Page 194 - WDT MAGAZINE PORTUGAL

GROUNDING

STORY & PHOTOGRAPHY

BY JOHN MUNCIE

I think it happened the first or second morning
on Kailua beach. I don’t remember exactly. But
something changed when we were there. A
reconnection; an elemental truth rediscovered.
But let’s start at the beginning.
Jody and I desperately needed a break from
Japan. We were in the middle of a disaster last
winter, an epic family crisis. The details will remain
within the family, but not our solution: Escape for a
week to Hawaii.
Between us, we’d explored the Big Island,
watched the sunrise atop Haleakala in Maui,
attended a wedding in Kauai. But neither one of us
had ever been to Oahu, ever seen Diamond Head.
So when we landed at Honolulu we were strung
out and wrung out but hopeful that a new
adventure would ease our minds and soothe our
battered souls, if only for seven days.
Before we checked into the Outrigger beach
hotel, we stopped at a tourist shop. We had to get
beach gear. Jody bought a pair of shorts and some
bright pink surf-walking shoes and I got a blue T-
shirt with the slogan: “Hawaii. . .It all starts with
Aloha.”
We were ready for Waikiki.
Waikiki is crazy and crowded, a babbling brew
of tourists and languages from all over. Las Vegas
with banyan trees and surfers. Ambling down the
main drag, Kalakaua St., we encountered Gucci,
Hermes and every other high-end shop (our hotel
was across the street from a Tesla dealer), bad
street musicians, signs in Japanese, poke joints, and
malls lined with palm trees and tiki torches, not to

Sunrise at Kailua Beach in Oahu.
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