Last full day on the islands!
Our boat tour was canceled due to a hyperactive sea, but it’s impossible to not see the sea wherever you go. Can you believe this is someone’s driveway? Because it is. We were asked to move our car while we were snapping pictures of Paradise.
Bubba Burgers really are that good. Locally fed beef dipped in real teriyaki sauce topped off with a ring of pineapple? Very awesome.
Now here is one jealous bird:
Bill‘s parents stayed at the St. Regis in Princeville, a pretty swanky spot clocking in at $1,100 a night. Leave it to tourists to skip swimming in the sea in the face of swimming in the pool of a four-star resort, but – raises hand – we did that.
We also flipped on and off the privacy toggle in the St. Regis’ magical fogged up bathroom window:
The Kilauea Lighthouse, site of where I’ve had my second booby sighting! Galapagos has blue-footed boobies. Hawai’i has red-footed boobies.
Then on we went to the super touristy must-do: Smith’s Garden Lu’au! My lu’au experiences will always be the Ka Mana’o O Hawai’i shows and buffets in college, so the routine of things was not new to me. What really stood out in my eyes was the good ol’ American spirit. It felt like Middle America straight up get packed into a tour bus that got dropped off at the gates of Smith’s. The only thing bigger than their eyes at those buffet tables were the resulting heaps of food on their one, two, three rounds of entrees. And then the desserts. (Which didn’t leave a lot of room for fruit.)
It’s moments like that when I feel like a California snob. On top of snobby, I also felt waves of frustration against people of my kind: tourists. I was done with the patronizing tone being served back and forth between the locals and the tourists. The way the lu’au guides introduced poi with drawn-out, forcibly humorous apologies before the tram riders could even get a taste of the starch – They kind of set the visitors up to expect something bad, something to put down, something to write home “I tried this crazy awful thing” about. It’s just self-deprecating. And when you think about it, very awkward.
These thoughts definitely brewed in my head while we were out there, but then I had to remind myself how lucky I was just to be in Paradise. It’s not up to me how someone should introduce their culture to someone else. I just hope people learn it all well.
I named him Conquistador.
I did really enjoy the garden that’s part of Smith’s experience. First off, it seems like you should do a little bit of walking and exercise right before you stuff your face. Secondly, there are lots of plants and looks into Polynesian, island, and other Asian lifestyles that are interesting and probably new to a lot of people. Kinda feels like old tyme Disneyland. If only we could walk around the garden after the evening’s performance, when a bug in my stomach decided to attack and force me to really test out the public restrooms. It’s awkward enough feeling sick on a trip, on a public toilet. And then I had to factor in the random geckos looming overhead waiting for flies and moths clustering by the lights.
Time for macro shots!
And I named this one Coco Chanel: