Bloody hell. We - Martina, Karin (my roomies) Filippa, Heini (additional Swedes) and I - had woken up extra early to get the rental car and head out to one of the many beaches that line Oahu's shores. After a scenic diversion twice round Diamond Head, Karin had managed to point the car east and we'd parked up at Sandy Beach, east of the mountain where some terrifying waves were round-housing into the sand.
I hadn't been in the ocean yet and was looking forward to splashing about and maybe digging a hole or making some kind of fort. I'm not one of those lie-on-a-beach-all-dayers. I don't need a tan, I need activities. Now the lifeguard was telling me that was out of the question.
What. A. Jobsworth.
Luckily, I had some TIP TOP companions to chat to and a boiled egg (bought from the petrol station for thirty cents. Excellent seaside snack) to eat. However, Sandy Beach also turned out to be Bloody Windy Beach and after a while, the decision was made to try another spot and look for lunch.
It just wasn't the day for beaching. We sat on another slice of sand further up the coast, with our hoodies up and knees to our chattering lips. 'I'M HAVING SUCH A RELAXING TIME!!' Martina screamed over the wind.
You wouldn't think Hawaii to be cold, but it gets pretty darn gusty from time to time. It rains a lot too, but only drizzle and there's always a rainbow to make up for it, so its allowed. This breeze just wasn't easing up though. We threw in the towels and trooped back to the car, heading to a Mexican shack on the roadside for tea.
|the Hawaiian hello demonstrated by Baz|
We overshot the diner and ended up in a driveway leading to a Marine army base. Waiting at the stop sign to rejoin the main road, another car (presumably driven by a real-life Marine) pulled in and signed the friendly Hawaiian wave to Karin, who lost all control of her hand and the limb it was attached to trying to figure out how to do it back, all the while yelping hysterically in Swedish. The other car had passed by now, wondering who this cabal of screeching women emerging from the base actually were, but Karin had pushed the pedal to the metal and propelled us approximately fifty metres to the tiny car park of the Mexican cafe up the road.
I hoped it wasn't local local food, which consists of rice and mincemeat and is completely devoid of any greens or vegetables whatsoever. Loco Moco looks WELL rank. This place had 'organic' and 'fresh' plastered all over its exterior so it couldn't be that bad. Unless tofu was involved. I scanned the blackboard menu above the till, picking out the fish tacos and went to sit outside on the benches and let the girls try and teach me more Swedish. A lady behind the grill yelled out my name when my order was up. I came back with a plate of this:
because I'm showing off. Because this meal of fish tacos was BOMB.COM, snazzmatazzmic and Offish Delish off the hook.
The fish - pleasantly meaty - had been marinated for a long time and then grilled for optimum flavour. Each portion came squashed inside two soft corn tortillas and topped with chunky chilli and pineapple salsa. It's companion was homemade coleslaw, dressed in some lemony peppery goodness that is making me salivate just by looking at this picture. Garlic also featured, but I can't pinpoint where - it was definitely flitting about.
The others had ordered pretty tasty looking dishes too (there was a portobello mushroom burger in attendance) but I reckon mine was the best. Definitely worth searching out, definitely worth driving to the east shore for.
|karin, martina, filippa, heini|
Satisfied, we ambled back to the car and began the trek home, stopping briefly at cliff overlooking Sandy Beach and upon which a lighthouse perched for a quick photo-op and look at the view. There are some places that are never boring to look at, some vistas that you never tire of, and this was certainly one of them.