Page 195 - WDT MAGAZINE PORTUGAL

mention a bounty of butt cheeks and tattoos
because. . .well, because everybody was walking
around half naked.
We only stayed at the Outrigger for two nights
but that was enough time to cram in the full Waikiki
experience. We joined the sunset crowd on the
beach (Waikiki is the land of the sunset selfie),
caught the weekly free song and hula show at the
outdoor stage by the statue of Duke Paoa
Kahanamoku, the godfather or surfing, ate poke
tacos at the Outrigger’s grill, and hiked to the top of
Diamond Head.
The Diamond Head trek took us by aging Army
bunkers and over ancient lava flows to those
sweeping iconic views of Waikiki below and the rest
of Honolulu beyond. And observation points so
crowded you had to take turns.
So we were more than ready for some
“ho’omaha” – that’s rest and relaxation in Hawaiian.
On day three we drove the sea-side route past
Makapu’u point to the town of Kailua.
Honolulu has a metro population of nearly 1
million. Kailua doesn’t have a metro population. It’s
got a Whole Foods and a few other outposts of
civilization, but basically it’s a laid-back beach town,
pop. 38,000.
We’d rented part of a house just three blocks
from the ocean. There wasn’t a high-rise in sight,
just lots of bougainvillea and mango trees. We
dumped our bags and walked to the shore. Instead
of Waikiki’s narrow crammed-up strip, there was a
dramatic sweep of nearly empty sand stretching
from Kapoho Point to Kailua Beach Park. Mild surf
lapped the shore, the shallower bays and inlets
shone a brilliant turquoise.
We looked at each other, grinning. And,
because we’re both professional writers, we
uttered the same brilliant descriptive insight at the
same time. “Oh, wow!”
During our remaining time in Oahu, we mostly
just hung out in Kailua and decompressed. Long
stretches of silence and deep breaths. We walked
on the beach in the morning and afternoon and ate
dinners of salad and poké which the local Foodmart
sold by the pound. We got massages and facials.
Every day was the same: 80 degrees high, 72
low. “This is our winter,” local real estate agent Kelly
La’a told us. (Yes, we had to check out the housing
market.) “It’s hot in the summer but with the ocean
breezes there’s no need for air conditioning.” The
calls of doves and roosters woke us up each
morning; the sound of distant surf lulled us to sleep
at night.
I can’t use the word “magical” to describe our
Waimea Falls deep in the Waimea Valley.

194 WINE DINE & TRAVEL MAGAZINE 2019