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By Dina Gan Oahu Now and ThenThere are few places I've visited often enough to witness their evolution over time. The island of Oahu is one of those places, and within the last decade or so, I've made half a dozen visits, sometimes just stopping briefly before flying on to another island of Hawaii. Each time, I've had the privilege of noticing something different about the place; it's like visiting a dear cousin every few years and watching how she's grown. 
I'll never forget my first "real" Oahu moment back in 1994: drinking a mai tai at the House Without a Key. I was in my mid-20s, and it was the first time I'd visited a state where Asian Americans were the rule, not the exception. I felt so relaxed, sipping a glamorous cocktail at the dimly lit bar, feeling the ocean breeze on my skin and dreaming of what it must be like to stay at the Halekulani (www.halekulani.com), the hotel where the House Without a Key is located. Back then, I could only afford to drink at such a posh place. Thirteen years later, I could finally afford to stay there, and on my latest visit in early 2007, I fulfilled a long-standing fantasy to sleep in a room inside one of the most exclusive resorts in Waikiki.
By now I'd become a veteran traveler with more discriminating tastes, and the Halekulani lived up to all of them. On the drive in from the airport at night, I remarked to my husband how much Waikiki had been built up since the days when it was still possible to see the ocean from Kalakaua, and now any signs of water seemed obscured by luxury shops and skyscrapers. Fittingly, our room at the Halekulani was on the 10th floor, giving us a sweeping view of the ocean while not letting us feel dwarfed among the other tall buildings. 
Our room was modern and welcoming, decorated in soothing tones of ivory, beige, and blue, with a great view of the ocean as well as the tip of Diamond Head. The Halekulani is good at the little details that make a place stand out. Things like welcome fruit and chocolate, fragrant soaps, and turn-down service complete with a different souvenir shell each day. I collected those shells, along with the cards that accompanied them, each inscribed with a pithy saying, such as "Memories can be held in the palms of your hands."
The Halekulani made a perfect home base from which to explore the latest incarnation of Waikiki. Strolling along Kalakaua at night, it seemed the lights were brighter than in the past. Streets were cleaner, and the tourists seemed dressed better. Instead of Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops, people were decked out in designer labels and trendy resort wear. Walking past the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center, which now has a Fendi and Hermes, I felt like I was on Fifth Avenue rather than steps away from the beach. I was gratified to find that most ABC Stores still sell spam musubi, and the International Market Place, which had also gotten a facelift, is still a great place for cheap, quintessential souvenirs like kukui nut leis. 
Ala Moana Center has also expanded, but haphazardly. It feels much less open-air now that it's crammed with ritzy names like Neiman Marcus, Prada, and Juicy Couture. However, it's still got that distinct Pacific flair. This mall's Build-a-Bear Workshop is the only one in the world where you can make your own stuffed Hello Kitty wearing a hula skirt. Plus, the Crackseed Center (www.crackseedcenter.com) is here, and that alone makes Ala Moana Center worth a stop. I confess that while I had grown up watching my older relatives eat salted, preserved prunes, I had never actually tried them myself. Since Crackseed Center reputedly has the best in the country, I decided this was the place to find out if I could suck the seed or end up spitting it out. I ordered several varieties of crackseed -- wet li hing mui, kam cho plum, and the regular cracked seed, plus some honey lemon strip and sweet-and-sour baby lime. I tried them all one by one and, as it turns out, I do suck.
Because my husband had never been to Oahu, we had to make a few requisite stops. First was a visit to Diamond Head, the extinct volcano that adorns the east end of Waikiki. The crater hike was pretty much the same as I remember. While I once jogged up and down the crater trail in less than 30 minutes, this time it was a mildly strenuous hike. We also ate at Ono Hawaiian Foods (www.geocities.com/napavalley/9874/) and Sam Choy's Breakfast Lunch and Crab (www.samchoy.com). The former was as funky and pleasant as ever, and the service was dependably stellar at the latter. 
On this trip, I finally made it to Helena's Hawaiian Foods (1240 North School Street), a restaurant I had been trying to visit ever since it won the James Beard Award. On one trip, the place was closed on the day I wanted to visit, and on another, I just couldn't find the street on a map. This time, I called ahead to make sure they were open. It was well worth the wait. A homey place frequented by tourists and descendants of Hawaiian royalty alike, Helena's serves generous portions of kalua pig, laulau, lomi salmon, and other traditional favorites. But the fried butterfish collar is the dish to write home about. It is a taste of seafood heaven, a tenderly seasoned, battered and fried bit of skin and flesh from around the fish's head. Yum!
The Wai'oli Tea Room (thewaiolitearoom.net) is now another new favorite place, courtesy of my friend Mynette, who was leaving her post at the Hawaii Film Office to give New York City another try. A short, scenic drive north of Waikiki leads to a quaint, shaded restaurant nestled in lush greenery where you can order classic breakfast and lunch dishes prepared with tropical flair. 
As usual, I found myself not wanting to leave the island. On our last night at the Halekulani, my husband and I sipped sunset mai tais while watching traditional hula at the House Without a Key. I felt a pang of melancholy, until I overheard a sunburned, bald-headed Caucasian tourist self-confidently bellow, "Arigato!" to his Filipino American cocktail waiter. I saw the waiter wince at the linguistic malapropism, and it was a jarring reminder that as dreamy as Waikiki is, it is a fantasy invented for tourists looking to indulge in what they perceive as exotic. It made me chuckle in a sad sort of way. No matter how often I'll visit Oahu, some things will never change.
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