Hawai'i, America's own paradise. Part I

As flying first class on BA ruins normal plane travel, so a trip to Thailand stops you from ever seeing a new beach again without thinking, "well it's not as beautiful as Haad Salad" (or whichever Thai beach you first saw and fell in love with).  Everything else is just, "same same." That was my feeling at least until a recent trip to Hawai'i. 

Sunset in paradise

Seeing as the Hawai'i Islands, or archipelago as I could rather pompously call them, are a mere five and a half hours from San Francisco, the lure of the tropics was too much to resist, so The Missus and I booked ten days in December for some winter sun. There was much deliberation over flights because unlike Thailand, where there's an abundance of reasonably priced beach accommodation, the well known beaches in Hawai'i are peppered with resorts, with rates cheaper when booked in advance. After much toing and froing, not arguing, just healthy discussion, we settled on The Sheraton Waikiki on Oahu and the The Sheraton Maui, in Lahaina. So, flight into Honolulu and out of Kahului, Maui, with a short island hop in between. Smashing. 

What's still hard to grasp about Hawai'i is that it's the tropics but it's America. It's America but it's the tropics. This is no bad thing but the juxtaposition is striking, if only for it being yet another example of just how big this country is.  Even if, in this bit,  I did find myself 2398 miles off the coast of mainland USA, in the middle of the Pacific, sunbathing on, well near, active volcanoes. For an outpost it's impossible to argue the US hasn't chosen a good spot. The Falkland Islands, this is not. Nice work America or, to use local parlance, "Good jaaaaaarb." 

Surf's up in Waikiki

In fact the most striking thing about Waikiki is just how American it is, high-end, capitalist, luxurious. Our hotel, in the middle of Waikiki Beach, was surrounded by shops you would expect to find on New Bond Street or Fifth Avenue, though it reminded me more of Hong Kong's sprawling new shop-until-you-drop (literally of the heat) shopping cathedrals. 

Prada, Chanel, Versace, shimmer in the afternoon heat and burst out bright light after dark. Lighthouses of capitalism and extravagance.  I have no objection to these establishments except for the one fact that, as with all shops here, in the searing heat, these beacons have their doors wide open, blasting out constant, freezing Arctic air into the tropical atmosphere. Air-conditioning is one of the most power guzzling additions to any building, so the fact that all this energy is blasted back into the open, genuinely shocked me. Not least because in shorts and t-shirt, walking passed each doorway felt like jumping into a plunge pool. 

So Waikiki is not setup to cater for an authentic experience. It may be a typical middle-class British habit to feel the need to explore the "real" destination so if that's what you're looking for in Waikiki, you'll be disappointed. However, if you're looking to stay in a luxurious hotel that may resemble a shopping centre, this is your place. In fact, The Sheraton Waikiki is just that. A hotel-come-shoppers paradise. It was hard to grasp the mix of souvenir shops, boutiques and expensive surfwear retailers that sat side by side with the hotel lobby. I got used to it, but the adjacent food court was a step too far. I still, with every piece of my being, hate food courts. 

To lounge by the pool, to lounge in the pool

Step passed this, passed the rather excellent Father Christmas sand sculpture and all is forgiven. Whoever invented infinity pools is God. Whoever put floating bean bags to laze on in the pool is Jesus and whoever came up with the idea of serving cocktails to those lazing, is the Holy Ghost. Suddenly indulgence is to be savoured not scorned. Mind you, if the Holy Trinity created the the perfect pool, The Devil came along in December and made it compulsory to blast out Hawaiian Christmas song covers. The Devil must have also had a hand in making sure that Israel  Kamakawiwoʻole's cover of, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" is played constantly in every, literally, every lift, lobby or waiting area. When Dr Green died to that song on ER, I cried. When, after three days I got into a lift and heard that song I cried again, but for a completely different reason.

An ever present rainbow

The need to see something with a bit more depth than a shiny broach was satiated with a visit to Pearl Harbour. The Missus and I had unwittingly timed our trip to arrive in the week of the 70th anniversary of the Japanese attacks. Entry to the visitors' centre in Pearl Harbour is free and with a little bit of cajoling The Missus was persuaded it would be a worthy stop on our drive around the coast. 

Pearl Harbour and USS Arizona Memorial

The base was preparing itself for the anniversary, which meant that those survivors who could still make the trip were walking the base, reminiscing on camera and what was most touching, being recognised, honoured and thanked, by passers-by. All the surviving service personnel of Pearl Harbour are now at the very least, in their 90s, so 2011 was the final year for the Survivors' Association before being disbanded. As one survivor said to the New York Times, "We had no choice. Wives and family members have been trying to keep it operating, but they just can’t do it. People are winding up in nursing homes and intensive care places.” 

Gun turret, mooring, wreck beneath

With this poignancy we approached the wreck of the USS Arizona lying eerily just below the surface. Standing over the grave of so many men lost is moving. A corroded gun turret still peers above the surface of the gentle waters. As I looked up from the memorial I could see the hills, covered in rain forest with an ever present Hawaiian rainbow glancing across the vista. It was hard to imagine such a paradise being turned so quickly into a battlefield, seventy years earlier. Such was the impact on mens' lives that some veterans, to this day,  choose to be buried in the wreck. 

The names of those that gave the greatest sacrifice

In the UK we are used to seeing the effects of both World Wars, whether that be on the battlefields of Northern France, the cemeteries, the preserved trenches at Verdun, the shrapnel scars on St Paul's or even, as I still remember, the areas of the Docklands not yet rebuilt in the 1980s. And of course there's always Coventry. But to the Americans this, until 11th September 2011, was the only attack on US soil and it holds a particular poignancy. It is easy to sneer from the UK, but I respect the Americans, not least because I am moved by how they treat and respect those that serve, or who have served, in their armed forces.  

Despite the flippant marvellousness of cocktails in the pool, Pearl Harbour will be the lasting memory of my trip to Oahu. 

The Stars and Stripes on the memorial, attached to the main mast of the wreck