It is almost always sunny in Waikiki, but not last Saturday morning. We awoke to cloudy skies and rain. The mountains over the Ala Wai canal vista from the Officer’s apartment, clear and green on my prior visits, were shrouded in mist. Still, I suggested we go snorkeling. I thought that the normally crowded Hanauma Bay would be more accessible, a perfect first time in the making for 5 years. But first, inspired by the fall mood of Hawaii, I wanted a taste of another world I used to know. In the now burgeoning Kakaako is This is it, a bagel shop reminiscent of those I loved in New York. It is friendly and understated, with my beloved bialys and coffee in styrofoam cups. The area used to be industrial, now with the street art and artisanal shops it is the newest frontier of Honolulu gentrification and live, eat, play sensibility but the windowless bagel shop still serves without pretense.
Bialy is a Yiddish word, after the Polish biały from the city of Białystok. I did not learn to love it in my birthplace of Poland, but on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, wandering by myself, ordering the toasted roll with butter. The name drew me to it, familiar, denoting color white in Polish, after the white flour coating. A quick search reveals that unlike bagels which are boiled before baking, bialys are baked right away and instead of a hole have a depression in the middle. I like my bialys filled with onions and on that rainy Saturday, Shabbat, I ordered it with a lox spread as well. The Officer tasted it but to his palate it was too salty. He was having a poppy seed bagel with walnut cream cheese spread, as sweet as he is to me. We sat at a little table outside, at the threshold of the old world and Hawaii.
The rain intensified as we drove past Ala Moana, Waikiki, Hawaii Kai, we could hardly see the road ahead behind the windshield. A smidget of doubt percolated within me as to the choice of the day, and in a silly but serious fashion I asked if the fish would still be there. The Officer laughed, of course they would. We descended down the driveway of Hanauma Bay Reserve around noon. The parking lot, by fame usually packed, had a lot of spots open. We were happily surprised by the upper grounds, couple of shops, a museum exhibit. The instructional video stressed the uniqueness of the coral reef: do not step on the live organisms! Do not feed the fish! The name of the protected reserve points to its curved shape, and the fish, born among humans, are not afraid of us.
I went snorkeling only once before, off the coast of Kauai on my first visit to the islands in 2001. By the time we got to the beach, the rain abated. I was nervous but the Officer gently explained how to put on the mask and breathe underwater. He is an excellent swimmer, at one with the element. Upon the first submersion I panicked. The noise and sound of my breath through the instrument made me claustrophobic. I was scared I would not be able to do it, that I could not relax into the new sensation, that the beauty right in front of me would not be accessible to me because of the self-imposed fear. I came up to the top again. We switched masks. I looked at the Officer and I knew I had to overcome my fear and just breathe. We went in again. I started swimming. At first focusing on the air passage, I soon was able to see the Officer swimming next to me and the fish all around us. I was able to just be and breathe. We snorkeled for an hour, seeing the beauty of the reef. At the conclusion of our underwater meandering, a beautiful surprise. We swam with the sea turtle and emerged from the water elated by the experience.
The sun had come out as we sat on the bay’s beach, so happy. We watched a little Japanese boy repeatedly attempt to take steps in the sand, his innocence and determination endearing. We looked at others struggling with their fins at the edge of the water, another boy playing at shore break. There was peace and contentment in that moment. I remembered we had brought a football, throwing it would be another first for me. We moved to a more desolate part of the beach and within moments the Officer said my throws were good. A compliment from the Patriot to the Gypsy felt wonderful, and on the rainy Saturday that transformed to a sunny oasis many worlds met, Old and New, East and West, island and mainland, water and earth of two people breathing together. On the way from the bay, a short 5 minute walk, we did not take the tourist Jeep trolley, instead focusing on gazing back midway and taking in the spectacular nature of our first visit. Already in the logbook of instructional safety viewing passed, we will be back to take breaths of wonder.
