Hawaii is a place that you read about, hear about, occasionally see on television and if you’re anything like me, could never actually conceive of going to because its just so bloody far away.
And yet for ten days in December, this was exactly where I found myself, sitting on the beach, splashing in the sea and feeling none of the usual cold and shit-I-haven’t-done-any-shopping anxiety normally associated with the weeks before Christmas.
We stayed in Waikiki which was very nice but absolutely rammed full of Japanese tourists filling their suitcases with cheap designer clothes and shit trinkets.
To get away from it all we were able to jump on a bus to the North Shore of Oahu, a place known for its beautiful beaches and world famous surf. When we arrived to an almost entirely deserted stretch of golden sand, I was slightly disheartened to see the red flags and No Swimming signs out. Lovisa just took all her clothes off and ran straight in to the 20 ft waves.
Not wanting to look like a baby, I followed her in shortly after. And then like a baby, couldn’t control myself in the water, got smashed in the face by a shit ton of ocean, and nearly died. When I eventually washed up ashore, it took me three days to wash the sand out of my hair.
After all that exertion it was decided that we had earned a cheeseburger. Luckily there is a restaurant in Waikiki called Cheeseburger Waikiki. Fitting. It was so good we went back the next day. And the next two days after that. You would think there was only so much pineapple, beef, cheese and teriyaki in a bun that a man could be expected to enjoy eating in a week, but I haven’t yet found out how much that is. Next time I’m in Waikiki I’ll update you.
Unnecessary and gratuitously sexy picture.
a postcard in free verse 