Written and photographed by: Victoria Lopatka
It’s 6 a.m. on a Monday morning, and my boyfriend and I are at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. A TSA security guard is wishing everyone a good morning as we shuffle through the line. “If y’all aren’t morning people, why’d you buy a morning flight?” She laughs. Well. . . because it was cheaper than later flights.
I was not only sleepy, but I was stressed and had low-energy. The past semester had been challenging, especially in its last few weeks. My marks had come in and I had fallen one grade short of my goal GPA for the semester. I also had no job, and despite my best efforts, had failed to secure one before we left. I was really concerned I wasn’t going to be able to leave these stressful, nagging thoughts behind, and that they would ruin the trip for me.
About a month ago, my boyfriend and I began planning a vacation together, considering a few locations: Disneyland? Japan? Greece? Florida? Lots of Googling led us to Oahu, Hawaii. We wanted to relax in the sun, eat lots of yummy food, and, most importantly, spend some quality time together. Hawaii seemed like the perfect place.
$1,500 each later, we had round trip flights, six nights in a hotel, travel insurance, vouchers for excursions, and transport around the island. On Sunday evening, we left Vancouver and went to Seattle. Monday morning, we got on a plane to Phoenix, snacks and passports in hand, and eventually landed in Honolulu. Nothing wipes my energy more than flying, so we went to the hotel and crashed there for the evening.
I woke up at 5:45 a.m. (Vancouver time: 8:45 a.m.) on Tuesday morning. Once I was finally awake, the plan for the day filled me with both nerves and excitement, so I wasn’t able to fall back asleep. I was starving and restless, so Brendon and I packed our bags for the day and left the hotel room.
bananas, smother it with açaí berries, pineapple, strawberries, banana slices, and puffed quinoa. We headed to the Waikiki Aquarium, which was founded in 1904. It boasted a collection of coral, tropical fish, reef sea life, a Hawaiian Monk Seal exhibit, and many, many screaming children with sticky fingers. We caught the tram, driven by a guide named Patrick, who dropped us off near the Lili’uokalani Gardens. By this time, 
The next morning, we quickly ate the fresh fruit and some cinnamon buns for breakfast as we had to be out the door early; we were booked for a group hike at Diamond Head at 8:30 a.m. I immediately noticed we were the youngest people in the group, with the second-youngest members being a 25-year-old couple, and the eldest being a man who looked like he was about sixty. The variety of hikers was a relief, as it meant Brendon and I could fit perfectly in the middle, not running the risk of being shamefully passed by every single other person. Our tour guide, Steven, pointed out native plants and trees, as well as historical war-time structures.
The last leg of the hike was the hardest: a steep staircase of almost 100 steps, followed by a tunnel. I’m not usually a claustrophobic person, but the small, incredibly dark, and winding tunnel was putting me on edge. The view when we stepped out of the tunnel, once our eyes adjusted to the bright light, was so worth it though. The island was sprawled at our feet, complete with azure waters, white-sand beaches, and shining skyscrapers.
Once we hiked down again, we deserved a treat. We stopped at Volcano Shakes, which
sells giant, confectionary milkshakes for $18 a pop. For lunch, Steven had pointed out a food truck lot called the Pau Hana Market, recommending Five Star Shrimp, so Brendon and I made a beeline there. Fake grass, picnic tables, and food trucks full of shrimp, steaks, tacos, chicken and fresh poke greeted us. I was immediately drawn to an Instagram-worthy dish: rice and chicken served in a carved-out pineapple. After dinner, we took a dip in the hot tub with some of the other hotel guests. As we were discussing our plans for the next day, one of the men interjected, “Have you guys been to Boggart’s Café? Or Leonard’s Bakery? Best breakfast on the island.”
Brendon must’ve been tired of me waking him up so early, but Thursday was a big day. We bought all-day bus passes and waited for the The Bus (yes, it’s called “The Bus”). After 35 minutes of anxiously waiting – and wondering if the bus would ever show up – the #21 arrived. We took it to Boggart’s, where I got the açaí bowl. Next was Leonard’s Bakery, a
cute pink bakery on Kapahulu Avenue, where a line circled around the store and out the door. We ordered half a dozen sugar and cinnamon malasadas, which are deep-fried, egg-sized donuts. Eating them fresh and warm? Heav-en-ly. Then, we got on the #1 bus, headed to downtown Honolulu, where we caught another bus across the island to the Valley of the Temples. Japan has been on my “must-visit wish list” for awhile, so when I heard about the Byodo-In Temple, a gold and red temple commemorating the 100-year anniversary of the first Japanese immigrant to Hawaii, my interest was peaked.
We approached a serene cemetery, passing a sleek black hearse, and I wondered if we were in the wrong place. Fortunately, a small ticket booth appeared on the horizon, where we paid $5 to continue up to the temple. Puffy clouds resting on the golden peaks, the temple was nestled among trees at the top of the hill. It was quiet and serene. We slipped our shoes off and padded inside, where a giant golden Lotus Buddha statue filled the temple. I lit a stalk of incense and put some money in the donation box.
I savoured the quiet temple. It felt as if the world had suddenly slowed, all sound from the
outside world blocked by the puffy white clouds hanging atop the temple. I instantly fell in love with place. Brendon bought some fish food so we could feed the huge koi in the glassy ponds around the temple. We soon attracted not only koi, but all sorts of birds, cats, turtles, and even two black swans. Outside the temple was a three-ton brass bell, called a Peace Bell, which guests could ring for good fortune. I rang it about five times.
That evening, we followed another recommendation from Steven and had pizza at Slice of Waikiki, then bubble tea at Tea Boss. As we were walking back to the hotel, after buying some souvenirs from the Honolulu Cookie Company and Duke’s Lane, we passed the Royal Hawaiian Center. Outside, a woman in a flowing floral gown announced that every evening at dusk, there’s a free song and dance performance in the mall. The crowds followed her inside, and so did Brendon and I. We stayed for an hour, watching hula dancers in silk dresses and flower crowns dance and narrate stories of Hawaii’s history.
For most of the trip, I had worn black leggings, shorts, crop tops, baggy t-shirts, and swimwear, but on Friday, I donned a red romper with flowy sleeves, because Brendon and I were headed to a Paradise Cove Luau. Paradise Cove was practically a summer camp for adults. Guests are greeted with Mai-Tais and leis, then invited to participate in a variety of activities and games. Brendon and I did some spear-throwing, then a form of bowling involving a small stone, a wooden cylinder, and two metal stakes in the ground. Before I could move on to lei-making, a conch shell sounded in the distance. We congregated near the beach and a shower of flowers was released from the palm trees above. A fishing demonstration was presented, and then, dinner began. Heaping plates of roasted vegetables, rice, taro buns, mesquite-roasted pulled pork, fish, chicken with guava sauce, chocolate cake, and coconut jelly were served, as well as pina-coladas and Blue Hawaiians. Traditional dances and performances entertained us as we ate. Brendon and I were even able to go up on stage to learn how to hula dance. I felt childish and carefree, a departure from my normally meticulous and keep-on-keeping-on (yes, I’m referencing She’s the Man) personal ethic. It felt really nice to be solely concerned with 1) what I’m wearing, 2) what I’m eating, and 3) whether or not I’m getting a sunburn.
On our last day in Hawaii, we decided to come full circle and eat at Banan again. We rented a paddleboard at the beach and spent an hour trying to stand up and paddle properly, versus laying on my stomach pretending to be a pro-surfer paddling up to a big wave. I looked even less pro-surfer-ish when a real pro-surfer did a head-stand on his board. We got a small pint of chocolate cookie dough ice cream at Häagen-Dazs and some fresh poke for lunch. Since we were on vacation, we also got shaved ice and coconut-pineapple Hershey’s kisses (which are my new favourite thing). We had to check out of our hotel at 1 p.m., so we left our bags with the bellhop and killed time on Kalakaua Avenue. We ate a leisurely dinner at the Pau Hana Market (tacos this time). We got giant cookie ice cream sandwiches from P.F Chang’s and looked for coral and seashells on the beach.
With nothing else to do, I made the mistake of checking my emails. I was greeted with an essay due in two weeks, no new job offers, and that I had already missed 84 slides and 106 pages of readings in my PSYC class. Suddenly, I was feeling stressed out and overwhelmed again.
“Concept,” I say to Brendon. “We never check out of the hotel, they never charge my credit card, and we stay here until we die.”
Of course, though, we got on our flight to LA, which landed at LAX in the early hours of the morning. I felt like a zombie, but since I can’t sleep on planes, I had spent the five and a half hours thinking. Thinking about how much I liked myself on vacation: carefree, sometimes childish, laid-back, fun, simplistic. Thinking about how I didn’t have to lock that side of my personality away and “get serious” when my plane landed in Seattle, unlocking it again on my next vacation (who knows when that’ll be!) Maybe it’s better to have a little bit of vacation — a little bit of Hawaii — in every single day.
Editor’s note: What have you been up to this summer? Sunshiney adventures? Backpacking through Europe? Dream job? Contact features@the-peak to share your story.
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