Category Archives: Culture

big island, Culture, Environment, Travel

Kolea Luxury Condos in Waikoloa, Hawaii

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We rented a luxury condo in Waikoloa, on the Big Island of Hawaii, for a week. It’s in the Kolea subdivision. Kolea is the only condominium in Waikoloa with a beachfront location. Our 3-bedroom, 2-bath unit also happens to be for sale for about $1.5 million. We paying $275 per night, which seems like a bargain by comparison. However, that rate reflects some negotiating. We were able to talk the price down to about half of the usual high-season rate because the local tourism industry is slowing down.

The unit and complex are very luxurious. We are in a beautiful ground floor end unit. The green lawn extends the outdoor living space well beyond the covered lanai, which has complete full outdoor kitchen. It is comfortably furnished in a Tommy Bahama style.

The complex has beachclub with infinity pool and outdoor hot tub. Anaehoomalu Bay (A-Bay) is a short walk from there. This is definitely resort living close to shopping and dining at the Kings Shops and the Queens Marketplace, and of course, some of the nicest looking golf courses on the Kohala Coast.

This morning I went for a long swim in A-Bay (hello turtles and fish). I’ve also been hot tubbing and dipping in the pool every evening during “magic hour” (that gorgeous time around sunset). It’s been really great for my old back injury.

This morning I had a strange experience while swimming across the north end of the bay, something I’ve done so many times over the years. I had to find a new way to site my path because that giant, old kiawe tree is no longer here. A $9.5 million house has taken its place. Instead of looking up and scanning for the contour of the tall trunk against the vista of Mauna Kea to adjust my direction, I looked up and scanned for a highly pitched roof line. It worked just as well, but it I also saw those people’s striped lawn chairs, giant gleaming BBQ, and array of multi-colored packaged foods on their outdoor table. Instead of a large, sloping mountain in the background, there are white condos. Instead of a large wetland with petroglyphs and poha kahakou (ancient tool sharpening rocks) separating the beach from the hotel, there are beachfront homes with infinity pools.

Kolea definitely caters to wealthy people on vacation, but to be honest it’s a tad shocking. This development is about three years old, and it wasn’t here when I lived on the Big Island before. The beach at A-Bay now looks cluttered with piles of recliner chairs and feels a bit crowded. I used to love coming here because it was so big and open — just the one hotel set back quite a bit from the bay with lots of wetlands, open space and, of course, that giant ancient fish pond that was used to raise mullet for the royalty and ali’i of the times. Now these condos and multi-million dollar “villas” crowd the shoreline. They’ve replaced most of the trees. Why did the county allow the developer to build so close to the shoreline and pave over part of of the wetlands and encroach on the fish pond? No one seems to know. Some who work here speculate that it’s what rich people want to buy so that’s what got built.

Driving to Kolea from airport, I noticed that the land is sun-baked black lava dotted with scrubby kiawe trees. No grass or tropical flowers in sight. The Kohala Coast is a desert. But turn into Waikoloa resort, and voila it’s greener than Ireland, with every flowering tree in full bloom. The gardenias alone exude an intoxicating scent that filtered in through the car’s air conditioning system. Ahh. The sights and smell of paradise.

But then came my next question: Where does the water come from for all these flowers, lawns, fake waterfalls, pools, deep tubs and showers, including the ones that I am enjoying thoroughly?

According the the USGS, the freshwater lens is a main source of water for West Hawaii, but if it’s depleted it will be replaced by saltwater — never to return. Another source of water is inland aquifers, which are pumped from wells. I’m no geologist, but I wonder how sustainable is living in the desert as if it were an oasis? No one that I’ve asked around here seems to have any idea. Just turn on the tap, they say, and enjoy the water. Don’t worry about it; you’re on vacation.

People turning on their taps in this luxury condo development brings stable jobs and money to the locals; something I’ve been talking to the pool guy about every evening. He is getting a paid vacation this year for the first time in his life, and he has full benefits. His wife also works here at a full-time gardener and has the same benefits. So it’s not black and white. But like me, he laments the loss of the big, clean beach and wetland with sweeping views of the mountains. He grew up here and remembers it from the 70s, before the hotel was here. He says that it’s changed so much that he can barely recall how it used to be, which is a problem because we collectively don’t remember what we’re losing in the race to build luxury condos for rich people.

Another interesting aspect of this complex is the owner vs. renter dynamic. Two evenings ago I was at the pool and talking story with the pool guy. A very white-faced man and obviously on vacation stopped to ask me if I was the daughter of Nancy Clements. I said no, but joked that I get that all the time (I am, in fact, frequently mistaken for others; I seem to have a familiar face). He then asked if I was an owner or renter. I said I was on vacation and renting. I asked where he was from (Chicago), and how he was enjoying his stay. He winced and wiggled away from the conversation as quickly as possible. After that, I’ve seen him around the pool a few times and said hello. But even when we have been the only two people in the pool, he doesn’t make eye contact or speak. I think I’ve been filtered out because I’m a non-owner (i.e., renter). So if I was going to spend $1.5 million on a 3-bedroom luxury condo in Kolea, does he inspire me to want to be his neighbor? Probably not. A local saying comes to mind: no Hawaiians, no aloha.

But this report would not be complete if I did not mention how convenient and comfortable this location is. Our purpose here is a working retreat, and all of us are getting a lot of work done at a leisurely but focused pace. I’ve already finished two projects that were piling up and on short deadlines, and I’m making headway on the other two articles due next week. My traveling companions are making big strides on their research projects as well. The place provides a really nice space for easy collaboration and ideating.

We also have wonderful facilities for preparing and taking meals together. We were able to save a ton of money by shopping and cooking rather than dining out every meal as we would have to do in a hotel. So in this sense, we are definitely getting our money’s worth and accomplishing what we set out to do.

But I still have a lot of unanswered questions. There is a word in Hawaiian, pono, that means doing what’s right, not just for yourself and other people but for the land, water and creatures all around. Seeing what’s happened to A-Bay just in the last four years, I wonder what the ancients would think.

Culture, food, Recipes

Hawaiian “Alaea” Red Sea Salt

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Hawaiian Sea Salt
Other Names: Alaea, Alae, Hawaiian Red Salt

Hawaiian red sea salt

Alaea aea salt is a traditional Hawaiian table salt used to season and preserve. A natural mineral called “alaea” (volcanic baked red clay) is added to enrich the salt with iron oxide. This natural additive is what gives the salt its distinctive pink color. The clay imparts a subtle flavor that is mellower than regular sea salt. The clay also adds fineness to the grain.

Uses: It is the traditional and authentic seasoning for native Hawaiian dishes such as Kalua Pig, Poke and Hawaiian Jerky. Also good on steaks, pork loin and grilled vegetables. Hawaiian sea salt can be used in place of regular white salt.

Gathering: Making Hawaiian sea salt is simple, provided you know where to find (or buy) alaea. In the islands, alaea can be gathered from most rocky beaches, like Kuiaha Bay along Maui’s North Shore. Clumps of the red clay run off to the beach and become lodged in the rocks, where the clay washes in the surf and bakes in the sun. I recently gathered a few chunks of alaea from Kuiaha Bay and carried them home in an old, dried out coconut. The clay stains everything it touches red, just like the Red Dirt Shirts, which are a local icon of creative alaea use.

Preparation: Back in my kitchen, I broke the clay into smaller pieces about the size of strawberries and ground into a fine powder using a coffee grinder. A little goes a long way. I mixed the ground alaea with a pound of sea salt, making a gorgeous red salt. I love the mellow, sweet flavor and use it everywhere I would plain salt.

Recipe: Hawaiian red sea salt is so good that it also inspires dishes. My favorite recipe for alaea salt is a simple one, grilled asparagus. Here’s what I do:

  • Start with a large bunch of rinsed and trimmed fresh asparagus
  • Lay them into a large baking dish (9×12 works well)
  • Drizzle olive oil, balsamic vinegar and generously sprinkle Hawaiian sea salt
  • Toss and coat all the asparagus
  • Fire up the BBQ and grill until tender
  • Enjoy them hot
Culture, Environment, Travel

A Rare Glimpse into Life on Niihau, Hawaii’s Forbidden Island

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This story was 12 years in the making and traces the last leg of my journey from newcomer in Hawaii, here for the sunshine, to insider with a deep and abiding love for the islands and its people. Hana Hou!, the inflight magazine of Hawaiian Airlines, published another short story I wrote on the same theme entitled “Strands of History” in the April/May 2008 issue.

First Glimpse

I first came to appreciate the intricate detail and amazing beauty of shell leis from Niihau when I attended graduate school at the University of Hawaii. I took a course about the history of the Pacific Islands. One day a woman from Niihau brought several leis, some that looped down to her waist, and explained that the leis tell the history of her people. I was astonished by the leis’ beauty, the tiny colorful shells and her thick fingers; by how much history I never learned on the Mainland, despite being well-educated.

Niihau is off-limits to visitors. Even though my curiosity was piqued that day in school, I was never able to go, meet the Hawaiians who call it home or see the reefs that produce the shells. Instead, I read a few books and hoped one day to earn enough money after graduating to buy a lei of my own and in a small way integrate their history with mine.

Maui Meeting

Years later I moved to Maui. Engaged and in the thick of wedding planning, my dear friends urged me to attend a Hawaiian arts festival with them for a much-needed break. So my fiance and I ditched our wedding planner for a weekend and joined the fun.

The Hawaiian women from Niihau were the center of the festival, literally with tables covered with shells spreading in every direction in the courtyard. I ponied up $60 to make my own pair of shell earrings, the first Niihau shell jewelry I would ever wear, guided in the making by the experienced hands of tutu Ilei. An hour later after painstaking work, I proudly produced a pair of simple earrings made of white momi shells that I promptly dangled in my ears and wore the rest of the weekend.

During the session, my pent up curiosity about the island and its inhabitants spilled out alongside the shells. Ilei told me a few things, explaining patiently the basics of life there — what they eat, how they live, why they gather shells. The picture she painted was of a simple life deeply connected to the land, the ocean and the ancestors.

Money, canned food and wooden houses are involved, but no cars, utility wires or TV. They use horses for transport, but don’t like beer because it smells like horse urine. They brew an especially strong liquor from taro, evidenced by bloodshot eyes. The children speak Hawaiian first, and only a few learn English later. Many straddle the Kaulakahi channel and have lives on both Niihau and the western side of Kauai.

Watch and Learn

For the rest of the weekend, I hovered around their display tables like a bee at a picnic. All of my senses were engaged by these women: the sound of the Hawaiian language spoken fluently, punctuated with outbursts of belly laughter; the sweet smell of flowers and coconut oil in thick black hair; the smooth feel of tiny shells in my palm; the sight of earthy colored shells arranged in spiral and spotted patterns. I soaked it all in, letting my imagination and curiosity off leash.

While pacing a trail in the grass around their tables, I observed the women carefully. As Hawaiians from other islands came to see them over the course of the weekend, I finally understood the meaning of the term “haole” used to describe white people, often in a derogatory way. When these women greet each other or other Hawaiian people, they press foreheads together and exchange breath. In other words, their spirits meet.

I imagined the first Christian missionaries showing up in Hawaii and wanting to shake hands. No breath, no embrace. How strange that must have been for the native Hawaiians! So they called the missionaries “haole”, which literally means lack of breath. Even now when local people in Hawaii meet, they hug in a friendly manner, but the intimacy of Hawaiian breath exchange is not practiced.

While observing this simple and ancient cultural greeting in action over and over, my hands kept finding their way to one particular lei. It was strikingly modern with a design very unlike all the others. Three thick, rope-like strands — each a different and solid color — formed a cascade of lengths. The shortest was a rich cocoa brown, the next a vibrant coral red, and the longest a softly glowing yellow.

This lei was the masterpiece of tutu Ilei’s daughter, Kahealani. She spent the first 15 years of her life gathering the shells and then 6 months stringing them into her own, unique design. It was a coming of age piece that marked the beginning of another generation of Niihau shell lei makers. About to get married and enter a new phase of my life, I felt a strong emotional connection to the lei.

Lei Fever

I tried on Kahealani’s lei about a dozen times. I showed my friends, my fiance, all the women from Niihau and strangers passing by. I imagined wearing it on my wedding day with my gown of the same color as the longest strand. I saw myself passing it on to a future generation. I checked my bank account balance and ran the numbers to see if there was any way to afford it. My hope of one day having a Niihau shell lei of my own was close to being realized, but still out of reach. The price was too high, unless we didn’t want food at our reception.

As the weekend was winding down and the women were packing up, I sat with Ilei under the shade of a palm tree. We talked more about life on Niihau and the struggles facing this small pocket of Hawaiian people. I came to understand how much she loves what the shells represent: her family, her history, her culture. I felt a deep gratitude for the time she spent with me, a curious but ignorant outsider. It was a rare window into another way of being on this planet.

At the very last minute, Ilei slipped me a note note with a price jotted on it. I was surprised and humbled; a discount on Kalealani’s masterpiece is something I would have never asked for. The lei was far too beautiful and valuable. But it was an amount I could afford, and I think Ilei knew that. She told me that the lei wanted to come with me, and it did.

On my wedding day, I slipped the lei around my neck. The smooth shells felt cool against my flushed skin. Years of Kahealani’s practiced calm and patience washed over me. Walking toward the beach holding my fiance’s hand, I exchanged breath with the sky around Maui, with the waves washing ashore and, ultimately with my beloved, as one Hawaiian woman’s history merged with my own.

Links to learn more about Niihau:

KHON Channel 2 special that aired June 25, 2009

Monk seals thrive on Niihau

Music by the Makaha Sons of Niihau

Niihauans advise State on Native Hawaiian resource management practices