Honolulu Stop Over

In Honolulu, the bus attendant showed everyone the two finger salute for “Mahalo,” inviting us to relax and reminding us to tip – a good businessman, hitting them early before they were out of money or more savvy to panhandlers. I reached my hotel on the outskirts of the Waikiki run.

I looked at the rate as I was checking in: $150 a night. I’d reserved on the Internet for $75. I loved the discounts offered on-line to early adopters. These wouldn’t last, I surmised; eventually enough people would be lured on-line that the advertising objective would be met and the discount, if any, would be minimal. For now, it was a good deal.

So I thought until I went into the room. It had a musty air about it. I opened the window and reflected on the clean, efficient Japanese rooms of the last two weeks. Ironically, this wasn’t much larger; but hey, I had a base camp in paradise.

I walked around the beach at Waikiki, meandering in and out of the shops. I caught a bus to Hanauma Bay. As soon as I entered the water, fish appeared, swimming in less than a foot of water. My wife loves to swim — in swimming pools. Any place that has a hint, a possibility of fish and creatures roaming about is strictly off-limits to her. I wondered what Annie’s reaction would be to Hanauma. I went out deeper, toward the center of the crater that was now a bay. I dove to see schools of fish so brightly colored it seemed some childlike god had gotten loose with a rainbow of markers. When one is used to the muted colors of bass, crappies, and walleyed pike, these ocean fish dazzled like the hypnotist’s trinket.

R&R after a long business trip. I enjoyed the flexibility and independence I had in this job to do things my way. A little slack makes up for much of the frustration. I sat back with a beer, overlooking the gentle waves and reviewed the time. Two weeks in Japan. It had generally been a good trip. Business objectives had been accomplished, as far as I could determine. Personal adventure accomplished, with considerably more certainty.

Two weeks is a long time. I missed my girls back home. Even though they mostly seem to breeze past on the way to somewhere, I liked being close to them. I wanted to bring them along sometime, to show them how to figure out a strange city, to make a phone call, to ride a bus or subway, to order food when you don’t know the language. I’d like to teach them about getting around, about saying hello in a foreign language, about finding uniqueness and beauty in the little things around them.

I hoped I hadn’t let anything slide in my absence. There were always worries of bank balances, cancellation notices, missed stock trades and the like. As Ashley would remind me, “Oh well!” I was amazed at how well she has learned those important basics. I couldn’t teach her how to manage money or careers well. At least I could encourage her to enjoy her life, despite the troubles.

Japan: I liked the people. To the western eye, the culture often seemed incomprehensible, even screwed up. Yet remarkably, the people smile right through it, spirit undaunted. It would be interesting to watch as its people find ways to express that spirit individually, or more outwardly as a group.

I hoped to come again, some way, some day. I wondered whether I’ll still be with Itochu in six months time, in a year. Maybe their plans for an investment company might keep me. Maybe the incentives of a start-up would lead me elsewhere. The only certainty before me were the blue waves washing up on the shore, one after another.