Everybody's gone surfing....
I flew in early to have a day to myself. It has been over a decade since I was last on Oahu, and although I have been to Pearl Harbor (where the memories are still vivid and put a lump in my throat) and Hanauma Bay (motto: let's see how many haolies we can cram into this small bay and then snicker at them) but it has been long enough that I don't remember the North Shore.
Ah, the North Shore - a mecca of surfing, and especially in the winter when the waves are at the biggest. Home to some of the most famous beaches in the world - Waimea Bay, Sunset Beach, and last but certainly not least the Banzai Pipeline. The cool thing is that there was a surfing competition at the the Pipeline, camera crews and everything. Probably 150 people had turned out and I sat on the beach for a while just hanging out. However, when I got to Sunset Beach it was incredible! Huge waves were forming and breaking far from the shore, I'm guessing 15-18 feet high. The surfers were incredible, and in my uneducated opinion the surfing was much "mo betta" than at the Pipeline.
Splish splash I was takin' a bath
I was sandy and sweaty after spending the day at the North Shore. Returning to the hotel, I noticed that the bathroom had a jacuzzi tub! Now I'm a shower guy and haven't taken a bath since I don't know when. However, I thought this would be just right. I filled the tub, turned on the jacuzzi jets and sank into restful bliss. I noticed on the counter a little tray of toiletries. There was a bottle labeled "bath something", where the something refers to a word I don't remember. I picked up the bottle and gave a good squeeze into the tub. Suddenly, a high tide of bubbles began to rise. Quickly they rose to my chest, then chin, and threatened to drown me! By the time I turned the jets off, there were bubbles spilling over onto the floor and moving toward the bathroom door. I survived the attack.
Superbowl Sunday
Elevator noises
The hotel I stayed at had peculiar characteristics. It started life as condos, but as the financial district grew around it a renovation occurred and ownership passed to turn it into a business traveler hotel. In my room the outside walls were floor to ceiling windows, where I could sit with my morning coffee and watch the sparkling sunrise slowly illuminate the industrial section of the bay that my window faced. Sunlight would glint off the rusting and towering cranes as they slowly loaded cargo containers on massive ships to soon traverse the ocean blue. Slight oil slicks would occasionally present a soft rainbow pattern hovering over the water. One of the more interesting facets of this diamond of a hotel was the elevators. Each one had an unusal, slightly unnerving, noise. I'll call them elevator A, B and C. Elevator A kind of squeaked, like the cables needed lubricating. Elevator B occasionaly thumped, like there was an obstruction in the shaft such as a speed bump that it would hit each time. Elevator C banged, such as the carriage was floating loose in the shaft and hit the walls in the ascent/descent.
There's no place like home.
On my last night I was wandering around and literally right across the street was what looked to be an older (brick) building that had been converted to offices. On the building were these words: The Oregon Building. Over the door was this word: Portland. How nice to have a subtle reminder of home sweet home in Honolulu of all places!
