Growing up the surfer in Vero Beach, Florida, these were words that held my imagination on many a tiny swell day. They were mysterious visions of aquatic power from magazines or moves. Places in far off Hawaii that I dreamed about, but yet, never thought about visiting.
What happens when you cross the mystique of a tropical island with the skill of American marketing, and toss in Elvis and America’s only royal family, mixing it all up for at least a hundred years, adding in waves of Japanese tourists for the last twenty years?
Vegas of the Pacific. That is my impression of Honolulu, a place like Los Vegas – full of hype and glossy history that feels tired and clichÃ© by the light of day.
Yes, you can play Rambo, shooting live ammunition with pistols and rifles at an indoor gun range. Japanese women are rumored to see free love on weekends of passion. And there are enough bars filled with hope and booze to make things happen. But does anything? Really?Read More