Roughing it
Hawaii is in the middle of nowhere
Paul Theroux
Our plan had been to hit a low key beach-type place for 2 months with the kids on the way back to the UK. Having always been an Asian girl, we’d assumed we’d find a similar cheap crash pad to hang our hats and rough it somewhere — you know, like you used to do in your 20s.
Turns out Mexico and the rest of South America was out due to Zika. The reality of having two kids under seven hit home, so we settled on a couple of mighty fine weeks in Hawaii. It’s not often you only live 5 hours’ flight away from one of the most remote locations in the world.
My extensive research confirmed that only American agents get the best deals, so I bagged a decent travel operator, and blagged for my life. We settled on sampling the delights of Oahu and Big Island.
Time stood still
We loved Oahu. Yes, it was built up in places — Waikiki isn’t somewhere you’d rest your weary head if you’re looking for that barefoot vibe, but it was great to see the world famous Diamond Head and we loved Honolulu and the rest of the island. People were genuinely friendly, and real life faded into hazy remembrances. We took in the beautiful coastline, where the sea laps along the main road as you take the drive up to the North Shore.
As well as local food trucks peppered along the roadsides, the local 7/11’s revealed a surprising national delicacy: Spam. This tickled me. Apparently, Hawaiian residents have the highest per capita consumption of the pink stuff in the United States:
Hawaii offers up treats unavailable in other global markets: Honey Spam, Spam with Bacon, and Hot and Spicy Spam. Often referred to as “The Hawaiian Steak”, there are festivals and cook-offs in celebration of the infamous luncheon meat, which I’d thought had gone out of fashion in the 80s. Clearly shows I’m no longer on top of trends.
Fire eating with the locals
We swung past the Polynesian Cultural Centre for the kids. We were in luck, as that particular night just happened to be the World Championships Fire Knife finals — the kids FLIPPED as we stumbled on a crowd agape as they watched crazy fire-eating men jumping around a sand-filled arena like loons.
Rainforest retreat
We decided to don the walking boots and head off to the volcanic delights of Big Island. We stayed in a tiny b&b with a Japanese ofuro in the garden — a short, steep-sided wooden bathtub. We took great delight in jumping in, surrounded by nothing but tree frogs, butterflies and birds.
I started reading Mark Twain’s ‘Roughing it in the Sandwich Islands’ — a forgotten book on the shelf of our guesthouse with yellowing, tea-stained pages, offering an evocative recollection of Hawai’ian culture.
Based on Twain’s original 25 letters written from the island on assignment from the Sacramento Union, Lawrence Downes from the New York Times calls Twain’s account:
A foretaste of genius and the best travel writing about Hawaii, my home state, I have ever read.
Black rock and molten magma
Big Island was a geologist’s wet dream. It was a total delight to drive round showing the kids brand new land being formed in front of their very eyes, which felt as raw and natural a landscape as you could possibly get. I couldn’t put it better than Downes, who writes:
The lava has buried miles of mountainside — as well as streets, subdivisions and beaches — in crunchy black lacquer. Chain of Craters Road winds down the mountain like a lazily draped ribbon on a pillow. Roadcuts through old lava flows are marked with dates, and even those from the 1950’s are still desolate — just craggy, brownish-black rock, like strewn coffee grounds.
We went back to the Volcano at night, to see it spewing. It was quite a sight — admittedly not magnificently captured by me — but you get my drift:
We’ve been watching this beautiful animation short from Pixar ever since: LAVA. I implore you to watch it with your little ones and try to resist humming it for eternity. For me, it will always remind me of the trip of a lifetime with my boys:
The big 40
As my husband headed towards the big 4–0, we checked into a beautiful hotel at Hualalai — an amazing wild stretch of beach where we fed eagle rays with the children, watched monk seals resting on the sand and turtles come up daily.
No wiki wiki (no hurry)
And so we gently rested with the wildlife, and listened to nothing but the sea and the sound of our own thoughts, as we officially welcomed the countdown to the inevitable midlife crisis.
Hawaii is everything we hoped it would be. If you’re ever round that way, I’d recommend swinging by.
