I was born in the islands, but moved away when I was 10. I miss being here, and often wonder what…read moremy life would be like had we stayed. As the fates would have it, I am lucky enough to return to Oahu each year and stay for extended periods. They say everyone yearns for their childhoods, and that you can't really go back. Smarter people than I have said we all do this on some level, because yearning for those simpler times offers emotional comfort and safety. (*Read this next part like a nerdy social scientist: "The childhood home often represents a place of unconditional love and safety, a stark contrast to the complexities of adulthood. The feeling is that of, "going home" to a sanctuary that cannot be found elsewhere. "
This place... Moanalua Golf Club, is a place that matches pretty closely to my romanticized memories of my youth. My time there yesterday was a "time-travel-reconnection" to how I recall a more-simpler time growing up in Hawaii. In short...I loved everything about my visit to Moana Golf, and savored each special layer of Aloha that revealed itself to me.
The course is the oldest in the Hawaiian islands. That, in itself, makes it worthy of placement on a golfer's bucket list. But in addition to its history, the course was fun. It's 9 holes, but I played it twice and on the 2nd trip around, with my knowledge of the dangers that lurk on each hole, I navigated the course, "mo-bettah, dis time." (that's the pidgin English, that I used to speak fluently, starting to come out.). The green fees are very reasonable, and the putting surfaces were really well cared for. The fairways have suffered from the recent drought and are dry, but they turned my 200 yd drives into 240 yd drives--so, "No monku frum me, Brah. Bumbai, my scoar-card...all choke wid da kine pars, yah?" (translation: "I'm not complaining, brother. By the time I finished, my score card had quite a few pars."). Not a speck of trash was to be found on the course. I always see this as evidence that the people who are involved with such places make the effort to give, "special-kine care" to keeping a place as nice as possible. In my memorized version of Hawaii, this special-care for places was part of one's kuleana, (Hawaiian for responsibility) and it results in a reciprocal love between places and its inhabitants.
The best part of my visit here revolved around the people I encountered. The pace of life seems to be one from a by-gone era. It felt like coffees and da News-pay-pah were enjoyed before heading off into the day,
Kindness and friendliness, in the form of the Aloha-spirt drips and flows here. It is not un-like the deep and velvety aroma that rises from pikake garlands. I would quickly find out that the hole* place was filled with a positive vibe.(*I intentionally misspelled, "hole" as an inside wink/playfulness. Translations of, "Moanlua" say that it means, "a pocket or hole". It can also mean a place where travelers can rest.) My visit here made me feel like I had found a pocket of, "1970's-style/ easy-paced/ old-school Hawaii-hospitality and vitality".
As soon as I popped the trunk to grab my clubs, I started to feel the aloha energy that sits in this "pocket" of specialness. While pulling the trunk down to close it, felt a cool breeze pass. The course is located in a wide valley, and a gentle flow of cooler air seemed to always be on tap. I heard the waitress from the adjoining diner laughing with a patron. Apparently, something had been left behind on the diner's table and she was returning it. They carried on a playful conversation using the local dialect of English. I smile every time I hear it spoken. Hearing it brings me back to younger days.
The starter was hilarious (he was professional and caring, but he splashed in a playfulness that got the round off to a good start). The golfing members of the club whom I interacted with on the fairways and near the club house shared a welcoming energy.--cracking jokes and speaking to me like I was Hoapili (close friend).
The grounds-staff who were mowing and cutting shrubs were helpful and almost-overly respectful (more than once, they stopped their tasks, moved way-off the course to ensure they were not in our lines of sight, and then they gave, "shaka" signs and sincere smiles after our hits. "Oh, da kine, good wan! Chee hoo!".
One example that kind-a stands out for me happened when I pulled into the parking lot's driveway. It's a bit narrow, and as fate would have it, a car was attempting to pull out, just as I was attempting to pull in. The driver, (who, I could not see, for the sun was shining on his windshield) without hesitation, pulled back to allow me to pass. We exchanged side-window shakahs of thanks and, "Aʻole pilikia" ("No big thing)... but, these kinds of small gestures can be a big thing in our lives of fast-paced living. I have a feeling that this is the norm in this place of refuge.
In a word, this place is: Puanani.