Come with the expectation of a bustling city, fit to be housed in Singapore or Switzerland. This clean, urban sprawl - towering over the pacific and flanked by mountains - Honolulu has a surfers appeal and glamorous charm to entice what seems like half of Asia and a few antipodeans.
8 lanes of traffic lead you slowly towards Waikiki. Think Sloane Street after some Botox from Harley Streets finest cosmetic provider and you have an image of this place. Channel, Louis Vitton and Gucci lap up the Asians looking to splash the cash and the Americans feeling decadent amidst the festive season. Separating you and the road, where bus-trolleys ding bells, lawns and palm trees, spaced at every 10 metres. If authenticity is what you are after - you’ll be hugely disappointed. This is as manufactured an environment as one could hope to create. But that is also the beauty. Clean, pristine and lean.
Day 2 and it was time to tackle a marathon. With the square root of zero training occurring since parting the continent of Africa, morale was relatively low and nerves a little juicy. With 90% humidity and temperatures knocking 30 Celsius - a marathon seemed like the best way to see the island. With the meteorological issues taken into consideration, an organiser deemed it fit to commence at 5am. In the dark prior to the burning beast making its appearance.
3am and the alarm sounded. A peanut butter bagel and a wheat muffin - carb loading had commenced. As the lift doors opened - two scandies joined us, heel to toe in Ironman stash. Their waistband fully loaded with every juice, gel and tablet that you could find in most Holland & Barret megastores! They seemed prepared. My tight lulu shorts and no top, I think had them a little concerned as to my well being.
A short walk got us to the start line. Nice and socially - loud music was booming, fireworks exploding and the national anthem playing. The poor holiday makers in the hotel adjacent must have been counting themselves pretty fortunate. Serves them right...lazy bastards! See, they too could have done what I did. Having avoided the $380 toll to enter, I blended in nicely despite my lack of race bib - perfectly dressed for the inclement conditions with no top! Surprisingly, unlike anywhere else in the world it proved to be no issue. Not even at the finish line.
The marathon in Honolulu is sponsored by Japanese Airlines. As such, unless you read race bibs or some tshirts you could be mistaken for running in Tokyo. Announcements are in Japanese, every runner seems to be of Japanese decent and bands are Komodo drummers. Despite the Japanese persuasion, and my hatred for running over a certain distance, this thing felt good. As we ran towards the rising sun, the orange glow of the sky lit up the Pacific Ocean. Palm trees offered much needed shade and Gatorade came often enough to keep us moving.
On the topic of keeping us moving - the volunteers were off the charts. Think over the top American motivation videos and you have just about nailed what they were like. Strategically positioned every 10 metres up a 2 mile climb, every one had their own version of American pump up talk. From “get up the hill y’all, it’s just like a break up - when you get to the top you’ll get over em” to “damn you guys are bringing the heat this morning - your so hot you making me wanna do this damn thing” surprisingly, it got me up the hill no issues.
A hot and gruesome few miles later and with the clock ticking towards 9:30 we crawled towards the finish line of what has to be one of the most beautiful marathons on the earth. A hobble and a handful of doughnuts later, we limped to the beach to soak it out. What an experience and what a way to see an island! Bus next time me thinks!
To stick the pain we were going through into perspective, a trip to Pearl Harbour was on the menu the following day. A somber place, your journey through this historic site starts with a short film. Images are shared, which captured the moment Japan struck, inflicting the greatest devastation on the American Navy in history and triggering one of the greatest wars of all time. Of 21 vessels only three made it through the other side, 900 men sinked to their death aboard the Arizona with over 2000 men bidding farewell to this planet on one day. As the cinema room fades to black, you are ushered outside to a Navy boat, waiting to welcome you aboard. A short ride delivers you across the harbour to the site of the memorial. As tourists of all breeds walk slowly to the memorial, the silence is palpable. Reeths lay in front of the names of men who fell, as openings in the floor beneath you allow you to view the wreck of the Arizona. With the waves lapping against the rocks and fish swimming above the wreckage - the dead laying beneath you, it suddenly becomes very real. You can only imagine the gruesome scenes on December 7th 1941.
It is hard not to be moved. The Japanese inflicted all this death and terror, for what? To gain greater power in the Pacific? To conquer yet more pieces of rock to expand an empire? Only for the Americans to repay the favour later down the line. Arguably, even more worrying is the ability of the human race to inflict subsequent grief on a larger scale in retaliation. After all, the World War was drawn to a close by the dropping of the Atomic Bomb on Hiroshima - by the Americans. The same Americans who called for peace and who debated with the Japanese to refrain from attacking their neighbours in China. One would have thought that having an event like Pearl Harbour on their own shores would elevate their knowledge of the disparity it causes - rather than choosing to retaliate in this manner. What is wrong with our world - why can we not see that the whole planet is in essence the same - irrespective of the little piece of rock we frequent, roam or consider our own. Whether nations call it their own or not is merely a fragment of inter-subjectivity. Objectively, it all belongs to planet earth. It is all governed by the same rising and setting sun and all floats in the middle of a humungous universe, making all our conquests next to irrelevant. As we stood looking out and watching the oil leak out of the ship in to the sea, I can't help but think how we are currently grappling with such similar issues in our world. Is something like this inconceivable? I highly doubt it is - with Trump and Korea in relatively frequent conversation about Nuclear Warfare, could something of this nature be round the corner? Only a change in societies perspective can alter our course.
Legs still feeling like a paraplygic and with a severe diagnosis of plantar faciatis by Dr Myself, a chilled beach day was prescribed. Waikiki beach was the chosen medicine. A short walk away from our hotel and with views of Diamond Head and the city, we had ran past it so why not go and enjoy it. On arrival - a crammed beach with more people crammed into the stretch of sand than planes waiting to take of at Heathrow. We managed to find a small space between a few couples to dump our stuff before jumping into the sea. I say jumping - we more fell in due to the lack of mobility in any of our joints.
Before long - we left the sardine container and headed for the pool at the hotel. They were obviously feeling festive, despite the oppressive heat - a large blow up Santa and his mate obstructed the view - but it was just what we needed. Some may call it vegging out - I liked to call it pool recovery!
As the damage to the joints eased, life became even better. They say you loose up to 3 cm of height when running marathons as a result of shaving cartilage and bones in your joints, so chilling for a few days was warranted. Our hotel was conveniently positioned next to the worlds largest outdoor shopping mall. After enjoying the beauties of Ala Moana Beach Park at sunset - a must do if you are ever in this place - we headed for the mall. So big and with so many mezzanine levels, you forget where you came in and where you were trying to go - overwhelming is the only way to describe it. But, it is also incredible - especially with Christmas just round the corner.
Christmas presents, birthday presents and Christmas presents for 2021 successfully purchased - we headed to the food court. Honolulu is known for its culinary opportunities - a food court in a shopping mall hardly sounds like a go to? How wrong we were - propelled into an Asian wok of choice - every noodle dish and curry you can think of is ready to be snapped up at a wonderfully affordable price. If you have space and want to fill the arteries with a little more juice - Cinnabon churns out the most sumptuous balls of CHD on the market. You’ll be pleased to know we murdered one of em!
Surf is part of Hawaiian culture. Locals live and breath it and tourists do anything to be part of it. Ourselves included. Having found the cheapest board rentals on the island at $20 for the day, Moku looked after our needs. This little place, perched on the street corner behind the Hyatt Regency is some outfit. Delivering on every simplistic level - this surf shop has a till and hundreds of boards. A girl scans the card and points you to the board boy who kits you out for the day.
Most surfers we had seen made carrying an 11 foot board look effortless and incredibly cool. Suffice to say I resembled a struggling wreck as I made my way to the beach. The bird slipping from my undercarriage and catching the smallest gust of wind. 11 foot is longer than you think - I found out the hard way, scraping the fin off lampposts and clattering into small Chinese children. Nevertheless, despite an eventful 100 metres to the beach. She was clearly a good board - perfect for my hideously poor level!
I have only managed an hour surfing at a time before frustration gets the better of me. I was determined to push through the anguish and defeat the demons on this occasion. After all, the board was mine until 8pm - I had 10 hours to master this sport. How hard could it be? The paddle out was positive. I made it to the break - joining surf schools, led by over enthusiastic Americans yelling cringeworthy encouragement to Japanese guests who couldn’t understand a word. Having avoided the lesson fee - I made good use of proximity to take in a few nuggets of help from various instructors.
Slapping the waves ferociously I failed to catch a cold for the majority of the morning. As local lads paddled past with ease, I was left in their shadow vocalizing nothing more than expletives. Until it clicked. “You’ll just feel it and you know it is time to stand” a local chap said. He couldn’t be more right. The board caught the wave, I popped up and that was that.
The next few hours of my life were honestly up there with the best. It is you and the waves. Endorphins flowing like a hormone-soused teenager and the brain free to think, with only the sound of the breaking waves to distract you. This was living. This was pure elation. Time after time, it became more and more natural and I began to cruise past people battling with the early frustrations. As the sun set, the magic of this sport got even better. Only the darkness had me leaving the water. I could finally say I could surf - now to buy into the lifestyle a little more.
It is funny what homeless people will take. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought a pair of sweaty socks and battered trainers would be up there on a list of items to add to an already terrible concoction of hanging items from a mans shopping trolley. But, as we returned from the surf - everything we had left on the beach was still there - except Zoe’s trainers. After a good look around - we had given up and it was going to be a rather uncomfortable bare foot walk back to the hotel, before we stumbled across them. Three trees up and discarded, they lay back to front on the green grass. For some time I have commented on how bad Zoe’s feet smell. Now that even a tramp has discarded the shoes - perhaps action may be taken!
Battered, bruised and cut from coral - we were in need of a little treat. Having enjoyed a meal at the Cheesecake Factory pre marathon, we had no room for a desert. This place is like a department store for cheesecake - name a flavor and if they don’t have it I’ll make it. Looking exceptionally weathered, still dripping from the sea, we thought it better to get a takeaway than discuss the option of having a seat! We grabbed a slice each and headed to the Saks 5th Avenue outdoor mall to devour the sugary overdose. As the headaches kicked in and the stomachs bulged to their max, we sat and reminisced over one of the best days of our lives.
Don’t come expecting paradise. Don’t come expecting tropical serenity. Rather, come with the view to walk through perfectly manicured boulevards, artificially inseminated shopping districts and the perfect launch pad for a surfing dream - then you will be pleasantly fulfilled. Honolulu appeals to the city lover in you - without dealing with the smog, populous congestion and dirt of most modern cities. When the temperatures rise, downtown is flanked by awesome beaches to keep you refreshed. Eggs n things sets you up for unrivalled brekkies and food courts give you a head start for dreaming your way to sleep. In between, shopping to rival Paris and surf to tempt even the surfing minors of the world will keep you occupied. Yes. Yes. Yes to this place.
Aloha!