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Published: March 7th 2009
The Center
Where Ann really wanted to goHave I mentioned that I'm penurious, . . . frugal, . . . TIGHT?
Ann really wanted to go to the Polynesian Cultural Center. All she had read about it in anticipation of this trip led her to say it was something we should not miss. But it cost . . . a lot. Almost as much for each of us as it was for my helicopter ride. And our savings were shrinking back home. I was just awful uneasy.
"When will we be back here?" Ann asked reasonably.
My mental calculator quickly showed that to be an unlikely event given our age and the depression we were entering. It was now or . . . not now.
When I called in our reservations, the clerk spoke with a bit of an accent and confused me by her phrasing as well. Somehow, I muddled through, cheered by the fact that I had been given a discount, probably because I am a senior citizen. My credit card took the hit but we had not used it that much during the Elderhostel.
The commitment was made. Ann was delighted. So I put the worry behind me and trudged
Pali Lookout
Taken from the north shore side of the crater wall gamely into the action. - Hey, I'm a fun guy! Right?
Eh . . . .
The ABC store nearby had some passable things we ate for breakfast. I made sure where we were to meet the bus that goes out to the Polynesian Cultural Center. And we walked on over at the appointed time of 10:30.
The bus headed for the north shore, through the tunnel, and below the Pali Overlook we'd seen the day before. We found the area to be much more like the settled areas of the other islands and not nearly as cluttered and urban as Honolulu. We passed a Valley of Temples, of which a funeral home was one. And pulled up to the Center about 11:30. We learned where to look for our bus at the end of the day and we learned where to meet our guide inside the welcome center. He'd instruct us in there about lunch.
There must have been a thousand people milling about inside when we heard, "Bus 19 over here!" That was our clue.
Our guide informed us that we could get fast food for about $8 apiece and a buffet for
The Valley of Temples
Click on the picture to enlarge so you can see a sign of a McTemple in the background. $15. My hand automatically grasped my billfold so that my dollars would not just disappear on me. The guide pointed to a counter and said, "You can charge the buffet but you will need cash for the other." We shook our heads but I quickly went to the counter and we were set for an unexpectedly expensive lunch. But it was a buffet . . . and we were in Hawai'i! And this was probably going to be the biggest event of our time on the Elderhostel. So I think I actually smiled.
The Center is a way for the Mormon Church to earn money to help with their Hawai'ian branch of Brigham Young University. Many students worked their way through college by putting in hours at the center.
One young woman came over to our table as we ate and told us where to meet her after we finished eating. There went our second pass at the buffet! We found her and she took us to the canoe landing on the canal.
A young man stepped forward and introduced himself as our guide until supper time. I did not realize we had struck gold by having
him. In fact, he lost the pole used to move the boat through the canal about two thirds of the way and somehow hand-paddled us to a place we could all get out. His value was not evident at first. At all!
His name was Amraa. I asked him if there should be an okina before the last "a." He said, "I'm Mongolian."
The Center is set up so that each of the major cultural groups that originally settled the islands had its own village, artifacts, demonstrations, and shows. I imagined a leisurely meander among them but Amraa had a different idea. He hurried us to one pavilion and into seats just as one show began. After a brief introduction about the place this group came from, they provided music and dance native to their origins.
We were moved quickly from there to a hula class that was just beginning. The student instructing us wasn't nearly as good as Susan nor did she distinguish between men's and women's hula styles. But Ann and I got into the swing of things and had a good time.
Amraa then directed us to where poi had been made and
we were offered a taste of the purple paste. Using a toothpick, we each had a chance to try it. Since it stuck well to the toothpick, it all made it into someone's mouth and not onto the floor. It tasted like an odd but very mild flavored cream of rice. We made a note that if we got some at the luau at supper time, we would eat it with a sauce or something else that is flavorful.
As soon as he could, he took us down to the canal and parked us along a low lava wall to watch a water pageant. Each of the cultural groups had a floating platform on which they danced. The styles and music varied and the colors were vivid. We had a great spot to see each group.
Amraa kept us together and walked us past another ethnic site in order to get us to the next performance, during which a young man scaled a coconut tree with no cleats and strap like a telephone repairman but with only bare hands and feet. He was up that forty foot tree in seconds!
Just as impressive was his co-worker on
the open stage. The young man's act was funny and well done as he demonstrated some practical Polynesian skills. To me the most striking was that he could start a fire in seconds using a board, a stick, and some fibrous plant material!
In Boy Scouts, I had tried to use a board and bow system where a stick was twirled by the bow and I never had any luck, despite what the handbook or instructor said.
The trick appeared to be that this young man pressed down very hard as he moved the stick along a groove toward the wicking material. He moved his stick forward rapidly two or three times, raising the temperature of the base of the stick and the groove very fast. In moments, he was producing sparks that caught and then, with extra oxygen from light blowing on the embers, produced a strong flame.
The way the markets are going, I will remember how he did that for the time when we won't be able to afford matches to start a fire.
Just before the program ended, Amraa rounded up our group and moved us away quickly and took us to
Amraa
He is from Mongolia so there is no akina in his name. the Aotearoa village, the Maori culture of New Zealand. Where we entered, we saw the main pavilion and people scattered across in front of it. Amraa made us stand at the entrance through which we'd come. In fact, two young teen-age girls moved us back behind a yellow line. Ann and I stood there right at the line.
Amraa came up to me and said, "You are our chief. Do what the girls tell you." Before I could even say, "What?" the girls came and stood beside me, moving Ann back a step.
The people who had been standing around in front of the pavilion all moved to the sides of what was now a fifty by fifty foot open field. Suddenly, from the pavilion, three men armed with spears came charging right toward me with fierce looks on their faces.
Amraa, what have you done!
The men stopped about ten feet from me, spears poised. The middle one leaned forward and dropped a leaf from a shrub (vareigated Hawai'ian Elf Schefflera) like the one that surrounds our house in Florida. The men stepped back a few feet, spears still raised toward us. The girl to
my right told me to pick up the leaf. When I did, the three men retreated, still facing me, and then, they ran into the pavilion. The two girls told us to walk across the open grass to the pavilion.
"What's next?" I asked the girl to my right.
"It's easy. Do what I tell you," she said.
The three of us led "my" tribe into the pavilion, the other center visitors falling in behind them.
The three of us stood to one side of the stage on which the three men were performing some athletic warrior moves to the rhythm of a drummer. Everyone who followed found chairs in front of the stage. Ann was moved by someone to the middle chair in the front row. All remained standing.
The drumming stopped. The girls told me to walk up onto the stage to the tall man in the middle who was facing us as we climbed the stairs. We stood before him. The girl to my right said, "Do as I do." She walked forward, and as the man put his right hand on her left shoulder, she put her right hand on his
Aotearoa
We glide past a New Zealand tribal village. left shoulder. They touched foreheads for a moment. Then she stepped back and the man beckoned to me.
I remember Susan telling us about "ha," the "life breath" that outsiders did not have. I was a "ha ole," one without the life breath. She had also said that Hawai'ians never counted on someone's mouth for anything but the possibility of lies and other hurtful things. Life breath is experienced only through the nose. Insults do not make it through the nasal passages.
As we took one another's shoulders and brought our foreheads together, I realized he was demonstrating welcome by giving me his life breath so that I and my "tribe" would no longer be outsiders.
The girls directed me to go to my wife and do the same thing with her, thus passing the host's life breath to her as representative of the people of the "tribe," making them welcome. It really was a powerful moment.
As I sat down, everyone also taking their seats, Ann asked what it was like on the stage when we touched foreheads.
I told her that he must be a good leader because his breath had the sour
smell of someone who was overworked.
The rest of the program included drumming and dancing that were very energetic and difficult. As the men danced, they put on a variety of scowls, sometimes opening their eyes wide. I realized they were imitating the looks on tiki faces.
I also got the impression that the two girls who guided me were the leader's daughters, that a women who joined in the dances with the girls was his wife, and that he taught anthropology at the university.
I would love to have been able to talk with him at length but Amraa was already hastening our group to the site of this evening's luau.
We entered the Hale Aloha ("house of blessing"). Ann and I received leis, were directed to face a photographer for a moment, and then were escorted to our table in the middle of a large amphitheater.
The place could seat over a thousand people, by my quick estimate. The focus of the amphitheater was a stage where entertainers were performing Hawai'ian songs and hula. Behind them was a place where a cooking pit was dug. It looked like it contained a pig, probably
Poi
The purple stuff in the bowl near the toothpicks. Better than it looks. wrapped in ti leaves, covered with hot coals, topped with hot stones. It had to be tomorrow's repast because buffet tables behind us were being filled by student workers.
A procession came onto the stage from our right. It was a classic Kamehameha entrance with traditional helmet, conch horns and standard bearers.
No servants bore swords so everyone stayed seated.
He proclaimed something in Hawai'ian which the MC translated. Basically, we were invited to head for the buffet tables. Through the crowd slipped student servers who brought small cups of poi to each place setting.
The meal was not spectacular but there was plenty, much of which we had already had at the hotel buffets: fresh tropical fruits, various kinds of meat, salad, and vegetables. It was good but we were not going to leave over-stuffed!
The entertainers used traditional instruments that we had learned about at Lyman Museum. We felt right at home.
After supper, we were directed past the photographer's booth. The picture taken of us before the luau was okay but the price was more than either of us paid for the lunch buffet and so we went on by.
Beginning of dance pageant
The king's procession on a barge. The closer we got to the stage where the evening extravaganza was taking place, the more we thought, "This is our fiftieth wedding anniversary,albeit five months early, and that picture might just be the best memento of our being here."
I ran back, learned they would take my Visa, took the picture, and rejoined Ann near the stage entrance. We looked at the picture and were pleased it looked better than we remembered.
Our reserved seats were excellent, near the front, where we could get the full impact of the lighting, sound, and performance. The musical ensembles, drummers, and dancers moved in and out very smoothly between sets and put on a great show.
We wanted to somehow capture the light and the performers but the rules said no flash could be used. Ambient light means the camera should be on a tripod and the picture taken when the motion was minimal. No tripod. The curse of the camera!
But we did get one picture. The blessing of that camera!
During intermission, crowds of people came down the aisles to the stage where they were given a large cup of sherbet. I asked about how
Blue dancers
This group represented Hawai'i. they were getting them and a lady said she gave them a ticket and that we probably had one. I pulled out our tickets and there was a tear-off good for one dessert each. We got our sherbet!
Words are insufficient to say just how much the performance entertained us. The students were magnificent in their craft. The lighting and staging were breath-taking. The music was great. And they did everything from gentle to war-like, including the tiki glares. We really enjoyed the show.
We found our bus, rode back glowing with the experiences of the day, and found our way back to the hotel from where the bus stopped.
We wished everyone could have gone to the Polynesian Cultural Center and had the sense of full encounter we had.
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Marty
non-member comment
Polynesian Cultural Center`
Sounds like you both enjoyed this visit. I thought about going but we opted for shopping at Ala Moana center where we had lunch and then swimming in the Pacific at Waikiki. We couldn't go home without swimming at Waikiki! It was a relaxing day for us. I'm glad you liked the presentations at the Polynesian Cultural Center.