Within earshot of Kailua-Kona’s lava-enclosed airstrip and close enough to the ocean to feel the sea spray, a tiny blue building fronts an unusual aquatic farm, the only one of its kind in the United States. On any given day, Ocean Rider Seahorse Farm is home to more than 20,000 seahorses and I’ve flown from […]
The Hawaiian Islands are one of the most geographically remote places on Earth. Separated from the U.S. Mainland by nearly 2,400 miles of open ocean, and by 3,850 miles from its nearest Asiatic landfall in Japan, the Islands are home to unique plants and animals as well as several hundred years worth of geographically isolated,
Not all that long ago, in a city far, far away (from Honolulu), there were many people who swore Hilo had the best okazuya in Hawaii. So what if most of those people lived in Hilo? It was true. The breed of take-out lunch shop known as okazuya—a Hawaii-born amalgam of the Japanese words “okazu”
Oh, baby, baby, it’s a wild world, indeed, especially in Hawaii’s forests and offshore waters. Sure, hikers trekking our hundreds of miles of mountain and valley trails rarely need to worry about wild things leaping out in full attack mode. (Lions and tigers and bears? Not us!) And we’ve nary a poisonous species of flora
I can’t remember a time when I’ve visited Kauai and someone—a coworker, a neighbor, my mom—didn’t ask me to bring back a brick of kulolo. You can find kulolo—a Hawaiian dessert staple made from mashed kalo (taro), coconut milk, sugar and little else—for sale on just about every Hawaiian Island. Most local grocery stores sell variants of
Stanley Matsumoto is a one-flavor kind of shave-ice guy. “Typical old style,” he says, with a light chuckle, proclaiming strawberry his favorite. Favorite, that is, unless it’s really hot outside in Haleiwa, or he just finished mowing his lawn. Then the flavor’s definitely orange. Matsumoto—everyone calls him Stan, and I will, too—is the owner of
Squinting into central Maui morning sunshine, I survey blue skies directly above a Hike Maui van and worry about the waves of cumulus camouflage rushing toward our alpine hiking destination: the summit of Haleakala volcano. My heart sinks a bit at the sight. I begin wishing that the warm, sunglasses-and-T-shirt weather in the sea level
“You didn’t pre-order?” As she says this, the woman behind the counter at Two Ladies Kitchen stares at me in disbelief. A line of customers winds behind me and out of the small downtown Hilo mochi shop and onto the sidewalk alongside bustling Kīlauea Avenue. “You have to pre-order. They sell out,” she scolds, gently.
It’s 6 a.m., Thursday, in Kealakekua. The sun has yet to break through the morning haze lazing over the small town on the slopes of dormant Hualālai volcano, just south of Kailua-Kona. Not a car is in sight on Māmalahoa Highway, winding through town. On the pastures below the Kona Historical Society’s H.N. Greenwell Store
It’s easy to brand the popular and pervasive North Shore O‘ahu shrimp shacks and trucks as tourist traps. On most days near lunchtime, it’s not uncommon to find dozens of packed tour vans parked outside shrimp purveyors between the North Shore towns of Hale‘iwa and Kahuku, their passengers scarfing down plates of shrimp. Catch us
We thought we were early for lunch. It was 9 a.m., after all. But by the time we walked up to the entrance of Sam Sato’s, an unpretentious, old-time restaurant in Wailuku’s industrial area, a crowd of hungry patrons were already gathered, names written on a little yellow pad at the takeout window. Waiting to
It’s 10 a.m. on a sunny Saturday at Kalaeloa Beach Park. Early in the day for resident beachgoers who, on most afternoons, flock to this lovely, hidden stretch of white sand in the backyard of one of Oahu’s largest industrial parks. Not so early for overnight campers already firing up small barbecue grills and popping
