In recent months, the memory of an afternoon kissed by the trade wind, especially on the west coast of Oahu, has resurfaced in a lasting way, and at the same time, the idea of ​​understanding the history, culture, and cuisine of the Hawaiian Islands once again has emerged. These all aroused my curiosity about the stay a few years ago.

In this way, one June afternoon, I found myself lying on my back in an open-air cabin, gazing at the palm fronds fighting in the breeze, while the masseur’s impressively strong hands relieved the pressure accumulated during the pandemic era. The technology is Lomi Lomi, a sacred Hawaiian art of healing, and one of the spa methods offered by Four Seasons Resort Hualalai, a secluded resort on Hawaii’s sun-drenched Kona Coast, covering an area of ​​800 acres. I used to relax there and think about what I saw, heard and tasted from tip to tip, from the top of the mountain to the sea on the west side of the big island. In the happiness of post-Lomilomi, I walked along the lush landscape path-or maybe floating in my room, the size and overall atmosphere of the room is more like a suite, with a balcony overlooking the infinity pool. With thatched roof Palapas, the blue Pacific Ocean beats the white sand beach in the distance. After soothing showers and some reading, I began to explore the resort's one and a half mile and a half of the waterfront, only to be distracted by the duo singing Hawaiian songs on the lawn of the Mediterranean-style open-air restaurant, Beach Trees. Fixing a table, I ordered a Captain Ed, a cocktail whose pineapple fruity flavor masked the synergy of two rums: Kuleana and Old Lahaina, produced in Hawaii and Maui, respectively. When the summer sun began to set, due to Hawaii’s relative southern latitude, I decided to stay for dinner: a rich Caesar salad; spaghetti cacio e pepe made of Pecorino Toscano, which has a more delicate flavor than traditional Pecorino Romano; and another Savory sauteed mushrooms from the farm in Laupajoho near Hilo. When I tasted the last bite of the moody Vietti Nebbiolo'Perbacco', a lone seagull drew a line on the sea, its wings beating with gray pulses in the dark sky. Kona means leeward in the Hawaiian language. The Kona coast is not affected by the northeast trade winds and is almost always sunny. The morning heat quickly intensified. To overcome it, I had a breakfast ritual at the beachfront restaurant'Ulu, where I munched on lemon ricotta pancakes or paniolo (Hawaiian cowboy) burritos or avocado toast with basil and macadamia nuts. Pesto, you can drink a cup of French pure Kona coffee and squeezed caffeine. Its rich and smooth flavor provides a fascinating window to understand the geology and social history of the Big Island. Kona’s coffee is a product of volcanic activity, as is the Hawaiian Islands itself. The first time I drove along the coast of Kona, I was shocked by the vast lava fields. The scenery here is surprisingly similar to the foothills of Mount Etna in Sicily. I went there a few years ago to learn about Mount Etna. wine. The similarities are no coincidence. All of Hawaii's active volcanoes (one of them, Lō'ihi, is still buried deep under the waves and is unlikely to surface in another 200,000 years) are so-called shield volcanoes, just like the bottom of Mount Etna. All the familiar volcanic materials have reappeared in Hawaii, from cinders, boulders and jagged ridges, to spreading plumes, whose complex surfaces resemble marshmallows left in a fire for long periods of time. Grass and shrubs seem to have just begun to establish a foothold, which suggests that the eruption has occurred recently. In fact, this special lava river pours down from the side of Hualalai Mountain. From a geological point of view, the resort’s name came from this mountain only 220 years ago, but in a blink of an eye.

Located on an 800-acre secluded resort on the coast of Kona, Hawaii, the Four Seasons Resort Hualalai takes its name from a nearby volcano.

It is this series of eruptions that made Hualalai and its sister Mauna Loa rise south, creating the healthiest environment for coffee cultivation. The Kona Coffee Belt stretches for 40 miles along the western slopes of the two mountains, with elevations ranging from 500 to 3,000 feet. It has fertile volcanic soil, sunny mornings, rainy afternoons and mild nights—all the coffee element trees need success. The first coffee seeds were planted in Hawaii in 1817 by a Chilean. He served as a translator and doctor for the warrior chief Kamehameha I who unified the islands in 1810, but the coffee planting in Kona did not start until his later years. The 1850s. The first farm was established by landowners in Britain, Europe and the United States. Their demand for labor attracted a large number of immigrants, mainly from Japan and the Philippines, many of whom subsequently established their own farms and other businesses. Today, in the strange reversal of the trend of large-scale farms on the mainland, the Kona Coffee Belt supports as many as 600 farms, most of which are small family businesses. One morning, I ran into Monarch Coffee on the road along the Māmalahoa highway, a farm and bakery founded by Greg and Susy Stille in 2004. A former grocery store owner from Northern California who has been visiting the Hawaiian Islands for decades, Stilles tried for the first time to participate in coffee cultivation at the urging of Bay Area roasting company Equator Coffees co-founders Helen Russell and Brooke McDonnell. Today, Stilles and their family grow two coffee varieties, Gesha and Pacamara, on the slopes of Hualalai. Monarch only sells 100% Kona coffee, not to be confused with the ubiquitous "Kona coffee" blend, which by law must contain at least 10% Kona coffee. After studying the farm carefully and admiring its stout little trees (its juicy red cherries taste a bit like champagne white peaches) and understanding the complex processing and drying methods to preserve the nuances of aroma and flavor, it’s time Come a dump, or rather, dump. The beer in question is their most exclusive product, Gesha Peaberry, Monarch Estate. Most coffee cherries contain an oval double bean, while a pea is an isolated, more spherical bean. In the blind tasting, some connoisseurs can clearly tell the difference. I found its taste very pleasant, like mild black tea with rose hips. A one-pound bag costs $90, which is really expensive, but it’s not surprising when you consider the cost of land and labor, as well as protection against threats such as coffee berry borers, coffee leaf rust, and wild boar gangs. In order to find underground larvae, the coffee tree was uprooted. But growing coffee in Hawaii has always been difficult, and those who insist on doing so are out of loving labor. Buzzing, I walked south to date Kilauea. However, before hiking around the rim of the crater, you should refuel, so I stopped for lunch at the Manago Hotel in Captain Cook's town. Kinzo Manago and his wife Osame were founded in 1917. Osame used to sort coffee beans in a local mill and is now run by the third generation of the family. Its restaurant-for only $25, you can enjoy pickled vegetables, noodles, potato and macaroni salad, fried onions and rice, and two thick steaks fried with plenty of garlic butter-will always be in my memory middle. Back on the road, the car drove very slowly. Traffic is not rushed, thank goodness, because there are wild animals and other animals everywhere—dogs, cats, chickens, peacocks, meerkats, goats, and the aforementioned wild boars—which are discreetly displayed as "Hawaiian pigs" on the menus of some restaurants. "Buying mangoes at Captain Cook’s fruit stand. I was fascinated by a group of long-haired pigs. They are as cute as puppies, walking around under the macadamia tree. Fruit sellers see it. I stared at me. "To break the shell of a macadamia nut, it takes three hundred pounds of pressure," he said ominously. The piglet gobbles up like popcorn. Near the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park at the southern end of the island, I use the source I filled my bottle with rainwater from a faucet at the Laveeu Visitor Center, and then hiked to Halema'uma'u Crater, the hometown of the Hawaiian volcanic god Pelehonuamea. The air has a special heaviness and a firm sense of fear. Near the volcano, even on a calm day, it exhales about 60 metric tons of sulfur dioxide. This is not surprising. The trail winds through the moonscape colored yellow by volcanic vapor and passes over moss. The air vents emit a steaming breath from the unknown depths, and then enter a forest, where mysterious purple ferns spread out in the shade, and the sounds of invisible birds echo in the woods. Climbing up from the forest, The trail reached an overlook point from which I observed unfathomable depths: a volcanic crater one and a half mile wide and 1,600 feet deep, its floor covered with cinder and ash, hiding a slowly boiling lake some Hephaest The mechanism detected magma from 40 miles below the surface. In the spring and summer of 2018, there were more than 60,000 earthquakes on the top of Kilauea. The suppressed magma broke through a series of cracks, and the ensuing lava flow marched towards the sea It swallowed everything in the process, just like Hualalai in the early 1800s. Before sunset in the four seasons, I went to the beach, where the offshore lava was exposed to calm the waves. I put on a mask and dived into the waves, All kinds of creatures meandered in the water-the stout little eagle fish, the dazzling Moorish idol, and the big-mouthed thunder sturgeon with curious yellow eyes. I was fascinated by their movements and almost hit one. I was just busy gnawing on the honu (green sea turtle) sticking to the algae on the rocks. Rowing back to a safer distance, I marveled at the stubborn scratching of honu. I was a little hungry and looked at my watch. Before I booked the'Ulu, there was enough time to cheer me up quickly, the coconut boiled kanpachi with chilled Wakatake Onikoroshi “Demon Slayer” Junmai Daiginjo, it was simply a dream thing. At some point in my stay , I headed north along the coast to Puʻukoholā Heiau, a huge stone temple built in 1790, ordered by Kamehameha I. Dedicated to the god of war Kūk ā'ilimoku, which was built for human sacrifices. Since then, Kamehameha’s cousin and competitor Keoua, according to some reports, he happily came to the consecration ceremony without realizing his core in the program effect. However, Kūkā'ilimoku seemed very happy. Within 20 years, Kamehameha successfully placed these islands under his rule, and Pu'ukoholā Heiau became the first seat of government of the Kingdom of Hawaii. However, even though it mastered all the conspiracies and tricks, it did not reveal any secrets when it quietly shrouded in the sky over Pelekane Bay. Facing the water in the northwest, the peaks of Haleakala—the volcano’s name means "House of the Sun"—emerged from the clouds covering most of Maui. Just like on Oahu, I was once again keenly aware of the time it takes to understand a place and the prospects of other islands that have not yet been seen.