Honolulu
Hawaii. For those who haven't been there, the most common thought is of luaus, poi and flashes of Magnum PI. After being on the Pride Of America for over a month, I finally got some land time. today in the city. My initial attitude upon disembarking was one of relief and anticipation of experiencing the island paradise. I have been to enough exotic port cities to know that expectations won't meet with the experience (both good and bad) but some hidden part of me always clings to the naivety of the media's portrayal of the tourist vision.
As I walked along the oceanside main drag whose name escapes me -- a Polynesian word with a lot of m's and u's -- I was still marveling at the obscenely idyllic weather. I stopped at a small open air mall and purchased my traditional port flag (my cabin is almost completely wallpapered in them) and ordered a perfect Orange Julius from the stand that was put there, presumably for my personal benefit.
I noticed that a perfect day scenario might be in the making here, and it needed a perfect soundtrack. I put the earbuds in place and started listening to several albums. Dream Theater? No. Oingo Boingo? Close, but no. Phish? Surprisingly, that didn't fit the day. The only thing that fit was Sting. Yes and shut your face -- Sting's "Dream Of the Blue Turtles" was a good fit. You had to be there.
After walking for a few minutes, the craving for familiar habits reared its head, so I sought out the big shopping mall I had heard about. Still clinging to my idealistic notion of Hawaii, I wandered in the general direction of the mall. I saw a car pull into a parallel parking spot on the street about a hundred feet from me, so I wandered over to get directions from the driver who not yet exited the vehicle.
I approached the window and asked him where the mall was. He appeared to be startled from an afternoon siesta by my question. Simultaneously, a young lady's head popped up from his lap. In my self-induced fog of the Hawaii commercial running through my head, it took a few moments to click that I had interrupted a transaction between a prostitute and her customer. The man shot a finger in a direction and I hurriedly followed it.
For the first time, I took an objective look at the area into which I had wandered. There were no restaurants or bannered invitations to skydive or parasail. I only saw distribution warehouses for auto parts and unidentified cardboard boxes. I was close to an unkempt basketball court with unkempt people hanging around. I noticed two things: 1. They weren't playing basketball; and 2. They were starting to take an uncomfortable interest in me -- the same kind of interest that a criminal might have in a potential victim wandering unaware through his hunting ground wearing tourist clothes, a nice watch and an fairly nice backpack. I definitely fit the latter description, and began fearing that these young men may fit the former.
I turned quickly for the main road, but they didn't follow. Shaken from my pseudo dream, I began to realize that Honolulu is an actual city with actual people. There are Hawaiian muggers and Hawaiian mugging victims who report the mugging to a Hawaiian police clerk behind a desk in a Hawaiian police station. The clerk has probably been working the job long enough that he has, in his mind, categorized a strongarm mugging without violence as a "routine crime."
After recovering from the adrenaline jolt of what I was sure at the time was a close call, I started seeing the real Honolulu. Honolulu is, for lack of a better word, nice. In comparison with other major cities, "nice" is quite an achievement.
Potholes in the street are common, but not as common as the holes in the sidewalk. This is due to the volcanic origins of the island. The ground moves and destroys the pavement at a rapid pace. However, unlike New York, both street and sidewalk holes are immediately covered by slabs of steel and plywood, respectively -- I don't think I ever saw a single uncovered hole on my mile journey to the mall.
I first noticed this movement in Maui over the course of three visits in as many weeks. I tripped in a small buckle in the pavement the first week. The second week, the small buckle had changed from a minor trip hazard to a major obstacle. The third week, that section of sidewalk had been torn out and covered with framed plywood, awaiting it's turn to be mended by the road crews who are constantly working all over the place.
Another thing that struck me was the homeless population, which is quite large. They all seemed relatively content in their temporary camps. By "relatively" I mean in comparison to other cities I have visited. There doesn't seem to be the desperation that one might see in the homeless population of Florida. No overt begging for change or emaciation from hunger. The Hawaiian transient looks well fed and in less dire straits than his cohorts in most of the mainland. I have learned that the public system in Hawaii has more of a hand in feeding the homeless and providing them with tarps to protect them from the rain.
I saw the same good treatment in places like Juneau, AK; Vancouver, BC; and Seattle, WA. Although I don't believe in God, I am fairly well-read in the Bible and think that there is wisdom in a lot of it. I had a great feeling about all of these cities, and was reminded of Jesus' words about how a place or group of people can be judged on the merit of how they treat "the least of these." Orlando, take note.
The mall was a sprawling, three story deal with the obligatory Macy's and Sears anchor stores, food court and Sam Goody's. They also had a Barnes and Nobles bookstore that wasn't selling their fixtures at 90% off -- truly a rarity in this golden electronic age. I was debating the choice to purchase either "The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress" or "Starship Titanic."
Happily, I decided on both and walked back to the ship, carefully sticking to the main road. I decided that it was better than a perfect day -- it was a memorable day.
Posted via LjBeetle
As I walked along the oceanside main drag whose name escapes me -- a Polynesian word with a lot of m's and u's -- I was still marveling at the obscenely idyllic weather. I stopped at a small open air mall and purchased my traditional port flag (my cabin is almost completely wallpapered in them) and ordered a perfect Orange Julius from the stand that was put there, presumably for my personal benefit.
I noticed that a perfect day scenario might be in the making here, and it needed a perfect soundtrack. I put the earbuds in place and started listening to several albums. Dream Theater? No. Oingo Boingo? Close, but no. Phish? Surprisingly, that didn't fit the day. The only thing that fit was Sting. Yes and shut your face -- Sting's "Dream Of the Blue Turtles" was a good fit. You had to be there.
After walking for a few minutes, the craving for familiar habits reared its head, so I sought out the big shopping mall I had heard about. Still clinging to my idealistic notion of Hawaii, I wandered in the general direction of the mall. I saw a car pull into a parallel parking spot on the street about a hundred feet from me, so I wandered over to get directions from the driver who not yet exited the vehicle.
I approached the window and asked him where the mall was. He appeared to be startled from an afternoon siesta by my question. Simultaneously, a young lady's head popped up from his lap. In my self-induced fog of the Hawaii commercial running through my head, it took a few moments to click that I had interrupted a transaction between a prostitute and her customer. The man shot a finger in a direction and I hurriedly followed it.
For the first time, I took an objective look at the area into which I had wandered. There were no restaurants or bannered invitations to skydive or parasail. I only saw distribution warehouses for auto parts and unidentified cardboard boxes. I was close to an unkempt basketball court with unkempt people hanging around. I noticed two things: 1. They weren't playing basketball; and 2. They were starting to take an uncomfortable interest in me -- the same kind of interest that a criminal might have in a potential victim wandering unaware through his hunting ground wearing tourist clothes, a nice watch and an fairly nice backpack. I definitely fit the latter description, and began fearing that these young men may fit the former.
I turned quickly for the main road, but they didn't follow. Shaken from my pseudo dream, I began to realize that Honolulu is an actual city with actual people. There are Hawaiian muggers and Hawaiian mugging victims who report the mugging to a Hawaiian police clerk behind a desk in a Hawaiian police station. The clerk has probably been working the job long enough that he has, in his mind, categorized a strongarm mugging without violence as a "routine crime."
After recovering from the adrenaline jolt of what I was sure at the time was a close call, I started seeing the real Honolulu. Honolulu is, for lack of a better word, nice. In comparison with other major cities, "nice" is quite an achievement.
Potholes in the street are common, but not as common as the holes in the sidewalk. This is due to the volcanic origins of the island. The ground moves and destroys the pavement at a rapid pace. However, unlike New York, both street and sidewalk holes are immediately covered by slabs of steel and plywood, respectively -- I don't think I ever saw a single uncovered hole on my mile journey to the mall.
I first noticed this movement in Maui over the course of three visits in as many weeks. I tripped in a small buckle in the pavement the first week. The second week, the small buckle had changed from a minor trip hazard to a major obstacle. The third week, that section of sidewalk had been torn out and covered with framed plywood, awaiting it's turn to be mended by the road crews who are constantly working all over the place.
Another thing that struck me was the homeless population, which is quite large. They all seemed relatively content in their temporary camps. By "relatively" I mean in comparison to other cities I have visited. There doesn't seem to be the desperation that one might see in the homeless population of Florida. No overt begging for change or emaciation from hunger. The Hawaiian transient looks well fed and in less dire straits than his cohorts in most of the mainland. I have learned that the public system in Hawaii has more of a hand in feeding the homeless and providing them with tarps to protect them from the rain.
I saw the same good treatment in places like Juneau, AK; Vancouver, BC; and Seattle, WA. Although I don't believe in God, I am fairly well-read in the Bible and think that there is wisdom in a lot of it. I had a great feeling about all of these cities, and was reminded of Jesus' words about how a place or group of people can be judged on the merit of how they treat "the least of these." Orlando, take note.
The mall was a sprawling, three story deal with the obligatory Macy's and Sears anchor stores, food court and Sam Goody's. They also had a Barnes and Nobles bookstore that wasn't selling their fixtures at 90% off -- truly a rarity in this golden electronic age. I was debating the choice to purchase either "The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress" or "Starship Titanic."
Happily, I decided on both and walked back to the ship, carefully sticking to the main road. I decided that it was better than a perfect day -- it was a memorable day.
Posted via LjBeetle