I suppose there’s a reason I’ve not spent any time in West Oahu before. No one tells you to go there, no one says, oh, you’ve got to go check out the beaches around Nanakuli or Waianae, no one says anything, really about West Oahu to mainland visitors like me. And as the suburbs dwindle, it starts to become perfectly clear why no one has sent me this direction before.
There are some industrial sites. There’s the big dump, Waimanolo Gulch, where Oahu’s garbage piles up waiting to either be packaged and sent to the mainland or processed into electricity, depending on what the current plan is. And as the number of Hawaiian flags goes up, so does the number of homeless camps, complicated structures of dead cars and tarps and string and plastic lawn chairs. It’s a shanty town along the shoulder just above the beach. A lot of the houses look poor too, and for a minute I think, oh, I’m on the rez in Yakima, Washington, that’s what this feels like.
A half a day later, I roll past the guards at KoOlina. The guys at the gate are friendly enough, they ask me where I’m going, I give them the name of my hotel and they wave me through after giving me directions. I walk the immaculate grounds, admire the empty beaches, eat a tiny creme brulee for dessert. It’s beautiful, there’s no traffic, the lawns are mowed short, the valet dressed in white. It is very pretty, I have a lovely room and I can hear the surf. There are no homeless people on the beach here — if they could get past the gates, certainly they’d not be allowed to set up camp.
My brain twitches and I feel weirdly colonial and defensive at the same time. I spent the morning helping on a Waianae farm and now, as I poke at my expensive salad, I wonder where the greens were grown. The resort has a big fancy entry way with torches and a rotating glass door and on the beach south of Waianae there was a tent camp with a battered Holiday Inn flag flapping at half mast in the trade winds. From my room I can hear the drums from a luau taking place just up the beach, but in my memory of the day, I can hear the kids (okay, they’re not kids, they’re very young adults)Â that worked the farm singing their lovely thank you song in Hawaiian.
Nobody will tell you to go to Nanakuli, Maili, or Waianae, but Hawaii is there, too.
Disclaimer: Travel and accommodation portions of my trip were sponsored by the Oahu Visitor’s Bureau in exchange for my blogging about my experiences in Hawaii. And hey, props to them, they’re the ones that sent me to Waianae.
You really managed to capture a complex situation in a way that is both wistful and critical. Would have loved to hear the song.
When I lived in Hawaii I used to drive over to the Waianae because the beaches are always sunny and have a stark beauty. No one ever bothered me but it was clear that this was no tourist area and one should be particularly respectful of the locals.
As soon as I read about the schmancy new resort going up there, I knew it would be a lovely, expensive, VERY gated experience. Thanks for bringing confirmation from the front. 🙂
If it brings employment to some of the West side locals, great, but neither of us are into “living in a bubble” travel. I’ll probably never stay there.
Grew up in Waianae it’s not as bad as it seems. It’s like a reservation out here protected by the people for the people. America has taken away a lot from being cultural that some don’t want to change but rather retaliate against what they believe is true and just. This is an island state that has been overcome by corporate giants,convience stores,hotel chains,huge department stores not to help the people but to help themselves to the bottom line,the almighty dollar! The Hawaiian culture has taken its toll of American dominance that what you saw is merely people giving up,hands in the air surrendering their very existence as a culture trying to survive.Overall Waianae will stand firm good or bad press,it is what it is, chat with the people ask questions but most of all respect us for who we are Americans,Welcome to the far side of America!