Filed under: Activities, Big Island, Dining, Family, Hawaii, Travel | Tags: Big Island, hilo, lushness
Fourth of July weekend, parents in town, three day weekend. We jetted over to the Big Island, our collective first visit. Now the Big Island is, as per its namesake… big. We knew it would be impossible to digest in 2.5 days, and so we picked Hilo as our base, opting against the Disney-esque resorts of the Kona side for something a little more authentically Hawaiian.
Stepping off the plane the senses are immediately assaulted, with peaceful violence, by lushness. Hilo is one of the wettest places on the planet, and the foliage bears witness to this fact. We picked up our gas-guzzling, planet-destroyin’ SUV, and headed for the Dolphin Bay Hotel. This modest little row of condos lies just outside downtown Hilo, and though overpriced, is an enjoyable stay. The owner, John, doubles as a font of local knowledge, and is an invaluable resource. He is also the curator of a small jungle garden at the rear of the property, featuring a grove of banana trees that provides part of the fresh fruit breakfast every morning.
Our next stop was the legendary Ken’s House of Pancakes where I ordered one of the more disgusting culinary creations known to man. (That’s a stack of fried eggs, bacon, ham and pancakes.)
We then paid our respects to Pele, the volcano goddess.
Hiked the Desolation Trail.
And explored the lava tubes.
On Saturday morning we hit the farmer’s market.
Then drove down to Ahanalui, a natural hot spring fed by crashing ocean waves.
Instead of fireworks, we watched lava flow into the ocean at dusk.
The final morning before our flight we walked around Hilo, bought some sweets at the iresistable Sugar Coast Candy, and had easily our best meal of the trip at Cafe Pesto.
I recently spent just over a week in Tokyo, my first time there in over a year. The first thing I noticed was how gray and colorless it was. Everything. Buildings, people, sky. And crowded. I have a keen eye for detail, as you can tell. But yes, unbearably, undeniably, inhumanely crowded. Organized chaos. It’s so easy just to sit back on the train and marvel at the landscape of the city. A to-scale Legoland. Impossible to relax, in spite of the world-class hospitality, food and bathing. After a few days, my wife and I are both complaining of tired, sore muscles. From what? Maybe too much commuting on public transportation. Too many cramped spaces. Freedom to engage in bizarre behaviors, like trying to fly a kite in the park on a day with no wind, and having the greatest time doing it. That’s the Japanese sense of – what? Absurdity? Whimsicality? Innocence? It is not something we have a precise word for. Graceful failure is getting closer to it. Returning to these concepts and sensations brought a certain amount of pleasure. Sitting in an onsen in Hakone and observing the irregularities of the pool. The way the gentle undulations of the steaming water interact with the asymmetrical patterns of the stone floor, warping and refracting the lines in an steady and unpredictable rhythm. I feel in this moment like I’ve had some kind of deeper insight into the Japanese mind, though my description of it fails to convey the depth. It is as though the way of thinking is expressed through this pool, this moment of stillness and movement. No straight lines. No linear thoughts. Natural. Cyclic. Twisted. I make sure to exit the bath before I steam my brain completely. Tokyo is a kind of giant machine that picks you up and carries you along. Volition optional. Numerous discussions of life-in-Japan versus life-not-in-Japan with friends. Cultural differences. Too easy. The reasons I left are validated, fully. But the appeal remains as well. The everyday encounters with entertaining oddity. Obsession, or fetishization of detail is another concept that strikes me again. But the details are never anchored to what we would consider the “proper” context. At times, this bothers me. At other times, it amuses, or inspires. I watch a morning news program where people spend half an hour discussing in meticulous detail whether or not you should take an umbrella with you when there is a 30% chance of rain (banal, but at least less sordid than what shows on the news in America). I wonder if my view of these sudden, jarring anomalies has anything in common with how a Japanese person would view them. Most often, not. I remember when I still lived in Tokyo I once met a visiting journalist who used to live there. Now he was based out of New York, but made occasional visits. He told me that being in Tokyo is much better when you visit from abroad than when you live there. I completely agree. It’s good to know the ins and outs of the city, but even better knowing you can leave.
I have a new nomination for greatest city on the planet. It’s an obvious one, but christ-almighty, the competition just pales in comparison. Forget about all those most-livable cities lists perennially topped by Vancouver – most overrated city on the planet (disclaimer: I have not been there, call it a “gut feeling”), forget about New York, Geneva, London, Paris. Frisco’s got it all.
Exceptional dining? Check. Mad culture? Check. Living history? Check. Wonderful people? Check. Easy access to nature? Check. Human scale? Check. Bike lanes? Check.
Mind you, this rave review is based on a week’s stay (much of which was across the bay in Oakland)…
Thanks to the tanking economy, we were able to take advantage of plunging room rates and got a deal on rooms at the Palace.
The Oakland Bedrock office.
Truth in advertising at the ferry building morning market.
Also, a few of the wonderful places I had the opportunity to dine at: R&G Lounge, Tomasso’s, the newly opened Midi, and of course, brunch at Marie’s place in Berkeley.
