Another windless day passes. I’m working on a thank-you poster for all my hosts. The house and me, alone. I head to the beach again in the evening. For free, as expected. At a good Mexican restaurant, I treat myself to a club, firm and liquid. Back home again. My surfing in Hawaii has so far only taken place on the Internet. Desolate kite lulls me into a restless sleep.
The next morning I am woken by the unfamiliar sound of moving leaves. Only briefly, then it’s over. I fall asleep again. Shortly before midday it’s clear: there’s finally wind today. Not much, just enough. Once more than the forecast, so far it’s always been 5 miles less in Kailua. My last day in Hawaii. Kitesurfing at last. (more…)
Waiting for wind in Windward Oahu
My new home is just 2 kilometres from a large army base. The huge Galaxy transport planes come in every five minutes. They are flanked by small security Cessnas or Chinook helicopters. That’s what I call fear in your own country. You can’t blame the soldiers. It wouldn’t be the first time here that a president has had 2,000 soldiers barbecued for a reason for war.
Despite the proximity to the base, it’s wonderfully quiet here. But compared to Waikiki, even a jackhammer is quiet. I check the wind on the other side of the bay on the internet and after 11 weeks of almost no kitesurfing, I finally head to the Mecca of kitesurfing on Oahu, Kailua. (more…)
North Shore & relocation to Kailua
After one last reasonably unhealthy and uneventful night, I get a hire car the next morning with Ingmar, another German exchange student. My drunken English Springbreak kids have stolen my towel. I quickly pack up the rest and throw everything in the car. Off we go.
Half an hour later, we arrive in Kailua on the other side of Hawaii. The region goes by the name of “Windward”. There’s no sign of it today. It’s raining. No matter. The main thing is to get away from Honolulu. My room looked good on the internet. In reality, the house is an absolute dream. Hammock on the large terrace. Five minutes’ walk to the beach. Large bathroom. Huge living room and kitchen. (more…)
No nolulu, no cry.
The next few days are all the same. Get up, have breakfast, somehow pass the day until the evening and party until you drop again that night. There are cultural highlights such as “Waterfall” (everyone in a group of 20 has to drink until the person in front stops) and boozy football on the beach at night. I can’t remember any names. Nothing happens. I work a lot and it’s easy.
On Monday, I take the bus to the biggest shopping centre in Hawaii, Ala Moana. Unbelievable. Higher luxury density than on 5th Avenue New York. The top 50 designers in a never-ending row. I can’t find a pair of normal walking shoes anywhere, and a naughty girl stole my flip-flops the night before. (more…)
Crusade to senselessness
The days come and go. Nothing and nobody to remember. Nothing happens. The hostel is full of Germans who have met here to start a semester abroad in Hawaii. I drive around Oahu with some of them for a day in a hire car. We are offered a Mustang convertible because, once again, we don’t have the right small car. Unfortunately it’s suitable for four, there are five of us. Licked the bonnet for nothing. I feel sick from the previous evening. An American soldier had talked to me for too long on the beach about Bush and Iraq.
Oahu is a small world, smaller than I thought. Beautiful beaches on the Northshore, some snorkelling. We lose our way on the way to the beach from “Lost”. (more…)
Welcome to Springbreak Central Honolulu!
To be a bit snobbish: The flight to Hawaii with American Airlines was one of the most miserable of my life. Lousy films, no food within 5 hours, hardly anything to drink, no newspapers, musty seats. Never mind. I’m in Hawaii now. I take the shuttle to the Waikiki Beachside Hostel in the south of Honolulu. springbreak Central is 200 metres from the beach. Around 200 world travellers turn the hostel into a madhouse of excess.
The hostel offers caged accommodation with weekly cleaning for $25 a day. Morning feeding is included, each chicken provides its own grain in the evening. Eight chickens share their own kitchen, bathroom and, importantly, TV. There is free WiFi and 3 1.5 metre plasma screens in the lobby. My roommates are from England, very British. Lobster red and drunk as a skunk by eight o’clock. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.