Travel feature highlights scenic landscapes and local tourism

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If this was a movie, I would step from the plane to the tarmac, a warm island breeze tousling my hair as a beautiful Hawaiian girl gently drapes a fragrant lei around my neck. (Also I would be Elvis, or Gidget, or Adam Sandler.)

In real life, landing at Honolulu International Airport isn’t quite so romantic. I still descend directly onto the tarmac, but the shock of humidity and blistering sun – after 10 or so sub-zero hours in one of the fleet’s older planes – makes my head spin.

Perhaps the airline knows I’ll forget the discomfort of the journey the minute that first mouthful of shaved ice hits my lips? There lies the magic of Oahu. When you’re in the Aloha State, you’re in an aloha state of mind.

I’ve been to Oahu three times; each visit better than the last. From historic Haleiwa to the Pink Palace of the Pacific, the curtain of nostalgia draped over Oahu makes every return trip feel like the first time.

On the most recent trip, my sizeable baby bump scored us a sizeable upgrade at the Hertz counter. In fact, the Mercedes-Benz was so tricked out that neither my husband nor I could figure out how to work the audio or the air-conditioning. So we kick off our Hawaiian adventure driving with the windows down and listening to local radio tuned to ’60s surf rock.

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We headed straight for the North Shore, for a few nights at Turtle Bay Resort to help us slip into the holiday rhythm. On a bird-watching tour, our excitable host regaled us with tales of Hawaiian legend, intermittently shouting “Ruddy Turnstone!” whenever he spotted the threatened species nearby. A mid-morning walk to buy fried bananas from the Kuilima Farm Stand across the road quickly became ritual.

One afternoon at the resort’s private beach, which we somehow had all to ourselves, we swam with sea turtles as they crashed into the shore and enthusiastically paddled back out to do it over and over again. We ate kalua pork cooked in an imu (underground oven), hiked the Kahuku Coastline Trail and watched a sunset wedding ceremony from our ocean-view balcony. That trope about feeling like you’re in a postcard? I think it started here.

But going to Oahu just to experience the mecca for surfing, golfing and Ruddy Turnstone-spotting is only half the fun. You really need to experience the North Shore’s raw, rugged beauty together with the pulsating gaucherie of the Waikiki strip to appreciate it all. Ii’s a combination that just works, just like the island’s beloved Spam musubi – a grab-and-go snack featuring a slice of fried Spam atop a layer of rice, wrapped in nori.

The fact that Oahu is Hawaii’s most-visited island is painfully evident every time I try navigating the footpath of Waikiki’s main street, Kalakaua Avenue. Gracefully ageing mid-rise hotel towers line one side. Glorious golden sand stretches out on the other, gentle waves lapping the shore at intervals for which novice surfers on longboards are eternally grateful. But as a favoured destination for corporate conferences, college competitions and family reunions, it has a Gold Coast-like energy that many cannot stomach.

As a repeat visitor, I navigate this neighbourhood via the backstreets. That’s where things get really good. Because, yes, a drink beneath The Moana Surfrider’s banyan tree canopy will deliver a fabulous photo moment, but pulling up a table at Cuckoo Coconuts to sip a Blue Hawaiian from a plastic cup and hear the band play Steely Dan? Aloha state, unlocked.

Every trip to Oahu, I am transported back, back, back. To when 20-year-old me bumped into surfing legend Kelly Slater in the lobby of Turtle Bay, or when 26-year-old me convinced my then-boyfriend to spend the last night of our trip dining on the Tex-Mex delicacies of Chili’s baby-back ribs and mozzarella cheese sticks (where I learned that some happy memories really do just belong where you left them ... back in 2004).

On my next visit, with two kids in tow, I’ll introduce them to The Cheesecake Factory, order the same Chinese Chicken Salad (no mandarin, noodles on the side) from the lunch specials menu – its own magnificent time capsule – and my husband and I will regale them with tales of how we once saw the world’s then No.1 surfer waiting outside for a table, or had a lovely Midwestern couple shout us a round of drinks when they found out we were Aussies, or how we brought our eldest there when he was still in my belly.

Travelling to discover something new is one of life’s greatest pleasures. But returning to a place that feels like home, that reminds you of every other time you’ve been and that invites you to slip back into the familiar, is equally magic.