Today, our adventure led us to Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. The day began with the soft light of morning filtering through the curtains, gently nudging me awake around 8 am. With a sense of anticipation, I roused my friend Neema from his slumber, knowing we had plans to secure a car for the day’s exploration. Luckily, Neema had the inside scoop on a local car rental company, so I happily tagged along. By splitting the cost, I could afford to let him take the wheel, saving us both a cool $25.
By the time we hit the road around 9:30 am, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our ambitious itinerary might be a stretch. Nevertheless, we pressed on, joined by an eclectic group including the spirited cheerleaders Jeanne and Mel, along with Tomo and Neema. I’d only recently crossed paths with Tomo back at the hostel. Despite her Japanese origins and job in Japan, she possessed only a smattering of Dutch – a fact that added a layer of intrigue to our diverse band of travelers.
Arrival at a Weird Store
Eager to lay hands on my coveted Game of Thrones book, my first mission of the day was a visit to the nearest bookstore. With my own navigation still on the fritz, I relied on Neema’s phone and Google’s expertise to guide us. As we drove, the minutes ticking by, our surroundings grew increasingly unfamiliar until we found ourselves in a peculiar suburb of Honolulu.
Pulling up in front of an odd-looking building, I made my way towards what I assumed was the entrance to the bookstore, only to discover it was actually a gathering place for a Christian sect. Disappointed but undeterred, we retreated to the car, where Neema swiftly reconfigured the GPS to lead us to a more conventional destination: Barnes & Noble, a familiar chain of bookstores he had mentioned earlier.
Buying my New Game of Thrones Book
Following the GPS directions, we found ourselves at Ala Moana Center, a sprawling shopping mall. Eager to snag my coveted Game of Thrones book, I dashed out of the car towards the nearest elevator. Tomo, sharing my impatience, joined me, preferring movement to idle waiting in the car.
With determination driving my steps, I quickened my pace, mindful of not making the others wait. Spotting the bookstore, I broke into a literal sprint, with Tomo trailing behind, struggling to keep up. Bursting into the store, I wasted no time in approaching the nearest staff member to inquire about the book. In mere moments, I found myself in line at the cash register, my prize secured within just a minute of entering the store.
Towards Pearl Harbor
Ten minutes later, I found myself back in the elevator, just as Jeanne and Mel hopped in on the third floor. Meanwhile, Neema remained in the car parked on the fourth floor. With a playful jab at Neema about their apparent lack of success in finding the book, we departed for our long-awaited journey to Pearl Harbor.
Cruising down the highway toward Pearl City, we relied on the GPS for guidance. Yet again, our hopes were dashed as we ended up at the wrong location, much to Neema’s growing frustration. After a brief exchange with a guard, who directed us down a specific road promising to lead us to Pearl Harbor, we followed the signs that eventually pointed us in the right direction.
Despite my attempts to navigate using Google Maps, Neema’s lack of voice command activation led us to miss the crucial exit for Pearl Harbor. A substantial detour ensued, but after 15 minutes of extra travel, we finally reached our destination.
Arrangement of Plans
Tomo had already visited Pearl Harbor four times, but her enthusiasm for the historic site was tepid at best. Her heart was set on exploring the nearby flea market, a destination favored by the girls in our group. Conveniently located within walking distance of Pearl Harbor, we made our way to the market.
Upon arrival, we encountered a restriction: no bags allowed, including my camera bag and Neema’s. We entrusted them to the care of the girl and proceeded, albeit without officially entering the park. Admission was free, with the only optional expense being a guided tour of the military vessels. Opting out of the tour, we instead secured tickets for a complimentary tour later in the afternoon at 3 o’clock, snagging the last available slots.
Tomo assured us that the tour, specifically to the USS Arizona Memorial, would be worthwhile. Though I hadn’t realized a tour was necessary for this particular site, it made sense given its location in the water, accessible only by boat. With time to spare before our tour, we happily devoted the next two hours to exploring the flea market.
Adventurous Hike
Exiting the park, we headed to the right, tracing the perimeter past rows of parked cars. Our destination, the Aloha stadium hosting the flea market, lay in that direction. Upon reaching the road’s end, we asked a taxi driver for guidance, only to learn that we had to backtrack all the way due to closed gates ahead. Frustration simmered as the scorching sun beat down on us, compounded by the realization that we had already trekked a quarter mile in vain.
In a stroke of ingenuity, Neema proposed a shortcut: ascending a nearby small hill. It seemed promising, offering a potential escape from our current predicament.
Upon reaching the top of the hill, we discovered ourselves on a rugby/football field, seemingly a detour from our intended path. Undeterred, we traversed the field, retracing our steps in the direction from which we had just come. Fencing encased the entire expanse, but in the distance, we saw a gate looming, its status – open or closed – obscured from our view. Pressing onward towards the distant stadium, our determination remained steadfast.
Closed Fence
Naturally, the gate was firmly shut and secured with a lock. Adjacent to it stood a building, prompting hopeful speculation that someone inside might grant us passage. With bated breath, we watched as Melissa attempted to open the door, only to dissolve into laughter at the sight of yet another locked barrier behind it.
Spotting a slender gap beneath the gate, I suggested the possibility of squeezing through it. Taking the initiative, Melissa bravely volunteered to be the first to attempt the maneuver, successfully emerging on the other side. Encouraged by her success, I followed suit, albeit with a slight struggle due to my broad chest preventing a seamless passage. Fortunately, Neema’s assistance in lifting the fence provided the necessary boost for me to join the others on the opposite side.
The Flea Market at Pearl Harbor
As we made our way towards the stadium, the memory of our fence escapade lingered, sparking laughter among us. Despite the initial hurdle, the flea market appeared surprisingly spacious and uncrowded, with an assortment of vendors scattered about. In my opinion, I’ve encountered more chaotic setups elsewhere, so this was rather tolerable.
The atmosphere brimmed with relaxation and enjoyment as the girls happily browsed through the eclectic array of items on offer. After about 30 minutes of exploration, we decided to take a break and headed to the nearby cafe. I indulged in a refreshing drink and a burger combo, mirroring the choices made by the girls. However, when Neema requested a cup of water, the woman behind the counter attempted to charge him for it. Unfazed, Neema ventured to a stand behind the cafe and returned triumphantly with a biker vest adorned with an imprint of the Hawaiian islands, along with a vibrant and eye-catching Hawaiian t-shirt.
After an hour of browsing and indulging in some purchases, we made our way back to the car to drop off our newfound treasures. Our anticipation grew as the time for our tour of Pearl Harbor approached.
Losing my Camera
We loitered around the park, grabbing drinks and making bathroom trips while biding our time for the tour to commence. Suddenly, panic struck as I realized my camera was missing. Just moments ago, I distinctly remembered placing it on a nearby bench. Anxious and hopeful, I scoured the area, hoping one of the girls had picked it up, but to no avail.
Racing to the information desk, I frantically inquired if anyone had turned in a camera. The man behind the desk requested a description, which I provided in haste. Relief washed over me as he produced my beloved camera. It may sound silly, but that camera had been a constant companion throughout our journey, akin to losing a dear friend – albeit one made of metal and glass.
Short Cinematics
As we approached the tour entrance, we noticed a crowd of people gathered, eagerly awaiting their turn. Fortunately, armed with our tickets, we were ushered in ahead of the crowd, feeling a bit like VIPs as we stepped into the tour area.
The introductory movie we watched was undeniably captivating, albeit slightly chauvinistic and dramatic. As the credits rolled, I found myself yearning for more, drawn in by the gripping narrative, much like my usual fascination with Second World War documentaries. Melissa was visibly moved by the emotional weight of the film, particularly shaken by the impactful footage of the attack. The sheer magnitude of the devastation was staggering, with numerous ships lost on that tragic day.
However, the most gut-wrenching moment came with the recounting of the USS Arizona’s demise. A torpedo struck the ship, triggering a catastrophic explosion due to the immense amount of ammunition stored onboard. The resulting devastation claimed the lives of 1,177 marines in a heartbreaking moment frozen in time.
A Visit at the USS Arizona BB 39 Memorial
The wreckage of the USS Arizona still rests beneath the waters of Pearl Harbor, with the memorial built atop it serving as a solemn tribute to the lives lost. Following the conclusion of the introductory movie, we stepped outside and awaited the arrival of the boat that would ferry us to the memorial site.
As we approached the memorial, I was struck by its profound significance. From this vantage point, we gazed upon the sunken ship, its presence a haunting reminder of the tragedy that unfolded here. The sight of oil still seeping from the wreckage, creating vivid hues in the water, left an indelible impression on me, a poignant symbol of the enduring impact of that fateful day.
Thirty minutes later, we were summoned back to the boat, signaling the conclusion of our tour. Following our visit to Pearl Harbor, we made our way back to Honolulu, continuing along the scenic southern coastline. Neema expressed a desire to explore the spitting caves, perhaps even taking the plunge from the cliffs if others were partaking in the daring leap.
Arrival at the Spitting Caves
We ventured down to the spitting caves, a 45-minute drive from Pearl Harbor. With Neema’s guidance, we managed to locate the spot, although the path leading to the cliffs was somewhat concealed. As we approached, I inquired with some locals ahead of us if they planned to take the leap. The response I received was a wide-eyed, emphatic “Noooo, are you crazy?!” from the girl, which was enough to give me pause.
Suddenly, the prospect of jumping seemed far less appealing. It was my birthday, and I unexpectedly realized that I was now 24, prompting me to reconsider the risks involved.
We spent a considerable amount of time exploring the area, marveling at the breathtaking rock formations. The landscape bore a striking resemblance to the pancake rocks of New Zealand, with waves crashing against the rugged shorelines. The Spitting Cave, captured in the first picture of the second row above, evoked similar awe-inspiring sights I had witnessed in New Zealand. While the Pancake Rocks had left a more profound impression on me, I still appreciated the beauty of this location.
As I sat there, taking in the surroundings, I couldn’t help but reflect on my extensive travels and the myriad of sights I had encountered. Despite the enchantment of the moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling of having seen even more stunning wonders across the globe. Meanwhile, the girls were utterly captivated, experiencing such natural splendor for the first time. Don’t misunderstand me, I cherished the experience, but having been privileged to witness so much beauty, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat jaded.
Daredevils at the Spitting Caves
While everyone else wandered off to explore another section of the rocks, I opted to stay put and wait. Nestled in my spot, I simply relaxed and enjoyed the peaceful surroundings. After about 15 minutes, the group returned, and that’s when a group of local residents caught our attention as they began leaping off the cliffs.
Initially, I remained hesitant, still unsure about taking the plunge myself. However, seeing the locals – both guys and their girlfriends – fearlessly diving into the waters below, I felt a surge of determination. If they could do it, then surely I could too. Though I still harbored some reservations, I resolved not to back down. After all, when in doubt, why not take the leap?
Just as we were preparing to depart, Tomo surprised us all by expressing her desire to take the leap. Her sudden decision caught us off guard, but we were intrigued by her adventurous spirit. Eager to capture some epic shots of her daring jump, I ventured to other parts of the cliff that offered a prime vantage point to witness the height and the exhilarating plunge.
Tomo in Danger
I informed the group that when I waved at them, it meant I was ready to snap the picture, signaling for Tomo to take the plunge. With anticipation building, I gave the signal and eagerly awaited her leap. The resulting image, captured in the third picture above, was nothing short of perfect – truly amazing. Fortunately, Tomo safely completed her jump. However, what unfolded next sent shivers down our spines.
Tomo was supposed to climb onto the rocks situated directly behind her, as depicted in the last picture above. From there, she could navigate across the rocks towards the iron stairs, which were about 100 feet away, solely along the rocky surface. Below the stairs lay jagged rocks, and the sea churned ferociously, with waves crashing violently. Swimming in those treacherous waters would have been perilous, akin to being tossed around like a rag doll by the forceful waves, ultimately leading to collision with the unforgiving rocks.
Reacting swiftly, I shut off my camera and rushed towards the others. Melissa, already sensing the danger, had sought assistance from the Hawaiian guys, as she appeared to have lost control amidst the relentless waves. They bravely leaped into action, diving in to aid her as the waves threatened to carry her too close to the hazardous rocks. With their help, Tomo was guided to safety, where she clambered onto the secure rocks. As we gathered to discuss the harrowing ordeal, relief washed over us all.
Post Reflections
As I stood there, my thoughts drifted back to my experiences back home, particularly the chaotic moments on the neurology ward. Memories flooded in of a woman having an epileptic seizure, her tongue bitten as she collapsed. I instinctively cradled her head, gently laying her down as blood trickled from her mouth onto her chest. It was a stark reminder of another instance where a patient lost consciousness while I assisted her in the bathroom. In those tense moments, a sense of clarity always enveloped me, thanks to the invaluable guidance of my remarkable colleagues who taught me how to respond in such emergencies.
While I had no desire to dive into the water, I knew that if the situation demanded it, I would step in without hesitation. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time I had to lend a helping hand in a time of need.
As I witnessed the Hawaiian guys leaping into action, a wave of relief washed over me. Despite the initial panic and dizziness evident in her demeanor as she returned to us, I knew she would ultimately be okay. However, the entire ordeal felt eerily reminiscent of those chilling home videos depicting terrifying mishaps.
Dinner and Return to Waikiki
As we settled back into the car, the conversation buzzed with reflections on the recent events. With a nearby gas station beckoning for a refill, and the looming task of returning the car the next morning, we decided to make a pit stop. Hunger pangs reminded us it was time for a meal, and given the occasion of my birthday, the choice of where to eat fell to me. Opting for a casual and familiar option, I chose Subway.
We gathered around a picnic table outside the gas station, enjoying our sandwiches together in the fresh air.
We arrived back in Waikiki around 7 am, or thereabouts. Neema took care of parking the car at the hostel, or maybe he had already done so – I couldn’t quite recall. As everyone headed downstairs to the common area, I remained upstairs to handle some financial matters on my laptop. Promising to join them later, I immersed myself in the task at hand.
Birthday Celebrations
As I made my way downstairs, intending to ask Neema about a lost phone charger, Phillip spotted me and erupted into cheerful congratulations for my birthday, his voice booming with enthusiasm. Before I knew it, the entire table erupted into a chorus of singing and cheers, prompting calls for a speech. Feeling a bit flustered, Marco stepped in to help me gather my thoughts and deliver a brief thank-you.
“Thanks, everyone,” I stammered, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “But I’m not quite prepared for a speech right now.” I chuckled nervously. “Seems like I’m the sober one compared to you guys – I need to make a quick stop at the ABC store first.”
With Marco by my side, we headed to the store where he insisted on treating me to some beers. I protested, feeling indebted to him for his kindness, but eventually, we settled on splitting the cost. Selecting a pack of Heineken, I thanked Marco profusely, promising to share the brews with him and the others later.
In addition to the beers, Marco also picked up some tobacco, the purpose of which I won’t delve into, but let’s just say it was for something that rated a solid PG-18.
The Party Continues
From that moment on, the evening took a wild turn. By 10:30 pm, we could no longer linger in the previously tranquil common area downstairs, as it had emptied out. The party scene shifted to our dorm room, where a crowd of 10 to 15 people had gathered. Marco, taking charge as our group leader, addressed the group, urging everyone to keep noise levels to a minimum to avoid eviction and ensure the festivities could continue uninterrupted throughout the night.
And so we followed Marco’s lead, keeping the noise down as best as we could. The party raged on well into the early hours of the morning, not winding down until around 4 or 5 am. It was a wild and exhilarating affair, leaving our room in a state of chaos the next day. However, we figured that was a problem best left for the cleaning lady to tackle.
