You've arrived in Hawaii. On Hanauma Bay beach you spread out a towel. There, in the distance, leaning against a palm tree, is that a native girl? Your watch beeps once: it is 15:59. Suddenly, the air is filled with the sound of squealing children, the smell of Mild Seven cigarettes, and burnt meat--yours.

©1998 Rudolf Helder / Honolulu Magazine is about many things, but mostly it is a potpourri of projects and interests of its creator. Enjoy. is now proudly associated with Please, visit our online bookstore in the "Musings" section.

For Honoluluans the Honolulu Natatorium controversy rages on.


Page revised on Sunday, August 21, 2005