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Comments on Honolulu

I’m on my first trip to Honolulu. I find it an interestingly juxtaposition of a city for several reason.

First, there are the natives. The overthrow of the Hawaiian Royal Family is either seen as another example of American Capitalism backed American Imperialism, or an successful attempt by the natives themselves to throw off the shackles of Monarchy and join Democracy. All the history signs in the city on statues talking about the last Royal Family, simply state that there was an revolution. I’m looking forward to visiting the Dole Plantation (supposed seat of the American Capitalist forces behind the overthrow,) too see what is said about the revolution there. My guess based on literature so far is that little to nothing will be stated, and the focus of the Plantation will be 100% about the crops they grew.

Except for at Pearl Harbor itself, there is no mention of WWII anywhere on the island. The USS Arizona Memorial was interesting, and brought tears to not just my eyes, but quite a few others too. It was almost exclusively Americans there, most of who were seniors. A few Japanese people were about, and the few Hawaiians I saw all seemed to be employees.

Natives are very much a minority in town. Most people here are mixed race, or pure Japanese. Native Hawaiian culture surrounds us, but it’s all watered down and touristy. Nightly Hulu Shows on the beach, lei’s on all the statues. But most interestingly, not in the food. Everything is either Japanese inspired, or WWII short ration inspired. Lots of rice, cheap meat with teriyaki sauce, brown gravy. Few vegetables or salads on menus. And, much fewer fish options that I expected.

Japanese people are everywhere. At least 3 to 1 compared to everyone else together. Those working with public contact speak English very well – usually with very little accent. I also noted that employees will be primarily one race or another. Dining is also staffed along racial/cultural lines. Places geared towards Americans, (Cheese Burger in Paradise, Margaritaville, Planet Hollywood, etc,) are staffed by Americans with a Japanese or Hawaiian employee or two. The Hello Kitty Seafood Buffet (seriously, even has a “licensed by” logo near the name) is 100% Japanese. I’m assuming Hello Kitty herself is also Japanese, but I’m not sure how you’d tell.

The main strip along the beach is definitely geared towards affluent tourists. High End dining (not always good dining though,) high end shopping, high end high-rise hotels. Sidewalks are paved with flagstones and meander back and forth around water features. Gas lit tiki torches cluster under palm trees. It’s all very serene, and somewhat surreal at times.

But two blocks in the scene changes. Lower end dining (and somewhat better tasting,) lower end shopping – IE Three T-Shirts OR Two Bikinis for $20.

The big hotels all double as shopping malls. The first two or three stories are completely devoted to dining or shopping. This caused a bit of problem at check in, as I was confused walking in – the signs said “Front Desk,” then they changed the nomenclature to “Reception,” so I spent a good 30 minutes trying to figure out where to even check in.

Another thing I never saw in the tour books – prostitution. First night here I didn’t get into the hotel until near midnight local time. The hotel’s restaurants were closed, so I walked along the street looking for something, anything open and edible. There was a group of three girls standing on the corner right across from the police station. A bit further down the street, a fairly pretty, but VERY thing blonde accosted me in the middle of the side walk and flat out said “Wanna come to my room for some fun.” Two blocks down further, another blond, quite a bit chubbier this time tried to talk to me. I politely said “No Thank You,” and walked by. As I was coming back (not able to find anything edible that direction,) she started getting mad that I was walking by again, and demanded for me to come over to her! Still further on, another girl physically blocked my way and moved to block me as I tried to get around her, even after I said “No thanks,” twice.

There were a few Japanese girls working too, but they would only approach Japanese Guys, and even then, only the young ones, mid-twenties and younger.

I asked a police officer about it, and he said that as long as they don’t make trouble they let them do their thing because it helps bring in the tourists. He did ask me to describe the one who blocked my way and said he’d go talk to her as that was going too far.

Scenery wise, I’m having a hard time getting into things. I don’t find the ocean that interesting in general. What scenery there is in the immediate area is covered with huge blocky hotels. The beach scenery is non-existent. I’d try to talk more to some of the Japanese People, but my Japanese is pretty much limited to “Ready the forward laser gun! FIre!,” and “Good Day, do you speak English?” Two phrases that will only get me so far.

I’m looking forward to discovering the rest of the Island. I’m hoping that things will be different once we get further away from Honolulu.

Back to Part 3

So I finally arrived home. My motorhome is broken down in Ogden, Utah about 800 miles away.

After about a month, maybe two, I’m starting to get itchy about getting it taken care of. I call my cousin up who expressed interest in trying to get it fixed and send him a chunk of money to buy parts. The guys house it’s parked at is a mechanic too and would help. He diagnosed it, and as I later found out, was able to drive it around the block to park in the alley behind his house.

So my cousin makes arrangements to head to Ogden from Southern Oregon. A trip of about 700 miles each way. On the spur of the moment (and still unemployed,) I decide to go down, meet up, and drive the motorhome when it’s fixed. My cousin was planning on driving it and having his wife drive their car home, so I thought it’d be a bit easier for me to help and pay for gas/food/etc.

Everyone agrees this is a great idea. Or possibly everyone was just being nice about my spur of the moment idea.

So, a bit of research later and I find that the Bus is cheapest, even though it takes about 18 hours to get there. I pack up, take a couple of large novels to read. At the bus station I forget my cell phone in the car and board without it.

The bus ride was… entertaining at times. I had a seat to myself until Boardman when I had to share with some kid going to see his mother in Salt Lake City. A 20-something girl kept tormenting a little Mexican kid, while an older Asian woman joined in the fun after quite sometime. I think the 20-something was mentally challenged as I seriously thought she was going to start hitting the kid at a couple of points.

As the bus drove to the different bus stations in each town, I got to see quite a bit of each of the towns. Unfortunately most of it was from the bus window, and a good portion was at night. The stop over in Boise was nice, I walked around a few blocks and watched kids cruising down the street. Annoyingly, we drove right by a Chevy Dealership in Twin Falls. And they even had a motorhome of about the same vintage and make sitting over near the repair bays.

The bus finally arrived in Ogden at 1am. The bus driver almost didn’t get me my bags, but I blocked the baggage door before he closed it. At that point, I was just dead tired. I had napped on the bus as well as can be done in those uncomfortable seats. I thought about just sitting on the ground and sleeping, but the amazingly comfortable bed in the motorhome beckoned.

I started walking. And walking. And then walking some more. After about 45 minutes I realized I was going the wrong way. It took me several blocks to realize that I was passing landmarks that I saw when I was here the first time – on my long Sunday stroll. I got turned the right way, as I was going towards my destination I found Ogden’s Historic 25th Street. Which, had several bars, several dining establishments, and several even had hours posted for Sundays!

I also found a strip bar, and pretty sure I saw a prostitute walking along the street. This was not the town I had seen two months ago!

I finally made it to the motorhome, (and surprised to find it parked in the alley,) and fell asleep for a couple of hours. I thought I got to the motorhome at 5am, but I can’t believe that it took me 4 hours to walk that far. Even half asleep. Interestingly, I was awake again at 9am and very wide awake.

After scrounging for breakfast at the (1960’s size) super market across the street, I found that my cousin hadn’t shown up yet. Not too big of deal, it was a 14 hour drive for him after all. As the motorhome had been moved, wireless access was now impossible. Stuck, in Ogden, again. This time with no communication technology beyond semaphore, I bravely struck out for parts unknown in an attempt to gain such access.

Two hours later, on 25th Street, I found a small cafe that offered Internet access. Ironically the movie theater and “lifestyle” shopping mall just down the street offered access too, but the signal was too weak to get anything no matter where I moved. So I had an unmemorable sandwich for lunch, and was able to get enough wireless signal to let my wife know I was OK, and to tell her about the phone via IM. And to let her know about my communication challenges.

I wandered town for a bit more then headed back to my four wheeled home away from home. I read, wrote on my novel, wandered around, ate, read some more, visited the strip bar that I saw the night before just to say that I’ve been in one in Utah. Finally my cousin showed up, we talked about what needed to be done on the motor home, and I went back down to find some place to eat.

The next day, we get a few parts and then start working on the motor home. Front seats are taken out. The engine cowling is loosened, and we start breaking down the engine to replace the water pump and something else. As we’re doing so, I see one of the rods is bent. Get into it and there we are, a blown cylinder. After a round of general cussing, and then shoving all the parts back into the motor home, we go for beer.

But never fear, cousin has an engine to put in so we don’t have to rebuild the old one. Bad news, the motorhome is still 700 miles away from the Engine.

So next morning I beg a ride back to Southern Oregon. I offer to drive, but my cousin is too much like me in that I prefer to drive. We make fairly good time getting to their house about 9pm or so. His wife and kid get unloaded and bundled into bed, then he takes me down to the Train Station then heads home.

All the trains to Portland are done for the night, but there is one bright and early at 8:30 or so. So I find a cheap hotel down the road and sleep in a real bed. Across the street is the old Ford Dealership building, which has some Egyptian Motifs on the front. I remember this building was talked about in an Art Appreciation class I had to take in college. I just don’t remember why it was important.

I got breakfast at a little bakery/coffee shop. They have a huge kitchen which looks bigger then the dining area, and were making fresh pastries of all types. The smells alone were worth visiting the building.

So I waited around in the cold outside the train station. It really wasn’t that bad, but in Early Spring, the wind off the lake gets everywhere. Plus there was fresh snow in the nearby hills.

The train station opened, and those of us foolishly waiting outside were allowed in out of the cold. About 30 minutes later the train arrived. Now, I’ve never really ridden a train before. I’ve gone on a couple of different Dinner Trains such as the Mt. Hood Rail Road.

My initial experience was slightly ruined by an EXTREMELY fat guy who took up a good portion of my seat in addition to his who was also eating tuna fish with crackers. The smell of the tuna fish drove me to take my camera up to the Scenic view car, for which I’m glad I did.

A couple of people from the Klamath County History Museum were in the scenic car giving talks about what we were seeing. I knew most of what they were talking about already, but it was still pretty interesting. One of the things only viewable from the Train is a place called Root Beer Falls.

The water is a bit dirty, but is apparently very nutrient rich which gives it the frothy whiteness. I want to get back here, but just can not find exactly where it is at all. Even then it’s going to take some hiking to get in.

As we continued, the train started climbing into the mountains. It was a pretty gradual climb, but the fresh snow the night before was very nice. We also passed Clear Lake, but couldn’t get a good view of it due to the trees.

Saw some other interesting things, like a covered bridge (didn’t expect it, so didn’t have the camera out,) old and historic train stations. The Willamette River, Oregon City, and Downtown Portland.

So I’m finally back home after another 2000 miles trip.

But the Great Motorhome Story is not finished yet.

On to Part 5