“A hui hou kakou” by Karel E

       “A hui hou kakou” translates into “Until we meet again”. This past summer, I spent a week and half in Hawaii on the island of Oahu. I went with my parents, my grandma, my two cousins, and their parents. I initially went into this vacation thinking it would be just that: a vacation. When in reality, I took away more than I ever could have expected. We stayed at the Hale Koa, which is a military only hotel, directly on the beach of Waikiki.

            Right when I landed, I could immediately sense the contrast in atmosphere between Waikiki and Los Angeles. The air was humid, and just the scenery overall was filled with beautiful shades of pinks and purples, contrary to the endless gray buildings and even grayer smog filled air I left behind at LAX. Though it all seemed very different at first, Waikiki is generally the biggest tourist filled location of all seven islands of Hawaii. Yes it was cleaner, and prettier, but in my opinion it was just another LA, with sidewalks full of people and commotion rushing to get to their destination. That is until me and my family ventured off away from the city, and deeper into the heart of Oahu. We drove down along Hanauma Bay, where the only things you see are miles of green mountains to your left and the blue of the Pacific Ocean to your right. Not only until we were miles away from the city, did we begin to see the true culture of Hawaii. Roads were moderately clear, with no one even daring to drive faster than 40 miles per hour. This, we came to learn, is what locals call “running on Hawaiian time”. A store keeper told us that in Hawaii, no one is ever in a rush to do anything or get anywhere. Something we Californians find completely foreign since we live in cities of stress, schedules, traffic, and consequential road rage. Driving down along the bay, I saw teenagers hitch hiking with their surfboards and complete strangers allowing them to ride along in the bed of their trucks down to the beach, which is something I personally, would never dare to do back home. I saw a homeless man receive a small amount of money and purchase a loaf of bread with it, which he shared with the birds on the beach. It’s almost as if the locals in Hawaii all have a mutual respect for each other and their surroundings. It’s their culture to be kind and compassionate, generous and welcoming to everyone they come into contact with. This trend in character was something in the atmosphere so clear and evident; you could feel it almost as much as the humidity. Walking down a street without exchanging smiles and hellos with strangers was nearly impossible. I spent the next week and half in a dreamlike state, eating amazing food, falling asleep on the beach, getting to know locals and tourists, and basically absorbing as much paradise as I could with my family.

            The one thing that sticks out the most to me from my trip was the kayak tour I took with my cousins down Hanauma Bay. It was me, my two cousins, four strangers, and two tour guides, Keenu who happened to be a native of the island and his partner Stephanie, who had been living here on her own since she was 15. We paddled down the bay (which is much harder than I anticipated), periodically taking breaks during which our tour guides saw an opportunity to tell us the history of the island. I learned how the main island of Hawaii is essentially an island making factory and all of the islands that make up Hawaii today will eventually move underwater and be replaced by new islands. I learned how to find land if I’m ever lost at sea by using things such as turtles and clouds. I learned how and why Hawaiians have a distinct look and body type. Keenu captivated the entire kayak with his words and stories. He regretfully told us how, due to so many tourists moving into Hawaii, one day a Hawaiian won’t be able to be defined by “the same brown skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes” that he himself has. With my newfound knowledge, I developed a deeper respect for the island and its people.

            My trip was coming to an end. I had my last Hawaiian shaved ice. I paddle boarded down Waikiki one more time. I had the local musician at the café in the hotel tune my ukulele again before I headed off to the airport. I said my goodbyes to the island. Once I landed back at LAX, my surroundings were quickly replaced with the reality I left behind. I got a headache from the smog. Things likes Kim Kardashian naming her baby North West once again became what was important to people. I missed Hawaii already. I missed the scenery and the people and the food and the culture. And it was in that moment that I knew my goodbye wasn’t really a goodbye. It was more of a “see you later”. “A hui hou kakou” or “until next time.”