Not that it comes as a big surprise, but tourism is the #1 industry in Hawaii.  (Agriculture is #3 … just behind the military.  Figures.)   I have spent more money over here than I ever thought I would – and, believe me, I budgeted for a helluva  of $$$ to be spent.   I’ve been saving since April 2008, for Chrissake.

Day 3 started off by getting up and hauling our butts to Aloha Stadium where twice a week vendors hold an enormous outdoor flea market.  It’s absolutely crap-tastic.  Every sort of souvenir, bauble or useless chotzke can be found here in the flea market.   Did I really need a “Hang Loose” bumper sticker?  No, but they were on sale … five for $2.  And since I collect magnets, I can now cover the entire side of my fridge with new Hawaii paraphenalia.  And my neighbor’s ‘fridge while I’m at it. 

The flea market was a little slice of what was in store for the rest of the day … which was spending money on random, mindless touristy things.   I’ll call it cultural enhancement.  Enhancement with a price tag hanging off it.

After the flea market, we were off to Iolani Palace … the only palace ever built for a King and Queen that exists on American soil.  Or something like that.  After spending $3,200 on discounted surfboards at the flea market, I was feeling buyer’s remorse.  You’ll have to excuse me if I wasn’t really paying attention to the tour guide.  Here’s what I gleaned.   Queen Lili`uokalani was overthrown by greedy American businessmen in 1893.  Cut to 1993, when Clinton signed a Congressional resolution apologizing for being an asshole.   Now the palace stands as a shrine and pristine national historic landmark.  And visitors get the lowdown on what went down in the bloodless coup.  (I really thought I was going to get through one blog without using “bloodless coup” in a sentence.  So much for that.)

The highlight of the day was visiting the Polyneisian Culture Center.    Lots to soak in … lots to absorb.  It was like DisneyWorld – if DisneyWorld were in Fiji.  My friend Eric and I had lots of time to kill before the evening luau … so we hung out in the New Zealand exhibit for most of the afternoon because it was virtually void of tourists.  The native Kiwi guys and gals who worked there seemed to take these wayward white boys under their belt and show us the ropes.  good thing … turns out a lot of things in New Zealand involve ropes. 

Then it was off to the luau … which I’ve been looking forward to since, well, birth.  There was a lot of dancing, singing and eating.  And that was just me.  The show was MUCH more interesting.  Don Ho would have been proud.  There’s lots of pomp and circumstance that goes in to a luau.  And a lot of poi.

After the luau, I made a friend.  His name was Jason and he was a professional ukelele player from Hawaii — by way of Samoa.  I immediately plopped down and asked him to teach me a few things.  The first thing he taught me, you ask?  Don’t call a ukelele a freakin’ “banjo”.  I accidentially said “banjo”  a couple times and I thought the friendly Samoan was going to beat me to death with it.  Turns out the ban .. er, ukelele was either incredibly difficult or I was just wildly uncoordinated.  Jason was patient, but once I started singing along instead of just playing along, my lesson was quickly over.

I learned a lot today about Hawaiian culture and history.  And it was way more interesting than anything I could have learned in a classroom or textbook.  And way less expensive than college.  Well, at least the first couple weeks anyway.