Is it just me or are you noticing the frequency of new signage on our highways and byways.
I’m talking about newish and plentiful signs that warn drivers to be cautious and keep foot on brakes.
And it’s a matter of gradations:
HUMP. Sort of like a warning that there will be a large bump on the road.
BUMP. OK, perhaps this is a signal that there will be an uppity element, maybe less so that a hump
DIP. Hmmm, like a slight discrepancy on the paving of the word. Not as worrisome or wobbly like a bump or a hump.
UNEVEN SURFACE (OR ROAD). Golly, that’s applicable to all the freeways and side streets that are worn out and awaiting fixing.
I believe you see all of the above east-bound on the H-1, from the Makiki area to the University Avenue.
The stretch of Kalanianaole Hwy., from Waimanalo heading to Kaneohe, has its share of hump-bumpy warnings. There are some HUMP warnings painted on the road, near the school zones, and you need to chill unless you’ve got a sturdy truck.
On the other side of the island, Kamehameha Highway from Aiea east-bound to Pearl Harbor boast a few on-road hump warnings, too. Sedans and SVUs need to heed these little mounds.
The worst of these humps/ bumps might be at the Hilton Hawaiian Village resort, whose entrance and exit have the highest humps or bumps, and speeding would be manic. Methinks the small mountains of tar should be ID’d for what it is: Hilton Hills. After the first ascent over the first hill, you need to keep your seat belts on, put foot on the brakes, and Go. Slow. Otherise, you’ll ruin your tires or chassis.
With little fanfare, a splendid Polynesian show, “Pa‘ina Waikiki,” was launched June 2 at the Marriott Beach Waikiki Resort and Spa. It has all the fingerprints and finery that distinguish a Tihati Productions endeavor.
The luau show, in a reimagined open-air space beyond the third-floor swimming pool in what used to be the Hawaiian Regent Hotel decades ago, is everything you’d expect from a Tihati experience, meaning pageantry with mele and hula; tales of the Pacific specifically tailored to the Waikiki location of the Marriott; a fashion show of sorts since the costumes are bright, authentic and stylish; and pre-show hands-on arts and cultural lessons in lei-making and tattooing.
If that’s not enough, at the end of the production, visitors can go on stage to acquire quickie lessons in Samoan and Tahitian dancing, with attractive and handsome cast members as teachers. Out-of-towners are willing and wonderful in this concluding camaraderie of performers and patrons.
Because the site is smaller than most Tihati shows, the evening is a lot more intimate and thus very engaging for the spectators.
Count ‘em, if you will: this is the 12th Tihati show statewide overseen by company president Afatia Thompson and his sister Misty Thompson Tufono, who are the son and daughter, respectively, of legendary Jack and Cha Thompson, who turned over the business to the siblings while still serving as cultural mentors.
This show also is history in the making, marking a next-generation milestone, since children of Afa and Misty (and grandkids of the founders) are prominently and actively engaged in the delivery of the sweet Hawaiian mele and drumbeating exhibition of Samoan, Tahitian and Tonga songs and dances.
Tihati Thompson, 6, is the youngest fire knife dancer.
Afa’s and wife Nicole’s kids featured include hula girl Bella Thompson, notably on a hula about Kuhio Beach, and her brother Matagi Thompson, part of the lineup of male dancers; at 6, Tihati Thompson – truly a cutie patootie – is the youngest cast member and the resident keiki fire knife dancer with an astonishing skill and stage presence as he whirls and twirls his kid-size knife with flares on both ends.
Summer will herald more kinfolk. Misty’s daughter Mokihana Tufono will join the dancers when she returns from UCLA; her brother, Maninoa, also has joined the ranks.
Captains for the revue are Wallen Thompson Teo, son of Jack and Cha’s eldest daughter Ruana Thompson Teo, who is male captain; his wife, Lupe Tauiliili Teo, is female captain. Another male line dancer, expected this summer, is Ruana’s other son, Eli Thompson Teo.
The Tihati tradition requires that all performers, in lead roles or in ensembles, must learn the songs and dances for all of the company’s productions, so most troupers bounce from one show to another.
Brandon Mafua is a congenial, conversational emcee.
Brandan Mafua, an eight-year member of the Tihati troupe, is a likeable emcee, who not only is welcoming and congenial, but delivers historical factoids about why a song is embraced here, and the history surrounding the tune or environs; it’s all handily researched material scripted by Misty, company vice president, who clearly has a vault of knowledge blending entertaining motives and simultaneously embracing educational history. And Mafua’s easy-going conversational style is a plus.
Tihati hula sweetie , in pareu
Afa is resident choreographer and director of the spectacle. His moves, backed by a versatile house band, captures the flavors and tempos of the galaxy of Polynesian nations. The Tihati Serenaders, led by percussionist Alex Galeia‘i, includes guitarists Travis Kaka and Josei Alfonsi, and bassist Dennis Keohokalole, whose vocal harmonies and heartbeat drumming, exhibit the syncopation of all the South Seas nations.
Makayla Arakaki is the wahine keiki solo dancer.
Makayla Arakaki is wahine keiki solo dancer, and Mika‘ele Oloa, five-time champion fire knife dancer, is one of the most seasoned of the breed. And he earns the hurrahs and applause with his fire knife dancing and fire-eating style, a stunning finale for the evening.
Mika‘ele Oloa is the adult fire knife dancer — and fire eater.
The spectrum of music entails tunes associated with some of Hawaii’s alii, like Queen Kapiolani and Prince Kuhio, and links zones where they lived or partied. The show acknowledges a show from the past, Puka Puka Otea, once ensconced at nearby Queen’s Surf, and remembers R. Alex Anderson’s iconic hapa-haole composition, “Lovely Hula Hands,” and also pays homage to Hawaiian surfers, then and now.
Wahine dancers, in traditional ti-leaf skirts.
Tihati costumes continue to project bright, festive, and fun motifs – from ti leaf skirts to grass skirts, from surf wear to area-specific costumes in more colors than a rainbow, from reds to greens, from purple to blue, with detailed accents from head to toe (lei, shell necklaces, lauhala hats, etc.). Well, footwear are not ever utilized here; dancers always perform barefoot, but ankles sometimes display trinkets.
Male dancers, in modern surfing shorts.
Actually, there are two shows – one preview prior to dinner in daylight, the other the formal revue with appropriate nightlife lighting – so arrive early so you don’t miss anything.
Kudos to Jerry Gibson, veteran hotelier, and a Marriott executive who has been a pioneering supporter of island shows large and small. His valued leadership has provided time and space for many shows, informal and formal, to keep the pulse of Hawaii and Polynesia alive. Where most hotels have abandoned shows – remember when all major Waikiki hotels all had showrooms as a venue for performers and an amenity for visitors? – and perhaps this is a post-pandemic jump start for more newbies to enter the race and pace of keeping Hawaii Hawaiian.
Yes, this is Tihati’s 12th endeavor in Hawaii – but shhhhh. Two more projects are in the works. If you build it, they will come.
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“Pa‘ina Waikiki”
A Polynesian spectacle and lu’au, staged by Tihati Productions
Where: Third floor of the Waikiki Beach Marriott Resort & Spa
When: 5:15 to 8 p.m. Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
Cost: $110-$170, general seating; $150 to $200, VIP seating. Buffet dinner included.
If you’re a Spectrum subscriber, have you noticed the frequency of issues that leave you without wi-fi, meaning no iPhone or computer service, and the loss of regular TV and streaming service?
It just happens so darn often.
Yesterday, there was no service from mid-morning. A call resulted in a message that there were problems in our area (Hawaii Kai). Several hours later, the message was that power problems were in multiple communities.
Asked for a call-back, when repairs were done; follow-up message indicated service was restored. Not so.
Another call had to be made, since TV service was restored, but not with computer access.
Incoming emails apparently were stored, but no access till the whole system was up and running.
You’re a captive audience, so you need patience. And while you might be prisoner for half-a-day without service, you don’t get credit and a rate deduction in your monthly bill
It was 20 years ago, on June 7. 2003, when “Black and White and Read All Over” was staged at the Hilton Hawaiian Village Coral Ballroom. ‘Twas a benefit for Manoa Valley Theatre, sponsored by Honolulu Advertiser (my former employer. This was the promotional postcard. Two beloved Broadway phenoms, Craig Schulman and Cris Groenendaal, provided stunning Broadway music of the night; Schulman starred as Jean Valjean in “Les Miserables” here and Groenendaal was the Phantom in “Phantom of the Opera.”
Barber shops are an endangered species, since most men these days have their hair cut, styled and body-waved at a salon than traditional barber shop.
I remember my small-kid-type visits to a barber shop, a four-or-so chaired facility, on the left side of the old Liliha Theatre on Liliha Street. There was a box office in the center of the theater lobby, and some kind of retailer occupied the right side.
The barbers I went to were of Filipino ancestry; I don’t recall how much a basic cut was, but likely more than $1. That’s why that ol’ “shave and a haircut, two bits” refrain was born, the “two bits” meaning 25 cents or a quarter. Those were the days.
The basic cut included a hair wash, with the barber using both a pair of scissors or one of those classic barber shears to trim. And if there was hair around the neck, the cutter used a brush and some baby power to finish the session.
At a very young, say 3 or 4 years old, I think I sat on a “booster” seat in the hair chair to get to a certain height.
As I got older, I sat in the actual seat, got wrapped with a white sheet to shield me from the hair cuttings, and had one of those shavers to finish by sideburns.
I had a left-side parting with straight hair; the trim was basic; when I was in high school, I had kind of a buzz cut to conform to ROTC protocols. And no hair around the ears; had to be cut or shaved, like a fender over a wheel.
There were many elderly barbers, male and female, and if you liked yours, you were a regular for years. I remember the comforting hot towel wrapped around your face, when you were nearly done.
Some of those barber chairs were exquisite furniture, with armrests, cushiony seats, and the chair with foot rests, could be fully reclined, too, if your cutter so decided.
Nowadays my stylist of more than four decades, washes, shampoos, trims, and body-waves. About 20 years ago, as the black hair started turning grey and white, I had a dye job, too—too messy and unnecessary so the salt-and-pepper look is a matter of choice. My body waves – during every other visit, perhaps in four- or five-week intervals, cost $75-nowadays, tip not included. Somewhere along the way, those old-fashioned hair dryers were dismissed, but I recall sitting next to a woman getting her locks curled and dried, too. Is this gizmo still utilized?
