Travel · May 2026

Oahu With a Baby Who Has No Idea She's in Hawaii

A five-night trip, one very chill 9-month-old, and a serious PF Chang's miscalculation.

We'd done trips before. Kanak and I knew how to travel. Pack light, move fast, eat well, no real plan beyond a general direction.

Then Gia arrived. Nine months old, zero concept of geography, complete control over the itinerary.

This is how we took our daughter to Oahu for the first time. She responded by smiling at strangers, high fiving anyone who offered a hand, talking to everyone she met in a language only she understood, hugging people she'd known for thirty seconds, and not crying once.

Day 1: The Journey, The Pilot, and The Worst First Meal in Hawaii

We flew first class from Denver to Oahu, and I'm not going to pretend that wasn't the right call, because you do not fly economy to Hawaii with a nine-month-old unless you enjoy making enemies of every stranger within three rows of you at 35,000 feet. First class gave us the space, the quiet, and the ability to stand up without performing a gymnastic routine over whoever was sleeping in the aisle seat.

Layover in LA, which is just the universe's way of saying you're not in Hawaii yet, so sit down and relax for a few more hours.

Gia was fine throughout, completely and suspiciously fine, in a way that made Kanak and me realize we had over-prepared for a disaster that never arrived. We'd braced for screaming, for turbulence meltdowns, for the moment every passenger on the plane turns around in slow coordinated disappointment. Instead, Gia just looked around the cabin like she was taking notes, nine months old and already more composed than most adults I've sat next to in meetings.

Once we landed in Oahu, I asked the air hostess if the pilots would allow Gia in the cockpit for a photo, and she went to check and came back with a yes. What happened next was better than any photo we'd imagined: they put her in the captain's seat, in the actual cockpit, with every button and dial and screen on the plane right in front of her little hands.

Gia looked around at the controls, then looked at the pilots, then produced the smile of someone who has absolutely no idea where she is but is completely fine with it, and Kanak and I stood there in the doorway realizing that our nine-month-old had already peaked before we'd even left the plane.

(She has not peaked. But it was a strong start.)

Nine months old. Already in the captain's seat. Oahu.

Hawaii is four hours behind Denver, which your calendar handles fine but your body treats as a personal betrayal, so by the time we picked up our rental (a BMW X7, great vehicle, excellent choice) and drove to Waikiki, the kind of tired you feel is the kind where good decision-making quietly exits the room. We'd also requested a car seat with the rental, which cost $13 a day and appeared to have been padded with good intentions and nothing else whatsoever, and so Gia ended up on Kanak's lap for most of the trip instead, which is a subplot I'll come back to.

We checked into Halepuna and we had actually booked a proper dinner at Botanica in Waikiki, which was the responsible, optimistic decision made by people who still believed they were in control of the evening. Then Gia fell asleep the moment we got to the room, the way babies do when they have no awareness of the plans they are disrupting, and Kanak cancelled the reservation because it seemed like the sensible thing to do when your nine-month-old is finally out cold.

Gia woke up approximately thirty seconds later, fully alert, looking around the room with the expression of someone who genuinely cannot figure out whose bedroom this is and is prepared to make that everyone's problem. Botanica was gone. The reservation no longer existed. We were in Hawaii with a wide-awake baby, no dinner plan, and the particular kind of tired where you've stopped making real choices and are just doing whatever requires the least thought.

PF Chang's was right there next to the hotel. It cleared the only bar we had left, which was "nearest place with food on a menu." The food was not dramatically bad, not send-it-back bad, just flat and forgettable in a way that felt especially painful given that we had just flown across the Pacific to get here and our first Hawaiian meal tasted like a Tuesday in an airport food court.

Kanak looked at me, I looked at Kanak, Gia ate her baby food and had absolutely no notes on the situation.

We moved on quickly. The hotel room was the precise opposite of dinner: clean, quiet, and the bed was so good that we were out within minutes of lying down. Day 1 in the books. The real Oahu hadn't started yet, and at that point we were too tired to care. That was tomorrow's problem.

Day 2: Eggs, Avocado Regrets, Grass Snacks, and Seven Years

Umi by Vikram Garg

The hotel had a restaurant and we used it, because there was no kitchen in the room and Gia needed breakfast before anything else happened, before we even thought about what we wanted. We asked if they could do scrambled eggs for a nine-month-old, they said yes, and Gia received them and treated the situation with the urgency it deserved, stuffing fistfuls into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in several weeks and wasn't planning to slow down about it.

With Gia sorted, we turned to ourselves. Kanak ordered a yogurt parfait that arrived layered, sweet granola and fruit on top, plain yogurt at the bottom, and she ate everything sweet off the top and then slid the plain yogurt quietly across the table to Gia, unremarked, completely natural, as if that was always what the parfait was for. I watched this happen while eating my entire parfait without sharing any of it.

Kanak also ordered shakshuka, which was the right call and turned out to be delicious. I ordered the masala omelet, which sounded like exactly what I wanted, and arrived as a regular omelet with no masala anywhere on or around it. I don't know what happened between the menu and my plate but something definitely went wrong in that kitchen.

Ho'omaluhia Botanical Gardens

About forty-five minutes from Waikiki in the BMW X7, and the entrance alone was worth the drive: palm trees on both sides of the road, tall and perfectly spaced, the kind of approach that makes you feel like you've been let in on something the rest of the tourists missed.

We parked, got Gia out, and let her loose on the grass, which turned out to be, as far as she was concerned, the actual highlight of the entire island of Oahu. She crawled, she explored, she conducted what can only be described as a full baby workout across the lawn of one of the most beautiful botanical gardens in Hawaii, and then she found some grass and ate it, wide-brim straw hat on, pink bow perfectly in place, treating Ho'omaluhia like a personal buffet and having absolutely no regrets about it.

Her agenda and our agenda were not the same agenda.

Duke's Waikiki

Duke's is the kind of place that earns its reputation honestly, open air with the ocean right in front of you and the specific relaxed energy that Hawaii does better than anywhere else, and we ordered cocktails the moment we sat down, which was absolutely the right call. I had the fish tacos, Kanak had a falafel wrap, both were good, and the day felt like it was exactly on track right up until Kanak decided that this was the moment to introduce Gia to avocado.

Gia's position on avocado was immediate, unambiguous, and expressed through her entire body. She threw up, Kanak rushed her off to change her clothes, and lunch was effectively over for at least one member of the party. Gia is a meat and eggs person, she eats like her dadi, my mom, chicken and eggs and the good stuff, and avocado was never going to work. We know this now. Duke's itself was faultless throughout, great service and views good enough to make you forget the avocado incident almost immediately.

Duke's. It looks exactly like this from the inside too.

Nova Five Star Sunset Dinner Cruise and Jazz

We'd booked the VIP section, upper deck with glass views of the ocean, because it was our seventh wedding anniversary and anything less would have been an insult to the occasion. We pulled up to the dock and the Hawaiian dancers were already there in full traditional dress performing right at the entrance, and we stopped for a photo, and Gia was in it, because at nine months old she has appeared in more professional-looking photos than most adults I know.

She showed up to the anniversary cruise and made it her photo too.

We were welcomed with champagne when we reached our table, upper deck, ocean on all sides, and then Gia, who had been awake and alert for everything we'd done since sunrise, looked around at the boat, decided she'd seen enough of the world for one day, and went straight to sleep, giving us the evening just like that, without being asked.

Kanak and I ordered fish for the first course, and what arrived was lobster. I want to be precise about something here: Kanak's definition of fish is tilapia, that is the full and complete list, everything else is a different category of food she is not prepared for, and lobster is not on the list, not adjacent to the list, not in the same taxonomy as the list. The expression on her face when it arrived was something I will carry with me for years. I said nothing because I was laughing so hard internally that I had to look away, and we asked the staff to swap it out and they were gracious about it and brought her something she could actually eat.

The rest of the evening was exactly what you want from an anniversary dinner: cocktails, live music, a sunset doing its job properly over the Pacific, and a cake we cut together. Seven years.

Day 3: First Waves, Temple Bells, and the Refill Theory

We were up early. The beach was quiet and the sky hadn't fully committed to being daytime yet. That pink and blue window before the sun actually shows up.

We brought Gia's small convertible chair and set it up right at the edge where the water would just reach her feet. She looked at the Pacific the way she looks at everything new. Completely focused, no hesitation. The water came in and touched her toes. She was fine. Better than fine. She started working the sand with both hands like she'd been doing this for years.

First sunrise. First ocean. She had no notes.

Halekulani Bakery

Right after the beach, still in that early-morning quiet before the rest of Waikiki had decided to wake up, we found Halekulani Bakery, ordered two iced lattes and chocolate croissants, and sat in a warmly lit room that felt like it was designed specifically for people who show up early. Gia, right on cue, decided this was also the moment to poop, which in any other city might have derailed the morning entirely, but we always carry the diaper bag and we were sorted in minutes, because that is just parenting on the road and you stop being surprised by the timing. I also walked my knee straight into the corner of a table, a knee that was already sore from something earlier in the trip, and it hurt in the specific way that makes you wince and then immediately pretend nothing happened. But here is the thing about Hawaii: the energy of the place just absorbs it. You walk out into that morning air and the soreness stops mattering and the mood reasserts itself and you get on with the day.

Byodo-In Temple

About half a mile before you reach the temple, the road changes and lush green gardens open up on both sides, and if you look closer you realize it's a pet cemetery: fresh flowers at small markers, people who came that morning just to remember someone, and it happens every day like this, the living quietly showing up for the gone with no occasion required. The air felt different there, not heavy, just full, like both were somehow still present in the same space.

Then the passage into the temple opens and you arrive, and cloudy weather turned out to be exactly the right weather for Byodo-In because the red temple reflected in the koi pond with misty mountains rising behind everything and the overcast sky pressing down on all of it looked less like a place and more like a painting that hadn't quite decided whether to be real.

Byodo-In Temple, Ko'olau mountains. The clouds were doing their job that day.

Gia found the koi pond immediately and locked in completely, tracking those fish with the focus of someone who has just identified their life's work, while Kanak and I did what parents do at beautiful places, which is rotate: one holds Gia, the other makes a bottle, one spots a photo, the other sets it up, and you rarely get to just stand and look at things anymore but you catch moments between the tasks and it turns out that's enough.

Then we found the bell, a large bell that rings with a heavy wooden log on a rope, and we each took a turn, and when it was Gia's she grabbed the rope and pulled and the log swung and hit the bell and the sound rang out across the whole grounds, and she looked extremely pleased with herself, which was fair because she had completely earned it.

Island Vintage Acai Bowl

We drove back to Waikiki and went straight for the famous acai bowls at Island Vintage, which sits right in the heart of downtown with music coming from somewhere and the whole of Waikiki doing its thing around you, and we ordered one bowl between us thinking that would be enough, and it arrived so enormous that we took it back to the room and still couldn't finish it, which is the best possible kind of problem to have.

House Without a Key: Halekulani Hotel

For lunch we drove over to the Halekulani, which is one of those hotels that makes you feel slightly underdressed the moment you walk in, and we went straight to House Without a Key, their open-air restaurant right by the ocean with the hau tree overhead and the water right there in front of you, which is the kind of view that makes you forget you were supposed to be looking at the menu. We had cocktails, which arrived beautifully garnished and tasted exactly as good as they looked, and then we ordered edamame hummus and madras chicken curry, both of which were the kind of food where you stop making conversation because it would be a waste of time that could be spent eating. The hospitality was immaculate throughout, attentive without hovering, the way good service should work. We sat there longer than we planned, which is the reliable sign of a good lunch.

Cocktails at House Without a Key. The view did most of the work, but the drinks were not far behind.

Street Walking Waikiki

We walked the strip on the way back and Waikiki delivered the way it always does, music and people and something always happening around the next corner, and we stumbled into a Target that turned out to be genuinely the most useful discovery of the day, restocking Gia's full supply of smoothies and baby food in one go. There were also a lot of luxury brand stores along the way, and I watched Kanak take them in one by one, saying nothing, not needing to, because I could see the list being built quietly and efficiently in her head, earmarked for a future date that she has not yet disclosed.

Duke's, Round 2

We came back to Duke's for dinner because at this point Duke's had become a reliable constant on this trip, and that is not a complaint in any direction. I ordered a cola, which was good, then ordered another, which was also good, and by the time a third arrived my burger still hadn't, which tells you something about the drink service at Duke's, specifically that it is excellent, possibly better than the food service, which is saying something because the food is genuinely great.

Kanak had ordered tahini sauce at some point and it had simply not arrived, and she sat there watching me take sips and said, "Finish yours. The waitress will only come when your glass is empty, and that is the only moment we are getting the tahini sauce." She was right. That is exactly how the system worked, the waitress came for the refill, and the tahini sauce came with her, and Kanak had reverse-engineered the entire service model while I was still on my second cola.

We finished the day full and slightly over-caffeinated and already thinking about what Day 4 was going to look like.

Day 4: Dole Whips, Dirty Hands, and a Harbor That Remembers

The Denver time zone was still doing its thing and we were up early again, back to Umi for breakfast, back to the routine that had been working, and then out the door with a full day ahead.

Dole Plantation

The Dole Plantation is one of those places you go because you're supposed to, and it partially delivers: the Dole Whip is yes, absolutely worth it, and the train ride through the pineapple fields was good especially with Gia strapped to my chest in the carrier, taking in the scenery from what she probably thought was a very strange and slow-moving couch.

Dole Plantation. Since 1900. The Whip: worth it. The caves they haven't built yet: pending.

The plantation itself is fine, but there is a version of this place that could exist with caves, some interactive element, something that makes you actually feel like you've stepped into the history of the thing, and that version doesn't exist yet. They have the land and they have the story, they just haven't done quite enough with either of them.

Giovanni's Shrimp

Giovanni's is a food truck on the North Shore and the shrimp scampi, garlic and butter, cooked right, was one of the best things we ate during the entire trip. Fair warning that you peel the shells yourself and your hands will be dirty for the rest of the afternoon, but that is part of the deal and worth every second of it.

Garlic butter shrimp on a paper plate. One of the best things we ate in Hawaii.

What was not worth it was the $17 coconut, which I ordered expecting the kind of generous dripping coconut water you picture when you think about Hawaii, and what arrived was the smallest quantity of coconut water I have ever been handed in exchange for money. It was technically a coconut. That is the most generous thing I can say about it.

We were sitting at the table next to the truck when something dropped from the tree above us, and both Kanak and I reacted immediately with full-body alarm, and it was a leaf. We have a lizard problem that started in Miami and has never fully resolved, so every unexpected movement, every shadow, every falling object gets the same response from both of us: the brain says lizard before it says anything else, and the leaf had absolutely no idea what it was walking into.

North Shore Drive: The Hour We'll Never Get Back

We wanted Sunset Beach because the North Shore feels different from the rest of Oahu, more secluded, no towers, no tourist strip, the kind of place where the road opens up and the buildings fall away and the ocean just does its thing without anyone trying to frame it for a photo, and it reminded me of Goa in that specific way where you feel like you found something that wasn't trying to be found.

We did not make it to Sunset Beach because road construction from recent flood damage had turned the highway into a parking lot for a full hour, and we eventually did the only logical thing, which was a U-turn to go find a view somewhere that didn't require sitting still on a highway.

Restaurant 604, Pearl Harbor

The reason for stopping at 604 wasn't the food, it was the view, and standing there looking out at Pearl Harbor as an adult is a completely different thing from watching the movie as a kid, where you see the planes and the ships and the harbor in flames and at that age it is just a film. Standing at the actual water, something shifts: the scale of it, how many people died there, how quickly it all happened, and then the quieter question that follows, which is whether any of it was worth it, and the honest answer most of the time is no. Some places carry their history in the ground and you don't read it, you feel it, and Pearl Harbor is one of those places that asks something of you even if you just stopped for a snack and a view.

The drinks were good. The view did most of the work.

Gia at the Infinity Pool

Kanak had packed an inflatable floater for Gia before the trip, which was forward thinking of the highest order, and we put Gia in it in the Halepuna infinity pool and she immediately began kicking both feet continuously with the energy of someone who has been waiting specifically for this moment for nine months, splashing and kicking more and looking completely at home in the water in a way that suggested she had been doing this much longer than she actually had.

I got in with her. The Pacific stretched out behind us, the sun was doing its late afternoon thing, and it was just the two of us in the water while Kanak watched from the side. One of those moments you don't plan and don't forget. She looked at me the way she does, completely present, completely unbothered, perfectly happy to be exactly where she was. I felt exactly the same way.

Her floater, my sunglasses, the Pacific. Nobody was complaining.

NOI Thai

Recommended by friends, and the friends were completely right. We love shrimp in every context, in curry, without curry, adjacent to curry, near curry, and the shrimp panang curry at NOI Thai hit every note: perfect spice level, cooked properly, no nonsense vegetables taking up space that should belong to shrimp, great presentation. We ordered it, finished it, and then ordered it again, which is the clearest possible review I can give of a dish.

The chicken tom yum was another matter entirely. The broth had genuine ambition and the chicken pieces required a level of commitment we were not quite prepared for, the kind of chewing that could reasonably be classified as exercise, and our teeth did not sign up for a workout that evening but they got one regardless.

Shaved Ice: Island Vintage Again

We had been to Island Vintage before so we knew exactly what we were doing this time, and we ordered two Heavenly Liliko'i shaved ices, the best seller, one each, held up in wooden trays and piled into mountains with strawberries on top, and we could not finish them because they were iceberg-sized in a way that was impressive to look at and impossible to complete, like the Titanic but made of shaved ice and significantly more delicious.

Iceberg size. They could not sink us like the Titanic, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Day 4 done: the one with the harbor that stayed with you and the coconut that definitely didn't.

Day 5: Dinosaurs, Live Chickens, and the Most Scenic Last Dinner of Our Lives

Kualoa Ranch sits on the windward side of Oahu, backed by the Ko'olau mountains and facing open water, and we started the day on a boat, which is a good way to start any day. The ocean tour delivered exactly what you want from something called an Ocean Voyage: the boat moving hard over the water, rising and dropping with the swells in a way that makes you grip the rail and grin at the same time, the green cliffs coming in close on either side, and the water that specific shade of blue-green that Hawaii does and nowhere else quite replicates.

Most of the other babies on the boat, roughly Gia's age, were sitting quietly inside where it was calm and sheltered, which is the sensible thing to do. Gia was strapped to Kanak in the carrier and wanted nothing to do with the inside. She wanted the deck, and she wanted it immediately, face pointed straight into the spray, grinning every time the boat rose and dropped and the water hit her. She was laughing. She was completely unbothered, tied to her momma, soaked and delighted, like this was exactly where she had always planned to be.

She was reviewing the coastline. We were just along for the ride.

Movies Tour: A Brief History of 3%

After the boat we did the movies tour, because Kualoa Ranch has been the filming backdrop for a serious number of productions including Kong: Skull Island, 50 First Dates, and others, and the guide mentioned Jurassic Park repeatedly throughout, specifically to note that three percent of Jurassic Park was filmed at Kualoa and the remaining ninety-seven percent was shot in Kauai. I spent the rest of the tour quietly grateful for this fact, because if the full shoot had happened here the dinosaurs would have been right on this exact ground, and we would have been operating entirely on their schedule, and I am not prepared for that, and neither is Gia.

Lunch Buffet: The Chicken Situation

The buffet was average: chicken, beef, pork, standard spread with nothing labelled, so every plate involved some guesswork and commitment to whatever you thought you were choosing. What made it genuinely memorable was the live chickens running freely between the tables, through the buffet area, around everyone's feet, completely unbothered, while we were in the middle of eating chicken. I watched one of them peck at something near the serving station and had the sudden realization that they were feeding food to the chickens and then feeding the chickens to us, which is a closed loop I can respect for its efficiency but did not expect to confront over lunch.

The Beach: Father, Daughter, and the Pacific

There's a beach near Kualoa right in front of those same Ko'olau mountains, and we took Gia in, and I held her as the water came in because I wanted her to feel it and not be afraid of it and understand from the very beginning that the ocean is something to move toward, and she did exactly that without any hesitation at all, nine months old and standing in the Pacific like she'd been planning this for a while.

Kanak stayed on the beach and photographed the whole thing, and when we came out we stopped in front of the mountains with the clouds sitting on the peaks and the green dropping all the way down to the grass, and took a photo of Kanak holding Gia, my two sweethearts in one frame.

My two sweethearts in one frame.

Haleiwa Joe's Haiku Gardens: The Last Dinner

I'll say it plainly: this was the most beautiful restaurant setting I have ever eaten at. Haiku Gardens sits below the Ko'olau mountains in Kaneohe, and from your table you see the gardens and a small pond and tropical green in every direction, with the mountains rising behind all of it into low cloud, and the evening we went it was raining lightly and steadily in exactly the kind of way that makes tiki torches look better and makes the green look more saturated and makes the whole setting feel like it was designed specifically for this moment on this particular rainy evening.

The view from our table. The rain made it better.

We started with brussel sprouts and garlic mushrooms, then shrimp curry because at this point in the trip every shrimp dish had fully earned our trust, and then dessert arrived as cake on ice cream with hot chocolate poured over the top at the table, running down the sides while we watched. We sat there in the rain with the mountains behind us and the trip nearly over, and some meals you remember for the food and some you remember for where you were, and this one was genuinely both.

The Morning We Left

Hau Tree

We went out for breakfast before checkout at a place called Hau Tree, and the setting was genuinely one of the most beautiful spots we found in all five days: open air, gorgeous view, the kind of place that looks like someone designed it specifically to make you feel like you made a great decision. Vibe and view, easily a ten out of ten.

The food was a five. And that might be generous. The table next to us sent their plates back almost completely full, which tells you everything you need to know, because that is not a thing people do lightly on their last morning in Hawaii. We ate what we could, appreciated the view for what it genuinely was, and decided that some places you visit for the atmosphere and some for the food, and Hau Tree is firmly, emphatically, the former.

Gia's review came in even faster than ours. She smelled whatever was on the table, put her head straight down on the stroller bar, and did not lift it back up. Nine months old and already the harshest food critic at the table.

She smelled it. She gave her verdict. She was done.

At some point during our stay, the Halepuna had quietly left a bottle of champagne in the room with two flutes and a card that read: "Happy Anniversary! We hope you enjoy your Halepuna Waikiki experience! From, Your Halepuna Family."

On our last morning, before the bags came down and the checkout happened, Kanak and I opened it on the balcony with the blue sky out and the Pacific so clear you could see the reef from where we were standing and Gia somewhere behind us doing whatever Gia does, and we raised the glasses to five nights, first class in, a baby who sat in a cockpit and rang a temple bell and ate grass and rejected avocado with her entire body and kicked her feet in every body of water Hawaii had to offer.

The Halepuna remembered. They always do.

Nu'uanu Pali Lookout

After checking out we made one last stop before the airport, because you don't drive past Nu'uanu Pali Lookout without pulling over. The views up there are the kind that stop you mid-sentence: the Ko'olau mountains dropping away in front of you, the windward coast spreading out below, green as far as you can see in every direction. Magnificent is not an overstatement.

The wind up there was something else entirely. Not a breeze, not a gust, the kind of sustained force that makes you hold on to things and reconsider your life choices. Gia was in her stroller and was completely unbothered by all of it, not a flicker of concern, sitting there in the full force of the wind like it was just another Tuesday. She gets that from her mother. Kanak is a thrill seeker and Gia is already following the same instinct, nine months old and perfectly comfortable in conditions that had everyone else squinting and gripping the railing.

Last stop before the airport. The wind was doing its best. Nobody blinked.

On the way to the airport we returned the BMW X7 and a warm Hawaiian lady at the rental counter asked Kanak how everything had been, and Kanak mentioned the car seat: no padding, $13 a day, and Gia had spent most of the trip on her lap instead. The lady didn't argue or make it complicated. She just looked at Kanak and said she'd refund the car seat charges, and that was that.

That's Hawaii, and I mean all of it: the pilots who let our daughter sit in the cockpit, the hotel that remembered our anniversary without being asked, the lady at the rental counter who just did the right thing because it was the right thing. The ocean and the food and the mountains are real, but it's the people that stay with you longest.

Hawaii didn't just give us a trip. It gave us a feeling we're still carrying. We'll be back.

One hand for my little one. The other for my special one. I don't remember when this was taken. I just know that's exactly how it goes.