Sometimes it’s a relief to fall into the hands of someone who trusts in serendipity with their whole heart, grasping any opportunity that comes your way. The Dallas Canadian, our Airbnb housemate, was the very man to nip our indecision in the bud, I don’t have any plans, let’s drive and see where we end up. If it hadn’t been for the rainy day we would have been long gone on the agonisingly slow 2 hours bus ride to Honolulu at 7am.

We found ourselves at a little organic farm for lunch, taking the back roads, relief from the highway. Vegetarian burgers and hawaiian salad, all courtesy of our new friend, he told us we could just Pay it Forward. He was an interesting guy, an ideas man, brain never stopping, only slowed enough to avoid sudden overload narcolepsy by ADD medication. A self confessed Sensitive with a capital S to the supernatural, an IT genius, Republican and a dedicated dad. After the meal, like he promised, we just drove and when Pearl Harbour slipped into the conversation we were suddenly on our way there. They had run out of tickets to the main event, a boat ride to the USS Arizona memorial, but as we wandered towards the ticket booth the clerk waved three free tickets at us, something electric was definitely in the air.

So many years later oil still leaks from the wreck below, a shimmering rainbow above the grave. Plastic dollar ponchos flapped in the breeze, suprisingly beautiful against the steal skies. It was a different world to the one where bullets and bombs rained from the skies, water lapped and names glistened in marble, solemn and peaceful. It’s not something we would have thought to do on our own, but it gave us an incredible appreciation for the history of the place, beyond the soaring towers and tourist filled beaches.