Luau

On our second to last night in Maui, we ventured out for the first time after dark and attended a luau at the Westin near Whaler’s Village.  James is fairly certain he saw the exact same luau emcee at his last luau at least ten years ago.  Only now, the gentleman is older and instead of climbing a palm tree to pick a coconut, he gets them like every other Hawaiian… at Walmart.

So we chose this luau because although not known as the most “authentic” choice, it did boast fire eaters.

We enjoyed a long buffet of various hawaiian-esque specialties.  My favorite was the pickled cucumber salad.  The whole experience reminded me of one of the first times I went home with James to the Central Valley.  We hadn’t been dating long and we attended some sort of barbecue inside a two-car garage.  Maybe because it was so hot?  I have no idea.  What I do remember is that a plate of bread was passed around and I excitedly blurted, “Oooh, Hawaiian bread!”  People were visibly horrified.  But in my defense, I have never seen a single loaf of “King’s Portuguese Sweet Bread” in all the years I’ve been frequenting Safeway.

Who knew there are a bunch of Portuguese people in Hawaii?  Portuguese people, that’s who.

So at the luau we enjoyed a buffet of Portuguese influenced hawaiian cuisine including deep pit pork and “Portuguese sausage.”  We call it linguiça in the CV, and uh, in Portugal.  Surprisingly, no portagee beans.

It was hard to concentrate on the show as I inherited a three-year-old lap child with 10,000 luau questions: Who’s talking?  What’s dat sound?  Why they naked?  Who’s singing?  Why she have grass on her dress?  What’s those lights?  On and on and on.  Part way through the show Nate tells me, “I like the Mommy dancers.  I don’t like the Daddy dancers.  I don’t like the Daddies.”

I explained that the Daddy dancers were fighters and they had to protect their homes and families.  He decided he still didn’t like them with their face painting and cross-eyed, chest-slapping, and tongue poking.  I’m assuming part of their strategy is looking deranged and crazy so that your enemies just flee and all you have to do is menacingly swirl fire sticks around and make faces and chant loudly.  Note to self if I’m ever being attacked.  Before the fire spinning and eating started, Nate decided he wanted to go inside and watch from the safety of the open-air lobby.

James and Nate watched from afar while Jake and I slow-danced during the couple’s anniversary song.  My anniversary partner was occupied.  But when the fire spinners started, the boys were mesmerized.  Once he realized they weren’t going to “put fire on his head,” Nate ventured back out to get a better look.  It seems Jakey may have told him something that raised concerns that he could possibly catch fire.  Older brothers…

At the end of the evening, on our way out to the car, Nate declares to his dad, “That was AMAZING.”  And now Jake and Nate spend each night spinning pretend fire sticks around with the appropriate flame whooshing sound effects.

For me, the highlight of the evening was seeing the giant bowl of poi at the buffett.  It was a dark, liquid brown.  I decide to get some because I like to try new things…  what is poi anyway?  As Nate and I make our way down the buffet, I’m juggling two plates and trying to make sure he doesn’t knock down any unsuspecting bystanders.  Nate can’t wait any longer— he sticks his finger into the poi on my plate, eagerly expecting fondue, “Oh, dat’s not chocolate.  Dat’s yucky.”

Can I interest you in some Hawaiian bread?