S2, E26: Will the “Real” Waikīkī Please Stand Up?

In this week’s episode of Unpacked by AFAR, an AFAR editor explores the cultural legacy of Waikīkī, from luaus that tell the story of Hawai’i to surfing’s long history.

Is Waikīkī more than just a tourist trap? In this week’s episode of Unpacked, AFAR senior deputy editor Jennifer Flowers explores the cultural legacies of this two-mile stretch of sand.

Transcript

Aislyn Greene, host: Hi, I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is Unpacked, the podcast that unpacks one tricky topic in travel each week. This week we’ve got another “If These Walls Could Talk,” our series that explores the stories—and secrets—hotels can tell us about the places we visit. And this time we are headed to one of the most iconic places in Hawai’i for hotels: Waikīkī.

Our guide for this episode is Jennifer Flowers. Jenn is AFAR’s senior deputy editor and she heads up all our hotel content. She puts out things like our annual Stay List. And she’s just very much steeped in the world of hotels, and she’s been that way since, well, birth, I guess. We actually call her AFAR’s Eloise—really. Because both of her parents were in the hospitality industry and she literally grew up in hotels.

She also knows Hawai’i really well as you’ll hear in a moment.

Aislyn: Hi, Jenn. How are you?

Jennifer Flowers, host: Hi, it’s great to be here.

Aislyn: Yeah, I’m so glad to have you. I mean, I’m excited about this story. I think it’s a really interesting look at, at Waikīkī. I’m curious to know what inspired you. Why did you want to report this story?

Jenn: Well, I’ve been going to Honolulu for as long as I can remember, and Waikīkī has always been this kind of phenomenon to me. It’s this kind of crazy, shiny strip with Gucci, Chanel, Prada stores lining it. I also went there as a kid. I used to, like, play in the waves there. So it’s a place that kind of held two different kinds of meanings to me, like the sort of outsider meaning.

And then of course my family’s from there. So this sort of, um, insider local meaning. And so I was always just kind of curious to know, like, what it means to locals today or, and what it has meant in the past.

Aislyn: And did you spend a lot of time there when you were a kid? How often would you go to Waikīkī?

Jenn: So I grew up going there almost every summer to see my relatives. My mom is actually from Hawai’i. She’s Japanese American, third generation. And my parents actually both worked in the hospitality industry there and met there and. So we just used to kind of grow up. I have these great memories of having picnics on the, on the grass near Waikīkī actually.

And I have this, like, big vision of this enormous bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken that we used to eat together, my brother and my aunties and my family friends on a lawn. So, so it was always kind of part of the background, but just wanted to dig a little bit deeper and figure out kind of like, like, what is Waikīkī?

Like, is it a place just for tourists or is it a place where there is a true sort of authentic connection to local culture?

Aislyn: And I think as listeners are going to hear, like, you really do speak with these people who have these deep connections to Waikīkī that maybe you don’t always think about as, like, a traveler or a tourist.

Jenn: Yeah, exactly. So, yeah, so I thought a lot about my parents’ relationship with Waikīkī, how they kind of worked in the industry and also, just kind of were not quite part of it. I didn’t realize though, as I started kind of digging into things, how deeply the cultural and historical roots went.

Waikīkī actually has a lot of historical meaning for people in the past and also today. Um, it’s a place where a lot of locals say they actually want tourists to stay, which is really interesting. So we’ll hear in the podcast from Dylan Ching, he’s the restaurateur who runs the Duke’s Waikīkī restaurant, a very, very famous place in Waikīkī.

And he actually told me that many locals want people, want tourists to stay in those resort areas in Waikīkī rather than in, like, Airbnbs in their community, which can be very disruptive and lead to skyrocketing rent and kind of impact the culture of the place. So it’s actually a place that has, um, that kind of commercial importance, but again, that kind of deep historical cultural, uh, route that, that it turns out, visitors can tap into, which I thought was very exciting.

And it’s exactly what I discovered when I went there with that mission in mind.

Jenn: Today we’re heading to one of the most famous beaches in the world: Waikīkī in Honolulu, Hawai’i. Every year, 4 million tourists visit this two-mile beach on the island of O‘ahu. My mom was born and raised in Honolulu as a third-generation Japanese American, and she started her career in hospitality in this city like so many locals do. Honolulu is also where she met my dad, who moved here from Seattle to work at a hotel.

I’ve spent many summers visiting my relatives in Honolulu and playing in the waves on Waikīkī Beach, which is, of course, ground zero for tourists. The area is lined with shiny luxury shops, and it has some of the most beautiful hotels in the islands. While spending time on the beach is always fun, for as long as I can remember, the whole thing has always felt like a bit of a tourist bubble—and, well—a little inauthentic.

I was thinking about all of this on a recent trip to Honolulu. I had read that Waikīkī had been a sacred place for the Native Hawaiians long before the first beach umbrella appeared. In the 19th century, this was where Hawai’ian royals, including the famous King Kamehameha, vacationed. It’s also where they surfed, something that at the time only royalty was allowed to do.

Waikīkī was also known as a place of healing. There are freshwater springs that flow into the ocean here, which according to local tradition can cure illness and ease pain. It got me wondering: What happened to that legacy, once hotels started arriving on the scene? Do those deep Hawaiian roots still exist in Waikīkī? And if so, can Waikīkī’s hotels truly connect visitors to those roots? Fortunately for me, a few people in some of Waikīkī’s most famous hotels were willing to meet and do what locals do: “talk story.”

My first stop is the famous Royal Hawaiian, which opened in 1927. If you’ve been to Waikīkī, you might recognize it. It’s that big, rose-colored hotel constructed in a Spanish Moorish style with grand arched entryways. No surprise that its nickname is “the Pink Palace of the Pacific.” The hotel is surrounded by 15 acres of sand and surf. It’s so peaceful, in fact, that the Navy used it as a recuperation center during World War II. Now, it’s home to one of the most famous luaus in Waikīkī. I’ll admit that I’ve never been to a luau–it’s just not something my local family ever thought about doing, especially in Waikīkī. So I have a big learning curve ahead of me. I need someone to explain that this isn’t just a tourist trap. Luckily, I’ve found the perfect person.

Misty Thompson Tufono: What was so beautiful about this place was the abundance of water that came down from the three valleys above. So whenever you have an area that is near to water, that is where the villages thrived.

Jenn: That’s Misty Thompson Tufono, executive vice president of Tihati Productions, which runs the Aha’aina Luau at the Royal Hawaiian. Misty tells me that Waikīkī wasn’t just a 19th-century vacationing spot for royals. Many Hawaiians relied on Waikīkī for sustenance, too.

Misty: These grounds were full of lo’i kalo, that’s taro patches, that would feed literally tens of thousands in this Waikīkī area. And then the shoreline that we’re looking at was laced with loko kuapā, which is fish ponds. So it was natural resources that the Hawaiians had managed so incredibly well that fed thousands in this area. That’s what makes Waikīkī so special, it is a very bountiful place.

Jenn: We’re sitting by the Royal Hawaiian historic Monarch Room, near the outdoor area where Tihati’s performance is about to start.

Misty’s company, Tihati Productions, is the largest, longest-running entertainment company in the state. It started more than 50 years ago. Tihati focuses on Hawaiian and Polynesian entertainment in the form of luaus and other cultural shows. The founders are Misty’s parents: her Samoa-born father, Jack Tihati, and her mother, Charlene Thompson, a celebrated hula dancer. Now, Tihati is run by Misty and her brother, Afatia Thompson, who is president.

The company acts as an ambassador for Hawaiian culture outside of the islands too. Tihati has performed for three U.S. presidents–Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama–the latter invited them to perform at the White House.

Today, Tihati remains a local business, employing more than 600 area dancers, singers, emcees, musicians, technicians, and more.

Misty: We’re here because Hawaiian artists elevated the world’s view of what Hawaiian artistry looks like. And so we take that real seriously. We carry that kuleana, or responsibility to do the same our very, very best so that visitors who leave here will say, “It wasn’t just a ticky-tacky luau, it was really talented people that were telling really important stories in the funnest way possible.” That’s not an easy thing to do.

Jenn: Misty says that while the purpose of a luau in a tourist setting is to entertain, it’s also an opportunity to teach visitors about Hawaiian culture with as much authenticity and integrity as they possibly can.

Misty: Tens of thousands of visitors who may not know and may not care about our culture and history, but by the time they leave our luau, they care a little bit and they wonder a little bit and maybe they look it up a little bit.

Jenn: Misty says that the values that she grew up with—cultural integrity and hospitality—remain a huge part of the more than 2,000 shows they host each year. Through each luau, they can also connect with Waikīkī’s roots.

As Misty shares this history, we hear a beautiful and haunting sound that she says indicates the beginning of the show.

Misty: That’s the blow of the conch shell. The conch shell in all of Polynesia is always used to direct attention to something. Most times it was because an ali’i was coming, a royal was coming. Or this is the sound that tells us that something is about to begin.

Jenn: After learning so much from Misty, I’m actually excited to see my first Waikīkī luau. The skies above me are still blue as hula dancers take to the stage. The backdrop? The blue waters and the white-sand beaches of Waikīkī. The show is three hours long and reveals different eras of Waikīkī. I feel breezes from the ocean as I watch a fun segment about the Beach Boys, the local watermen who appeared on the scene at the turn of the 20th century. They introduced tourists to their surfing lifestyle in exchange for tips. And then as the sun sets and the skies grow inky, the hula skirts get brighter and the dancing even more dramatic. A display of fire knife dancing lights up the sky, and I’m dazzled.

But the show isn’t just about dazzling visitors. As the fire dancers throw their flaming blades in the air, the emcee explains that it’s called Siva Afi, and it’s a Samoan art. This balance between entertainment and cultural accuracy is exactly what Tihati aims for with every performance.

Misty: We celebrate our Polynesian cultures. But what I really want people to know is as we celebrate those things, recognize there’s a difference. That that is not Hawaiian, that that is an influence from another South Pacific culture that definitely has ties to Hawai’i, but is not Hawaiian.

Jenn: For example, people often see Samoan fire knife dancing and Tahitian drumming, and think that those things are Hawaiian. So Misty takes care to include those elements in her performances in a high-quality way and makes their origins clear in the production.

Another segment of the show covers the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom and the imprisonment of Queen Liliʻuokalani, the last reigning monarch queen in the late 19th century. An actress glides across the stage in the role of Queen Liliʻuokalani. She wears a beautiful red and white dress accented in gold. As I watch, the emcee explains that she was dethroned and imprisoned in 1893. The queen became known for enduring one of the greatest injustices to Hawaiian people with dignity, pride, and aloha.

Misty: Now, that’s so morbid, like that’s like you—what you’re gonna tell that at a luau? But we did from the angle of the instructions of our own queen who said, “If we are going to forge to the future knowing that the foreign influences have come and have, you know, taken over, then we’re gonna do that with aloha, because that’s our anchor, that’s our cultural value.”

Jenn: Misty tells me about the famous song that Queen Lili’uokalani wrote, “Aloha ’Oe,” a beautiful melody that has made its way into pop culture. Many people think it’s a farewell song, but it actually isn’t. The story goes that the Queen saw a couple embracing, and it inspired her to create a love song that embodied the concept of aloha–which translates into love, peace, mutual respect, and compassion. For many Hawaiians, the meaning of “Aloha ’Oe” has since evolved into this idea that the spirit of aloha can survive, even during times of turmoil—the kind that the Hawaiian people were facing when she wrote the song.

My next stop is the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort, home to the famed Duke’s Waikīkī restaurant. This is a go-to brunch spot whenever my local relatives need to impress out-of-towners with an upscale vibe and Waikīkī Beach views (though my Aunty Elaine always complains about parking here). It’s got a great setting on the beach.

Dylan Ching: There’s a reason why kings and queens vacationed here. The weather, the ocean, the vibe, you know, the, the water, everything is so special. So for me, I was just fortunate that I ended up here and got to just—it be part of my DNA being in Waikīkī.

Jenn: That’s Dylan Ching. He was born on O‘ahu, raised in Maui, and is now the vice president of operations for TS Restaurants, which includes Duke’s Waikīkī.

Dylan: So I always feel like Duke’s is the place in Waikīkī where locals and visitors can kind of be right next to each other at the bar and it feels comfortable. You’re not in a local bar in, you know, Pearl City where visitors might feel out of place and you’re not in maybe a hotel restaurant where locals might feel like it’s not really built for them.

Jenn: The restaurant is named after Duke Kahanamoku, the late surfer who made the sport famous around the world—and surfed the very Waikīkī waves you’re hearing. A native Hawaiian waterman, Kahanamoku won three Olympic gold medals for swimming in 1912 and 1920. Today there’s a nine-foot bronze sculpture on Waikīkī that honors Kahanamoku. Dylan is taking me around the restaurant, which doubles as a museum to both the Duke and the sport of surfing.

Dylan: He’s my definition of a, of a Hawaiian. I mean, he was very dynamic in so many ways. I mean, surfer, you know, beach boy, swimmer, Olympian, actor. He was truly an ambassador of aloha, but also ambassador for Hawai’i. I mean, he went all over the world and, and showed people what Hawai’i was like, what somebody from Hawai’i might be like.

Jenn: Dylan says that Duke’s is able to perpetuate the famous surfer’s values through connections with the community. As we walk around together, he points out a wall of fame filled with framed photos of locals who help perpetuate Hawaiian cultural traditions.

Dylan: I think what we do in the community really mimics who Duke was. That’s what we really try to do, is support things that Duke would do.

Jenn: The restaurant sponsors local events like surf contests and donates money to the community center and schools in the area.

Dylan: We feel like, hey, you know, obviously we’re a busy place and we make a lot of money, but we can go out into the communities, especially around us and really support because it is kind of hard to get the Waikīkī for local people. So we just take Duke’s out to everybody else.

Jenn: My exploration of surfing history in Waikīkī continues with Aunty Luana Maitland. Aunty Luana is director of cultural experiences at the Outrigger Reef Waikīkī Beach Resort, as well as its sister property, where Duke’s Waikīkī is located. She’s worked at the resort for more than 20 years.

We meet in the Outrigger Reef’s new A’o Cultural Center, where travelers can learn how to make leis, try hula dancing, and even take Hawaiian language classes. I’m intrigued by the artifacts in this room—some of which come from Honolulu’s Bishop Museum that’s dedicated to the natural and cultural histories of Hawai’i.

The Bishop Museum helped curate the displays, which include a ukulele and kala’au, or rhythm sticks, and Hawaiian weapons including a leiomano, a club with shark teeth. Nearby, a large screen is playing a video from the Polynesian Voyaging Society of an enormous Hokulea, a double-hulled canoe, sailing on the ocean.

Aunty Luana Maitland: That’s the voyaging canoe that circled the world. And as you can see it, it’s a larger scale, but in this area here is where provisions were left and they would top it off with a board, and that’s where they would sleep.

Jenn: We move to a glass case featuring a wooden model of the Hokulea. Aunty Luana explains that it would take sailors months to get from one destination to another in these canoes. This kind of a canoe is what Polynesian voyagers used to reach Hawai’i as early as 400 C.E., relying on only the stars for navigation. As we walk by the displays, Aunty Luana peppers in stories of her own memories growing up immersed in Hawaiian culture. As she shares her connection to all these traditions, it’s clear to me that her role here at the Outrigger is a calling, and not a job.

Aunty Luana: I was fortunate enough to belong to a hula club at our church. I was there with grandpa, my grandfather was a reverend. And they saw that I was interested in it. So I started to learn how to dance and I danced professionally when I was nine years old.

Jenn: Aunty Luana tells me about the new Surfers in Residence program at the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort that aims to capture the modern-day legends of surfing as they pass through Honolulu. The resort invites surf icons to stay at the hotel, and Aunty Luana interviews them in front of some of the hotel’s surfing artifacts, live streaming it on social media and inviting guests to tag along. Surfers in residence have included Clarissa Moore, an Olympic gold medalist, and Luke Shepardson, who won the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational in 2023. As luck would have it, world-champion longboard surfer Bonga Perkins is in residence the day I’m there, and I join Aunty Luana as she interviews Bonga. Later, we sit in the hotel lounge, which faces the very waves he grew up surfing. Bonga tells me about all the surfing icons he got to know in Waikīkī, including Buttons Kaluhiokalani, Larry Bertlemann, Dino Miranda.

Bonga Perkins: Those were the guys that, like the, the professionals that if you look their name up, they were the forefront of that part of surfing’s life, you know, from the, probably like the ’80s to like the early ’90s.

Jenn: There were also uncles, or elder surfers, who hung out at the beach, who taught him how to behave as a surfer. Uncles like Sammy Steamboat, a first-generation beach boy, and Rabbit Kekai, who counted Duke Kahanamoku as one of his early surf instructors.

Bonga: That guy kicked my butt a couple times. His brother, Uncle Jamma, that guy gave me good scoldings cuz I was in, in his way. But it’s OK because they scolded me. But they gave me the, the reason behind it, not just scold me and paddled away. And so, you know, I took it and learned from it. And next thing you know, these guys are just like on my team, basically like, “Yeah, good for you. Hey, have a sandwich.”

Jenn: Bonga grew up without much, but he spent pretty much every day of his childhood on Waikīkī with his dad and surrounded by the elder beach boys, who took care of him, sometimes even fed him, and made sure he was attending school.

Bonga: Like you’re adopted like 20 dads on this beach, keeping an eye on you, making sure that you’re safe as well. You know, if you got hurt or something, they’ll be right there.

Jenn: Bonga will be the first to admit that Waikīkī has changed a lot since he was a kid running around these shores—here’s a lot more tourism and a lot fewer beach boys—which many say is a dying culture. But when Bonga comes back here with his five kids, all he wants to do is get them out into the waves that hold so much meaning for him. He even named one of his kids after a wave he surfed right here.

Bonga: I was basically born in the sand here, you know, so I have a lot of ties. No, you know, I have a lot of ties in all little different areas besides just not just the people, but spiritually.

Jenn: Bonga credits Waikīkī with keeping him grounded, despite his fame.

Bonga: You go off and do it, but you come right back. You walk by and you say hi to all the uncles and your, your, your friends that you grew up with, and it just brings you right back to why I did this, why I started.

Jenn: As I listen to Bonga’s stories about Waikīkī, I realize I would never have met him and heard these incredible tales of bygone days if it weren’t for the Outrigger and Aunty Luana. I see now that Waikīkī isn’t just a community of outsiders. Yes, there are fancy shops, lots of tourists, and impressive hotels. But some of those hotels are where Waikīkī’s roots are the strongest. They’re places where people like Misty, Dylan, Aunty Luana, and Bonga continue the traditions that I was searching for. Hawaiian culture lives on here with the help of a community that nurtures and supports it.

Aislyn: Thanks for listening to this episode of “If These Walls Could Talk.”

We’ll link to all hotels mentioned in the episode in our show notes, the Royal Hawaiian, the Outrigger Waikiki Beach Resort, and its sister property, the Outrigger Reef Waikiki Beach Resort And you can follow Jenn on social media @jenniferleeflowers—one thing you should look out for on TikTok are her 60-second conservationist videos. They’re super fun and educational.

We’ll see you next week.
Aislyn Greene, host: Hi, I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is Unpacked, the podcast that unpacks one tricky topic in travel each week. This week we’ve got another “If These Walls Could Talk,” our series that explores the stories—and secrets—hotels can tell us about the places we visit. And this time we are headed to one of the most iconic places in Hawai’i for hotels: Waikīkī.

Our guide for this episode is Jennifer Flowers. Jenn is AFAR’s senior deputy editor and she heads up all our hotel content. She puts out things like our annual Stay List. And she’s just very much steeped in the world of hotels, and she’s been that way since, well, birth, I guess. We actually call her AFAR’s Eloise—really. Because both of her parents were in the hospitality industry and she literally grew up in hotels.

She also knows Hawai’i really well as you’ll hear in a moment.

Aislyn: Hi, Jenn. How are you?

Jennifer Flowers, host: Hi, it’s great to be here.

Aislyn: Yeah, I’m so glad to have you. I mean, I’m excited about this story. I think it’s a really interesting look at, at Waikīkī. I’m curious to know what inspired you. Why did you want to report this story?

Jenn: Well, I’ve been going to Honolulu for as long as I can remember, and Waikīkī has always been this kind of phenomenon to me. It’s this kind of crazy, shiny strip with Gucci, Chanel, Prada stores lining it. I also went there as a kid. I used to, like, play in the waves there. So it’s a place that kind of held two different kinds of meanings to me, like the sort of outsider meaning.

And then of course my family’s from there. So this sort of, um, insider local meaning. And so I was always just kind of curious to know, like, what it means to locals today or, and what it has meant in the past.

Aislyn: And did you spend a lot of time there when you were a kid? How often would you go to Waikīkī?

Jenn: So I grew up going there almost every summer to see my relatives. My mom is actually from Hawai’i. She’s Japanese American, third generation. And my parents actually both worked in the hospitality industry there and met there and. So we just used to kind of grow up. I have these great memories of having picnics on the, on the grass near Waikīkī actually.

And I have this, like, big vision of this enormous bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken that we used to eat together, my brother and my aunties and my family friends on a lawn. So, so it was always kind of part of the background, but just wanted to dig a little bit deeper and figure out kind of like, like, what is Waikīkī?

Like, is it a place just for tourists or is it a place where there is a true sort of authentic connection to local culture?

Aislyn: And I think as listeners are going to hear, like, you really do speak with these people who have these deep connections to Waikīkī that maybe you don’t always think about as, like, a traveler or a tourist.

Jenn: Yeah, exactly. So, yeah, so I thought a lot about my parents’ relationship with Waikīkī, how they kind of worked in the industry and also, just kind of were not quite part of it. I didn’t realize though, as I started kind of digging into things, how deeply the cultural and historical roots went.

Waikīkī actually has a lot of historical meaning for people in the past and also today. Um, it’s a place where a lot of locals say they actually want tourists to stay, which is really interesting. So we’ll hear in the podcast from Dylan Ching, he’s the restaurateur who runs the Duke’s Waikīkī restaurant, a very, very famous place in Waikīkī.

And he actually told me that many locals want people, want tourists to stay in those resort areas in Waikīkī rather than in, like, Airbnbs in their community, which can be very disruptive and lead to skyrocketing rent and kind of impact the culture of the place. So it’s actually a place that has, um, that kind of commercial importance, but again, that kind of deep historical cultural, uh, route that, that it turns out, visitors can tap into, which I thought was very exciting.

And it’s exactly what I discovered when I went there with that mission in mind.

Jenn: Today we’re heading to one of the most famous beaches in the world: Waikīkī in Honolulu, Hawai’i. Every year, 4 million tourists visit this two-mile beach on the island of O‘ahu. My mom was born and raised in Honolulu as a third-generation Japanese American, and she started her career in hospitality in this city like so many locals do. Honolulu is also where she met my dad, who moved here from Seattle to work at a hotel.

I’ve spent many summers visiting my relatives in Honolulu and playing in the waves on Waikīkī Beach, which is, of course, ground zero for tourists. The area is lined with shiny luxury shops, and it has some of the most beautiful hotels in the islands. While spending time on the beach is always fun, for as long as I can remember, the whole thing has always felt like a bit of a tourist bubble—and, well—a little inauthentic.

I was thinking about all of this on a recent trip to Honolulu. I had read that Waikīkī had been a sacred place for the Native Hawaiians long before the first beach umbrella appeared. In the 19th century, this was where Hawai’ian royals, including the famous King Kamehameha, vacationed. It’s also where they surfed, something that at the time only royalty was allowed to do.

Waikīkī was also known as a place of healing. There are freshwater springs that flow into the ocean here, which according to local tradition can cure illness and ease pain. It got me wondering: What happened to that legacy, once hotels started arriving on the scene? Do those deep Hawaiian roots still exist in Waikīkī? And if so, can Waikīkī’s hotels truly connect visitors to those roots? Fortunately for me, a few people in some of Waikīkī’s most famous hotels were willing to meet and do what locals do: “talk story.”

My first stop is the famous Royal Hawaiian, which opened in 1927. If you’ve been to Waikīkī, you might recognize it. It’s that big, rose-colored hotel constructed in a Spanish Moorish style with grand arched entryways. No surprise that its nickname is “the Pink Palace of the Pacific.” The hotel is surrounded by 15 acres of sand and surf. It’s so peaceful, in fact, that the Navy used it as a recuperation center during World War II. Now, it’s home to one of the most famous luaus in Waikīkī. I’ll admit that I’ve never been to a luau–it’s just not something my local family ever thought about doing, especially in Waikīkī. So I have a big learning curve ahead of me. I need someone to explain that this isn’t just a tourist trap. Luckily, I’ve found the perfect person.

Misty Thompson Tufono: What was so beautiful about this place was the abundance of water that came down from the three valleys above. So whenever you have an area that is near to water, that is where the villages thrived.

Jenn: That’s Misty Thompson Tufono, executive vice president of Tihati Productions, which runs the Aha’aina Luau at the Royal Hawaiian. Misty tells me that Waikīkī wasn’t just a 19th-century vacationing spot for royals. Many Hawaiians relied on Waikīkī for sustenance, too.

Misty: These grounds were full of lo’i kalo, that’s taro patches, that would feed literally tens of thousands in this Waikīkī area. And then the shoreline that we’re looking at was laced with loko kuapā, which is fish ponds. So it was natural resources that the Hawaiians had managed so incredibly well that fed thousands in this area. That’s what makes Waikīkī so special, it is a very bountiful place.

Jenn: We’re sitting by the Royal Hawaiian historic Monarch Room, near the outdoor area where Tihati’s performance is about to start.

Misty’s company, Tihati Productions, is the largest, longest-running entertainment company in the state. It started more than 50 years ago. Tihati focuses on Hawaiian and Polynesian entertainment in the form of luaus and other cultural shows. The founders are Misty’s parents: her Samoa-born father, Jack Tihati, and her mother, Charlene Thompson, a celebrated hula dancer. Now, Tihati is run by Misty and her brother, Afatia Thompson, who is president.

The company acts as an ambassador for Hawaiian culture outside of the islands too. Tihati has performed for three U.S. presidents–Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama–the latter invited them to perform at the White House.

Today, Tihati remains a local business, employing more than 600 area dancers, singers, emcees, musicians, technicians, and more.

Misty: We’re here because Hawaiian artists elevated the world’s view of what Hawaiian artistry looks like. And so we take that real seriously. We carry that kuleana, or responsibility to do the same our very, very best so that visitors who leave here will say, “It wasn’t just a ticky-tacky luau, it was really talented people that were telling really important stories in the funnest way possible.” That’s not an easy thing to do.

Jenn: Misty says that while the purpose of a luau in a tourist setting is to entertain, it’s also an opportunity to teach visitors about Hawaiian culture with as much authenticity and integrity as they possibly can.

Misty: Tens of thousands of visitors who may not know and may not care about our culture and history, but by the time they leave our luau, they care a little bit and they wonder a little bit and maybe they look it up a little bit.

Jenn: Misty says that the values that she grew up with—cultural integrity and hospitality—remain a huge part of the more than 2,000 shows they host each year. Through each luau, they can also connect with Waikīkī’s roots.

As Misty shares this history, we hear a beautiful and haunting sound that she says indicates the beginning of the show.

Misty: That’s the blow of the conch shell. The conch shell in all of Polynesia is always used to direct attention to something. Most times it was because an ali’i was coming, a royal was coming. Or this is the sound that tells us that something is about to begin.

Jenn: After learning so much from Misty, I’m actually excited to see my first Waikīkī luau. The skies above me are still blue as hula dancers take to the stage. The backdrop? The blue waters and the white-sand beaches of Waikīkī. The show is three hours long and reveals different eras of Waikīkī. I feel breezes from the ocean as I watch a fun segment about the Beach Boys, the local watermen who appeared on the scene at the turn of the 20th century. They introduced tourists to their surfing lifestyle in exchange for tips. And then as the sun sets and the skies grow inky, the hula skirts get brighter and the dancing even more dramatic. A display of fire knife dancing lights up the sky, and I’m dazzled.

But the show isn’t just about dazzling visitors. As the fire dancers throw their flaming blades in the air, the emcee explains that it’s called Siva Afi, and it’s a Samoan art. This balance between entertainment and cultural accuracy is exactly what Tihati aims for with every performance.

Misty: We celebrate our Polynesian cultures. But what I really want people to know is as we celebrate those things, recognize there’s a difference. That that is not Hawaiian, that that is an influence from another South Pacific culture that definitely has ties to Hawai’i, but is not Hawaiian.

Jenn: For example, people often see Samoan fire knife dancing and Tahitian drumming, and think that those things are Hawaiian. So Misty takes care to include those elements in her performances in a high-quality way and makes their origins clear in the production.

Another segment of the show covers the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom and the imprisonment of Queen Liliʻuokalani, the last reigning monarch queen in the late 19th century. An actress glides across the stage in the role of Queen Liliʻuokalani. She wears a beautiful red and white dress accented in gold. As I watch, the emcee explains that she was dethroned and imprisoned in 1893. The queen became known for enduring one of the greatest injustices to Hawaiian people with dignity, pride, and aloha.

Misty: Now, that’s so morbid, like that’s like you—what you’re gonna tell that at a luau? But we did from the angle of the instructions of our own queen who said, “If we are going to forge to the future knowing that the foreign influences have come and have, you know, taken over, then we’re gonna do that with aloha, because that’s our anchor, that’s our cultural value.”

Jenn: Misty tells me about the famous song that Queen Lili’uokalani wrote, “Aloha ’Oe,” a beautiful melody that has made its way into pop culture. Many people think it’s a farewell song, but it actually isn’t. The story goes that the Queen saw a couple embracing, and it inspired her to create a love song that embodied the concept of aloha–which translates into love, peace, mutual respect, and compassion. For many Hawaiians, the meaning of “Aloha ’Oe” has since evolved into this idea that the spirit of aloha can survive, even during times of turmoil—the kind that the Hawaiian people were facing when she wrote the song.

My next stop is the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort, home to the famed Duke’s Waikīkī restaurant. This is a go-to brunch spot whenever my local relatives need to impress out-of-towners with an upscale vibe and Waikīkī Beach views (though my Aunty Elaine always complains about parking here). It’s got a great setting on the beach.

Dylan Ching: There’s a reason why kings and queens vacationed here. The weather, the ocean, the vibe, you know, the, the water, everything is so special. So for me, I was just fortunate that I ended up here and got to just—it be part of my DNA being in Waikīkī.

Jenn: That’s Dylan Ching. He was born on O‘ahu, raised in Maui, and is now the vice president of operations for TS Restaurants, which includes Duke’s Waikīkī.

Dylan: So I always feel like Duke’s is the place in Waikīkī where locals and visitors can kind of be right next to each other at the bar and it feels comfortable. You’re not in a local bar in, you know, Pearl City where visitors might feel out of place and you’re not in maybe a hotel restaurant where locals might feel like it’s not really built for them.

Jenn: The restaurant is named after Duke Kahanamoku, the late surfer who made the sport famous around the world—and surfed the very Waikīkī waves you’re hearing. A native Hawaiian waterman, Kahanamoku won three Olympic gold medals for swimming in 1912 and 1920. Today there’s a nine-foot bronze sculpture on Waikīkī that honors Kahanamoku. Dylan is taking me around the restaurant, which doubles as a museum to both the Duke and the sport of surfing.

Dylan: He’s my definition of a, of a Hawaiian. I mean, he was very dynamic in so many ways. I mean, surfer, you know, beach boy, swimmer, Olympian, actor. He was truly an ambassador of aloha, but also ambassador for Hawai’i. I mean, he went all over the world and, and showed people what Hawai’i was like, what somebody from Hawai’i might be like.

Jenn: Dylan says that Duke’s is able to perpetuate the famous surfer’s values through connections with the community. As we walk around together, he points out a wall of fame filled with framed photos of locals who help perpetuate Hawaiian cultural traditions.

Dylan: I think what we do in the community really mimics who Duke was. That’s what we really try to do, is support things that Duke would do.

Jenn: The restaurant sponsors local events like surf contests and donates money to the community center and schools in the area.

Dylan: We feel like, hey, you know, obviously we’re a busy place and we make a lot of money, but we can go out into the communities, especially around us and really support because it is kind of hard to get the Waikīkī for local people. So we just take Duke’s out to everybody else.

Jenn: My exploration of surfing history in Waikīkī continues with Aunty Luana Maitland. Aunty Luana is director of cultural experiences at the Outrigger Reef Waikīkī Beach Resort, as well as its sister property, where Duke’s Waikīkī is located. She’s worked at the resort for more than 20 years.

We meet in the Outrigger Reef’s new A’o Cultural Center, where travelers can learn how to make leis, try hula dancing, and even take Hawaiian language classes. I’m intrigued by the artifacts in this room—some of which come from Honolulu’s Bishop Museum that’s dedicated to the natural and cultural histories of Hawai’i.

The Bishop Museum helped curate the displays, which include a ukulele and kala’au, or rhythm sticks, and Hawaiian weapons including a leiomano, a club with shark teeth. Nearby, a large screen is playing a video from the Polynesian Voyaging Society of an enormous Hokulea, a double-hulled canoe, sailing on the ocean.

Aunty Luana Maitland: That’s the voyaging canoe that circled the world. And as you can see it, it’s a larger scale, but in this area here is where provisions were left and they would top it off with a board, and that’s where they would sleep.

Jenn: We move to a glass case featuring a wooden model of the Hokulea. Aunty Luana explains that it would take sailors months to get from one destination to another in these canoes. This kind of a canoe is what Polynesian voyagers used to reach Hawai’i as early as 400 C.E., relying on only the stars for navigation. As we walk by the displays, Aunty Luana peppers in stories of her own memories growing up immersed in Hawaiian culture. As she shares her connection to all these traditions, it’s clear to me that her role here at the Outrigger is a calling, and not a job.

Aunty Luana: I was fortunate enough to belong to a hula club at our church. I was there with grandpa, my grandfather was a reverend. And they saw that I was interested in it. So I started to learn how to dance and I danced professionally when I was nine years old.

Jenn: Aunty Luana tells me about the new Surfers in Residence program at the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort that aims to capture the modern-day legends of surfing as they pass through Honolulu. The resort invites surf icons to stay at the hotel, and Aunty Luana interviews them in front of some of the hotel’s surfing artifacts, live streaming it on social media and inviting guests to tag along. Surfers in residence have included Clarissa Moore, an Olympic gold medalist, and Luke Shepardson, who won the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational in 2023. As luck would have it, world-champion longboard surfer Bonga Perkins is in residence the day I’m there, and I join Aunty Luana as she interviews Bonga. Later, we sit in the hotel lounge, which faces the very waves he grew up surfing. Bonga tells me about all the surfing icons he got to know in Waikīkī, including Buttons Kaluhiokalani, Larry Bertlemann, Dino Miranda.

Bonga Perkins: Those were the guys that, like the, the professionals that if you look their name up, they were the forefront of that part of surfing’s life, you know, from the, probably like the ’80s to like the early ’90s.

Jenn: There were also uncles, or elder surfers, who hung out at the beach, who taught him how to behave as a surfer. Uncles like Sammy Steamboat, a first-generation beach boy, and Rabbit Kekai, who counted Duke Kahanamoku as one of his early surf instructors.

Bonga: That guy kicked my butt a couple times. His brother, Uncle Jamma, that guy gave me good scoldings cuz I was in, in his way. But it’s OK because they scolded me. But they gave me the, the reason behind it, not just scold me and paddled away. And so, you know, I took it and learned from it. And next thing you know, these guys are just like on my team, basically like, “Yeah, good for you. Hey, have a sandwich.”

Jenn: Bonga grew up without much, but he spent pretty much every day of his childhood on Waikīkī with his dad and surrounded by the elder beach boys, who took care of him, sometimes even fed him, and made sure he was attending school.

Bonga: Like you’re adopted like 20 dads on this beach, keeping an eye on you, making sure that you’re safe as well. You know, if you got hurt or something, they’ll be right there.

Jenn: Bonga will be the first to admit that Waikīkī has changed a lot since he was a kid running around these shores—here’s a lot more tourism and a lot fewer beach boys—which many say is a dying culture. But when Bonga comes back here with his five kids, all he wants to do is get them out into the waves that hold so much meaning for him. He even named one of his kids after a wave he surfed right here.

Bonga: I was basically born in the sand here, you know, so I have a lot of ties. No, you know, I have a lot of ties in all little different areas besides just not just the people, but spiritually.

Jenn: Bonga credits Waikīkī with keeping him grounded, despite his fame.

Bonga: You go off and do it, but you come right back. You walk by and you say hi to all the uncles and your, your, your friends that you grew up with, and it just brings you right back to why I did this, why I started.

Jenn: As I listen to Bonga’s stories about Waikīkī, I realize I would never have met him and heard these incredible tales of bygone days if it weren’t for the Outrigger and Aunty Luana. I see now that Waikīkī isn’t just a community of outsiders. Yes, there are fancy shops, lots of tourists, and impressive hotels. But some of those hotels are where Waikīkī’s roots are the strongest. They’re places where people like Misty, Dylan, Aunty Luana, and Bonga continue the traditions that I was searching for. Hawaiian culture lives on here with the help of a community that nurtures and supports it.

Aislyn: Thanks for listening to this episode of “If These Walls Could Talk.”

We’ll link to all hotels mentioned in the episode in our show notes, the Royal Hawaiian, the Outrigger Waikiki Beach Resort, and its sister property, the Outrigger Reef Waikiki Beach Resort And you can follow Jenn on social media @jenniferleeflowers—one thing you should look out for on TikTok are her 60-second conservationist videos. They’re super fun and educational.

We’ll see you next week.

Ready for more unpacking? Visit afar.com, and be sure to follow us on Instagram and Twitter. The magazine is @afarmedia. If you enjoyed today’s exploration, I hope you’ll come back for more great stories. Subscribing makes this easy! You can find Unpacked on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast platform. And be sure to rate and review the show. It helps other travelers find it. We also want to hear from you: Is there a travel dilemma, trend, or topic you’d like us to explore? Drop us a line at afar.com/feedback or email us at unpacked@afar.com.

This has been Unpacked, a production of AFAR Media. The podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland. Music composition by Chris Colin.

And remember: The world is complicated. We’re here to help you unpack it.