HONOLULU — Waikiki is the world's most famous sand trap. Cushy, crowded, strewn with umbrellas and beach towels and surfboard rental stands, echoing the waterborne giggles of children and smelling of suntan lotion.
Say what you will about imported sand, urban sprawl and high-rise hotels ruining the scenery — Waikiki does have its detractors — but between 4.5 million and 5 million vacationers a year are willing to pay good money and cross half an ocean to get sand in their swimsuits here. And they all need a place to stay.
In mid-November, I spent 10 nights in Waikiki hotels and, while also working on other assignments, my days shopping for lodgings the same way any traveler can, by walking into the lobby and asking to see a room.
There are roughly 50 to 60 hotels in Waikiki, not counting hostels, condos and B&Bs. The exact number gets blurred because some establishments have both hotel rooms and multi-bedroom vacation condos, and some lodgings that would be considered studio apartments in any other city sell as standard hotel rooms here. To further muddy the waters, these hotels take a perverse delight in changing names, ownership or management faster than the maps or the booking agencies can keep up. I looked at or slept in rooms at 24 of them and was turned away from three.
In Waikiki, certain items are standard in virtually all hotel rooms, regardless of price category. You can expect air conditioning, TV, clock radio/alarm, telephone, mini-refrigerator and at least soap and shampoo in the bath. Most also provide in-room coffee service, hair dryer, in-room safe, and iron and ironing board. A lot offer only a shower instead of a bathtub, or they have a sort of shower/half-length tub that one hotelier described as a "Japanese soaking tub."
How upscale these features are, how grandly they are showcased and whether they are accompanied by additional comforts determine the room's price. So do the season, the brand name and proximity to the beach.
Waikiki is Honolulu's beach-and-hotel zone. It sits on the southern shore of the island of Oahu, where the beach itself and the waters of the Pacific form its southern boundary. Half a dozen blocks north of the beach is the Ala Wai Canal, dug in the 1920s to divert rainfall from the Koolau Mountains and drain the area for development. It forms the northern boundary of Waikiki. Because the canal flows west and then curves south to empty into the sea, it also forms the western boundary of Waikiki. Diamond Head marks the eastern border.
I decided to further divide Waikiki into four side-by-side regions — West, Central, East and Diamond Head — to make it easier to organize the hotel descriptions that follow. But these divisions are not haphazard; each has its defining elements, and the borders make sense.
The West is a rough triangle bounded by the ocean, of course, Ala Wai Canal and the line formed by Saratoga Road, as it borders Fort De Russy Park and then becomes Kalaimoku Street. Ft. De Russy Park is what really separates this district from the rest of Waikiki.
Central starts at Saratoga/Kalaimoku and stretches east to Kaiulani Street. The highest concentration of hotels, shopping and entertainment lies in this zone, where prime hotels hog the beachfront.
The East begins at Kaiulani and runs as far as Kapahulu Avenue, which borders Kapiolani Park. In this section, Kalakaua Avenue and a flagstone-paved promenade follow a beachfront park.
Diamond Head sits at the eastern end of Kapiolani Park.
The neighborhood is residential, with the exception of the three hotels there.
West
All of Waikiki is chockablock with fancy hotels, high-rise condos, tidy apartments and grubby slums. Those contrasts seem more pronounced in this part of town, where some buildings appear on the verge of breaking out in mildew. Hilton Hawaiian Village is the landmark here. Shops are most plentiful either at the Hilton's Rainbow Bazaar or at Ala Moana Shopping Center, which, strictly speaking, is outside of Waikiki proper, seeing as how it's on the other side of the Ala Wai Canal. Fort De Russy Park is the dominant geographic feature. Ala Wai Yacht Harbor is the prosperity symbol.
Pick a hotel here if: you are ready to do a lot of walking; you like to be near wide-open spaces; you have the time to take things at a slower pace; you need to be reasonably near the convention center.
Avoid it if: you want to be within two blocks of the beach (unless you're staying at the Hilton); you want the night life at your doorstep.
Some other hotels here: Doubletree Alana Waikiki, Waikiki Gateway, Waikiki Terrace, Ohana Maile Sky Court. The Hale Koa is a military hotel.
Hilton Hawaiian Village
Ever since the photogenic Rainbow Tower was completed in 1968, the Waikiki skyline has never been the same. The 286-foot-high rainbow, made of more than 28,000 ceramic tiles, has become the man-made bookend to the natural hulk of Diamond Head.
The hotel is both older than the Rainbow Tower and newer. What began as a sort of thatched-roof village — hence the name — has grown into a complex with six hotel towers, more restaurants than you can count and a brand new spa.
I spent two nights in the Tapa Tower, Room 2141. My favorite feature was the balcony that looked toward Diamond Head. Every time I opened the sliding glass doors to step out, the air conditioning in the room turned off automatically.
At first glance, 2141 seemed fine, except for the juncture where the carpet gaped, ragged and graceless, at the entrance to the bathroom. The room was larger than it had to be to fit a king bed and dual bedside tables, TV armoire, game-size table and two chairs. In the closet, the safe looked like it would have held more than the mini-fridge in the room's wet bar.
But then the "but thens" started emerging: But then the clock radio/alarm didn't work because, as it turned out, someone had unplugged it; but then there were tiny black ants crawling in the bathroom floor behind the toilet; but then the water pressure was scarcely strong enough to take a shower, and I had to let it run for many wasteful minutes to warm up; but then they expected me to pay an extra $3.50 to use the four-cup pouch of coffee in the room, when I'd seen the same size packet selling for $1.59 at the ABC convenience store on property. (And by the end of the trip, this would prove to be the only hotel I saw that charged for in-room coffee. Elsewhere it was complimentary.) I delighted in the charms of the Hilton's grounds and restaurants, but it wasn't necessary to stay there to enjoy them. The room rates stuck me as inflated compared with similar accommodations, considering the condition of my room. But somebody's got to buy the penguin feed.
Rates: $179-$485; 800-774-1500; www.hilton.com
Aston Hawaii Polo Inn
If there is such a thing as a shoestring boutique hotel, this is it. Room 803 on the eighth floor had a tile entry and a tile counter that did triple duty as room divider, coffee bar and hand sink for the separate toilet and shower. Wicker chairs, rattan headboard, bright fabrics and a ceiling fan gave the room its personality. And, though the balconies of rooms closer to Ala Moana Boulevard might suffer from traffic noise, 803's was a little farther back and somewhat protected. The ugly stepsister here was the dirty grout on the old tile in the shower.
Rates: $65-$145; 800-922-7866; www.aston-hotels.com
Hawaii Prince Hotel
When you come into Waikiki from the airport, the Hawaii Prince's sculptured waterfall and see-all-the-way-through glass lobby make you lust for a reservation here. This upscale business hotel is on the fringe of the vacationer's Waikiki, partly because it's the farthest west and partly because its ocean side is separated from the beach by the Ala Wai Yacht Harbor and a tangle of cyclone fences and construction materials next door. Among the hotel's services are free shuttles to Waikiki and to the hotel's own 27-hole golf course, located off property.
Like every room at this two-tower high-rise, Room 1015 on the 10th floor of the Ala Moana Tower overlooked the yacht harbor and the Pacific beyond. Its decor followed the design dictates of so many newish upscale hotels: predominating cream-on-white color scheme, oversize marble bathroom with separate shower and separate toilet with phone. Furnishings included two tub chairs, a small vanity/desk and a TV armoire, all set on gray textured carpet and accented in celery green. The flashlight by the bed was a thoughtful extra (and one I personally found useful when I stayed at the Hyatt Regency here in 1996). Lord & Mayfair toiletries brightened the bathroom. Two robes hung in the closet.
Note: Don't confuse this property with the Honolulu Prince, which is a budget stay toward the eastern end of Waikiki.
Rates: $300-$440; 800-321-6248; www.princeresortshawaii.com
Central
When people say Waikiki is crowded, this is the part they are talking about. The oldest and grandest hotels are here, right on the beach — a beach that has to compete with shopping plazas for tourists' attention. The Sheraton Moana Surfrider and the Royal Hawaiian are both historic landmark hotels; and I would probably add the Hawaii Beachcomber, only because Don Ho still performs there.
Narrow streets are jammed with budget rooms and budget eats, the green-and-yellow of Roberts tour buses and the red blur of trolleys that will take you away from it all.
Pick a hotel here if: you like to be close to the action; you want to divide your time between the beach and shopping without wasting precious minutes driving, taking a trolley or walking very far.
Avoid it if: you don't want a hotel between you and the beach (unless you stay in one of the beach hotels); you can't handle crowded sidewalks or bus fumes.
Some other hotels here: Sheraton Princess Kaiulani, Sheraton Waikiki and more Outriggers and Ohanas than you can shake a palm frond at.
Royal Hawaiian
Since its opening day in 1927, no other structure has so symbolized the glamor of Waikiki. Everything is pink, from the inside out. In the historic building, where I spent three nights on the fourth floor in the corner Room 471, the towels, the bathmat, the robes, the sheets, even the cover on the ironing board were pink. The parquet tile entry, which ran the length of the room all the way to the bathroom, was laid in a pink-on-white pattern. The drawers in the TV armoire, in the closet and in the writing desk were lined with white paper printed with the Royal Hawaiian logo in pink.
Even the sunrises I watched from my Diamond Head view windows and the sunset I caught from my lawn-and-ocean view windows were pink. When I looked down, I saw the pink-and white stripes of the hotel's beach umbrellas.
The room was vast, twice the size of the standard rooms in the historic part of the hotel, and could have become part of a larger suite. It was large enough for a secluded entry, a marble vanity nook with potted orchids, a long closet with louvered doors, two double beds with foot benches, a TV armoire, a writing desk and chair, a large potted palm and an occasional chair and ottoman — with space to spare. Its ceiling was high and recessed, and the bathroom, though small, was clad in rose chipped-marble tiles and stocked with a crystal tray covered with Royal Hawaiian toiletries. A small loaf of banana bread welcomed me to my room, and turn-down service left chocolate coins each evening and a pink note cards that disclosed a bit of the hotel's history.
I wish I were still there.
But my stay was not without flaws. I didn't take to the idea of having to make reservations for Sunday brunch or to lie on one of the hotel's beach loungers. When I sat in the tub in my room, I could see the rough wooden underpinnings of the rose marble facade under the bathroom sink. The water pressure wasn't as strong as I would have liked. There were a few scuffs at the feet of the furniture's legs, some faint stains on the carpet and on the fabric of the occasional chair — not distracting, but noticeable. And I couldn't figure out why, in a room as large as this, there was only one night stand between the two beds, or why there was only one phone, on the night stand instead of the writing desk.
The furnishings seemed fresher in Room 1108 on the 11th floor of the hotel's high-rise tower. It was equally plush, but its deep balcony made a poor substitute for the warmth of the historic wing.
Rates: $475-$1,500; 800-782-9488; www.sheraton-hawaii.com
Aston Waikiki Joy Hotel
I was going to spend one only night here, but was comfortable spending a second when another story assignment meant I'd need to stay put most of a day to write. The Waikiki Joy is one of those affordable little boutique hotels you always wished existed but were afraid didn't. Finding this one was half the fun of staying there. When I stepped into the tile entry of Room 409, the JVC stereo was softly playing music from a Hawaiian station over Bose car speakers built into the desk and dresser console. There was just enough space on the gray carpet for the king-size bed, a rattan love seat, a faux stone coffee table and a stool for the desk. A two-person oval Jacuzzi bathtub dominated the oversized bathroom, where Aston-branded toiletries were arranged on a mirrored tray and — another nice touch — a glass jewelry box held cotton balls and swabs.
Despite its close-to-it-all location, the Waikiki Joy was in a secluded spot, so little noise reached my balcony.
Continental breakfast was included, and the resident restaurant/coffee house/karaoke bar, Cappuccino's, served a tidy Japanese lunch. But I didn't stay more than two nights because I never could shake the room's faint cigarette odor. I couldn't help but notice a few water stains on the ceiling. And I had other places yet to stay.
Rates: $125-$285; 800-922-7866; www.astonhotels.com
The Imperial
Room 2001 on the 21st floor made the most of its compact space with a Murphy bed that folded into the wall when not in use and a second bed that folded out of a rattan sofa. That left walking-around room on the new navy carpet that shared the studio with a TV stand and a tile-floored kitchenette with microwave, fridge, mini sink, toaster and paper towels. There were chairs on the balcony, and the bathroom had a cultured marble counter.
Rates: $99-$189; 800-347-2582; www.imperialofwaikiki.com
East
The beach park that starts just past the Sheraton Moana Surfrider continues all the way past the oceanfront aquarium in Kapiolani Park. But this section, known as Kuhio Beach Park, is paved with a flagstone walk that's interrupted by shaded picnic tables where locals, mostly, meet for chess games after dark.
This section of Waikiki is just as densely packed as Central, but is not as boisterous because there are fewer stores and restaurants. Shopping here is of the hotel-lobby variety.
Pick a hotel here if: you don't want to share beach access with a sprawling hotel.
Avoid it if: you need to be a tad closer to shopping and dining.
Pacific Beach Hotel
I think I decided to spend a night here when I kept reading about the hotel's Oceanarium Restaurant with its three-story, 280,000-gallon aquarium. Seeing Room 1008 cinched the deal, and I stayed a second night because I liked the location. The room could have held more than the king bed, dual night stands, cane table and chairs, dresser and TV console, but the extra space was nice. Its mini fridge was larger than usual, and its mirrored closet doors concealed two pairs of beach sandals. There was a corner sink in the freshly painted bathroom with enough room on its cultured marble counter for two people to get ready at once. The hair dryer doubled as a night light. The furniture was a bit scuffed, and I saw a few spots on the carpet. But the room had nice touches like color-coordinated crown molding, and its balcony faced Diamond Head.
Rates: $200-$310; 800-367-6060; www.pacificbeachhotel.com
Ilima
If the Koolau Mountains were anywhere else, people would be fighting for a view of them instead of the beach. Room 1107 on the 11th floor framed them with a large balcony, or obscured the view with leaf-print sheers. Recent remodeling left 1107 a studio with fresh wallpaper, new carpet, two double beds, desk and chair, table and chairs and lots of elbow room. The compact kitchen had decorative tile, a fridge, half sink, four-burner stove, oven and microwave. The bathroom was gifted with new fixtures, tile and a pedestal sink. There was a laundry basket in the closet, and the hair dryer doubled as night light.
Rates: $99-$310; 808-923-1877; www.ilima.com
Diamond Head
Diamond Head Crater's familiar silhouette is a wild thrust of a mountain that pierces the sky with three toothy peaks, then swoops down to the sea.
Pick a hotel here if: you want to feel like you are visiting Hawaii in an earlier decade, possibly on one of the outer islands; you plan to hike Diamond Head first thing in the morning.
Avoid it if: you are in a hurry or looking for lots of action.
W Honolulu
Here's one hotel where the rooms actually look more inviting in person than they do in the brochure or on the Web site. Room 422 on the fourth floor was done in restful creams and whites that made the low bed and cane lounge chair seem like museum pieces. The TV hid in a pie-safe cabinet, and a high-speed data port was contained in the desk. Cloth shelves and terry robes hung in the closet. Marble clad the oversized bath that had bamboo shelving and a half-size tub.
But this hotel is not on the waterfront or the beachfront. And they were having a bit of trouble with the hotel's lone elevator the day I was there.
Rates: $350-$3,000; 877-W-HOTELS; or at www.starwood.com