Written by:
Kris Scott Marti
Photographer:
Allan Seiden, Debra st. John
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this Issue of Curve:
10.8
Naked hula girls didn’t greet me at the airport in Honolulu.
As far as I can tell, naked hula girls don’t greet anyone at the airport. Too bad for me, because my favorite Hawaiian fantasy has always involved: a) hot women throwing flowers over my head; b) hot women tossing me in a convertible; and c) hot women in said convertible dropping me off at a pristine tropical beach — you know, the kind with white sand and blue water.
Instead, I was able to talk my girlfriend, who is a hottie, into picking up the rental truck while I wrangled the luggage. No lei, but with our gear stashed in the back of the truck, we set about exploring Oahu together, and I continued the pursuit of some of my other favorite Hawaiian fantasy adventures. Among these are:
The Mermaid Fantasy
I’ve always wanted to swim with the same elegant grace and peaceful bliss as a fish in an aquarium. Hanauma Bay is a fine starting point, though it’s so crowded that you may feel instead that you’re swimming in a tankful of sea monkeys! For crystal-clear water that is less populated by landlubbers, head out to Waimea Bay on the north shore. Snorkeling reveals glittering schools of fish and sea turtles cruising the bottom of the bay. (Afterwards, it’s a quick drive up Kamehameha Highway, where I like to indulge my “Dessert First” fantasy with a slice of macadamia nut cream at Ted’s Bakery, across from Sunset Beach.)
The Survivor Fantasy
Far from Waikiki, between Kahuku and La’ie, is Malaekahana State Recreation Area and an enticing little island called Moku’Auia, or Goat Island. No food. No people. No public transportation — you have to swim or paddle a raft to get to this little patch of paradise. We had to brave surfshort-ripping currents, armor-piercing coral, and tiny jellyfish that sting like hell. We arrived looking like catfight extras from a Russ Meyer movie. (And that can be sexy, although it wasn’t exactly the look we were going for.) Goat Island is strictly BYOB (Bring Your Own Babe), and yet the toughest challenge my girl and I faced once we got there was deciding which deserted beach we would smooch on first.
The “Me Tarzan, You Jane” Fantasy
We found plenty of shade at the Lyon Arboretum in Manoa Valley — and an excellent locale for jungle fun. Secluded paths wind through lush rainforest inhabited by native songbirds, tropical foliage, and the walking Buddha. Be Tarzan! Be Jane! Be Cheetah! I chose to practice my monkey impersonations as we hiked along the trail. Occasionally, I stopped to stomp in the mud like a warthog. This adventurer eschewed the complimentary mosquito repellent offered by the gift shop, and later swore malaria was setting in because of the quarter-sized welts inflicted by the little demons.
The “I Can Fly” Fantasy
Live the fantasy of rising above the hoi polloi. Go kite surfing! At Mokule’ia Beach Park, past Waialua on the Farrington Highway, you’ll witness the spectacle of a dozen or more people who have strapped modified wakeboards to their feet, and, holding onto gigantic kites (or small parachutes, depending on your perspective), go speeding out over an indigo ocean. Occasionally they leap off the surface of the water straight up in the air 20 or 30 feet like huge seabirds, doing 360s against the horizon. Unfortunately, equipment rentals were not available the day we visited, which saved my girlfriend the trouble of demanding a will before I rocketed off to try this extreme sport.
The Brady Bunch Hawaiian Vacation Fantasy
I swear, the Bradys must have stayed at the Kahala Mandarin Oriental Hotel on their infamous trip now memorialized in rerun heaven. This hotel on the beach under swaying palms is right out of a postcard. Though we did not encounter biting spiders, vengeful tikis or surfboard-induced concussions, we did enjoy the lagoon (with dolphins!) and a gorgeous, upscale restaurant, Hoku’s, which specializes in seafood and wonderful wines.
Didn’t you ever wonder what Alice did to relax and unwind on those sultry tropical evenings after a hard day of taking the kids to the hospital? My guess is that she headed over to a local women’s event like the Black Garter Café [call the Women’s Hotline for specifics at (808) 531-4140, ext. 2], where she could have a drink with an umbrella in it and explore her “Women in Uniform” fantasy on a packed dance floor. Aloha!
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