Where the Next Island Is Better Than the Last

It was a small vacation, a few days stitched onto a working trip. But it was a pure and restful space in time, a cloud that floated away from the real world and loosened all ties to hours.

I knew I was on vacation when I felt the trade winds brush against my face and rattle the lacy leaves of old kiawe trees. I knew I was on vacation when it seemed natural to slip into sea-green flip-flops, and a long cotton cover-up for breakfast.

I knew I was on vacation when the day began with slabs of sweet mango, crescents of papaya and rich, dark coffee that I did not brew.

I knew I was on vacation when the climate was balmy, not hot, and when I did not have to think about carrying a wrap, as my grandmother used to call coats, jackets and sweaters.

This was in Hawaii, my first visit to the islands in 10 years. I found that much had changed and much had not. I found that the changes were more intriguing than troublesome.

Honolulu Traffic

Honolulu traffic and high-rise construction may rankle the natives, but I was impressed with the happy faces and upbeat demeanor of tourists on Waikiki. These travelers from East and West seem to have achieved a major holiday goal: their trip met their expectations. Singles, couples, families, youngsters, seniors--the crowds in Honolulu were obviously having fun.

My favorite meal in Honolulu was at Siam Orchid, an unpretentious Thai restaurant tucked into a shopping center on Keeaumoku Street. The owner, Kris Vilassakdanond, and his wife came from Chiang Mai. They worked for Japan Air Lines in Bangkok before moving to Hawaii eight years ago.

From a long and tempting menu I chose Pinang red curry with peanuts, coconut milk and sweet basil. I tasted Evil Chicken in a sauce of garlic and chili peppers. I savored crisp ongchoi, an Asian watercress--stalks and tips--that was stir-fried.

Each dish is prepared as mild, medium or spicy. I heeded the proprietor’s warning and ordered medium. But as a lover of salsa, I added tiny Thai peppers, which are among the hottest in the world.

Diamond Head

My favorite morning on Waikiki began with a long beach walk toward the crater of Diamond Head, past the subtle Oriental roofs of the new-old hotel Halekulani, the colonial verandas of the Moana Surfrider, the blush of the Royal Hawaiian.

It was just after 6:30 a.m. Two men roamed the beach, scouring the sands with metal detectors in search of coins, watches and other treasures. Outrigger operators were just setting up shop (one-hour ride: $6). Umbrella boys were stirring.

“Every day is fresh and beautiful before 8 a.m.,” a silver-haired doorman told me. “That is the hour to be up and outside.”

I walked on, in the cool of a tropical dawn, and listened to the chatter of mynah birds high in the coconut palms of Kapiolani Park.

I admired the window displays at Liberty House, which was heralding summer fashion with swimsuits, cotton pants and tops that looked remarkably like spring or fall or winter on this blessed island.

Traditional Waikiki

It was still quiet when I walked back for breakfast on the seaside terrace of the House Without a Key, a traditional Waikiki gathering place.

“Where are you from?” the waitress asked, her skin as dewy as the frangipani blossom in her hair.

“San Diego,” I replied.

“Why, you already live in paradise,” she blurted. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on vacation,” I heard myself say, as if that were a remarkable achievement.

“I understand,” she said with a grin. “I have next week off and I’m heading for California.”

Later, bedecked in pikake leis, I climbed into a taxi for the airport and ran into another opinion.

“Flying home now?” the young driver asked as he dodged through rush-hour traffic.

“No, I’m going to Tahiti.”

“Tahiti,” he said with a sigh. “Now you’re talkin’ paradise. “