Story: Hawaii: U.S. or Them?

Hawaii: Its name alone, perhaps more than any other place on the planet, has become synonymous with paradise. The word conjures up images of white and black sand beaches spilling into transparent blue water. I imagine palm trees swaying as waves soak my feet along the shore, delicately sucking them into the sand as if the island is telling me to stay there as long as I can. I imagine the ocean breeze kissing my face, each gust of wind sweetly scented by white and magenta flowers, the varying fragrances bursting from lush, green scenery like fireworks. But where does the fantasy end and reality begin?

I left for The Big Island unsure about what to expect when I arrived. Hawaii leads a double-life, both on the island (with the contrasting lifestyles of locals and tourists) and in travel books and magazines; some praise it as a heavenly archipelago, demonstrative of nature’s ability to make us swoon whenever we’re given a perfect sunset, while others bash the state for pimping out its natural beauty to greedy tourists who care more about their tans than the Hawaiian culture – a culture whose history is not covered in US History classes around the country. Would I find Hawaii as stunning as its reputation suggests? Or, would I be disappointed by the constant reminders that I was still in the United States?

Hawaii is full of contrasting characteristics. Its identity as part of the United States is the first indication that there is something confusing going on. By nature, Hawaii is as detached from the mainland as it is connected to it. United in spirit, the islands have evolved from a blending of cultures that is entirely separate from the rest of the US. At first glance, it does appear to be paradisaical, but the ugly aspects of American living have bled into the pristine island scenery, staining it with fast food restaurants and the occasional Starbucks. Who wouldn’t be taken aback by the sight of volcanoes bursting out of a landscape outlined by jagged jet-black lava rock that spills into turquoise blue water? But The Big Island’s hypnotizing colors are often interrupted by clusters of drab shops and familiar chain restaurants, reminders that there is no need to click your heels; you’re still home, in the United States.

Not surprisingly, the most beautiful portions of the island are reserved for tourists, not native Hawaiians. Locals keep to themselves, slightly resentful (or so it seems) of their island that has become constantly awash with visitors. Life on the islands is expensive (for example, combine the high gas prices with the need to drive everywhere), and jobs aren’t very lucrative (the most popular jobs revolve around tourism, ie: hotel, resort, restaurant/bar, and beach jobs). This makes for a strange dynamic in the relationship between American tourists and native Hawaiians.

Initially, I was a bit unsure where I had ended up. I went to Hawaii expecting it to feel as exotic as other tropical places I’ve been (such as Barbados, Mexico, Costa Rica, and Nevis). But, I found myself feeling less far away than a map might suggest. Let me reiterate that Hawaii is gorgeous (we don’t have lava rock beaches and brackish ponds surrounded by palm trees in Manhattan!), but there is a depth to the culture that felt slightly out-of-reach and protected from tourists. The most recognizable display of culture is a lei which, to many, offers more puns than lessons in anthropology.

What a shame. Hawaiian culture is beautiful, exotic and intriguing. Its tribal kings and volcanic eruptions seem, to most Americans, part of an ancient culture that is not our own. However, we are all natives of the same country, separated by an ocean but connected by our values. I left Hawaii with a vague sense of my relationship to the people of the islands, and a longing for a deeper understanding of the over-simplified cultural history.

Hawaii provides an escape from the hustle and bustle of daily city life by surrounding visitors with serenity and natural beauty, which can be enjoyed from a plastic beach chair while sand dries around sun-kissed toes. One of the most memorable experiences from my trip was catching a glimpse of a humpback whale during a hike across lava rock to a brackish pond. I won’t forget the beautiful yellow and red birds that fluttered by, or the highway adorned with white coral formations that spelled words against the lava, functioning as natural graffiti. More inland, I’ll remember the roads wrapped around foggy green hills covered with cattle and chickens, and the coffee plantations that filled the open spaces.

In the end, I’d say Hawaii’s reputation is accurate; while it is as gorgeous as one might expect of “paradise,” its beautiful exterior overshadows its inner beauty. The culture, like a precious treasure, seems guarded by its natives, and consequently, misunderstood by those who visit.

Hawaii isn’t all hula dancing, tiki torches, and leis; it’s more than all that. But when you’re on the beach watching surfers tackle the mesmerizing blue waves, inhaling the stunning flowers around you, or glimpsing at the palm trees and volcanoes behind you, you won’t need it to be anything else. And, luckily, like its inhabitants, Hawaii resists the pressure to be anything other than itself.