Waialua Sugar Mill Oahu

June 17, 2015 2 Comments read Attractions, Hawaii, Masticating With Mellzah, Pacific, Travel, USA, West

Before we arrived, our airbnb host thoughtfully provided us with a huge list of things to see, do, and eat in the area, right down to what we should order (his off-menu “Andy salad”, for example). One of the things he said we absolutely should not miss is the old Waialua sugar mill because their shave ice is made with natural fruit syrups instead of artificial flavorings, which he said makes it “the best on the island”. Having just delighted in the garlicky burn of Giovanni’s shrimp, we were in need of some cool refreshment, and so we set out on our shave ice journey. “Let’s get some deliciousness!” I announced as we neared the parking lot. “…From this dump!”

Because, let’s be real, this rusty warehouse doesn’t scream culinary delight. You’d not guess it to look at the building, but Island X/Waialua Coffee and Cacao Mill is actually owned by Dole, which I suppose makes sense–they get all of the people who are like “Fuck yeah, Dole!” with the Dole Plantation, and all of the people who are like “Fuck giant agribuisnesses!” with the more nondescript Island X. Their method of gift shop stuffing is the same, however, as you can buy nearly any tourist tchotchke you can dream of inside, with the possible exception of a tiny monkey in an aloha shirt. I say possible exception because it may well have been there, I just missed it.

As we walked in, the staff announced they’d be doing a coffee and chocolate tour momentarily out back, so I dutifully made my way outside. In this short tour, the staffer explained a bit how chocolate is grown (which is something you may remember from Chocolate Week last year). Hawaii is just barely inside the cacao belt which makes it a viable place to grow the crop commercially, unlike the sad indoor Charlie Brown Theo cacao tree. It was cool to see a mature tree in bloom, as well as growing pods, and before the tour was over, we had another opportunity to try a piece of horrible alien worm baby. Basically no one in the tour group was down with putting a piece of cacao fruit in their mouth until I cajoled them into it–it’s not that the fruit is delightful, but I do think tasting it gives you a better perspective on how much work it actually takes to turn this seed into chocolate, and there aren’t many places you can try the fruit otherwise.

Afterward, we got to try as many coffee and chocolate samples as we wanted, though the chocolate was doled out by the molecule. The coffee was self-serve, and while it was too warm out for me to want much coffee, I did try a few and settled on the Waialua peaberry, as I promised my favorite baristas that I’d bring them back some coffee. Just a small bag each, as I was concerned things would get weird between us if I brought back something larger, like I was trying to buy their friendship or hoping for some kind of under the counter payback.

After the coffee tasting, it was time for the hyped natural shave ice. I already knew the joy that came from eating brightly colored ice cold artificially flavored sugar water, so my body was ready for what was sure to be the transcendent natural shave ice experience. I got mango with coconut sauce, Jason got taro, and we were both equally disappointed. Each one took a damn year to make and between the length of time it took to make them and the year it took to pay for them (they have a sign saying that they accept cards but you have to go wait in a different line and then she only charged us for one so we had to wait more), they were like crusted-over shitty flavorless slushies. I’ll take a still-frozen artificially flavored and colored shave ice any day over this natural business.

But we did get to see this thing. Whatever it is.

The Dole Plantation: Home of the World’s Largest Permanent Hedge Maze

June 15, 2015 1 Comment read Attractions, Hawaii, Pacific, Travel, USA, West

The Dole Plantation is one of those sorts of glorious tourist traps that can only exist when a ubiquitous brand decides to further trade on that brand recognition and help families make each other miserable on vacation. Located in Wahiawa, Oahu, The Dole Plantation has roots all the way back to the fruit stand James Dole opened in this location in 1950. A friend who had visited before described the experience as “worse than hell,” but I was not deterred, and was in fact so eager to begin my pineapple experience that I managed to arrive half an hour before they opened for business. A solitary employee eyeballed our group suspiciously, no doubt wondering how sheltered our lives had been that we were frothing at the mouth to learn about pineapples, and she was right to do so.

The Pineapple Express

Before you can board The Pineapple Express, a helpful employee photographs your group holding a pineapple (a rare opportunity, and something you certainly could not do for free at any grocery store in the nation). With our group of three, it looked like nothing so much as a family outing with our au pair and our pineappley baby. While we were waiting to embark on our journey through time, space, and pineapples, I realized I had seen this train before, over 2500 miles away. Finally, we were here, at an orchard owned by Dole.

The Pineapple Express takes you on a two mile loop through the property, and lasts just long enough to print off your pineapple photos in multiple sizes and formats–about twenty minutes. As it turns out, twenty minutes is a lot of time to fill talking abut pineapples alone, so they took frequent breaks to play music, some pineapple related, some not.

The Pineapple Express

The Pineapple Express

The ride so nice

You’ll ride it twice

The Pineapple Express

I’ve fudged the lyrics somewhat because between the frankly godawful static-y speakers that buzzed in and out and the high pitched squeal of the train on the tracks, I can’t be certain of anything I heard on this journey to the center of pineapples. Here are some facts that I may have heard or may have thought I heard or may have made up:

*Pineapples do not grow on trees, but on bushes

*Pineapple plants are all planted and harvested by hand, and the plants are so covered with sharp spikes and a straight “I will fuck your shit up” attitude that harvesters need to wear special goggles and gloves to keep from also harvesting an eye and/or a lot of blood

*After a pineapple has tasted blood, it will never be satisfied with regular iron fertilizers. However, those who are routinely fertilized with blood are also the juiciest, so it’s a trade-off

*The soil in the area is so red because of volcanic ash, and not because of routine blood fertilizing…or so they want us to believe

*It is the pineapple’s urge to kill that leads many top scientists to believe that the pineapple originated in Australia

The Hedge Maze

The Dole Plantation is the current record holder for the world’s largest permanent hedge maze, which means that The Berry Barn‘s claim to the same title is straight full of crap. After we paid, we were given maps and admitted to the maze, passing by another rare opportunity to be photographed holding a pineapple. The maze is in the shape of an aloha shirt (again, much larger than the world’s largest), and as the intrepid leader, I immediately set off for the armpit region.

After taking a few turns in the maze, I finally paused to wonder what exactly our purpose was considering the entrance and the exit were the same. Why wouldn’t we just turn around and walk out? What was there to solve? What are those red dots, anyway? Restrooms? Opportunities to be photographed with pineapples? Places they’ve found corpses? Jason proffered the tickets from his pocket, and all was made clear–it wasn’t about finding your way out, but finding your way to specific points in the maze. Whoops.

Sheer force of will got us through that maze. All around us was evidence that others had just given up, thrown down their tickets and left, but not us. It was hot. So hot. So much hotter than it was outside of the maze. We sweated, and swore, and took advantage of routes that may or may not have been official pathways, but damn it, we did it. Exactly one hour later, we emerged from the maze, triumphant and desperately thirsty. The fastest time on record for the maze is seven minutes, and I can only assume that not only did that person take advantage of a shortcut or two, but also went at a time where they’d have to dodge fewer double-wide strollers and basic bitches splashing around their starbucks drinks.

The Gift Shop That May Be Larger Than All Of The Other Activities Combined

Holy hell. It’s hard to describe this vast sea of pineapple products, from pineapple coffee to pineapple chocolate macadamia nuts to pineapple shirts and lip balms and cookies and dog treats and stuffed animals and everything else you never realized existed and still don’t want. There were approximately twelve different pressed penny machines inside the building; I kept turning around and finding new ones. There were like four “pick an oyster” stands on the grounds which is ridiculous. Even more ridiculous was that I somehow got sucked in to one, and let me tell you, if I thought the vendor at the one in Las Vegas was giving me the stink eye for choosing a cheap pearl setting, that was nothing compared to how much they straight to-your-face hate you for buying the pearl and no setting. I’m thinking that the “cheapass crumbum death glare” must be part of their training. All I’m saying is, when you chum the water with coupons, you shouldn’t be surprised when you attract cheapasses.

I expected that this would be the one place in Hawaii where I was practically guaranteed to be able to eat or drink something out of a pineapple. I’d mandated before I left for Hawaii that I would eat or drink nothing that didn’t come served in a pineapple or a coconut, but recanted early in the trip when I realized that meant I’d probably die of thirst on day three. The restaurant did offer one option served in a pineapple–a thirty dollar ice cream split. For thirty dollars for one dessert, I’d better get enough ice cream to fill a kiddy pool and/or it ought to be covered in gold flakes and come with a pony ride.

And Now, This

There’s always money in the pineapple stand, Mellzah.Rainbow eucalyptus

The pineapple garden The pineapple centipede A pineapple that’s been enriched with blood Baby pineapple! Fat baby pineapple! One big fat pineapple!

Hotter than hell? Yes. Overpriced as hell? Certainly. Worse than hell? Hell no.

Up and Atom! Flying with Paradise Air

June 12, 2015 Comments Off read Attractions, Hawaii, Pacific, The Great Outdoors, Travel, USA, West

I have always wanted to fly. Whenever someone asks that “what superpower would you choose if you could have any superpower” question, my answer is always flight. Hands down. Immediately. No question. Keep your invisibility, keep your laser eyes, keep your ability to spontaneously generate a puppy from thin air (but stay close, because sharing is caring, especially when it comes to puppies). I want to fly. I don’t care that I’d probably get sucked into a jet engine or shot down by the military, I want to fly. I don’t know if it’s a short person thing or a can’t-even-jump-that-high fat person thing, but breaking the bonds of the earth to go soaring in the sky is the dream. Sadly, due to the lack of wings and hollow bones and, you know, not being an actual freaking bird, my options are mostly limited to gimmicky rollercoasters and closing my eyes in front of a really large fan. So when I heard about Paradise Air‘s powered hanglider flight lessons, it was a foregone conclusion that I absolutely, positively must try it.

Just like going for a worm, you have to be an early bird to fly a powered hanglider. Tom and Denise, the owners and operators, like to get the first flight in the air just prior to sunrise. Not only is there less air traffic, but the skies are calmer as well, which makes for a better overall flight experience. After you arrive at the tiny airstrip on Oahu’s north shore in the black of night and sign a waiver (all the best activities start with waivers), they outfit you with a flight suit, a helmet, and gloves, and it’s off to the races. When you’re comfortable in the air, you’re taught how to steer, as well as how the whole shebang works and the various safety features, including that it’s a hang glider and you could glide your ass to land if you really got into trouble. Having last flown a plane with a rocket parachute safety feature, I was not at all worried. I don’t think I would have been worried, regardless–I’m not afraid of flying, what with it being The Dream and all. Sure, it’s unnatural for humans to fly, and yes, gravity would probably like to rip us all from the clouds in an equal-but-opposite-reaction death hug, but for whatever reason, that knowledge doesn’t bug me. Put my face in the water and it’s heart pounding panic attack time, but strap me to whatever sky contraption you want and I’ll be fine. Unless you somehow manage to put my face in water while I’m in the air. You monster.

I think flying in a powered hanglider is as close as I’ll ever come to achieving The Dream. Not only can you twist and turn in the air like a bird, but you can feel the wind whipping at your cheeks, the sun on your face, and you can see the wide sky all around you. We saw a geyser of water erupting from the ground with a cloud of birds wheeling around it and we did the same. The sun blazed forth over the horizon, illuminating the water and setting the clouds alight. The water was so clear, I could see the reefs snarling toward the shore. And we four occupants of the hang gliders were the only ones to see any of it from the skies. They belonged to us alone. The wind may not have been the only thing I felt on my cheek that morning.

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