Monsieur's Maps · No. II
The parfumer was a boy here first. This is the Oʻahu I carry — the pink hotels of Waikiki and the old banyan, the crater at the end of the sand, the plate-lunch windows and the açaí on Monsarrat, the quiet local beach past the Natatorium, and the drive around the point to the windward side. Home, drawn from memory and salt.
Palehua
Up in the Waianae range above the whole island — cool air, ironwood, and the lights of Honolulu far below at night.
Legend
Yum cha in Chinatown, downtown — the classic carts among the lei stands and the markets. Get there early for the good ones.
Fook Yuen
Dim sum in McCully — the har gow and turnip cake off the trolley on a Sunday, a little inland from the beach.
The Kahala
Past the crater, the grand old resort with the dolphin lagoon — where you go to vanish for a weekend.
Lanikai
Over the mountain to the windward side — a mile of powder sand, water the colour of a swimming pool, and the two Mokulua sitting out front. The most beautiful beach I know, and I have looked.
Makapuu Lighthouse
The paved climb around the island's eastern point — whales below you in winter, Rabbit Island ahead, and the little red-roofed light out on the cliff.
Sandy Beach
The bodysurfing beach past Hanauma — the most punishing shorebreak on the island, and where half of Honolulu learned respect for the ocean. Watch from the sand unless you truly know what you're doing.
Iolani School
The school along the Ala Wai — a Honolulu childhood measured out in bells and banyan shade.
Ala Wai Canal
The canal that makes Waikiki very nearly an island — the paddlers out at first light, the Koolau behind them, and the whole town's rain on its way to the sea. Beautiful, and absolutely not for swimming.
Halekulani
'House befitting heaven.' Sunset at House Without a Key — a hula dancer, a mai tai, the whole sky going gold over the water.
Salvage Public
Island menswear done right — the tees and aloha shirts I actually wear. A little home, in good cotton.
Royal Hawaiian
The Pink Palace, 1927 — Spanish-Moorish, and the most romantic shade of pink on earth against a blue sea.
Moana Surfrider
The First Lady of Waikiki — the old banyan courtyard, iced tea on the veranda, the floorboards creaking.
aiila
An island boutique in Waikiki — the kind of quiet, well-edited shop you leave with exactly one perfect thing.
Ron Herman
The California import in Waikiki — easy island luxury, the linen and the sandals I live in all summer.
Island Vintage Coffee
Kona coffee and an açaí bowl before the beach. The morning, ordered.
Royal Hawaiian Beach
The heart of the sand — catamarans, longboards, and the warm shallow water the children never leave.
Zippy's
The islands' own — chili and rice at any hour of the night, saimin, and a box of malasadas on the way out. Nobody leaves Hawaii without one last Zippy's.
Tonkatsu Tamafuji
The tonkatsu counter on Kapahulu — panko-crusted pork fried to a shattering gold, and the sesame you grind yourself. Worth the line.
Pioneer Saloon
The little plate-lunch window on Monsarrat — garlic ahi, furikake salmon, eaten on a bench in the sun.
Da Cove Health Bar
The açaí bowl on Monsarrat — cold and purple, piled with banana and honey, eaten on the curb in wet swim trunks after the crater climb.
Diamond Head Grill
The market and grill up Monsarrat — grilled ahi and the portuguese sausage plate, and you do not leave without a slice of the cornbread. Order at the window, eat on the wall.
Diamond Head Tennis Courts
The public courts under the crater by Kapiolani Park — free, first-come, shaded in the morning, and the best backdrop in the game. Get there early.
Kaimana Beach
Sans Souci — the locals' beach past the Natatorium. Calm, clear, the gentlest swim, and half the crowd.
Diamond Head
Lēʻahi. The crater at the end of the beach — the climb at dawn, the whole south shore laid out below.