Ukulele shopping on Oahu; lots of choices, but…

Ukulele shopping on Oahu; lots of choices, but…

Ah, Oahu. Land of pineapple and sugarcane.

Okay, not so much these days.

But it certainly is Valhalla for ukulele players. Especially those looking to add a four-string lovely to their instrument stable.

But that wasn’t the only reason why Mark and I visited the island known as “The Gathering Place” (or is that just a tourist slogan?). There are other things to do on Oahu. Things beside search out ukulele shops, play multitudes of koa (and other) delights, talk story with ukulele players even more passionate about ukes than I and just absorb the island ukulele vibe.

Well, sure there are. But the ukuleles are the best part.

And, this visit, I knew I’d discover a perfect second ukulele. Yes, “second” as in just one beyond a single ukulele. You see, my little LoPrinzi soprano and I have been monogamous for ten years now; other instruments have tempted me at the more than 25 festivals I’ve attended, but none stole my heart. I figured perhaps I was simply a one-uke gal–and I was kinda proud of that loyalty.

But I have to admit that way down deep, there was a yearning that my spruce-topped, perky LoPrinzi didn’t seem to address. Something tugged at me, drawing me toward a low G tuning. And the heritage of the ukulele tantalized me; shouldn’t I really consider an instrument made in Hawaii, its birthplace? And the size–well, I love my soprano, yet just think of making a BIG sound with a tenor… (but would my playing mistakes sound bigger, too? Egads!)

So I toted my little LoPrinzi on Hawaiian Air (‘love those ABS Gator cases for the crowded overhead bins) and we jetted our way to Honolulu—but it felt like heading to a pet store with your favorite pup slobbering in your ear over the seat back; just a little bit duplicitous…HNL

Walking around the shops in Waikiki I deftly wallpapered over my guilt though (heck, the LoPrinzi was back in the room; it couldn’t hurt if I just looked at *other* ukuleles, could it?). Store after store presented a myriad of options. Soon my mind blurred with all the possibilities.

That’s when I made a life-changing decision: My LoPrinzi needed a sibling; I just felt it. So I set out to do some serious damage to the credit card. With Mark’s support of course (he doesn’t play ukulele, but he’s a vigorous enthusiast of *me* playing. Marital happiness? You bet!).

But finding the “just right” ukulele for me wasn’t easy. Goldilocks tried out lots of the porridge, chairs and beds in the ursine abode, but she had nothing on me on Oahu.

I wandered into Bob’s Ukulele, at that time in the Royal Hawaiian shopping complex (now in the Marriott). Lots of Hawaiian-made instruments there, including Kamaka, Keli’i, Sonny D (I saw lots of Sonny Ds this time in Hawaii; I’ve never seen so many of those before), Kanile’a and KoAloha. Prices ranged from beginner instruments at $100 up to $1,200 or so; most were in the $300 to $500 range. The guys there seem to like to play ukulele to show you what they sound like—but I’m more into doing the playing myself. I can see how tourists might enjoy knowing how it’s *supposed* to sound, though, if they’ve never played an ukulele themselves. I went back twice to see if my first impression was different but I still kept getting the feeling that the guys running this place want to play and weren’t so happy to have me asking about getting ukulele down off the wall for me to test and play.

Next up was Bruce Shimabukuro’s The Ukebox, in the Pacific Hotel past the Duke Kahanamoku statue. The Ukebox is closed these days (website says it’ll re-open soon at a different location). Previously this location was Ukulele PuaPua’s and when we visited it in late 2012 it still seemed to tailor its offerings to Japanese players—the free 4 pm lesson was in Japanese that day! Again, an abundance of quality mid-range ukulele. But nothing that sparked my interest.

puapua1I then double-dipped with Ukulele PuaPua, visiting both shops. The one on Kalakaua at the Moana Surfrider (I *love* their deep front lana’i with its rocking chairs) is a narrow little storefront that seems to draw in more of the “just looking” tourists. The Sheraton Waikiki location is bigger, brighter and just seems a higher-end store. After looking around a bit, I asked a salesperson if I could play some of the “nicer” instruments. He looked at me, evaluating whether I could really tell the difference (hey, I may not play well, but I do like to play on a good instrument) but then happily started bringing down the good stuff. I played ukuleles by Ana’ole, I’iwi, Maui Music and even a DeVine. While Mark told me I could have “anything” I wanted, this particular DeVine truly didn’t really make my heart beat any faster. I kept looking.

After three round trips through the shop and noting that I was still embroiled in the search, Mark headed out to the nearby lobby area and found himself a comfortable seat. When I asked the salesperson if I could take an ukulele out to show him, the young guy laughed. “Usually it’s the wives who are in and then out of here quickly to do something else. I’ve never had a lady looking at ukuleles by herself with her husband not interested.”

Hmpf.

Yet with all those ukuleles, none tempted me. I was briefly smitten with a premium Kanile’a; its koa was like auburn ribbons and the black fretboard set off the body’s curl. The sound was mellow and it was setup so it played well, even for someone who’s only used to sopranos. But I wasn’t smitten enough to bring out the credit card. I figured if I was breaking out of a solo relationship of ten years, it’d have to be for an instrument that put me on tiptoes every time I looked at it, held it, sniffed it and played it.

Heading Ewa along the Waikiki area, I found Skye’s Koa and Ukulele, inside the shopping area at Outrigger Reef on the Beach. It had the usual Hawaiian K brands—and lots of non-ukulele souvenirs. But the guy helping that evening was really friendly and accommodating. Points for helpfulness. Not so much for the ukulele of my dreams.

Five ukulele shops down. Still no ukulele for me, though.

[Non-ukulele interlude follows; stay tuned]: By 7:45 the next morning, Mark and I, along with my mom and dad, were headed north on the freeway (thank goodness most folks were heading the other way; the roads in Hawaii aren’t really built for lots of vehicle traffic. “High occupancy lanes” don’t exist—thankfully—as far as I could tell).

NASDad and Mom lived on the side of Punchbowl in the early 50s while Dad was stationed flying on SuperConnies out of Barbers Point Naval Air Station. I discovered a flight school at the decommissioned airport and arranged for Dad and Mom to fly out of Barbers Point in a small plane and take an aerial island tour. Mom had never been allowed on the base in earlier years so she enjoyed seeing the places Dad had always talked about. Dad, meanwhile, got to take off and land on the same runways he had lifted off from while he was doing reconnaissance in the Korean War. He was quiet on the flight, I understand, but he didn’t stop smiling for three hours afterward.

[Back to ukuleles, now; thanks for being patient]: Post-flight, we drove through the plains of Oahu toward the North Shore and Haleiwa. While some might think surfing, we ukulele folks know what the North Shore really means: Hawaii Music Supply—it’s simply the belly button at the center of all things ukulele on the island.

I wasn’t sure what to expect; I’ve known Mike (aka MusicGuyMic) for years but never seen him on his own turf. Or would that be sand? The storefront is unimposing but don’t let the looks deceive you: just walking in will give any ukulele afficionado chicken skin.HMS_3

Sopranos, tenors, concerts and, yes, even baritones line the walls. Look up, look behind, look across the room—all you’ll see are ukuleles. And each one of them is tagged with a price (I hate it when I have to ask) and ready to play. Michael, after greeting me with a huge hug, brought down instrument after instrument. Some were offered to me just so I could explore something different, some were offered as possibilities that Mike thought I might like to add to my family.

“So, you’re finally serious about getting a second ukulele,” he smiled, with the emphasis on “second.” I know, I know; most uke players I know are at least at the half-dozen level of ownership. Gee, I was starting to feel a bit embarrassed.

I played Kanile’as. I played KoAlohas. I played imports. I played customs. I played little tiny ukuleles and big, boomy tenors.

I even took one ukulele outside to see it better in the sunshine. As I held it up, I asked Mark, “I like the way this one sounds; does it look good with me?”

Seeing me hold the ukulele against my (exceedingly pale–c’mon, I don’t get much sun where I live) leg, Mike couldn’t stop laughing. “I’ve never seen anyone test an ukulele to see how it looks with their skintone.”

HMS_4But, in the end, even though I really, really wanted to find something that was “just right” for me, I didn’t.

What, in heaven’s name, was I expecting to find? I was on Oahu. I’d shopped the stores I was interested in (yes, I know I missed the “factories,” but I’d been to many of them on previous trips) but at the end of the day, I returned to my little LoPrinzi.

Maybe I’d built up the idea of a “second” ukulele into a dream that was impossible to fit into reality…