When I travel, I make a point to seek out and shop at independent bookstores. So, imagine my delight when I googled and discovered Talk Story Bookstore in Hanapepe, a short distance from Poipu where I was staying with my husband’s family, celebrating his sons’ 50th birthday on Kauai.
Cool car on Hanapepe Road
The day I set out to hopefully buy a book, I’d opted out of hiking in various parts of Kauai with the clan because I hadn’t worn enough sun screen the day prior. And because a stomach bug needed to settle. When I finally ventured out of our room, I prayed I wouldn’t need a loo during my Hanapepe adventure.
After a pleasant 25-minute drive from Poipu, I arrived in Hanapepe to find it, at first glance, a seemingly dilapidated town. My GPS drove me to Talk Story Bookstore via a dirt road, skirting the hanging bridge constructions.
An abandoned building off Hanapepe Road, the main drag, where I eventually parked.
According to a tile mural I spotted:
“Hanapepe means crushed bay, perhaps because of the appearance of the cliffs from the sea. Ancient Hawaiians lived in the fertile valley long before Captain Cook arrived in 1778. The main staple grown in the valley was Kalo (Taro). Salt trading from the Hanapepe salt ponds was one of the earliest forms of commerce in Hanapepe. In the 1880s the sugarcane industry flourished, bringing Chineses, Japanese, Portuguese, Puerto Rican, and Philippine immigrants to town. Successful generations of immigrants built the many storefronts one sees in Hanapepe today.”
Tile mural with the historical Hanapepe description from above
I parked my car on the corner across the street from Talking Story Books, noting it didn’t look as sparkly as the watercolor rendering on their website—the difference between reality and paint—and approached the bookstore, hopeful. Entering the shop, I discovered it bustling, with voices rising from amongst the books, and a young girl running about with a stuffed rooster, the unofficial bird of Kauai.
Talk Story Bookstore opened its doors in 2004, and touts itself as the “westernmost bookstore of the United States.” For those of you not familiar with Hawaiian-speak, and the reason for the bookstore name, “talk story” is a Hawaiian phrase for chatting, gossiping or shooting the breeze.
Talk Story, the bookstore, has this to say: “‘Talk Story’ is defined as a place to chit-chat with old and new friends alike. A space to share stories, share laughs and develop friendships. With a large variety of new books, used books, out of print books, comic books, vinyl records, vintage books, rare and collectibles,” [Talk Story Bookstore] promises “to have something for everyone.” Google them for more information. They are the #1 shopping destination on the island.
As I made my way around the girl with the stuffed rooster, I plucked a souvenir “Talk Story tote” from the shelf and made my way through the aisles looking for poetry. Finding myself in the used and rare poetry and literature sections, I spied a hardbound copy of John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. I picked it up swooning, as it is one of my favorite Steinbeck novels, but put it back on the shelf not sure it was the book meant for me on this book shopping excursion, and what would I do with it?
And then… my intestines rumbled, and my skin grew sweaty.
I made my way to the register and with pleading eyes asked to use the Toilet.
“It’s behind that building, in the park,” the blond lady I assumed was the proprietor said, pointing out the window.
“Here,” I said, thrusting the souvenir tote at her, “I’ll be back.” But, truthfully I wasn’t sure. I was miffed.
My feet hitting pavement, I started my trek to the loo, and soon realized driving would be quicker. As I parked the car by the park restrooms, I sat for a moment and surveyed my surroundings. An older gentleman was waiting outside the Women’s sign, and was soon joined by a white haired woman. As they walked away, a disheveled man wearing a soiled army jacket, calf-length shorts and blue tape wrapped around his calves shuffled towards the Men’s sign. Instead of going in, he swayed, watching the couple walk away. He struck me as “off,” so I reversed the car and drove to the intersection where I spied a Shell station.
Saved. Or so I thought until I wondered why my feet were sticking to the restroom floor. I shan’t go into detail, but those familiar with my recent poetry know I write about homelessness and feces-turd towers.
Blü Umi (l), and Japanese Grandma’s Cafe (r). The cafe serves killer sushi.
Back in my car, I wrestled with my feelings. Was I perturbed enough with the proprietor who sent me to the loo in the park to not buy a book from her westernmost bookstore in the United States? I drove the length of Hanapepe Road to determine if there was more to buy on the street than just books. And, I can attest to the fact that commerce is alive and well in Hanapepe. I know this because I did some damage at Blü Umi and dined on a fresh ahi salad with avocados at the adjoining Japanese Grandma’s Cafe before walking back to Talk Story Bookstore. Important aside: Japanese Grandma’s has a divine restroom “for customers.” And I had a chit-chat with Keiko the proprietor and she is delightful.
The pristine-est loo I’ve ever seen
Back at Talk Story Bookstore, thankfully the blond lady was gone, replaced by a seemingly nice guy. And this time as I made my way through the aisles, I landed immediately on the display of poetry I’d missed the first time. And there a collection of poetry by Reyna Biddly jumped out at me. I snatched it from the shelf and flipped through several pages, thrilled to find a poet who formats her poems like I like to format mine.
Voila! Missed it the first time. Poetry.
I guess the moral of this travel missive is that sometimes you gotta walk through shit to find what you’re looking for.
