Maui / Oahu (Hawaii)

After ten months straight of being on the move during Year 2 of our round-the-world journey, Barbie and I officially touched down back in the United States. And, it felt like we had just landed in a third-world country.

One of the biggest eye-openers from our extensive travels is just how far ahead the infrastructure in many other countries is compared to the USA. The airports—even in some of the poorest parts of Southeast Asia—are in a completely different stratosphere than the antiquated, rundown, shitty airports we have back home. I honestly don’t get how America has let itself get left so far behind.

While we were waiting for our luggage alongside a planeload of global travelers, Barbie and I both wondered what these foreigners could possibly be thinking about the USA—supposedly the richest nation on earth—after being welcomed by this absolute armpit of an airport. Honolulu International Airport is located in one of the biggest tourist destinations on the planet, but the place needs to be condemned and imploded.

So, what exactly went wrong? Let’s break down the arrival disaster:

The 1970s Shuttles: The shuttle buses taking us from the tarmac to immigration had ripped-up seats and sounded like they were single-handedly keeping the 1970s alive.
The Terminal: Inside, the ceilings looked like they were ready to cave in on us at any second. The entire area was filthy—and we landed at 7:00 AM, which you’d think would give them plenty of time for a proper overnight cleaning crew to do their jobs.
The Bathrooms: Want to take a leak after a long-haul flight? Good luck. The bathrooms were disgusting—toilets were overflowing, the paper towel dispensers were bone dry, and the electric hand dryers were completely broken.
Immigration & Baggage: Immigration was an absolute joke. The whole hall looked like a rundown DMV, with over half the booths completely unmanned. The few that were actually open were staffed by some of the laziest, most miserable-looking human beings I’ve ever seen. Once we crawled through that mess, we were greeted by luggage carousels that looked 100 years old, squealing like they were on their absolute last legs.

In every other country we’ve visited, we never waited more than 20 minutes for our bags. Here in Honolulu? It took over an hour while we sweated our asses off in a baggage claim area with virtually no air conditioning. Oh, and while every other country on earth offers free airport Wi-Fi, there wasn’t a single bar of internet to be found here while we waited. Welcome back to America, right?

Kailua, Oahu:

Once we finally escaped the airport nonsense, we were incredibly happy to arrive at the absolute best place America has to offer: Hawaii. Out here, the unofficial state footwear is either a pair of flip-flops or just going completely barefoot. Now that is my kind of place.

We elected to return to the islands for a full month to regroup, relax, and recharge our batteries before embarking on Year 3 of the RTW journey. We set up a month-long itinerary split between Maui and a short stay in Kailua, Oahu.

In all our past trips, we’ve always opted for Maui, Kauai, or the Big Island. We actively avoided Oahu because we found absolutely zero of that authentic Hawaiian charm in the overbuilt concrete sprawl of Honolulu and Waikiki. However, we kept hearing great things about the towns on the East and North coasts, far away from the tourist madness.

We chose to base ourselves in Kailua, and it truly is a world away from the supercharged chaos of Honolulu. It’s only a 30-minute drive from downtown, but it feels like a different planet because the two areas are physically separated by massive razor-sharp green mountains.

Playing Follow-the-Leader with Obama

Strangely enough, Barbie and I keep finding ourselves traveling along the exact same path as President Obama. Apparently, the guy and I have identical taste in travel destinations:

We were hanging out in French Polynesia at the exact same time he was there writing his post-presidency book.
We ate at the exact same bun cha joint in Hanoi that he made famous during his presidential trip to Vietnam.
Now, we’re bunking down in Kailua—his home state and the exact town where he took his family every single Christmas vacation during his presidency.

Naturally, we had to get our shaved ice fix at Island Snow, Obama’s personal favorite spot in town, and we even drove past his old holiday rental house.

Kailua’s beach has been voted one of the best in the world, and the same goes for Lanikai Beach, which sits just a few minutes east. Being the highly discriminating beach bum that I am, I can officially vouch that both of these spots are incredibly sweet to hang out on.

What struck me as wild was the color of the water here; it is unlike any of the other Hawaiian islands. Oahu has this vibrant, spectacular aqua-green water. By comparison, Maui and Kauai have deep blues, and the Big Island features a distinct, light electric blue. It’s fascinating to see such massive color variations between islands that are so close together, but we ran into the exact same phenomenon when we were island-hopping through French Polynesia.

Aside from hanging on the beach, the other major activity around here is the famous Pillbox Hike (Kaiwa Ridge Trail). You can ascent in less than an hour, but it’s a seriously steep, rocky scramble up the ridge. The reward for the leg-burning workout is a set of old military pillboxes at the summit with some of the most awesome, panoramic views.

Kaanapali:

When it comes to Maui, Barbie and I always choose to stay on the west side. We love the Kaanapali hillside because it’s strategically elevated to give you sweeping, unobstructed views of the ocean. Our absolute “go-to” condo developments are either the Kaanapali Plantation or The Masters.

We prefer Kaanapali over south-side towns like Kihei and Wailea. The west side just feels way more wide-open because the ocean runs completely parallel to the main coastal road, with very little building development on the makai (ocean) side to block your view. Plus, West Maui gives you a choice of about ten different incredible beaches, all offering a completely unique vibe. Our personal favorites are Slaughterhouse, D.T. Fleming, Kaanapali, Airport Beach, Napili, and Kapalua.

Thru the Binocs

I can’t write a Hawaii post without describing the food scene. After coming back to our condo absolutely exhausted from the strenuous daily activity of lying on a beach, the last thing we wanted to do was get dressed up and head out for an overpriced, touristy dinner.

Thankfully, Barbie is an absolute master chef. She cooked almost all of our dinners right at home in the kitchen of our Kaanapali condo. The daily routine was beautiful: Barbie cooked, we feasted, we passed out cold, and then we woke up to do it all over again the next day.

We did venture out for lunches, though. When you’re eating like a local in Hawaii, there are two heavy hitters you need to know about (plus one canned anomaly).

1. Poke (Pronounced POH-kay)

This is the ultimate flashpacker fuel: raw cubes of fresh, sushi-grade fish doctor-up with all kinds of killer seasonings and sauces. Depending on where you go, there can be up to ten different versions available in the display case. Our favorites are the ones prepared with shoyu (soy sauce), green onions, spicy mayo, chopped garlic, and heavy coats of furikake (that awesome dry seaweed and sesame mixture). There is a fierce local competition over who dishes up the absolute best poke on the island, and I’m pretty sure we hit up just about every single contender.

2. The Infamous Hawaiian Plate Lunch

Wherever you go around midday, you will see locals chowing down on plate lunches at beachside BBQs or from quick-serve takeout windows. If you’ve ever wondered why the locals out here are so big and solid, you can point your finger directly at the plate lunch. It is an absolute, unparalleled Carb Fest.

A standard plate lunch includes:

Your choice of heavy protein: Teriyaki Chicken, Chicken Katsu, Kalua Pig, Pork Lau Lau, Lomi Salmon, Loco Moco, or Poke.
Two massive scoops of sticky white rice.
One giant scoop of heavy Hawaiian macaroni salad.
The Finisher: The entire plate of goodness is then smothered in thick, rich brown gravy.

The locals wash this entire mountain of food down with an icy-cold can of Hawaiian Sun or Aloha Maid. It comes in a ton of great tropical flavors (Passion Orange Guava is the goat), and at least the stuff is made with real cane sugar instead of that high-fructose corn syrup crap they pump into sodas on the mainland.

The Spam Mystery: I also have to mention that Hawaii is obsessed with Spam. It is everywhere. Is it nasty as ass? Yes, in my opinion, it is. Why is it so popular out here? I have absolutely no clue.

Our month in Maui is officially up. We are completely rested, tanned, and ready to embark on the next major leg of our global journey.

Next stop: Europe. We are heading across the pond to spend about six weeks exploring the rugged coastlines of Ireland and the coffeeshops of the Netherlands, and then it’s officially off to Asia for an extended deep-dive into Japan.