Wandering Waikiki

Sunday. What a place to worship, although most people we’ve seen are worshipping the sun or their own tanned bodies, not their Creator.

Last evening after supper at IHOP next door, we went for a walk a couple blocks up the street and back on the other side. Very lively town! I stopped to shop for a bathing suit at Loco Boutique. Cute stuff, including reversible tankini’s—flowered on one side, striped on the other. They were mix and match so you could get a plain bottom if you wanted. Except they were sold out of my size in the color I wanted. So I saved a bunch of money.

We continued up the block. We soon found that Mom (with her walker) needed to be waiting in the dip in the curb, ready to take off when the light changed, or we wouldn’t make it across. We made it every time! But sometimes barely.

We spotted McDonalds in the next block last night even though it wasn’t the traditional golden arches building. We decided to go there for breakfast. The menu isn’t Minnesota either. The local special was eggs with rice and Spam. I figured I had a shrimp burger at McDonald’s in Seoul, so I needed to try the spam in Hawaii. Not bad. Although my mom used to fry it crispier. One of the things we learned on our tour Saturday was that Hawaiians and Spam comes out of all the fresh meat being confiscated for the military during WWII. Spam was all they had and they were very creative in finding ways to prepare it. I guess they have even had a cooking competition between hotel chefs to come up with gourmet Spam recipes.

Mom did well enough walking last evening that we continued up the street after breakfast to the International Marketplace—three floors of shops and restaurants, beautifully landscaped with gardens. We even sat in rocking chairs in the shade on the second floor for a while and watched a yoga class in the garden below.

Then we discovered this fabulous banyan tree in the middle of the mall. Had to wait our turn for a picture. For a moment I was wondering if I would need to call the fire department to get Mom out of the lava seat.

Check out was at 12. We came back and relaxed for about half an hour, then took our luggage down. They let us keep the key, which served as a free pass for the Pink Line double-decker shopping trolley. It was like an un-narrated city tour. We rode the whole circuit, and only got off when we got to Waikiki Beach the second time. The bus is open sided. More comfortable in the heat when moving than at stop lights, but not bad even then. I was impressed with how patient the drivers were with people getting on and off with strollers, walkers and wheelchairs. Drinks weren’t allowed on the bus, and they were even polite when they told people for the umpteenth time that they couldn’t bring a drink and needed to wait for the next bus.

At the beach we found Mom a place to park her walker on the grass in the shade of a cluster of palms. Meager shade, but better than nothing. This was her view.

I kicked off my sandals and walked down to the water. Actually, I ran because the sand was hot until you got to the damp part. Spectacular views. I don’t think anyone here ever heard of skin cancer.

 I walked down to where I could see some waves crashing and got ready to take a picture. Just then some Japanese tourists chose that spot to pose for each other. Then the woman got out a scarf and decided to take more pictures with it blowing in the wind. I thought they'd never leave. They weren't even aiming their camera at the spray! Eventually they moved, and I got this, but the spray was higher when the Japanese were there.

Eventually we decided to get some lunch at the Waikiki Beachside Bistro where we could sit at a table in the shade overlooking the beach. We split the Hawaiian BBQ steak plate even though we had no idea what the won bok and edamame salad were that accompanied it. One of those probably refers to a bean shaped like an elongated pea. The other was apparently nice greens. The BBQ had a fruity rather than tomato flavor. Really good. The recipe I found on-line calls for pineapple sauce, brown sugar, and ginger. I'll have to try it.

I don't usually take pictures of trash bins, but this is where I dumped our plate and napkins.

The Pink Line is hang-loose-Hawaiian. Supposedly they go every 10 minutes, but after we finished lunch, we waited about 25 for the next bus. I was beginning to consider whether or not Hawaii had Uber, but we did get back in time to pick up our luggage and catch our shuttle to the airport.

Now we are safely arrived at the Kauai Beach Resort on an island half an hour north (by air). We picked up our rental car, and I was not in nearly as much panic since the population looks about the size of Webster, Wisconsin. Well, probably more than Webster, but traffic is no problem. We ate our supper of cup-of-soup and crackers and cheese on the varanda with the stars overhead and the sound of the surf in our ears. We'll have to explore tomorrow.