It’s our first day in Hawaii. I woke up early, almost before light, and went for a run along South Kihei Drive before it got too hot. I always say hello to the legions of tourists jogging and walking that I pass; men of all ages are typically friendly and say hello or nod back. Women my mom’s age and older are also generally quite amenable and will respond or smile…but most younger women are quite aloof and stare at you blankly or size you up, as if to say, “who is SHE to be running by me and saying hello, and why is she wearing that [fill in the blank with random item of running wear]?!” It makes me laugh. These women are on vacation. This is their relaxed self. Can you imagine what they’re like at home? After a while I always give up on being your friendly Canadian ambassador and just count hibiscus instead. I counted 37 yellow hibiscus trees today before becoming engrossed in my “Best of Ideas” podcast from CBC.
After my run, Mom and I ran some errands, picking up groceries and saying hello to all our favorite neighborhood haunts, and then we headed for the beach.
The beach is always a great place to people-watch…that’s no brilliant insight or revelation. I love wondering about the couple who sit in lawn chairs on the beach, fully clothed in jeans, socks and shoes, and long sleeve t-shirts (and it’s even better when the woman gets up and puts on a sweater). The little tiny girls in frilly bathing suits and pigtails literally dancing with joy across the sand make me happy. But today was particularly engrossing, because it’s a holiday here in Hawaii, Presidents’ Day. Thus, everyone has the day off. During the day our beach is overridden with tourists, and at night is returned to the locals-it’s common knowledge that tourists should respect that rule and not hang out on the beach at night, as least it has been that way since we started coming here. Today, the beach was shared by local Hawaiians and tourists alike, which created a new, somewhat uneasy dynamic.
I have never given much thought to the tourist-local relationship here on Maui. As a world-renowned destination, it has been invaded by tourists from all over the world for decades. Tourism drives the economy. Sharing space must create some resentment, but it would also be an established way of life for local Hawaiians. I’ve never seen evidence of any resentment, and I didn’t see it, on their part, today. The people of Maui, who a typical tourist like myself would come into contact with, are always friendly, polite, helpful. But I wouldn’t be surprised to hear of some local annoyance at the invasion of a “locals-only” space by tourists. I know I used to get tired of being asked directions or to take a photo when walking through the Inner Harbor in Victoria in the summer. Living on the Thames Path in London, I got used to being a helpful local, but I could be a little bit smug or impatient with tourists, I admit. It happens.
But that wasn’t what was happening at the beach today. It was the tourists resenting the presence of the locals on their beach, amazingly enough. I watched a large (white) man, with a hairy chest, sunburnt beer belly and a thick golden chain around his neck sit and glare around the beach at the local families enjoying the holiday, his discomfort at their presence growing until he finally approached a dad in front of us, who was building sand castles with his kids and speaking to them in Hawaiian.
“Why are all you people here?” this man had the audacity to ask. You people. “It’s Monday, shouldn’t you all be working?”
The dad paused for a moment, looked up from the sandcastle, and then smiled.
“It’s President’s Day,” he said. “The kids are off school today.” He then went back to assisting his son in building a turret. The tourist was left to awkwardly stomp back to his blanket, where he literally pounded the sand, and sulked for the better part of the afternoon. He posed the same question a few times, to a group of Hawaiian girls in bikinis, and another young Hawaiian family. Always to people who were visibly Hawaiian, read: non-white.
Why should this man care if the beach was more crowded than usual? It’s a long weekend. The beach is more crowded. Deal. He had staked his claim to a large piece of sand with a big beach blanket, he was fine. What the tourist was most uncomfortable with was the fact that the beach was crowded with Hawaiian people. Normally, your average Joe middle-American (or Canadian) white tourist only encounters Hawaiian people in, unfortunately, service roles: they run the front desk of your hotel, they dance at the luau you paid $50 a ticket to attend, they serve you your meal. And at the beach today, those people were on equal footing. The service dynamic was gone. These were just people who were enjoying a statutory holiday, they weren’t there to serve. And it obviously made this Tourist-zilla uncomfortable. Yuck. He totally gave new meaning to the term “tacky tourist.” Sadly, tackiness can go well beyond loud shirts and tiki torches.
After my run, Mom and I ran some errands, picking up groceries and saying hello to all our favorite neighborhood haunts, and then we headed for the beach.
The beach is always a great place to people-watch…that’s no brilliant insight or revelation. I love wondering about the couple who sit in lawn chairs on the beach, fully clothed in jeans, socks and shoes, and long sleeve t-shirts (and it’s even better when the woman gets up and puts on a sweater). The little tiny girls in frilly bathing suits and pigtails literally dancing with joy across the sand make me happy. But today was particularly engrossing, because it’s a holiday here in Hawaii, Presidents’ Day. Thus, everyone has the day off. During the day our beach is overridden with tourists, and at night is returned to the locals-it’s common knowledge that tourists should respect that rule and not hang out on the beach at night, as least it has been that way since we started coming here. Today, the beach was shared by local Hawaiians and tourists alike, which created a new, somewhat uneasy dynamic.
I have never given much thought to the tourist-local relationship here on Maui. As a world-renowned destination, it has been invaded by tourists from all over the world for decades. Tourism drives the economy. Sharing space must create some resentment, but it would also be an established way of life for local Hawaiians. I’ve never seen evidence of any resentment, and I didn’t see it, on their part, today. The people of Maui, who a typical tourist like myself would come into contact with, are always friendly, polite, helpful. But I wouldn’t be surprised to hear of some local annoyance at the invasion of a “locals-only” space by tourists. I know I used to get tired of being asked directions or to take a photo when walking through the Inner Harbor in Victoria in the summer. Living on the Thames Path in London, I got used to being a helpful local, but I could be a little bit smug or impatient with tourists, I admit. It happens.
But that wasn’t what was happening at the beach today. It was the tourists resenting the presence of the locals on their beach, amazingly enough. I watched a large (white) man, with a hairy chest, sunburnt beer belly and a thick golden chain around his neck sit and glare around the beach at the local families enjoying the holiday, his discomfort at their presence growing until he finally approached a dad in front of us, who was building sand castles with his kids and speaking to them in Hawaiian.
“Why are all you people here?” this man had the audacity to ask. You people. “It’s Monday, shouldn’t you all be working?”
The dad paused for a moment, looked up from the sandcastle, and then smiled.
“It’s President’s Day,” he said. “The kids are off school today.” He then went back to assisting his son in building a turret. The tourist was left to awkwardly stomp back to his blanket, where he literally pounded the sand, and sulked for the better part of the afternoon. He posed the same question a few times, to a group of Hawaiian girls in bikinis, and another young Hawaiian family. Always to people who were visibly Hawaiian, read: non-white.
Why should this man care if the beach was more crowded than usual? It’s a long weekend. The beach is more crowded. Deal. He had staked his claim to a large piece of sand with a big beach blanket, he was fine. What the tourist was most uncomfortable with was the fact that the beach was crowded with Hawaiian people. Normally, your average Joe middle-American (or Canadian) white tourist only encounters Hawaiian people in, unfortunately, service roles: they run the front desk of your hotel, they dance at the luau you paid $50 a ticket to attend, they serve you your meal. And at the beach today, those people were on equal footing. The service dynamic was gone. These were just people who were enjoying a statutory holiday, they weren’t there to serve. And it obviously made this Tourist-zilla uncomfortable. Yuck. He totally gave new meaning to the term “tacky tourist.” Sadly, tackiness can go well beyond loud shirts and tiki torches.