In Class Response #2: "Waikiki's Spirit"

Helpful Questions/ Things to Consider for this In-Class:

Waikiki's Spirit

by C. Taylor

Before I came to Hawaii, I was enamored with the idea of visiting Waikiki Beach. I had heard so much about this vast and beautiful expanse of sand. Many claimed it was the best beach in the entire world. The hype, nevertheless, was definitely a letdown: when I got to Waikiki, I saw skyscrapers and no beach. I walked towards the water in search of a magical place I had heard so much about. The sand was hidden underneath thousands of oiled bodies and their various accoutrements: beach chairs, sunglasses, handbags filled with bottled water. I did not see how Waikiki could be considered "the best beach in the world." I only saw the dissapointment, the facade, the screen, the fantasy--the ultimate letdown. Waikiki utterly disappoints me in that it is artificial, dirty, and disgraceful to the majesty that it once possessed.

Waikiki was once great, due to its royal appeal. Originally a place where royalty could bathe, surf, and relax, it was reported that "The king occassionally resides there [Waikiki] and considers it a sort of watering place" (Mathison, qtd. in Kanahele 75). This quote serves as direct evidence that Waikiki was a place for the ali'i to get away, a place meant for them alone--a place solely for their purposes. Waikiki served as Oahu's capital for hundreds of years and even as the capital for the entire kingdom, if only for a few years. People were proud to live in Waikiki in the age of kings and chiefs. Wizards from Tahiti once visited the noble places of Waikiki, bestowing upon the people healing and their blessings. These wizards were welcomed so whole-heartedly that they supposedly transferred their mana or spiritual energy into four huge stones as a gift for the beach-replete town when they left. These Wizard Stones, now located to the side of the HPD Waikiki branch, provide evidence that Waikiki and the people who lived there were both once great--great in heart and in spirit.

Waikiki literally means "spouting water" (Pukui, Elbert, and Mookini 223). The name suggests an image of a place that is rich and abundant, a fertile land where crops grow and fish are raised. Everything about Waikiki seemed right and pono, promoting justice and prosperity, since even the name made the sounds that you would hear upon visiting the area--kiki, kiki, kiki--the sounds of the spouting water shooting up from under the earth. The swamps and streams that were once replete with fresh water flowed through Waikiki, inspiring its name--these waterways are gone forever. Concrete skyscrapers that now blot out the sky have since replaced them, eclipsing them and their natural beauty. In recent times, Waikiki seems best defined as "tourist trap," not "land of spouting water."

During the day, Waikiki beach is only bearable to the tourists; to them, it's quite pretty and clean; to me, it's disgusting. Walking across the sand proves challenging, if not extremely difficult. Humans litter the beach both figuratively and literally: their carcasses line the sand and bob in the ocean, and their refuse spills out over the sand, and floats upon the surface of Waikiki's once-pristine waters. The filmy water coats those adventurous thousands who venture to Waikiki already greased-up with thick layers of suntan lotion. The oil floats on the water and would only need the addition of food-coloring to create memories of Easter-egg dyeing--bodies become the eggs, and the filthy water becomes the dye. Pavement creeps up and encroaches upon the beach. Artificial jetties and concrete walls that section off the water begin to slowly erode. Human meddling is now so apparent that it seems that the ocean has become a small pool ringed off by a concrete beach--the entire ocean has become imprisoned by humanity. To the local, to the kanaka maoli, Waikiki disappoints; it is a vomitous pile of tourists and their refuse.

Waikiki is not a real paradise; it is a tourist's paradise, fueled by the myth of paradise. Waikiki is a shame and a sham. There are shops directly UPON the beach that sell everything from apples to zinc sunscreen--but all at an exorbitant price. God forbid that the tourists should run out of film for their cameras, cameras that allow them to document every moment of their heavenly visit. The beach is a five-minute walk from lavishly furnished, air-conditioned hotel rooms. By the same token, the city butts up against the beach. There is no clear separation between the relaxing crash of the surf and the loud, incessant honking of the city. Far out in the distance, huge ships make their way across like snails on the edge of the world. The ships are just another reminder of the surrounding, bustling city--the city doesn't want you to forget that it is there, that it is swallowing up the nature that once existed. Yet to me, the beach should not be seen as a large public pool in the midst of a large city, atop which toy boats bob upon each ripple. To me, a beach should be what it used to be, what the ali'i of old went to--a place to surf , relax, and have fun. I can only see a glimpse of this majesterial beauty now. The facade of today's Waikiki is a travesty; the nobility of old would weep bitter tears if they could see what has become of their land.

The setting sun signals the end of yet another commercialized day. Tourists pack their gear and leave their trash; their pink bodies strut back to their hotel room just a few feet away--the hotel itself scrapes against the edges of the sky. A few people stay to watch the sun set, their feet awash in cigarette butts and dirty sand, to witness the fleeting rays of an exhausted sun. They watch as the glowing orb extinguishes itself in the cool depths of the early evening, as the wind develops its own chill, one sweeping over this sprawling town.

During the night, Waikiki beach wears a new face, an older face. It is as if Waikiki begins to show a little of its truer, more original self. In the evening hours, the spirit in the sand is reminiscent of the old days, the way it was before tourists--when chiefs would play and surf in the ocean, living out the truth in the phrase, "The sport of kings." The feeling across the night's coastline gives off changes: the peaceful beach stretches out--empty and quiet--it begins to relax after valiantly serving another thousand people after a trying day. Very few people still linger: a bum sleeps on the sand as a couple holds hands; the bum and the couple bask in the glow of the city, a city enhanced by a romantic and quiescent hum. A caring nature, a fleeting sense of aloha, ringed by torchlight emerges, but it emerges only when the great throngs of people have abandoned the shore and given it up. One can feel a perceptible change, as if Waikiki lives two separate lives: tourist-trap by day or strong link to the past, but only at night.

Waikiki, this great city of spouting water, was once beautiful; she was once majestic. There is still a potent sense of the mana (lifeforce/spirit) left in the shifting sands and ebbing tide that constitutes this area; nevertheless, this mana is only present in the the evening. Waikiki once was a place for kings and nobles to play, to epitomize regality, to epitomize the best of a truly beautiful Hawaii. There was once a time when respect and caring, like gently flowing waters, were bestowed upon the place, instead of trash and revulsion. Today, however, a large part of this living spirit, the grand spirit of aloha that once thrived in Waikiki is dead. Today, Waikiki is merely a place for tourists to use and disrespect--aloha has been sold to the people with the most cash.