Cruising Hawai’i: 30 December 2006 – Off Lahaina, Maui

Another restful sleep ended to the sound of tons of anchor cable clamoring down into the sea: a discordant clanking that on land would bolt one upright in bed, but here is a right proper and revelatory alarm. A new anchorage awaits! Pushing aside the porthole shades reveals a picture perfect day off Lahaina. With two thousand others soon to be in line for the tenders for the short cruise to shore, Alfredo and I opt for a slow start to the day. Why rush to wait when a stroll along the empty decks and a frothy latte are a much better way to pass the time ‘til we can go ashore?

The two days in Honolulu were ambulatory: we walked everywhere, a touristy stairmaster that left us pleasantly winded and sweaty. We even took in a film ( a $1 bargain matinee of “Borat” for which I was glad more lucre was not expended – I still live in hope of a showing of “Happy Feet” somewhere before cruise’s end). Typically tropical off-and-on rain showers challenged us, but pleasantly so. Yesterday, we walked all the way to Waikiki Beach and back. Along the way, we discovered the charming Christmas Lights and Tree display at City Hall, including one with a pair of “native” raccoons we quickly dubbed “Koono” and “Kona.” Next door at the Lutheran Church was a welcoming display of several holiday crèches, including a tree created by Honolulu’s PFLAG ( Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays). That pleased us both, a reminder of these islands’ rainbow reputation: meteorological and societal.

The only disappointment was the Pearl Harbor historical site. We had been warned of “crowds” but arriving before noon as we did on the first day ashore we were met with a chaotic gathering and all tours to the Arizona fully booked. Since the only way to get to the wreck of the late battleship – still a cemetery for more than 1,000 servicemen who never escaped her burning, buckling decks – is by boat, we had to be contented with viewing from shore. We could have gotten a launch for a tour of the Missouri which now lays just next to her late sister, but the queue for that was also daunting.

It is right and appropriate for these two battlewagons to face and “salute” each other: one, the beginning of this country’s entry into the Pacific War; the second on whose decks MacArthur officially accepted the Japanese surrender. Arizona and Missouri – together now in a way that never before did history acquaint them. However, our disappointment was less about not physically getting aboard either Missouri or the Arizona Memorial, but rather in the haphazard and sloppy execution of the land-side museum and historic area.

The entrance is ringed by a leaning and inappropriate chain-link fence dotted with vinyl banners directing visitors to various “add ons” to the area. Only the concrete and bronze sculpture of Arizona that welcomes one to the very well-curated ( if overly-crowded) Museum proper provides the expected dignity of the place. Earlier this year we had visited the National Cemetery at Normandy along the French coast. That experience, even now typing, fills me with a quiet respect and awe. No such emotions are engendered by the mish-mash of architectural styles and tacky “All American Burgers” kiosks that surround the Arizona site. Gyro sellers compete for space with souvenir stands and peeling WWII era poster recreations. A rusting ballistic missile stands outside the ticket counter to board the Missouri and a submarine of the age. Adding insult to injury is the fact that Missouri – the last battleship ever built on planet earth and possibly this country’s greatest water-borne tank – is owned and operated by an independent nonprofit, in a similar arrangement to the Jeremiah O’Brien in San Francisco ( the last operational “Liberty Ship”) as opposed to being under the aegis of a rightfully grateful-and-proud U.S. government. Shameful. To ask U.S. citizens to raise money for the preservation of such history is a blot on governmental priorities. The only saving grace of the site is the simple majesty of Arizona’s Memorial profile on the water – thankfully removed from the mawkish miasma ashore ­­– guarded by the presence of the “Mighty Mo’” anchored alongside.

Something should be done. Never have I been more embarrassed to visit an historic site of my country’s heritage than this. In defense of those who clearly labor with love at the site, the crowds dumped there by legions of cruise ships and busses are of such a mass as never to have been anticipated when the place was designed. However, before it’s too late, a firm philosophical and architectural guiding hand needs to be brought to bear. Save the Arizona Memorial!

The day beckons and I to it. More anon.