I have become intimately familiar with 4 a.m. Waking up to go to work. Becoming comatose while at work. Today, getting on a plane. Actually, I’m awake before the alarm goes off, but for any other reason than vacation, I’d be unhappy being conscious at this hour.

Living in Salem, Portland International Airport is a longer drive than it used to be so we opt to leave at 6:00 a.m. We get to the airport two hours before our flight, but lines are so long that we use up all the extra time. We get to the gate 10 minutes before boarding, and now I’m so ready for a nap.

Before going further, here is the cast of characters for this trip:

• Lisa – spouse
• Aria – daughter
• Gary – father-in-law
• Sara – mother-in-law

We’re flying Alaska Airlines, which doesn’t have the big planes that many of the other major carriers fly. We’re traveling on a 737-900. Only one aisle and two restrooms. So, I am really glad I threw out that bad lettuce in my lunch salad yesterday…

My reading choice for the flight is Captive Paradise by James L. Haley. It’s an evenhanded look at Hawaii’s history from ancient days to annexation. Hawaiian history is complex, and I’ll touch on that later in the trip. I started the book earlier this month. It’s an interesting read.

The flight is uneventful other than the apple juice shower Aria gives herself. Soaks everything. Lisa is less than pleased. My job is getting as many paper towels out of the restroom as possible to clean up the sticky scene of the crime.

After flying all day we arrive at our hotel, the Sheraton Waikiki, in the early afternoon. Love that three-hour time difference! Not so great what happens next. We are in the hotel’s system, but our reservation has been canceled. Uh, what? Phone calls are made. Questions are asked. Someone messed up somewhere. It takes an hour for our travel agency and their contractor to figure out what happened and propose a solution. It’s convoluted, but it sounds like the hotel confirmed us for rooms it didn’t have. Oops.

On a brighter note, we’re moving to one of their additional properties, which happens to be nicer. Off we go to the first hotel built in Waikiki (1901), the Moana Surfrider, also known as the First Lady of Waikiki. We’ve passed by this hotel dozens of times over the years. It’s beautiful. It’s also a destination marriage resort for Japanese couples. By my count there are two to three weddings here each day.

The girls go swimming in the hotel pool, and Aria keeps getting out to run onto the beach so she can use the foot washer before returning. She loves that thing. We visit Cheeseburger in Paradise for dinner, a first night tradition Lisa and I have had since coming here in 2004. After a burger and a mai tai I’m exhausted and have a dehydration headache. Everyone is fairly worn out from the travel and the hotel debacle. Except Aria. She could stay in the water all night. The sunset is spectacular, but it’s 7:30 p.m. and we’re calling it a night. There is a lot going on tomorrow. We’re headed to Manoa Falls early in the morning and then to a luau for dinner. Aloha po.

Get caught up on the adventure.

We’re heading back to my happy place, Hawaii. We’ll be on Oahu this trip and staying in Waikiki for the first time in many years. There is a lot of humanity and concrete packed into the 3.4 square mile neighborhood, so it’s always great to get out and explore more of the island. Aria is coming and my in-laws are also traveling with us. By now Lisa and I are well-versed on this island so we’re managing all the details.

I’ve heard it said that a person can enjoy Hawaii without ever understanding it. Since my first visit in 2004 I’ve attempted to understand and to view Hawaii as a place that offers more than famous beaches and endless sunshine. It’s far more interesting than what the tourism industry sells, which isn’t necessarily reality. Hawaii is a special place steeped in complicated history with a culture that resists oppression. At times it feels like a foreign country, and I mean that in a good way. Were it not for the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy by American-backed businessmen, it might still be a sovereign nation.

My perspective on Hawaii changed further with a book I was given for Father’s Day this year. Volcanoes, Palm Trees and Privilege is a collection of essays by Portland author Liz Prato. She tells a story of love, loss and survival — her own and Hawaii’s. It’s a quick but impactful read.

While I don’t have the same story to tell as Prato, this year I’m going to journal what we do and my thoughts as we go along. A few posts will have history. Some may just chronicle the day’s activities. My hope is they will be entertaining. When I get back to the mainland, I’ll post them here.

And now it’s back to packing for the trip and the six-hour flight. I’m having a problem getting my travel ukulele and snorkel gear in the same carry-on bag. A hui hou.