Jet Star and Jet Lag - Hawaii

So we have decided to dust off this old blog for the coming trip, as a away to keep in touch as much as it is a way for us to maintain memories and the occasional vent. As our last blog-entry was in the U.S, it seems only fitting that we start where we left off. As a disclosure statement, this will probably be kind of sporadic at best; as internet, kidnappings and other events come up.

We began our trip bright eyed and bushy tailed, brimming with optimism – just the two of us - citizens of the world, ready to see, explore and conquer, with nothing in our way...except Jet Star. We waited in a 45 minute queue to check in, only to be told by our challenged Jet Star representative: “We’re sorry, we can’t let you board your flight today”. After some blank looks and shocked silences she explained that neither our flights out of the US into Mexico, nor our very expensive flights back to Sydney from Chile, were sufficient evidence that we were not going to secretly live out the rest of our days working below minimum wage in the US under constant fear of deportation. After repeatedly explaining we had no intention of doing this, she would not budge so we were kicked out of our line and told to rejoin from the back after we had proof of a flight leaving Mexico, all with two hours until departure. Oh and America’s got dibs on Canada, Cuba, Mexico and the Caribbean so don’t think any so-called sovereign country within a thousand kilometer radius will help you.

At first glance, flights from Mexico to anywhere in the region racked up a cool $1500 each. More panicked glances. To get a flight from Mexico to Belize, our next intended destination, it appears one has to charter a private plane, fuck. Luckily our trusty Queenbeyan travel agent representative, Luke, saved the day (there will be no ripping on the high rate of teen pregnancy in Queenbeyan in this blog!). We ran back to the desk with proof of flights from Mexico City to Guatemala City, only $600 poorer. It took some intense geography lessons, with a map, to explain to our Jet Star representative that Guatemala was, in fact, a country and where it was located.

Our overnight flight was rather uneventful, although our arrival in Hawaii taught us that jet lag is very real, and not just made up by Hollywood. Unable to check into our hostel until midday, we slept under a tree. The next few days in Waikiki we spent recovering on a beach, sipping Pina Coladas and sun baking. We hiked up the Diamond Head crater, an iconic site overlooking Honolulu, which is one giant military fortification filled with bunkers and pill boxes built in WWII. The hostel was great, and put on an awesome sea kayaking excursion out to a bird nesting island and along Lanikai, one of the top ten beaches in the world. The landscape is spectacular, with mountains jutting right out of the ocean into the clouds and covered in fluorescent green tropical rain forest.

We decided to hire a car to travel to the North Shore of O’ahu, where all the famous surf beaches are. At Pipeline, probably the most famous, huge winter swells crash onto a shallow coral reef creating some of the best surfing in the world. Pretty good at the best of times, but especially when there’s a pod of humpback whales playing out the back.

We booked the cheapest “economy” car available, only to be presented with, the “Mercury”, a vehicle the size of a small house. Take your mental image of a normal economy car, say a Toyota Carolla, and double it in width and length. Imagine enough boot space to fit at least four dead hookers and seating comfortable for a family of five morbidly obese Americans. We could comfortably lie on the bonnet with room to spare. Now throw in driving on the right (also known as the ‘wrong’) side of the road, along narrow, winding coastal roads with equally obscene vehicles coming in the other direction and you have a recipe for some stressful scenes. Oh, and no insurance (‘cos we’re cheap). This made for some white knuckle driving when squeezing over narrow bridges with oncoming traffic; living on the edge literally and metaphorically. The Mercury’s saving grace was that her luscious seating room allowed her to double as a camper van, and so she became our home for the next two nights as we drove around the North Shore. We were able to wake up to million dollar views every morning.

Back in Waikiki, we joined the throng of sunburnt, fat, American tourists on an overpriced sunset dinner cruise. The following morning we visited Pearl Harbour, and the Battleship Missouri, ironically with thousands of Japanese tourists who rival the number of Americans in Hawaii.

All in all Hawaii has been an amazing stop over. Beautiful and stunning would be an understatement. Although, as with all places with colonial histories, if you dig a little deeper you uncover the darker side to the publicly portrayed ‘rosy’ relationship. As we talked to many Hawaiians away from the crowds and the dancing girls in grass skirts, they told of an undercurrent of resentment and anger. The strategic attachment to America was not as welcome and as desired as many in America would have you believe. Hawaii’s attachment to such a cultural behemoth has strained and morphed the traditions and culture into pre-packaged tourist bites. Symbolic but hollow. One local Hawaiian guide lamented to us that he wished the British had colonised Hawaii instead of the U.S. Hawaii then would have become a part of the Commonwealth and eventually gained sovereignty; instead of an appendage to an empire. From ten lane highways, tacky tourist traps, even a mile long beach that they are literally constructing in Waikiki; American influence has irreversibly changed Hawaii. In which direction depends on who you ask.