Hawai’i calls The Banana Splits back, if but out of sentiment
(With apologies to Webley “Webb” Edwards [1902-1977] and his much-remembered radio program Hawai’i Calls [1935-1975], long the standard for Hawai’ian music--especially of the hapa-haole sort--as much as Hanna-Barbera)
It was your somewhat atypically typical red-eye flight between the mainland and Honolulu, which was cheap to begin with, but hey, such could not have been a better attraction for the quartet of Bingo, Drooper, Fleegle and Snorky, still smarting in some way over their want of appearance at Waikiki some years previous, to kill some time back in Paradise. Even if it meant replacing their traditional costumes with aloha print and swim trunks “to better look the part,” and also making sure the sunglasses were good enough for the tropical sun.
And arrival at Inouye Honolulu International Airport was well past dark, never mind the night life still going strong in especially the old established quarters of Waikiki ... as well as the airport’s Arrivals Terminal being practically empty save for the likes of Japanese tourists returning to Tokyo or Osaka from a long weekend’s rest on the evening flight and whatever passed for their hosts holding up a card in the lobby proclaiming “The Banana Splits” in their distinctive logotype to direct them to as much Baggage Claim as their van to the hotel.
The hotel itself, situated on the approriately-named Hotel Street between Wakiki and Downtown Honolulu, was modest but not seedy-looking; enough, perhaps, to pass for a “business hotel” back in Yokohama, yet the Splits were able to get a modest little suite of rooms as faced the ocean and beach--and even towards the Moana Hotel’s banyan tree under which Webb Edwards’ Hawai’i Calls radio programme emenated from back in the day. Still, you have to remember that this was more or less a personal visit just to relax and recharge themselves as opposed to anything promotional or involving a concert tour (though you could find them in some unlikely jam sessions, as will be evident later).
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The hotel’s breakfast was your basic “continental” sort of rolls and coffee, and for the latter, it was the local sort from Kona on the Big Island, attracting an unmistakable smoothness of flavour which earned the Splits’ appreciation ... being followed by some walkabouts in Beautiful Downtown Honolulu and the Ala Moana Shopping Centre which, while not generating mob-like scenes of screaming and overobsessive fans, saw plenty of autograph requests even allowing for the quartet’s going into aloha print as an attempt to “blend in.”
It was at the Ala Moana Centre’s courtyard that a Most Unlikely Encounter came about as the Splits were sipping on tropical-fruit smoothies and yet look casual in Hawai’ian fashion.
“Are you the famous Banana Splits?”
“Uh--?” responded Fleegle, spilling some of his smoothie unintentionally.
“The name’s Suzie Chan. You remember the Chan Clan?”
“Somewhat,” was how Drooper responded.
“Have I ever mentioned how incredibly interesting you are?”
All nodded their heads in agreement.
“What I have in mind,” Suzie remarked, “is that this evening, we might take in some time around Chinatown. Which is itself a rather interesting district around the harbour area, and a pretty eclectic one.”
“I assume they’ve got some decent Chinese food there” was how Bingo put it.
To which Suzie added, “How else could you put it, as if the Oah’u Market and the Manake’a Marketplace weren’t attraction enough?”
With that out of the way after a few pleasantaries of introduction, and a little stretching, the sunset found Suzie Chan and the Splits outside the Hawaii Theater, crown jewel in a way of the Honolulu Chinatown quarter restored in its Art Deco glory ... and what a heady-looking evening and experience it was bound to get, even considering that much of the current look of Chinatown came about thanks to its rebuilding after a 1901 fire which, it turns out, was deliberately set in the name of controlling an outbreak of plague, only to get all too out of control. Just the very aromas of joss, steamed noodles, frying chicken, board wax and even Chinese teas were enough to have the quartet nearly lose their minds, as if cheesy T-shirts as could be had 2 for $10 weren’t too much of a distraction at the Oah’u Market ... yet Suzie’s intimate acquaintenance with Chinatown, learned somewhat from her legendary detective father Charlie, was enough to have the crew discover some rather fascinating back-alley curio shops (especially close to the Nu’uanu Stream) heady with an aroma of moldy cardboard packing boxes somewhat bravely mitigated with joss most aromatic, not to mention Ripley-esque curios as seemed a little esoteric. As well as one legendary for selling some of the freshest in Chinese teas, black and green, as Suzie was especially fond of (and whose clerk recommended unto the Splits an especially aromatic Lapsang Souchong, whose taste came about from the tea leaves being smoked by pine-needle boughs set afire).
The culmination: One Chinese dinner for the ages at a delightfully seedy-looking Chinese eatery fond of tastefully fried rice, cashew chicken, Mongolian pork, pepper steak, chicken lo mein (which Suzie had to explain were soft, yet pan-fried, noodles as opposed to the crisp chow mein they were likely accustomed to), all you can eat egg rolls or potstickers and some especially vibrant-tasting oolong tea, that old reliable among Chinese restaurants for some reason or another (Snorky, we understand, was overheard admitting that it had a taste which was sort of sterile).
So what more could The Banana Splits be picking up in paradise? Next week will have more exciting details!
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