S2, E26: Is Waikīkī More Than Just a Tourist Destination?

Is Waikīkī truly more than just a tourist trap? In this week’s episode of Unpacked, Dinogo’s senior deputy editor, Jennifer Flowers, delves into the cultural history behind this famous two-mile stretch of beach.

Transcript

Aislyn Greene, host: Welcome to Unpacked, the podcast where we unpack one travel topic each week. This episode features another “If These Walls Could Talk,” a series exploring the untold stories hotels can reveal about the places we visit. Today, we’re diving into one of Hawaii’s most iconic hotel destinations: Waikīkī.

Our expert guide for this episode is Jennifer Flowers, Dinogo’s senior deputy editor, who oversees all our hotel content, including our annual Stay List. She’s immersed in the hotel world, having grown up surrounded by it—her parents worked in hospitality, earning her the nickname Dinogo’s Eloise. She’s been living hotels her whole life.

She’s also incredibly familiar with Hawai’i, as you’ll soon hear.

Aislyn: Hey Jenn, how’s it going?

Jennifer Flowers, guest: Hi! It’s great to be here.

Aislyn: I’m so excited to have you on! This story is such an interesting perspective on Waikīkī. What made you want to dive into this? What sparked your interest in reporting it?

Jenn: I’ve been visiting Honolulu for as long as I can remember, and Waikīkī has always felt like this intriguing place to me. It’s this glitzy strip with high-end stores like Gucci, Chanel, and Prada. But it’s also where I played as a kid, surfing in the waves. So, for me, Waikīkī has always represented two very different worlds—one of luxury and one of nostalgia.

And of course, my family’s roots are there, so I’ve always had this local, insider connection to the place. That gave me a unique perspective on what it means to locals today—and what it has meant historically.

Aislyn: Did you spend a lot of time there when you were younger? How frequently did you visit Waikīkī?

Jenn: I used to visit nearly every summer to see my family. My mom’s from Hawai’i—she’s Japanese-American, third generation. Both my parents worked in the hospitality industry and actually met there. I have these vivid memories of us having picnics on the grass near Waikīkī.

I can still picture us all gathered around a huge bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, sharing it on the lawn with my brother, my aunties, and family friends. It was always a part of the backdrop, but I wanted to dive deeper and explore what Waikīkī really is beneath the surface.

Is Waikīkī just a tourist hotspot, or is there a real, authentic connection to local culture there? That’s what I wanted to uncover.

Aislyn: And as you’ll hear, you’ve really connected with people who have deep ties to Waikīkī, ties that tourists or travelers might not typically consider.

Jenn: Exactly. I thought a lot about my parents’ connection to Waikīkī—how they were part of the industry but also kind of on the outside. What surprised me was how deep the cultural and historical significance ran, something I didn’t realize until I started digging into it.

Waikīkī holds a lot of historical significance, both for the people who’ve lived there in the past and for those living there today. Interestingly, many locals actually want tourists to stay in the resort areas of Waikīkī rather than in Airbnbs in their own neighborhoods, which can be disruptive and lead to rising rents that threaten local culture. We’ll hear from Dylan Ching, the restaurateur behind Duke’s Waikīkī, a well-known local spot, who shares his perspective on this.

Dylan shared with me that a lot of locals prefer visitors to stay in the resort areas of Waikīkī, as opposed to renting in their neighborhoods, which can drive up rent and alter the local culture. So while Waikīkī is important commercially, it also has this rich, historical, and cultural significance that visitors can connect with—a really exciting discovery for me.

And that’s exactly what I found when I visited, keeping that perspective in mind as I explored the area.

Jenn: Today, we’re visiting one of the world’s most iconic beaches: Waikīkī in Honolulu, Hawai’i. Every year, around 4 million visitors flock to this two-mile stretch of sand on O‘ahu. My mom, a third-generation Japanese American from Honolulu, began her career in hospitality here, just like many locals. It’s also where she met my dad, who came from Seattle to work at a hotel.

I’ve spent countless summers visiting family in Honolulu and playing in the waves at Waikīkī Beach, which, as you can imagine, is a hotspot for tourists. The area is lined with upscale stores, and some of the most stunning hotels on the islands can be found here. While the beach itself is always enjoyable, I’ve always felt like it exists in this bubble of tourism—and, honestly, a bit of inauthenticity.

On my recent trip to Honolulu, I remembered reading that Waikīkī was once a sacred place for Native Hawaiians long before the first beach umbrella was ever set up. In the 19th century, it was the vacation destination for Hawai’ian royals, including the legendary King Kamehameha. It’s also where they surfed, a pastime once reserved exclusively for royalty.

Waikīkī was also a healing place, with freshwater springs that flow into the ocean. Local traditions claim these springs could cure illnesses and relieve pain. This got me thinking: what happened to this legacy once hotels started popping up? Do these ancient Hawaiian roots still have a presence in Waikīkī? And if so, can Waikīkī’s hotels provide a genuine connection to those traditions? Luckily, I found some locals at famous Waikīkī hotels willing to “talk story” and share their insights.

My first stop is the renowned Royal Hawaiian, which opened its doors in 1927. If you’ve ever been to Waikīkī, you’ll recognize it immediately. It’s the grand, pink hotel built in a Spanish Moorish style, complete with sweeping arches. No wonder it’s known as “the Pink Palace of the Pacific.” Surrounded by 15 acres of sand and surf, it’s so serene that the Navy used it as a rest and recuperation center during World War II. Today, it’s home to one of the most famous luaus in the area. I’ll admit, I’ve never been to a luau—it’s just not something my local family ever thought about doing in Waikīkī. So, I’ve got a lot to learn. Fortunately, I’ve found the perfect person to show me the ropes and explain why it’s not just a tourist trap.

Misty Thompson Tufono: What made this place so remarkable was the abundance of water flowing down from the three valleys above. Wherever there’s an abundance of water, you’ll find thriving villages, and that’s exactly what made this area flourish.

Jenn: That’s Misty Thompson Tufono, executive vice president of Tihati Productions, the company behind the Aha’aina Luau at the Royal Hawaiian. Misty explains that Waikīkī wasn’t just a 19th-century getaway for royalty, but also a vital resource for Hawaiians who depended on it for food and sustenance.

Misty: The land here was covered in lo’i kalo, taro fields that provided food for tens of thousands in the Waikīkī area. The shoreline we’re looking at was dotted with loko kuapā, fishponds that were a sustainable food source. The Hawaiians were experts at managing these resources, and it’s what made Waikīkī so abundant. This place was truly a land of plenty.

Jenn: We’re sitting near the historic Monarch Room at the Royal Hawaiian, just outside where Tihati’s performance is about to begin.

Misty’s company, Tihati Productions, is the state’s largest and longest-running entertainment company, having started over 50 years ago. Tihati specializes in Hawaiian and Polynesian entertainment, including luaus and cultural performances. The company was founded by Misty’s parents: her father, Jack Tihati, from Samoa, and her mother, Charlene Thompson, a renowned hula dancer. Today, Tihati is run by Misty and her brother, Afatia Thompson, the company’s president.

Tihati Productions serves as a cultural ambassador for Hawaii, taking its artistry beyond the islands. The company has performed for three U.S. presidents—Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama, who invited them to perform at the White House.

Tihati remains a proud local business, employing over 600 individuals in the area, including dancers, singers, emcees, musicians, technicians, and many others.

Misty: We’re here because Hawaiian artists have shaped how the world views Hawaiian art, and we take that legacy very seriously. We carry that kuleana—our responsibility—to uphold the highest standards. Our goal is for visitors to leave saying, “It wasn’t just another typical luau; it was a showcase of incredibly talented people sharing important stories in the most enjoyable way possible.” Achieving that level of excellence is no small feat.

Jenn: Misty explains that while the primary purpose of a luau in a tourist setting is to entertain, it also serves as an opportunity to educate visitors about Hawaiian culture, all while maintaining authenticity and integrity to the tradition.

Misty: Tens of thousands of visitors might arrive with little to no understanding—or even care—about our culture and history. But by the time they leave, they care just a little bit more, they’re curious enough to ask questions, and some might even take the time to learn more about it on their own.

Jenn: Misty explains that the values she grew up with—cultural integrity and hospitality—remain central to the over 2,000 shows they host annually. Each luau they produce also allows them to honor and connect with Waikīkī's rich cultural heritage.

As Misty recounts this history, we are greeted by a beautiful and haunting sound that she tells us marks the start of the performance.

Misty: That’s the sound of the conch shell. In Polynesia, the conch shell is used to capture attention, often signaling the arrival of a royal or marking the beginning of something important.

Jenn: After learning so much from Misty, I’m eager to experience my first luau in Waikīkī. The skies are still blue as the hula dancers begin their performance. Behind them, the blue ocean and pristine beaches of Waikīkī create the perfect setting. The three-hour show takes us through different periods of Waikīkī’s history. As I feel the ocean breeze, I watch a lively segment about the Beach Boys, the local surfers who, at the turn of the 20th century, introduced tourists to their surfing culture in exchange for tips. As the sun sets and the sky darkens, the hula dancers’ skirts glow brighter, and the dancing becomes even more intense. The fire knife dancers take the stage, lighting up the night sky, and I am completely captivated.

But the show isn’t just about entertaining the crowd. As the fire dancers twirl their blazing knives, the emcee explains that this performance is called Siva Afi, a Samoan tradition. This balance of entertainment and cultural authenticity is exactly what Tihati strives for with every show they produce.

Misty: We honor our Polynesian heritage, but I want people to understand something important: while we celebrate these cultures, it's essential to recognize the differences. What we often see as Hawaiian is sometimes an influence from other South Pacific cultures. These cultures are deeply connected to Hawai’i, but they are not inherently Hawaiian.

Jenn: For instance, people frequently associate Samoan fire knife dancing and Tahitian drumming with Hawaiian traditions. Misty ensures that these elements are included in her performances in a meaningful and high-quality way, while also making their cultural origins clear to the audience.

One part of the performance delves into the tragic overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom and the imprisonment of Queen Liliʻuokalani, the last reigning monarch, in the late 1800s. An actress portraying the queen glides across the stage, wearing an elegant red and white gown with golden accents. As the emcee narrates, we learn that in 1893, she was deposed and imprisoned. The queen is remembered for facing one of the greatest injustices to her people with grace, pride, and aloha.

Misty: Now, you might think, ‘How do you bring up something so morbid at a luau?’ But we did, approaching it from the perspective of our queen’s wisdom. She said, 'If we must move forward in a world shaped by foreign influence, let’s do so with aloha, because that is our cultural foundation.'

Jenn: Misty shares the story behind the famous song 'Aloha ’Oe,' written by Queen Lili’uokalani. Many think of it as a song of farewell, but it’s actually not. The queen wrote it after seeing a couple embrace, which inspired her to compose a love song that embodies the essence of aloha—love, peace, respect, and compassion. For many Hawaiians, 'Aloha ’Oe' has come to symbolize the enduring spirit of aloha, even in the face of hardship, much like what the Hawaiian people endured during the queen’s time.

My next stop is the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort, home to the famous Duke’s Waikīkī restaurant. It’s the go-to spot for brunch whenever my local relatives need to impress out-of-town guests with a classy atmosphere and stunning views of Waikīkī Beach (although my Aunty Elaine always complains about parking here). The setting right by the beach is perfect.

Dylan Ching: There’s a reason kings and queens used to vacation here. The weather, the ocean, the vibe—everything is just extraordinary. For me, I consider myself lucky to have ended up here, to be able to call Waikīkī part of my DNA.

Jenn: That’s Dylan Ching. Born on O‘ahu, raised on Maui, and now the vice president of operations for TS Restaurants, which includes Duke’s Waikīkī.

Dylan: I’ve always felt like Duke’s is the spot in Waikīkī where locals and visitors can comfortably mingle side by side at the bar. It’s not like a local hangout in Pearl City where visitors might feel out of place, nor is it one of those hotel restaurants where locals might feel it’s not really meant for them.

Jenn: The restaurant is named after Duke Kahanamoku, the legendary surfer who brought the sport into the global spotlight and surfed the very Waikīkī waves you can hear. A native Hawaiian waterman, Kahanamoku won three Olympic gold medals in swimming in 1912 and 1920. Today, a nine-foot bronze statue of him stands on Waikīkī Beach. Dylan is giving me a tour of the restaurant, which also serves as a museum celebrating both the Duke and the sport of surfing.

Dylan: To me, he epitomizes what it means to be Hawaiian. Duke was so dynamic—surfer, beach boy, swimmer, Olympian, and actor. He was a true ambassador of aloha and of Hawai’i. He traveled the world, showing people what Hawai’i was like and what someone from Hawai’i could be like.

Jenn: Dylan explains that Duke’s continues to honor the surfer’s legacy by staying connected with the community. As we walk through the restaurant, he points to a wall of framed photos featuring locals who contribute to preserving Hawaiian cultural traditions.

Dylan: What we do here in the community really reflects Duke’s spirit. That’s our goal—supporting the things Duke would have supported.

Jenn: The restaurant actively sponsors local events like surf competitions and contributes to local schools and community centers.

Dylan: We’re lucky to be a popular spot, and while we do well, we also want to give back to the community—especially to the local areas around us. It’s not always easy for locals to access Waikīkī, so we take Duke’s spirit and bring it to them instead.

Jenn: My journey into the history of surfing in Waikīkī continues with Aunty Luana Maitland. She’s the director of cultural experiences at the Outrigger Reef Waikīkī Beach Resort and its sister property, where Duke’s Waikīkī is located. Aunty Luana has been part of the resort for over two decades.

We meet at the Outrigger Reef’s newly opened A’o Cultural Center, where visitors can immerse themselves in Hawaiian traditions—learning to make leis, try hula, and even take Hawaiian language classes. I’m fascinated by the cultural artifacts around the room, many of which are from Honolulu’s Bishop Museum, dedicated to preserving Hawai’i’s natural and cultural history.

The Bishop Museum helped curate the exhibits, which feature a ukulele, kala’au (rhythm sticks), and Hawaiian weapons like the leiomano, a shark-toothed club. Nearby, a screen shows a video from the Polynesian Voyaging Society, displaying the Hokulea, a massive double-hulled canoe, navigating the ocean.

Aunty Luana Maitland: That’s the voyaging canoe that sailed around the world. It’s a larger version, but in this area here, provisions were stored and topped off with a board, and this is where they would sleep.

Jenn: We approach a glass case with a wooden model of the Hokulea. Aunty Luana explains that sailors would spend months traveling from one destination to another in these canoes, relying only on the stars for navigation. As we pass the exhibits, Aunty Luana shares personal stories from her childhood, deeply rooted in Hawaiian culture. Her connection to these traditions is so strong that it’s clear her role at the Outrigger is more than just a job—it’s her true calling.

Aunty Luana: I was lucky to be part of a hula club at my church. My grandfather, a reverend, was there with me. They saw my interest in hula, so I started learning and by the age of nine, I was performing professionally.

Jenn: Aunty Luana tells me about the Surfers in Residence program at Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort, designed to celebrate modern surfing legends who visit Honolulu. The resort hosts surf icons, interviews them live in front of the hotel’s surfing memorabilia, and streams the sessions on social media for guests to join. Surfers in residence have included Olympic gold medalist Carissa Moore and Luke Shepardson, who won the 2023 Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational. On the day I visit, world-champion longboarder Bonga Perkins is in residence, and I join Aunty Luana as she interviews him. Afterward, we relax in the hotel lounge overlooking the very waves where Bonga honed his skills. He shares stories about the surfing greats he met in Waikīkī, including Buttons Kaluhiokalani, Larry Bertlemann, and Dino Miranda.

Bonga Perkins: Those guys were the true professionals, the pioneers of surfing in the '80s and '90s. If you look them up, you’ll see they were at the forefront of the sport during that era.

Jenn: There were also the elder surfers, the ‘uncles’ who spent time at the beach, teaching the younger surfers how to respect the sport. Uncles like Sammy Steamboat, a first-generation Beach Boy, and Rabbit Kekai, who counted Duke Kahanamoku as one of his earliest surf instructors.

Bonga: Those guys definitely taught me some tough lessons. Uncle Sammy Steamboat and Uncle Jamma gave me some serious scoldings when I got in their way. But it wasn’t just about the reprimands—they explained the reason behind it. I learned from their guidance, and eventually, they became my biggest supporters. One moment, they were on my case, and the next, they were offering me a sandwich and saying, 'Good job!'

Jenn: Bonga didn’t have much growing up, but he spent nearly every day of his childhood on the shores of Waikīkī with his dad. He was always surrounded by the elder beach boys who looked after him, sometimes even feeding him, and made sure he was going to school.

Bonga: It’s like having twenty dads on the beach, watching out for you, making sure you’re safe. If anything happened, they were right there to help.

Jenn: Bonga is the first to say that Waikīkī has changed dramatically since his childhood. There’s much more tourism now, and fewer beach boys, a culture some say is fading. But when Bonga returns with his five kids, all he wants is to get them into the same waves that have shaped his life. He even named one of his children after a wave he surfed here.

Bonga: I practically grew up in the sand here. I have deep roots in this place, not just with the people, but spiritually as well.

Jenn: Despite his fame, Bonga says that Waikīkī is what keeps him grounded.

Bonga: You go off and do your own thing, but you always come back. You walk through, greet the uncles, and reconnect with the friends you grew up with. It reminds you why you started, why you keep doing this.

Jenn: Listening to Bonga’s stories about Waikīkī, I realize that without the Outrigger and Aunty Luana, I would never have met him or heard these incredible stories from the past. It’s clear to me now that Waikīkī isn’t just a place for outsiders. Sure, there are luxury shops, tons of tourists, and grand hotels. But within some of these hotels lie Waikīkī’s true roots. They’re places where people like Misty, Dylan, Aunty Luana, and Bonga are still carrying on the traditions I was seeking. Hawaiian culture is alive and well here, supported by a community that continues to nurture it.

Aislyn: Thanks for tuning into this episode of “If These Walls Could Talk.”

We’ve included links to all the hotels mentioned in this episode in our show notes: the Royal Hawaiian, Outrigger Waikiki Beach Resort, and its sister property, the Outrigger Reef Waikiki Beach Resort. Be sure to follow Jenn on social media @jenniferleeflowers—don’t miss her fun and informative 60-second conservationist videos on TikTok.

Catch you next week.
Aislyn Greene, host: Hi, I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is Unpacked, the podcast where we break down one complex travel topic each week. This week, we continue with “If These Walls Could Talk,” our series exploring the hidden stories—and secrets—hotels have to tell about the places we visit. This time, we’re heading to one of the most iconic hotel destinations in Hawai’i: Waikīkī.

For this episode, we’re joined by Jennifer Flowers. Jenn is the senior deputy editor at Dinogo and oversees all of our hotel-related content, including our annual Stay List. She’s deeply immersed in the hotel industry, a world she’s been a part of since childhood—literally. In fact, we affectionately refer to her as Dinogo’s Eloise, since both her parents worked in hospitality and she spent her formative years growing up in hotels.

And as you’ll soon hear, Jenn knows Hawai’i like the back of her hand.

Aislyn: Hey, Jenn! How are you doing?

Jennifer Flowers, host: Hi, I’m thrilled to be here.

Aislyn: I’m so happy to have you. I’m really excited about this story—it’s such a unique perspective on Waikīkī. What inspired you to report this? What made you want to cover this story?

Jenn: I’ve been visiting Honolulu for as long as I can remember, and Waikīkī has always seemed like this larger-than-life place to me. It’s this flashy, bustling strip with high-end stores like Gucci, Chanel, and Prada lining the streets. As a kid, I used to play in the waves there. So, to me, Waikīkī holds two meanings: one as a touristy outsider destination, and the other as a personal, local connection.

And of course, my family is from there, so there’s that insider, local perspective as well. I’ve always been curious about what it means to the people who actually live there today, and how its significance has evolved over time.

Aislyn: Did you spend a lot of time there as a kid? How often were you at Waikīkī?

Jenn: I spent nearly every summer there, visiting family. My mom’s from Hawai’i—she’s Japanese American, third generation. Both my parents worked in the hospitality industry and actually met there. So, I have these amazing memories of picnics near Waikīkī, just enjoying the grass and the outdoors.

I vividly remember these giant buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken, which my brother, my aunties, and our family friends would eat together on the lawn. Waikīkī was always in the background, but now I’m eager to dive deeper and understand more about what it really means.

Is Waikīkī just a tourist hotspot, or does it hold a genuine, authentic connection to local culture?

Aislyn: And as listeners will hear, you really engage with people who have deep-rooted ties to Waikīkī—connections that many visitors might not typically consider when they’re just passing through as tourists.

Jenn: Exactly. I thought a lot about my parents' history with Waikīkī. They worked in the industry but never truly belonged to it. What I didn’t expect, as I started digging deeper, was just how profound the cultural and historical significance of this place really is.

Waikīkī is more than just a tourist destination—it holds deep historical meaning for both past and present generations. Interestingly, many locals actually want tourists to stay in the resort areas of Waikīkī, which is quite different from what you might expect. We’ll hear from Dylan Ching, the restaurateur behind Duke’s Waikīkī, who’ll share his perspective on this.

Dylan told me that many locals prefer tourists to stay in the hotels and resorts in Waikīkī, rather than in local neighborhoods where Airbnbs are driving up rents and disrupting the community. Waikīkī, while commercially important, also carries a rich cultural legacy that visitors can connect with in ways that might surprise them.

And that’s exactly what I uncovered during my visit with this mission in mind.

Jenn: Today, we’re visiting one of the world’s most iconic beaches: Waikīkī in Honolulu, Hawai’i. Every year, 4 million tourists flock to this two-mile stretch of sand on O‘ahu. My mom was born and raised in Honolulu, a third-generation Japanese American, and like many locals, she started her career in hospitality here. It’s also where she met my dad, who moved from Seattle to work at a hotel.

I’ve spent countless summers in Honolulu, visiting relatives and playing in the waves at Waikīkī Beach. This beach, the epicenter of tourism, is flanked by glitzy luxury shops and some of the most stunning hotels in the islands. While it’s always fun to hang out by the water, for as long as I can remember, the whole experience has felt somewhat like a tourist bubble—authenticity always seemed a little lacking.

On a recent trip to Honolulu, I remembered reading that Waikīkī was once a sacred place for Native Hawaiians, long before the first hotel appeared. In the 19th century, this was where Hawaiian royals, including the renowned King Kamehameha, would vacation. It’s also where they surfed, a sport exclusive to royalty at the time.

Waikīkī was known as a place of healing, with freshwater springs that flow into the ocean, believed by locals to cure ailments and soothe pain. It made me wonder: What happened to that rich legacy as hotels began to dominate the area? Do those deep Hawaiian traditions still live on in Waikīkī? And if they do, can Waikīkī’s hotels truly connect visitors to this heritage? Luckily, I found a few people working in some of Waikīkī’s most famous hotels who were eager to share their stories.

My first stop is the iconic Royal Hawaiian, which first opened its doors in 1927. If you’ve been to Waikīkī, you’ve probably seen it—it’s the grand, rose-colored hotel built in a Spanish Moorish style, with majestic arched entrances. It’s no wonder it's called ‘the Pink Palace of the Pacific.’ The hotel is surrounded by 15 acres of pristine sand and surf, offering such tranquility that the Navy even used it as a recuperation center during World War II. Today, it’s home to one of Waikīkī’s most famous luaus. I’ll admit, I’ve never actually attended a luau—it’s just not something my local family ever did, especially in Waikīkī. So, I’m in for a learning experience. I need someone to assure me that this isn’t just another tourist trap. Fortunately, I’ve found the perfect person to guide me.

Misty Thompson Tufono: What was truly remarkable about this place was the abundance of fresh water that flowed down from the three valleys above. Whenever you have access to water, that’s where villages thrive.

Jenn: That’s Misty Thompson Tufono, executive vice president of Tihati Productions, the company that runs the Aha’aina Luau at the Royal Hawaiian. Misty explains that Waikīkī wasn’t just a 19th-century playground for Hawaiian royalty—many Hawaiians also relied on the area for sustenance.

Misty: These lands were once covered with lo’i kalo, or taro patches, which fed tens of thousands of people in this region. The shoreline we’re looking at was also dotted with loko kuapā, fish ponds. These were natural resources carefully managed by the Hawaiians to feed thousands. That’s what makes Waikīkī so unique—a place rich in abundance.

Jenn: We’re sitting near the historic Monarch Room at the Royal Hawaiian, just outside where Tihati’s performance is about to begin.

Misty’s company, Tihati Productions, is the largest and longest-standing entertainment business in the state of Hawaii, having been established more than 50 years ago. Tihati specializes in Hawaiian and Polynesian entertainment, particularly through luaus and cultural performances. The company was founded by Misty’s parents—her father, Jack Tihati, who was born in Samoa, and her mother, Charlene Thompson, a renowned hula dancer. Today, the company is run by Misty and her brother, Afatia Thompson, the current president.

Tihati also acts as an ambassador for Hawaiian culture beyond the islands. The company has had the honor of performing for three U.S. presidents—Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama, who even invited them to perform at the White House.

Even now, Tihati remains a local business, employing over 600 performers and staff, including dancers, singers, emcees, musicians, and technicians.

Misty: We’re here because Hawaiian artists have helped elevate the world’s understanding of what Hawaiian artistry truly looks like. We take that responsibility very seriously. We embrace the kuleana, or duty, to perform to the highest standards so that visitors leave saying, 'This wasn’t just any ordinary luau, this was an incredible experience with incredibly talented people telling important stories in the most fun way possible.' It’s a big challenge, but one we’re committed to.

Jenn: Misty explains that while the main goal of a luau in a tourist setting is to entertain, it also provides a chance to educate visitors about Hawaiian culture, doing so with as much authenticity and respect as possible.

Misty: We have tens of thousands of visitors who may not know or even care about our culture and history, but by the end of our luau, they’ll care just a little more, they’ll wonder just a little more, and maybe they’ll take the time to learn about it on their own.

Jenn: Misty says the values she grew up with—cultural respect and hospitality—are still at the core of the 2,000+ shows they put on each year. With every luau, they’re able to reconnect with Waikīkī’s deep-rooted traditions.

As Misty tells this story, we hear a mesmerizing, eerie sound that she explains signals the start of the show.

Misty: That’s the sound of the conch shell. In Polynesia, the conch shell is used to command attention. It’s often blown to announce the arrival of an ali’i, a royal, or to mark the beginning of an important event.

Jenn: After learning so much from Misty, I’m eager to experience my first Waikīkī luau. The sky is still blue as hula dancers take the stage, with the sparkling ocean and sandy shores of Waikīkī as their backdrop. The three-hour show takes us through different eras of Waikīkī. I feel the cool ocean breeze as the dancers bring to life a segment about the Beach Boys—local surfers from the early 20th century who introduced tourists to the sport in exchange for tips. As the sun sets, the mood shifts—the hula skirts shine brighter, the dance becomes more dramatic, and a spectacular fire knife dance fills the sky, leaving me in awe.

The show isn’t just about impressing the audience. As the fire dancers toss their blazing knives into the air, the emcee introduces the performance as Siva Afi, a traditional Samoan art. It’s this balance between entertainment and cultural authenticity that Tihati strives for in every performance.

Misty: We celebrate our Polynesian heritage. But what I really want people to understand is that there’s a distinction. For example, this is not Hawaiian; it’s an influence from another South Pacific culture that has strong connections to Hawai’i, but it’s not originally Hawaiian.

Jenn: For instance, many people confuse Samoan fire knife dancing and Tahitian drumming with being Hawaiian traditions. Misty makes sure to incorporate these cultural elements into her performances with the utmost respect and clarity about their origins.

Another part of the show delves into the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom and the imprisonment of Queen Liliʻuokalani, the last monarch of Hawai’i in the late 19th century. An actress portraying Queen Liliʻuokalani glides across the stage in a stunning red and white gown with gold accents. As I watch, the emcee recounts how the queen was dethroned and imprisoned in 1893, and how she became a symbol of dignity and strength through one of the greatest injustices Hawaiians endured.

Misty: Some might think it’s too grim for a luau, but we chose to tell it from the perspective of our queen’s teachings. She said, ‘If we are to move forward in the face of foreign influences, we will do so with aloha because that’s our foundation, our cultural core.’

Jenn: Misty tells me the story behind the famous song “Aloha ’Oe,” written by Queen Lili’uokalani. Though many think it’s a song of goodbye, it’s actually not. Legend has it that the Queen saw a couple in a tender embrace, and this inspired her to compose a love song that captured the spirit of aloha—love, peace, respect, and compassion. For many Hawaiians, ‘Aloha ’Oe’ represents the enduring spirit of aloha, even during difficult times, much like those the Hawaiian people faced when the song was written.

My next stop is the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort, home to the renowned Duke’s Waikīkī restaurant. This is the perfect spot for a brunch with a view, especially when my local relatives want to impress visitors with stunning Waikīkī Beach scenery (though my Aunty Elaine always grumbles about the parking). The location on the beach is unbeatable.

Dylan Ching: There’s a reason kings and queens once vacationed here. The weather, the ocean, the vibe—it’s all just perfect. For me, I feel fortunate that I ended up here and that it’s become part of my very essence to be in Waikīkī.

Jenn: That’s Dylan Ching. Born on O‘ahu, raised in Maui, and now the vice president of operations for TS Restaurants, which includes Duke’s Waikīkī.

Dylan: I always feel like Duke’s is the place where locals and visitors can mingle comfortably, sitting side by side at the bar. It’s not like a local dive where tourists might feel out of place, nor is it a hotel restaurant where locals might feel disconnected from the atmosphere.

Jenn: The restaurant is named after Duke Kahanamoku, the legendary surfer who brought the sport to global fame—and surfed the very Waikīkī waves you’re hearing right now. A native Hawaiian waterman, Kahanamoku earned three Olympic gold medals in swimming in 1912 and 1920. Today, a nine-foot bronze statue in Waikīkī honors his legacy. Dylan is giving me a tour of the restaurant, which also serves as a tribute to both Duke and the sport of surfing.

Dylan: To me, Duke is the epitome of a Hawaiian. He was a true pioneer in so many areas—surfer, beach boy, swimmer, Olympian, actor. He was an ambassador of aloha, but also of Hawai’i. He traveled the world, showing people what Hawai’i was all about and what someone from Hawai’i represented.

Jenn: Dylan explains that Duke’s restaurant is able to keep his values alive by staying connected to the community. As we walk through, he points out a wall of fame filled with framed photos of locals who contribute to the preservation of Hawaiian cultural traditions.

Dylan: What we do in the community reflects who Duke was. Our goal is to support initiatives that Duke would have backed himself.

Jenn: The restaurant sponsors local events like surfing contests and makes donations to community centers and schools in the area.

Dylan: We believe that while we’re a busy place and bring in a lot of revenue, it’s also important to give back to the surrounding communities. It's not always easy for locals to get to Waikīkī, so we bring Duke’s to them.

Jenn: My journey through Waikīkī’s surfing history continues with Aunty Luana Maitland, the director of cultural experiences at the Outrigger Reef Waikīkī Beach Resort and its sister property, where Duke’s Waikīkī is located. She’s been with the resort for over 20 years.

We meet at the Outrigger Reef’s newly opened A’o Cultural Center, a place where visitors can learn to make leis, try hula, and even take Hawaiian language lessons. I’m fascinated by the artifacts in the room—some of which come from the Bishop Museum in Honolulu, dedicated to preserving Hawai’i’s natural and cultural history.

The Bishop Museum helped curate the exhibits here, which feature items like a ukulele, kala’au (rhythm sticks), and Hawaiian weaponry, including a leiomano, a club with shark teeth. Nearby, a large screen shows footage from the Polynesian Voyaging Society of the Hokulea, a massive double-hulled canoe, sailing across the ocean.

Aunty Luana Maitland: That’s the voyaging canoe that traveled around the world. As you can see, it’s on a larger scale, but this is the area where provisions were stored, and where they would top it off with a board for sleeping.

Jenn: We stop in front of a display case showcasing a wooden model of the Hokulea. Aunty Luana shares that it would take months for sailors to travel between destinations using these canoes. This very type of canoe was used by Polynesian navigators to reach Hawai’i as early as 400 C.E., relying solely on the stars for guidance. As we pass by the exhibits, Aunty Luana shares her personal stories, recalling her childhood steeped in Hawaiian culture. It's evident from her deep connection to these traditions that her work at the Outrigger is more than just a job—it’s her calling.

Aunty Luana: I was lucky to be part of a hula club at our church. My grandfather was a reverend there, and they noticed my interest in dancing. I started learning hula, and by the time I was nine, I was dancing professionally.

Jenn: Aunty Luana tells me about the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort’s new 'Surfers in Residence' program, which invites modern surfing legends to stay at the hotel. The resort hosts interviews with these surf icons in front of the hotel’s surfing memorabilia, live-streaming the sessions and encouraging guests to participate. Surfers like Olympic gold medalist Clarissa Moore and Luke Shepardson, the winner of the 2023 Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational, have been part of the program. As luck would have it, world-champion longboarder Bonga Perkins is in residence during my visit. I join Aunty Luana as she interviews Bonga, and afterward, we relax in the hotel lounge overlooking the very waves he grew up surfing. He shares stories about the legendary surfers he met in Waikīkī, including Buttons Kaluhiokalani, Larry Bertlemann, and Dino Miranda.

Bonga Perkins: Those guys were pioneers. If you look them up, you'll see they were at the forefront of surfing’s evolution, especially from the '80s into the early '90s. They shaped a lot of what the sport became.

Jenn: Bonga also speaks about the elder surfers, or 'uncles,' who spent their days at the beach, teaching him how to live like a true surfer. Among them were Sammy Steamboat, a first-generation Beach Boy, and Rabbit Kekai, who was taught by Duke Kahanamoku himself.

Bonga: That guy taught me a few lessons. His brother, Uncle Jamma, would give me some serious scoldings whenever I got in his way. But it wasn’t just yelling; they explained why it was happening, not just scolding and then walking off. So I took their words to heart, learned from them, and before I knew it, they were on my side, saying, 'Good job. Here, have a sandwich.'

Jenn: Bonga didn't have much growing up, but he spent nearly every day on Waikīkī Beach with his dad, surrounded by the elder beach boys. They looked after him, sometimes feeding him, and made sure he stayed in school.

Bonga: It was like having 20 dads on the beach, all watching out for you, making sure you’re safe. If something happened, they’d be there right away to help.

Jenn: Bonga is quick to acknowledge how much Waikīkī has changed since his childhood, with more tourists and fewer beach boys—something many consider a fading tradition. But when he brings his five kids back to the beach, his main goal is to get them in the waves that mean so much to him. He even named one of his kids after a wave he used to surf right here.

Bonga: I was practically born in this sand. I have deep roots here—not just with the people, but spiritually too, in all these different areas.

Jenn: Despite his fame, Bonga credits Waikīkī for keeping him grounded.

Bonga: You can go out and experience the world, but you always come back. You walk through and greet the uncles and old friends you grew up with, and it reminds you of why you started this journey in the first place.

Jenn: Listening to Bonga’s stories about Waikīkī, I realize I wouldn't have heard these incredible tales if it weren't for the Outrigger and Aunty Luana. I’ve come to understand that Waikīkī isn’t just a place for outsiders—sure, there are luxury shops, tourists, and impressive hotels. But some of these hotels are the heart of Waikīkī’s roots. They’re where people like Misty, Dylan, Aunty Luana, and Bonga carry on the traditions I was seeking. Hawaiian culture thrives here, supported by a community that nurtures it.

Aislyn: Thanks for tuning in to this episode of 'If These Walls Could Talk.'

We'll include links to the hotels mentioned in today’s episode in our show notes: the Royal Hawaiian, the Outrigger Waikīkī Beach Resort, and its sister property, the Outrigger Reef Waikīkī Beach Resort. And be sure to follow Jenn on social media @jenniferleeflowers—especially on TikTok where you can enjoy her fun and educational 60-second conservation videos.

We’ll catch you next week!

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You’ve been listening to Unpacked, brought to you by Dinogo Media. Produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed by Chris Colin.

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