Cape 20 Something

Cape Cod vs. Hawaii: Observations from a lowly traveler

   Kailua Beach Park.

“Aloha! Do you girls know what that means?” said the native-looking salesman adorned in leis and a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. Of course, I thought. My aunt has lived here for 15 years, I’ve been here before, and who doesn’t know what aloha means when they come to Hawaii? (For those of you who don’t know, aloha means hello, goodbye, and love).

Hanauma Bay.

So he approached us from his kiosk on the major strip in touristy Waikiki called Ala Moana. He demanded we choose one of the colorful folded slips of paper from his basket. We each blindly stuck our hands in and pulled out a coupon for 50% off. What a deal! But 50% off what?

Our salesman spoke so hurriedly and forthright that we had no time to butt in or even comprehend what he was saying. Before we knew it, we were both plucking oysters from a bucket of water. “Choose the ugliest one! They are more likely to have a pearl for you young ladies.” They all looked the same. I chose one and he swiftly opened it up, much quicker and smoother than my father opens oysters I remember thinking. Then, a beautiful black pearl!

Kaneohe Bay.

“You both deserve something this beautiful for yourself on your vacation!” he told us. How did he know we were even on vacation? We were both quite tan and dressed in our best attempt at Hawaiian dresses with sandals and bathing suits underneath.

There I was trying on rings and pendants and bracelets with the black pearl that I had chosen. All were gorgeous, but none less than $200. From the start of this charade I felt something was off. I continually told the salesman I was not in the market for jewelry, especially on my last day when all I had was a single dollar bill floating in a sea of receipts in my purse. Like a good guilt-tripping pearl salesman, he was persistent: “This is the Hawaiian way. We need your help.” And also rude. “Come on, have a heart!”

Refusing to be a victim, I sternly refused to buy anything—not a ring, not a necklace, and not even the eight-dollar pearl that I had unknowingly “agreed to purchase.” This guy had quite a knack for preying on tourists, or so I was realizing. And what better place to do it than the tourist center of Hawaii?

“You deserve this! And the Hawaiian culture needs your help. We want to share our Hawaiian beauty with you. These pearls are one of a kind.” I tugged on my friend’s dress sleeve and tried to prevent her from being ripped off. Unfortunately, she just couldn’t give our spry salesman an altogether “no.” She paid him the $7.95 in cash and pocketed her phony oyster pearl—but no jewelry. Then off we went.

Shark Cove.

For the first time all week there were several consecutive moments of silence between my best friend and I as we sank into our bitterness of being taken advantage of. It hurt. Bad. So bad we had to drink off the sting at a quaint Hawaiian bar where we were told “Aloha is served daily.” And our adorable bartender did not have to ask us if we knew what aloha meant. The mai tais did the trick.

Being a native Cape Codder, I’m not used to playing the part of the tourist. The beach feels different laying on it when it’s not yours and shopping is much different when you’re the one being ripped off. At least when you’re a tourist on the Cape you go out to a restaurant knowing your seafood scampi and pinot grigio are blatantly overpriced. You shop for tacky Cape Cod hooded sweatshirts knowing $49.99 is mostly just profit for Cuffy’s. You pump gas knowing they just upped the price by 15 cents on Friday morning before the influx of tourists arrives. At least when you’re on the Cape you are being happily ripped off instead of obliviously taken advantage of.

I traveled from just about the farthest eastern shore in the U.S. to the farthest west and found the beaches have remarkably different personalities just like those who live there. Cape beaches are cozy and calm, generally protected by the sand dunes, beach grass, and the bays. Hawaii’s beaches are spectacled with volcanic rock, expansive, and vulnerable to the huge surf in the middle of the Pacific. Cape seas are a deep, dark blue while Oahu’s ocean reflects a soft, translucent turquoise. The views are picturesque on both sides of the country; the Cape’s are soothing while Oahu’s are striking. But I’ll gladly take our slimy seaweed and overpriced seafood dinners over captivating coral reefs and fake pearl salesman any day.

   Aloha served daily!

   Sunset Beach.

   Surfing Waimea Bay.

   Coral Reef.