the explosion that crippled the Arizona.

A portion of the USS Arizona that is above water.

Overhead shot of the USS Arizona Memorial.

I'm glad I made the trip to see this.  It's difficult for me to fully comprehend what occurred here back in 1941.  Random things kept coming to mind while I toured the area.  The Hawaiian Islands are in the middle of the ocean, so aid was not readily available from the mainland.  All the injured and dead were dealt with by the staff already on the island.  There's no way they were prepared for that kind of devastation.  I kept wondering how President Roosevelt reacted to the news that most of his Pacific Fleet had been destroyed, and the eventual realization that our country now had to enter a second world war.  How would the average person have reacted to the news of the attack?  My mind kept drifting back to September 11th, and the sense of uncertainty and fear that followed.  The two events are easily comparable, and the first-hand video accounts were eerily similar to those I remember hearing in the days following 9/11.

It was a good morning, and I really enjoyed discussing it with my friends that night.  One of the few things I planned well during my vacation was the alternating of beach days and historical days.  My Thursday at Waikiki would be a nice change of pace.

The Greatest Body Boarding Duo Ever!

If you're hoping for a blog entry about Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze in Point Break, then I'm sorry but it's not going to happen (except to say Point Break might be the single greatest movie about bank robbing surfers who dress like former US Presidents ever made).  I am a humble man by nature, but I think it's safe to say that nobody has ever body-boarded quite like me and Ryan.

My hosts

One of the things I was excited to see on my trip to Hawaii was how the island had changed two of my best friends.  After spending their entire lives in Texas (mainly Waco, Lubbock, and the Fort), island living is a significant change of pace.  Things move slow in Texas, but things move Aloha slow in Hawaii.  The Goughs are used to having conversations about Big 12 college football, baseball games, and all things Texas.  These topics barely move the needle in a tropical paradise.  If I were to ask a native Hawaiian how Michael Young did tonight, I would probably get a blank stare resembling that of an overweight basset hound if asked the same question.  And if their Aloha shirt selection is any indication, Hawaii as a whole can't decide which NFL team to collectively root for (Go Seahawks?).

This being said, I assume my friends have summoned their inner chameleons and embraced some islander forms of entertainment.  While I can't picture Angela on a surf board, Ryan might get into it.  I have even enjoyed referring to him as Runu (think Forgetting Sarah Marshall).  I was devastated to find out that not a single surf lesson had been taken in their months on the island.  I will still call him Runu, but we decided it could only be done after 4 Lava Flows. 

Da-Dum, Da-Dum

Pre-Luau Sunday, the three of us took a little trip down to Waimanalo Beach.  It was a great little beach, just far enough from the airport and Waikiki to keep the main-lander tourist population to a minimum (Except me.....HAHAHA take that locals!).  I'm all smiles for a good morning on the beach to wipe away the stink of Cowboy defeat (another early start time and another double-digit lead blown in the second half).  And right as I'm walking up to the beach, body board in hand, I remember the musings of my good friend Blair upon my departure from Texas.  In response to me expecting something bad to happen after a lot of good recently, he responded "you'll probably get stung by a sting ray or eaten by a shark".  I laughed at the time, but got pretty worried when I saw the sign on the beach saying "Beware of Man O'War".

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portugese_man_o_war

Apparently, this beach had a problem with these little guys coming towards shore and shocking people.  Ryan even tells me, at this very beach a local pointed out one of the little guys floating next to him, by casually saying the word "Portagee".  This word means Portuguese sausage and really anything of Portugal decent.  It also means Portuguese Man o'War.  I was told not to worry, because unlike other types of jellyfish, the MoW floats closer to the surface for scientific reasons that I couldn't care less about.  Since it does float closer to the surface, it is easier to see and avoid.  This would make me feel better, if I wasn't legally blind without my specs.  In my case two eyes are not better than four.

So, we tried our hand at body-boarding any way.  My re-introduction to the Pacific didn't go well.  I felt I should be allowed to walk into the waves without impediment, the Pacific disagreed.  After I was shown just how small I really am, the attempts to body board began.

Ummm, we aren't good.  At all.  In fact, some might say we were bad.  Any time riding a wave for 18 inches is the comfortable leader in the clubhouse for longest wave ride of the day, you're not dealing with professionals.  Or even semi-functional adults.  I'm eye-balling every piece of kelp that floats by, thinking it's one of the MoWs ready to ruin my vacation.  Angela said she was impressed by our body boarding efforts, but it may have been just to pick up our spirits after they were crushed by wave after wave after wave.  I was asked upon my return to the mainland why I hadn't tried surfing.  If I'm this bad at body boarding, mere feet from the shore, there is no way I'm paddling out further into the ocean, to attempt to stand on the board I have trouble lying across.  Plus, out there sharks, Men o'War, and other crazy things that I don't know about have an even better advantage.  That's a big hell no to surfing.  You can have it all to yourself Bodie!
 http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0102685/

So, after a good morning, we had a bit of bad news.... a wedding ring was lost in the ocean.  Not being married, I can only imagine how much this sucks.  But being the man he is Ryan humbly tells his wife the bad news, she gets up to help look, we search the shore without much hope, and eventually we decide it's a lost cause and that the luau awaits to pick up our spirits.  To really know how good people are at heart, watch them when things get really bad.  By this measure, these two are the most mature, positive-minded cohesive unit of a married couple I know.  There was no insincerity or posturing, no backbiting or blame, just lovingly dealing with a bummer of a situation.  Not to gush over these two unbelievably good people, but it made me realize that I terribly miss their positive influence in my life.

Coming soon......I actually make it to Pearl Harbor!  

Tuesday: Meth, a moo cow, and the ugliest beach in Hawaii*

"Town"

Hawaiians split their state into two categories: town and country.  Basically, Honolulu and the surrounding area is considered town, while the rest of the islands are considered country.  Some living on other islands would even say the entire island of O'ahu is town, but my adventures on this day would suggest otherwise.  I would compare the Hawaiian attitude towards their state, to small towns in East Texas not wanting to become too "city-fied".  There are even bumper stickers, t-shirts, and decals all over that suggest Hawaii stay country (think Keep Austin Weird cuz I think they used the same t-shirt guy).  Tuesday would be my day to see "country"!

Learning from my bus mistakes from earlier in the week, I planned ahead and figured out exactly when and where the buses picked up to take me to north shore.  After being distracted by another early morning Ranger victory, I set off on my across island trek.  Sublime, Zach Brown Band, and Green Day were ready on the i-pod travel squad.  Douglas Adams' great book about scarier traveling conditions than mine, Last Chance To See is in the backpack.  If everything goes off without a hitch, the bus ride to the north side of the island should take around 1 1/2 hours. 

My trip took just over 3 hours!

Things that kept me from making my pre-designated bus stops: Rangers baseball post-game, a Chinese-woman having more grocery bags than hands, an over-worked bus driver, a cute Hawaiian girl named Lili, the cute Hawaiian girl's lack of bus route knowledge but never flinching confidence in my eyesight, the #3 bus riders' love for Chinatown, a confused bike rider, and my mediocre map-reading ability.  Despite all this, I missed my second bus that would've take me to northshore by about 30 seconds.  As the old saying goes, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.  So I waited for the next one.....for 30 minutes.
 
The small town that was my ultimate destination, is a quaint little town called Hale'iwa.  It's close to several great beaches.  It has multiple local mom and pop stores selling all kinds of trinkets that serve no real purpose, but people like me really enjoy.  The town has good food, friendly locals, the best shave ice on the island, and gobs of folksy Hawaiian charm.
http://www.hawaiiforvisitors.com/oahu/attractions/haleiwa.htm

The part that I saw would probably be referred to as the armpit of Hale'iwa.

After a long bus ride through the agricultural part of O'ahu, I noticed a city limit sign for Hale'iwa.  I asked the bus driver if this was the stop for Hale'iwa, and he confirmed that this was the place I was looking for, so I got off.  From what I could tell, this town consisted of a diner that was closed for the day, a vitamin shop, a Pizza Hut, and a McDonalds.  Ummmmm, what?  Where's the town?  So, I stopped into Pizza Hut to get something to eat, and asked the owner/pizza artist/janitor how to get to the beach (shoulda asked how to get to a nice beach).  She responded, take a right at the McDonalds, walk a bit, and it's right there.  So, with some pizza in my stomach I take off on this "really short walk" to the beach.

This was not a sweet neighborhood road.  A pair of shoes hung over a telephone wire, which I'm pretty sure means I'm walking through somebody's territory.....and me without my neutral gang colors!  I walk past one junked up car on blocks after another.  Houses appeared to be abandoned or maybe they just don't believe in lawn mowers or paint.  The rainclouds roll in.  The street narrows, so there is no way two cars could easily pass one another.  It starts to rain.  Trees and high weeds now line this narrow, winding road (Hooray for blind turns).  No beach in sight.  Wild chickens stare at me from the brush, probably thinking how out of place I looked.  As I walked down this road, my thoughts turned to death, muggings, and dismemberment by meth-heads.  Could that Pizza Hut proprietor have led me into a not-so-elaborate tourist death trap?  How long will it take for my body to be found out here?  The only thing missing was this guy:
http://www.southparkstudios.com/clips/153196/down-that-road#searchterm=that%20road%20there

I am legitimately scared.  Then, out of nowhere I saw it..... A COW!

Not actual cow...

In the middle of Back Woods Nowhere, Hawaii, occupying a little half-stable is a proper milk cow.  White with black spots, it just stood there, the stereotypical farm animal ready to moo and eat grass (?) all day long.  For whatever reason, this calmed me down significantly.  I walked over to pet the thing, but she wasn't in the mood for visitors.  To some degree I thought, "If this cow can hang out on this street, then so can I!"  I wish I had gotten a picture of the cow, but the only thing of value I had on me was Angela's digital camera, and the odds of me getting jumped were still pretty good.



Soon after, I reached the beach.  Apparently in the Hawaiian measuring system, a bit = 1.6 miles.  But it's cool, because now I'm at the beach...... 

...Kinda!

This oddly shaped rock was the highlight of a "beach" that was probably a great meeting place for rock enthusiasts.  Maybe people who enjoy fishing.  The grandma who took her grandkids here probably hated all people, or maybe just her grandkids.  I'm over-reacting to the ugliness of this beach, but I was expecting better.  Compared to lesser beaches (Galveston maybe) it probably wasn't bad, but I had spent the last few days enjoying some gorgeous Hawaiian views.  Standing there, staring out at this rocky, dirty, graffiti-covered, park-bench laden disappointment, I tried to come up with the perfect analogy to properly convey my displeasure.  Before I could fully formulate my unpleasant-beauty-pageant-participant analogy, Angela miraculously showed up to drive me to a nicer beach just a few miles up the coast.

Angela was good enough to go with me to an actual beach.  The kicker is that my wonderful friend was still in full scrubs from her shift at the hospital.  How many of you ladies would willingly go to the beach in full scrubs?  Angela was the day's clear MVP.  We enjoyed the last hour of good sun, watched some idiots jump off a 20 foot cliff into the ocean(as waves came by), and listened to the soothing melodies of the beach's local ukulele-playing homeless guy.  I got in the water for a bit, missing my body-boarding buddy (story tomorrow), and enjoyed my short time swimming in the ocean.

I had de-boarded my bus one stop too early.  This was a fail on my part, and I learned an important lesson about the amount of detail that needs to be provided when asking for directions.  Maybe I'll do better later in the week.

*Disclaimer: I don't support any of the things in the title of this entry..
Except the moo cow...
And the ugly beach was kinda fun...
Who am I kidding meth is awesome too!

Monday: My Misguided Walking Tour and Football Snobbery

Actual bus ridden by Ben.

Being the product of two history teacher parents, I felt that visiting Pearl Harbor was really the only place I really had to see while in Hawaii.  Multiple family members fought in World War II, and one was active in the Pacific theater.  My first day without Ryan or Angela to show me around, seemed like the perfect time. 

To get anywhere on O'ahu without a car means taking the bus.  Getting somewhere by bus isn't difficult, as long as the rider remembers which bus to take and where it picks people up.  I am not a natural planner, my memory of numbers and specific details is terrible, and I have no smart phone.  The smart money is on me getting lost at some point during this day.  That bet would have been decided quickly.

After not finding my intended bus stop, I misremembered that the bus that picked up right next to Ryan-Angela's apartment eventually wound up at Pearl Harbor.  Getting on the #3 bus, as an afterthought I said to the bus driver, "This one goes to Pearl Harbor, yeah".  In his best Hawaiian Rick Carlisle voice he simply responds, "No".  Doors close.  And we're headed to China Town!  I laughed at my own stupidity and audibled to hanging out in downtown Honolulu.

Iolani Palace was my first stop.  The fact that there is a building on US soil that housed a sitting monarch, and was at one point the home of a royal family is pretty crazy.  It's a beautiful building from the outside.  Photos weren't allowed inside.  The one thought that kept running through my head during my tour (wearing socks over my shoes provided by the preservation society) was how this palace was so devoid of furniture.  After the overthrow of the monarchy back in 1893 for the purposes of annexation to the US, any royal furnishings deemed inappropriate for a government building were sold at public auction.  Tons of historical artifacts and keys to the Hawaiian culture have not been recovered since statehood.  While this annexation process was without bloodshed, it wasn't without loss. 

Then, I walked across the street to visit the Ali'Iolani Hale building, which currently houses the Hawaii State Supreme Court.  There was a running exhibit explaining the evolution of their legal system.  There was a great collection of signs and newspaper clippings from the post-Pearl Harbor era when the territory was under martial law for three years.  Gas masks and curfews for everyone!

But the real attraction here was the huge statute of Kamehameha I.  The closest American historical comparison to this guy is George Washington.  If you read this guy's story, you'll think it's amazing you have never heard of him.  He brought the Hawaiian Islands together through warfare.  Not cute warfare, but island hopping, spear-throwing, throngs of people getting thrown off of cliffs, making the losing general into a sacrifice kind of warfare. He was the first king of the united Hawaiian Island nation.  Kamehameha's story would be the perfect movie project for Michael Bay to mishandle, miscast, and generally miss the point.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kamehameha_I

I wandered around the rest of the day until my buddies got off from work, and we found a local bar showing Monday afternoon football.  The sun was still out, people weren't off work, and we were watching Gruden and Jaws sleep through the Tampa Bay Bucs- Indianapolis Colts game.  Boring game that was only made entertaining by the crowd we watched it with, who apparently love the Bucs.  No seriously, they LOVE THE BUCS!  People in Tampa don't even love the Bucs, but these people lived and died with every 2-yard rush, every offsides call that was biased (I didn't understand that one), and the greatness that is Josh Freeman.  High comedy from people who didn't realize they were watching a steaming pile of crap football game.  Not to be a Texas football snob, but this bar did not have a high football IQ.  Perfect example: Over the bar, several jerseys were displayed: Troy Polamalu (Pacific Islander, I get it), 2 Pat Tillmans (war veteran, but 2 jerseys), Brian Urlacher (?), and a Kansas City Chiefs Joe Montana jersey!  What the h?