March 11, 2001 |
I received my mission shortly after landing on this luscious, 553-square-mile island, a 30-minute puddle-jump west of Honolulu. It was contained in a tourist booklet I picked up at the airport in Lihue, Kauai's main town. The booklet was full of discount coupons for everything from luaus to motorcycle rentals. Particularly well represented were deals on helicopter tours.
March 11, 2001 |
Clouds of mist drifted through the feathery ironwood forest canopy and shrouded the deserted green meadow of Palaau State Park, our campground on Molokai. Our new cerulean dome tent contrasted with this rugged, lush field in much the same way that rural Molokai contrasts with high-rise Honolulu. That contrast is really why we came here. My girlfriend, Sylvia, and I, recent Bay Area transplants, now live in a Honolulu high-rise.
March 1, 1998 |
The sleepy town of Hilo is glorious after an early morning rain. The sun shines on green lawns as the storefronts along Waianuenue Avenue begin opening their doors for another day of business. I head up the street past the place where my grandmother's family house stood for 90 years, to be replaced, in the 1950s, by a Dairy Queen. On Kaiulani Street I wait on one side of the old wooden bridge that connects segments of the river-laced town.
July 18, 1999 |
Hoku's at the Kahala Mandarin Oriental hotel, nestled in the Waialae Kahala residential area, has assembled a loyal following despite the changes in chefs since its opening three years ago. Sushi, tandoor-oven breads with ahi poke dip, Chinese-style steamed fish, stuffed oxtail soup, herb-crusted onaga (Hawaiian snapper) atop a bed of creamed spinach and icy towers of assorted fresh seafood are signature dishes.
August 23, 1998 |
God's in his heaven--somewhere over my left shoulder, I think, hidden by the mist on Mt. Hualalai. And here, in Holualoa town on Hawaii's Big Island, the first stop on my day in Kona Coffee Country, all's right with the world. A Beethoven piano concerto plays indoors at the Holuakoa Cafe, where owner Meggi Worbach is chatting with some regulars.
May 16, 2000 |
Most governments see tourism as a clean industry, a benign economic engine that produces a huge infusion of cash with little negative effect. In Hawaii, that conventional wisdom now is under attack. The state this year is doubling the money it spends to lure visitors, to a whopping $55 million, as the islands emerge from a long economic slump. But if the Sierra Club has its way, the ambitious marketing campaign could come to an abrupt halt.