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Occurence At The Dollar Tree

5/26/2023

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It was our last day in Los Angeles and my grand daughters asked me if we could go shopping at the Dollar Tree in nearby Redondo Beach. I said that we could. They assured me that they had their own money.
Our shopping ran a fairly ordinary course, the girls picking out their items,

...and me picking out mine, which happened to be two bags of Combos for Tom and me for our trip home the following day.

When we reached the checkout counter the girls divided their purchases then put them on the belt, placing a divider between them. I likewise grabbed a divider and set my bags of Combos behind it on the belt.
"Here. Grammie, I'll pay for yours," said my older grand daughter, reaching for my Combos and adding them to her items.
After my younger grand daughter paid for her items the check-out clerk, a young man with shoulder-length hair and a beard, asked her if she needed a bag.
"No thank you, I have my own," said my grand daughter, holding up the reusable bag I'd given her to use.
"Yeah, reusable bags are good," said the young clerk.
When my other grand daughter answered similarly after making her purchases and held up her reusable bag, the friendly clerk complimented her, as well, on her environmental do-gooding, for which my grand daughter thanked him.
My grand daughters happened to spot on the wall across from the check-out lane a line of those machines filled with trinkets that will (theoretically) be discharged in exchange for a quarter and which my grand daughters wished to engage. They and I began roaming through our purses for a couple of quarters.
"Hey, you need quarters?" called a voice behind us. I turned to see the person behind us in line, a youngster who appeared to be in her twenties with a skater dudette look: a dozen or so piercings around her ears, nose, and eyebrows, short hair sticking out of a backwards-turned baseball cap, black tee shirt, loose black board pants, black Converse sneakers. She was digging in her pocket. "I got some quarters for you," she said.
"Oh, you're so kind," said I, "but that's all right. I think we have a few."
"I saw how you paid for your grandma's things," said the skater girl to my grand daughter. "That was really nice. Here's some quarters," she said, proffering us the coins.
"Sorry guys," said the clerk. "All the machines don't work. See?" He pointed out to us the hand-printed sign on the wall above the machines. "Sorry about that."
We assured the clerk that it was okay and thanked him for pointing out the sign, and I thanked the skater girl again for her generous offer of the quarters.
As my grand daughters and I were leaving the store my younger one was struggling to open the door. Up behind us came the skater girl and opened it for us.
"Thank you so much," I said to her, and to my grand daughters I said, "See how polite this kind lady is? This is a good example for you of the kind of adult that children should grow up to be." My verbiage was mayhaps a bit clunky and I realized afterwards that in this case I probably should have said "person" instead of "lady," but the skater chuckled and my grand daughters chuckled and everybody was all good-natured about it.
Then the girl got into her car and I got into my car and we drove our separate ways while the clerk continued checking out.
Now, in truth there was nothing extraordinary about this brief interaction among five people at the Redondo Beach Dollar Tree. But it was nice. It was just five people, half of them strangers, being nice to each other, and, in small, little ways looking out for each other and briefly putting just a little bit of gemütlichkeit* in the world.
But sometimes little things mean a lot.

* A German word meaning "friendliness, warmth, good feeling."

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California Cookin'

5/23/2023

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CALIFORNIA COOKIN'

On Saturday, April 15, in the wee small hours of the morning we said Aloha to the beautiful Hale Koa,

...then took a Speedi Shuttle to the Honolulu airport, from where we said Aloha to beautiful Hawai'i.

However, our Aloha wasn't as sad as it might have been, since five hours and fifty-five minutes later we were in Los Angeles,

...where we would spend the next nine days visiting with our daughter, son-in-law, and grand daughters.
As always, my two granddaughters met me with their usual greeting: "Grammie! Hooray! Will you make us pizza? Will you make us mashed potatoes? Wil you make us an apple pie with our name on it?"
My daughter also threw in a request for roast beef.
Of course, I made all of those things - and other dishes - more than once over the course of the next nine days.

(However Tom made the pies, apple pie being his specialty).

But first on the food request list was for a big yummy breakfast on the morning after our arrival, as my grand daughter the was having a sleepover that night.
And so, with the help of my grand daughter,

...we served up a big yummy breakfast of scrambled eggs, tater tots, French toast with all the fixings, and fruit. The breakfast was a hit with the sleepover guests.

From then on I spent a portion of most days whipping up whatever the family was in the mood for (while Tom spent a portion of most days washing pots and pans),

...and, subsequently, considerable time at Ralph's, my local supermarket of choice, in no small part because I love the all the palm trees in the parking lot.

When not in the kitchen or at Ralphs, I'd write (which Pinky invariably took as an invitation to invade my space);

...or I'd practice on my newly-acquired ukulele (see post from 5/9/2023, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/i-ukulelist);

...or I'd go out to trek up and down the hilly neighborhood (where it's a shame the utility wires aren't underground. But then, being so close to the beach as this area is, one probably can't dig very far underground without hitting sea water);

...and snapping the local color;

...or the palm trees and plants in the backyard.

Otherwise it was my joy just to be part of the family's life and routine for this too-short, precious time, and to occasionally capture a moment,

...not infrequently including Pinky, who has a propensity for being where the people are,

...or at least where the camera is.

On Sunday, the day before we left, our daughter drove us out to Malibu,

...to have lunch at Duke's a Hawaiian-themed restaurant,

...over-looking the ocean,

...and named after Duke Kahanamoku, the famous Hawaiian Olympic swimmer and surfer who is well-loved among Hawaiian islanders.

The food was delicious,

...and they really piled the bacon on my bacon-and-eggs,

...and the arugula on my daughter's avocado toast.

Once in a while it's nice to let someone else do the cooking.

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A Farewell Gift

5/20/2023

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A FAREWELL GIFT

...Continued from previous post:
On Friday morning, our last day in Honolulu, the lobby of the Hale Koa was a lively place, filled with the local artisan vendors who come to the Hale Koa every Friday morning to sell their hand-crafted wares..

I bought some gifts to bring back: a couple of candles,

...a piece of jewlery,

...a table runner that the vendor finished hemming while I waited,

...and two beautiful bread baskets carved by the seller's father.

We spent the rest of our last day mostly hanging around the hotel grounds,

...except that we did venture off-post in the afternoon to walk to a nearby McDonald's.
The McDonald's in Hawaii used to sell a item called a Haupia Pie, a pastry akin to the hot apple pie McDonald's used to sell, but with a sort of sweet coconut cream filling instead the standard apple filling.

I always loved those Haupia Pies, and every time I've been to Hawaii I've made it a point to eat one or two - or more - of them. And so I wanted to check if they were still an available item.
Sadly, Hawaii McDonald's - or at least the McD's near our hotel - no longer carried the Haupia Pie. However, they were offering a new flavor, a guava & crème pie.

We tried one.

It was okay. But it couldn't hold a dim candle to the Haupia Pie.
That evening while we were in our hotel room packing for our departure the following day, I suggested we turn on the television.
To our delight, the Hilo hula competitions of the Merrie Monarch Festival, a yearly springtime celebration of Hawaiian culture, were being televised. The dancers were beautiful to watch.

It felt like a fare-well gift from this lovely island.

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These were A Few Of My Favorite Honolulu Things

5/17/2023

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THESE WERE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE HONOLULU THINGS

1. The Bishop Museum
On Thursday, we went to the Bishop Museum, Hawaii's largest museum of the culture and natural history of Hawaii and the Pacific Islands,

...and the terrace of which offers a panoramic view of Honolulu,

...and the surrounding hills.

Though I'd been to the Bishop Museum several times already on previous trips to Hawaii,

...still, I love coming back to this historic building, which first opened in 1898. I love wandering its three floors that overlook an open gallery,

...and losing myself in the exhibits and artifacts.

My favorite room is the Polynesian Islands room,

...where one can see models of the canoes used by the ancient Pacific voyagers,

...and learn about the voyages of those ancient seafarers, as well as facts about the culture and languages of the over 1,000 islands of Polynesia.

2. The View From My Room
Though the rooms with an ocean view are considered more desirable, I loved the mountain view from our second-floor room at the Hale Koa,

...especially how it changed colors depending on the weather and time of day.

 3. The Changing Colors of Diamond Head
The vista of Diamond Head likewise changed colors throughout the day.

  4. The Food at Happy's
  Happy's, the short-order carry out eatery on the Hale Koa grounds,

...served up, in its eco-friendly shells, amazingly good and inexpensive grindz,*
...such as the Easter Sunday prime rib,

...the Thursday night Ginger-crusted Mahimahi,

...the Friday night Old-Fashioned Brisket,

...and the numerous yummy lunches we ate there.

And then there's those to-die-for Happy's soft serves.

(Sigh). Ah, the memories.

*Hawaiian slang for food.

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In Search Of Historic Honolulu, Part 3

5/15/2023

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"What do Nicaraguan migrants leave behind when they come to the United States? Patti Liszkay’s uplifting, heart-warming Tropical Depression will introduce you to the loving, squabbling Guzman family as they deal with births, adoption, poverty, and family feuds. WARNING: This novel could change the way you think about our immigration policy!" - Sid Meltzer, author of Unwitting Accomplice

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IN SEARCH OF HISTORIC HONOLULU, PART 3

...Continued from previous post:
The following day, Tuesday, after our morning walk along the beach,

...Tom and I again took the city bus from Waikiki to King Street in downtown Honolulu.

We planned to visit the 'Iolani Place, royal residence of the rulers of Hawaii (see post from 5/12/2023, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/in-search-of-historic-honolulu-part-1).

But first we stopped by the Ali'iolani Hale, the beautiful building across the street from the 'Iolani Palace, which is the home of the Hawaii State Supreme Court,

...to look at the famous statue of King Kamehameha the Great, conqueror and uniter of the Hawaiian islands into the Kingdom of Hawaii.

Then we crossed King Street and entered the grounds of the 'Iolani Palace.

Though I can't exactly say why, for some reason the 'Iolani Palace made me think of the Ohio State House in Columbus.

Or maybe it was more because this view to the left of the Palace,

...reminded me of the view to the left of the Statehouse. Minus the palm trees. (Question for any Columbus folks who might be reading this: Does the above view from the 'Iolani Palace lawn remind you of the Broad Street view from the Statehouse lawn? Or is it just me??)
Anyway, one had the option of visiting the 'Iolani Palace with a guided tour for $20 or visiting the basement of the Palace on one's own and seeing the exhibits there for $5. We opted for the $5 basement tour.
It was actually quite a good tour.

We saw the Palace kitchen,

...the state-of-the-art for the time bathroom stalls (or "water closets) that one of the monarchs had installed,

...and this pleasant room, which looked like a study or maybe a reading room (or a ukulele practicing room).

There was also a good historical exhibit of photographs, pictures and some artifacts.

After we finished touring the 'Iolani Palace basement we decided to return to to Chinatown,

...where we had lunch at Pho Vietnam.

We had bahn mi, delicious vegetable sandwiches on a hard roll.

The following day, Wednesday, we were once again on the number 20 bus to downtown Honolulu.

This time our destination was the early 19th century houses built by the first missionaries to Honolulu. But first we stopped by the historic Kawaiaha'o Church.

On either side of the altar there were the traditional feather standards of the Hawaiian ali'i, or chiefs.

We then walked over to the site of the missionary houses.

Here can be found the oldest existing house in Hawaii.

After looking at the missionary houses we once again felt like walking to Chinatown,

...where we visted some of the markets.

We stopped for lunch at a spot called Pho 97.

We ordered duck pho. It wasn't very good. Or very appetizing. Mine had a chunk of something brown in it. It might have been duck liver. I didn't want to find out.

Still, there were several other diners in the restaurant who seemed to be enjoying their pho. So maybe to each their own pho.
After lunch we caught our bus,

...back to Waikiki.

That evening we walked into downtown Waikiki.

We went to the Halekulani hotel on Lewers Street,

...where there is nightly Hawaiian music with hula dancing.

It was wonderful.

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In Search Of Historic Honolulu, Part 2

5/13/2023

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IN SEARCH OF HISTORIC HONOLULU, PART 2

...Continued from yesterday:
A little while later that morning, Monday morning, while wandering the streets of Chinatown, trying to imagine these streets as they might have been a hundred years ago, Tom and I came upon an unassuming, storefront,

...with this sign attached to the door identifying it as the Hawaiian Heritage Center.

We spent a moment discussing whether we should go inside. I was a weence reluctant based on the, shall we say, well-aged appearance of the structure. Tom, however, was more amenable to checking the place out.
"You're looking for historical places, right?" He said. "This place looks pretty historical."
So we entered the Hawaiian Heritage Center, and were soon convinced that we had discovered a hidden - or maybe not so hidden - gem of Chinatown.
Upon our entrance we were greeted by the two friendly Heritage Center staff members who, after accepting our $1 entrance fee, were happy to show us around and answer our questions.

The little museum was full of artifacts, most donated over the decades by Hawaiian families or individuals of Chinese descent.

There were, however, other nationalities represented, as well.

When one of the staffers saw me snapping pictures he asked if I'd like him to take a picture of me, to which I replied, "Sure."

He also kindly offered Tom and I bottles of cold water, which we gratefully accepted after having tramped around town all morning in the Honolulu heat. I did insist on paying him for the water, though, as I figured they could use the donation.
After we'd finished seeing the Hawaiian Heritage Center we were ready for lunch. I wanted to check out a restaurant that Theresa and Mayren had discovered on their foray into Chinatown ( see post from 4/24/2023, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/chinatown-cheese-corn-ice-cream-and-other-honolulu-delights).
It was a Thai/Lao place called Olay's and located on nearby Hotel Street.
Just as my daughter had described, Olay's looked fairly ordinary from the outside,

...but the interior was oh, so cute,

...and opened up into a lovely garden.

I had a delicious pad thai,

...while Tom had a seafood dish.

After lunch we walked around for a bit longer,

...then we headed for the bus stop,

...where we caught the bus back to Waikiki where, later that night, we caught the most beautiful golden sunset.

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In Search Of Historic Honolulu, Part 1

5/12/2023

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"Tropical Depression" By Patti Liszkay
Now Available On Amazon

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"Tropical Depression by Patti Liszkay is a powerful and emotionally charged novel."
- Sublime Book Review

"Tropical Depression is rich in the intersections of love, conflict, and culture that bring this world to life." - D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review

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IN SEARCH OF HISTORIC HONOLULU, PART 1

...Continued from previous post:
Among my favorite of all favorite books in the world is the novel "Hawaii," James Michener's historical mega-saga of the Hawaiian islands. I've read all 1,036 pages three times, to which my well-worn copy will attest.

Along with my desire to pursue some culture during my recent visit to Hawaii (see previous post: https://www.ailantha.com/blog/i-ukulelist), I also had the desire to visit the oldest streets and sites in Honolulu as described in Michener's book, where the commercial development of the island began in the 19th century, mostly by the children of the American missionaries and other American entrepreneurs who helped themselves to the land of the Hawaiians, made their fortunes, and began turning Honolulu into the island metropolis it would become.
I wanted to visit Chinatown, where the industrious Chinese immigrants lived on the edge of haole - or white - society, but from where many rose to run successful businesses, as well.
I wanted to visit the site where the original missionaries built their houses, as well as the 'Iolani Palace, the royal residence of the rulers of Hawaii until 1893, when a group of influential American-descendant sugar and pineapple growers enlisted the help of the U.S. Marines to overthrow Hawaiian Queen Liliʻuokalani,

...so that Hawaii could become an American territory.
I wanted to go to all those places.
Now, it isn't as if I hadn't been to downtown Honolulu before or been to Chinatown or visited the site of the missionary houses on previous visits to the island. But this time I wanted to walk among these places and see them through the lens of Honolulu's history as told in James Michener's tale.
And so Monday morning, after an early walk through the Hale Koa Botanical Garden,

...and along Waikiki beach,

...Tom and I headed towards town to the bus stop,

...from where we caught the number 20 bus for $1.25 - senior rate - to downtown Honolulu.

We alit at the corner of King and Punchbowl Streets,

...Punchbowl Street being named after the ancient volcanic crater located there which is now home to Punchbowl National Cemetery.

However we walked in the other direction, down King Street to the 'Iolani Palace, which, we learned, was closed on Mondays.

So we continued down King until we came to Fort Street, the oldest street in Honolulu and the first paved street, where the first banks and powerful 19th century American business enterprises were established and where much of the drama in Michener's story unfolds.
We found that today Fort Street is a pleasant pedestrian mall,

...where one can still nonetheless find a vintage building or two.

We then made our way to Beretania Street,

...where the wealthy haole bankers and businessmen had their fine homes, and from where we could see hills to which, according to Michener, the residents of Chinatown fled in 1900,

...when Chinatown was burned down by he Honolulu health department after an outbreak of Bubonic Plague, carried into Chinatown in a shipment of rice from a freighter that had been carrying rats.

We continued down Beretania Street until it took us into Chinatown.

(where, several blocks in we would be able to see the port from where the Plague entered Chinatown).

We strolled around the streets,

...and though I knew that Chinatown in 2023 looked nothing like James Michener's Chinatown from 123 years ago - in truth, none of the oldest streets in Honolulu that we walked along that day were anything like the streets from the era of Michener's novel - still, I now had a geographic sense of these locations, which I know I'll find helpful now that I'm on my fourth reading of "Hawaii."

To be continued...

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I, Ukulelist

5/9/2023

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"Tropical Depression" by Patti Liszkay
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I, UKULELIST

...Continued from yesterday:
If a piano player is a pianist, a guitar player a guitarist, a saxophone player a saxophonist, etc., does it follow linguistically that a ukulele player is a ukulelist? I suppose the question of whether a ukulele player is a ukulelist is as discussion-worthy as the question of why I wanted to become one. My journey to becoming a ukulelist (if it wasn't a word before I'm officially christening it) began sometime last year when we were planning this year's trip to Hawaii. After having visited the Hawaiian islands several times previously, I felt a yearning this time to immerse myself in the Hawaiian culture beyond what one can absorb as a one-week tourist. Which would be a challenge, considering that I was going to be a one-week tourist. Well, two-week tourist, actually, but as the first of those weeks I'd be spending with my visiting children and grandchildren, that left only the second week open to cultural pursuits; provided. of course, that my mate Tom was not adverse to being abandoned while I pursued culture.
"Nah, I don't mind," said Tom, ever the good sport. "I'll find something to do while you're pursuing the culture."

Being a linguaphile, and language being one of the primary means of expressing culture, my first idea was to learn Hawaiian. Or as much Hawaiian as one could learn in a week. I was thinking about something along the lines of the immersive Spanish language school I attended for a week in León, Nicaragua, where I spent three hours a day one-on-one with my wonderful teacher, Zorayda, while she immersed me in Spanish language and Nicaraguan culture.
My teacher, Zorayda, in our classroom in León. (Sadly, I didn't realize when I snapped this picture what a bad spot I'd picked for lighting).

Alas, in my internet search I didn't come across any immersive Hawaiian classes in Honolulu. Immersive English classes, yes, immersive Hawaiian classes, no.
But then, the more I thought about it, the less sense it made to take a week of immersive Hawaiian, anyway. Once I left the island and returned to Columbus, Ohio, when would I have a chance to practice my Hawaiian with another human?
Then I came up with the idea of learning ukulele, the instrument of the Hawaiian islands. I figured that if I could find a teacher in Honolulu who would be willing to jump-start me with a lesson every day for a week, then mayhaps I could figure the rest out for myself or with the help of the internet and practice on my own.
I found online the names of a few music schools in Honolulu that taught ukulele. But that was as far as I got. I guess I just didn't know where or how to start trying to arrange what I had in mind.
Anyway, I put the idea of immersive Hawaiian lessons, immersive ukulele lessons, or immersive anything on the back burner.
But then after we arrived in Honolulu, every time we we walked into downtown Waikiki we'd pass by the Kamehameha Ukulele store.

And every time we passed the store I'd think about taking ukulele lessons and wonder if there was someone at that store who might be able and willing give me a few.
Finally, after a a week of wondering, I decided to go to the Kamehameha Ukulele store and ask, long shot though I knew it to be.
And so on Easter Sunday evening (see previous post) Tom and I walked the several blocks from the Hale Koa to the Kamehameha Ukulele. Inside the store was a young sales clerk plucking away on one of the ukuleles for a customer. I listened to him play for a few moments and thought, that kid knows how to play the ukulele.
I waited until the sales clerk had finished with his previous customer, then I approached him and told him what I was seeking. I learned that his name was Ron, that he was a college student studying language education, that Kamehameha Ukulele was his evening job, that he'd taught some ukulele, and that - glory hallelujah! - he'd be willing to give me an immersive ukulele lesson every day starting the following day, Monday through Friday, for the next week.
Ron, my ukulele teacher, at Kamehameha Ukulele.

We arranged that I would meet Ron every day at 4 pm outside of the Kamehameha for a 45-minute lesson before his shift at the store began at 5 pm.
Ron turned out to be a top-notch teacher. The first day he taught me the basics, how to hold the instrument, how to strum and pluck, finger numbers, string names, some scale work, etc. He gave me a chord sheet and taught me how to strum my first song, "Happy Birthday to You."
He had brought an extra ukulele for me to use and offered to let me take it with me back to my hotel to practice on. I turned down Ron's generous offer but told him that I'd seen ukuleles for sale at the ABC store, that ubiquitous chain of everything-you-need-and-don't-need stores that one finds on every block in Honolulu.

"Buy the fifty-dollar one," Ron advised me. So I did.
Each day for five days Ron immersed me for forty-five minutes in beginner ukulele technique,

...and every night I went back to my hotel room and practiced.

Starting ukulele was hard. Harder than I thought it was going to be. And I feel a bit sheepish saying that, being a piano teacher and knowing how much effort and work goes into learning an instrument, and all the years of faithful practice that are required to become proficient. Still, it was hard, trying to scrunch my hands onto that small neck and figure out where the notes and chords were, musical units that are laid out so clearly on a keyboard.

But now I was the student, the beginner, struggling to build new muscle patterns in my hands and forge new neural pathways in my brain so that my hands and brain might eventually sync and create something that might be called music on this little four-stringed box.

Towards the end of the week I decided that, challenging as it was, I was going to keep learning and practicing and becoming a ukulelist, and I wanted to do it on a better instrument than my $50 ABC Store model. I had Ron pick out one from the Kamehameha inventory that would be a good size and fit for me.

My Kamehameha ukulele:

"Now return your old one to the ABC Store," Ron advised me.
"You think they'll take it back after I already played it for days?"
"Sure," said Ron. "They'll take anything back."
And so I took my old new ukulele back to the ABC Store. They took it back.
Epilogue:
Since my return home from Honolulu I've been practicing every day, usually 20 minutes twice a day.

My teacher said not to practice more than twenty minutes at a time, as I might otherwise hurt my hand. So I try to listen to my teacher and keep my practices at twenty minutes. But sometimes I can't resist throwing a few more minutes on, even if I pay with aching fingers. And sometimes I pick up my ukulele throughout the day and practice strumming or plucking for a few minutes. Just because, though I'm not even any good yet, somehow playing my ukulele cheers me up, makes me forget my troubles and get happy.
Anyway, after a month of practicing, here's what I've conquered. Baby steps.

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Easter On The Beach And Other Places

5/4/2023

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"TROPICAL DEPRESSION" BY PATTI LISZKAY
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EASTER ON THE BEACH AND OTHER PLACES

...Continued from previous post:
The following morning, Easter Sunday, we arrived at the Koko for breakfast to find the place almost empty.

"People are down at the beach for Easter services," our friendly server informed us. "Afterwards they'll come crowding in here. It's good you came early."
As would be the case on most mornings after our children and grandchildren left, Tom and I were given a lovely table for two on the terrace overlooking the beach. ("Aw, your family left you?" said our server sympathetically that first morning. "Here, then, come sit out on the terrace.").

From here we could see the crowd gathered on the beach for Easter service and we could hear the uplifting music.

After breakfast we intended to walk two miles to the nearest Catholic church, St. Augustine by the Sea in Waikiki, for mass. We decided to first go for a walk through the botanical garden,

...then down to the beach,

...where we caught sight of a rainbow,

...and where the early service had just ended and the second service would soon begin.

We then decided to walk to downtown Waikiki partly by way of the beach and partly by city streets.

We walked up Kalakaua Avenue, the main thoroughfare through downtown Waikiki, that was already crowded on this Easter Sunday morning.

Kalakaua Avenue runs parallel to the beach,

...and by Honolulu's luxury hotels and shops.

In other words, rather like 5th Avenue with a beachfront.
St. Augustine's by the Sea is a majestic church just off Kalakaua Avenue,

...with beautiful stained glass windows.

On either side of the altar are kāhili, the symbols from ancient times of the aliʻi, or chiefs of the Hawaiian islands.

After mass we strolled along Kalakaua Avenue,

...until lunch time.
We then walked back to the Royal Hawaiian Center,

...and took the escalator to the second floor food court when we'd had such great burgers the night before (see previous post, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/the-consolation-of-the-mahaloha-burger).

This time, however, we decided to try the Poke Waikiki,

...from where we each ordered a poke bowl, which - "poke" being Hawaiian for "slice or cut" - is a bowl of raw fish chunks over rice and and a choice of vegetables.

Our choice of poke bowl, which was very good.

After our poke bowls we swung by the Kulu Kulu Honolulu again (see previous post) for some dessert.
This time Tom had the double cream puff,

...while I decided to go for an out-of-this world caramel macadamia nut ice cream cone.

Later that afternoon we took another walk into town,

We returned just in time to see the sunset on the beach.

We then headed to Happy's for their Easter dinner special, prime rib on a Styrofoam plate.

"Want to do anything else?" Tom asked me after dinner.
"Yeah," said I. "I'd like to go back into town."
"What for?" said Tom.
"I want to go to the ukulele store."

To be continued...

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The Consolation Of The Mahaloha Burger

5/2/2023

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"Tropical Depression" by Patti Liszkay
Now available on Amazon

https://www.amzn.com/1685131832

"Tropical Depression by Patti Liszkay is a powerful and emotionally charged novel."
- Sublime Book Review

"Tropical Depression is rich in the intersections of love, conflict, and culture that bring this world to life." - D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review

THE CONSOLATION OF THE MAHALOHA BURGER

...Continued from 4/26/2023:
On Saturday, April 8, Tom and I said Aloha to our children and grand children,

...who left Hawaii that day and returned home to the mainland (see post from 2/26/2023, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/aloha-my-loved-ohana).
Though Tom and I were looking forward to spending another week in Honolulu at the beautiful Hale Koa,

...still, we were feeling a little melancholy that our loved ones wouldn't be with us.
So we consoled ourselves with a walk from the hotel to downtown Honolulu,

...by way of Lewers Street, which was already getting crowded on this Saturday evening.

When we reached Kalakaua Avenue, the main drag through downtown Waikiki, we headed for the Royal Hawaiian Center, home of a luxury galleria on the first floor,

...and a more plebian food court on the second floor,

...where Tom and I decided to join the crowds having dinner.
I, for one, being in the mood for some comfort nourriture, I suggested we try a burger place with a nice name,

...a combination of "mahalo," the Hawaiian expression of gratitude, and "aloha," which can mean "hello," "good-bye," "peace," or any nice word of greeting or parting. We hoped we might get a burger that at least lived up to the appeal of its name.
Did the Mahaloha Burger live up to our expectations?
Blew 'em out of the park is more like it! This burger was awesome! It was juicy! It was tasty! It was messy! But we didn't care, it was so good. And the bun...the bun was soft and buttery. And the fries were hot, seasoned, and oh, so crispy.
Our fabulous, buttery-bunned Mahaloha Burgers and crispy fries:

After our wonderful Mahaloha Burgers we were feeling considerably consoled, but decided that we'd feel even better topping off our dinner with some dessert from the Kulu Kulu Honolulu, where they make the world's best cream puffs,