Post #162004 by Sabina on Fri, May 27, 2005 4:43 PM

Gotta go with Tikifish on this one- the Kahiki. But from an earlier time, not it's later incarnation. It defintely meets the northerly snow and paradise cognitive dissonace defition, too.

The Kahiki was a fantasy- a poly-pop interpretation. I'm sure there are much more 'real' Tiki experiences, but the Kahiki most perfectly embodied the mainland fantasyland of Tiki for me.

(I'll illustrate with a few images I've culled from the net)

From the moment you drove in through the landscaping to the valets who made your car (and the outside world) melt away- you were somewhere else!

(Service was a key to the Kahiki's success as well- you were waited on hand and foot and made to feel like and island queen or tribal cheiftan for the evening. The Kahiki was a luxurous evening- filled with scents, sounds, images, and the Aloha of the people who worked there.)

You crossed the bridge, passing between the twin Moai with flames atop their heads.

Then pulled open the heavy oddly shaped doors- and entered a quiet grotto.

For just a moment, before the full sights and sounds and LAYERING of the Kahiki really hit you, you were in the most quiet dark beautiful cave of dripping glowing water, and you had passed from the outside world into SOMEWHERE ELSE! The outter doors had closed behind you, the inner doors were still closed. Both were heavy and kept alot of the sounds out of the grotto. Here you were confronted by lava walls, the sight of the purplish (blacklit) glowing water, and the sounds of the water dripping in the cave. It was a perfect moment of stillness between the outside world and entering the unimaginable.

Then you opened the second set of door and were confronted by "George",

with water burbling and fire atop his head, in his own hut- welcoming you through the wormhole, to a Tiki paradise! George was a riot of color and flame in his own grande foyer entry hut. He epitomised the shift from the quiet grotto to the overload of color and smells and sounds of the Kahiki.

From there, you checked your coat and stopped by the Outrigger bar. Here, mixologists created amazing drinks- perfectly balanced between sweet and sour, each served with care in their own shaped mug or glass with garnish and Kahiki's signatire picks and stir paddles. One could even order a huge brandy snifter of their "smoking eruption" which drifted dry ice fog across your table or seat at the bar.

Eventually, you asked the hostess to seat you and she would ask whether you prefered the Kauai Garden Booths (which faced the rain forest (with live parrots and a "rainstorm" from time to time, with thunder and lightning and 'rain' running down your windows), the Reef, (the booths alongside the saltwater aquariums), or Village dinning in or outside one of the huts. (Any choice was fine- they each had their own personality and sense of wonder!)

No matter which you chose, upon entering the dinning room you saw the entire quiet village was watched over by a multiple story tall benevolant idol with a fireplace for his mouth

Here, in this strange thatch covered paradise you could order puupuu platers with hibachis, psedo-island foods with fruits and seafoods aplenty, or perhaps even a mystery drink, brought forth by a "mystery girl". Not long after ordering a gong would sound and a Wahine would arrive bearing a flaming bowl of goodness (and staws longer than any you had EVER seen before- this must be a SPECIAL drink!) and a Lei.

Simply put, in my experience, the Kahiki was the most all encompassing, windowless, immersive Tiki palace ever (although the Mai Kai ALMOST ties it. The Mai Kai is in Tropical Ft. Lauderdale, though, and it's layout somehow lacks the windowless coherence of the Kahiki. To the Mai, Kai's credit, though, does have exterior gardens beyond belief, and that's something the Kahiki never really acomplished, even before it lost some of it's external gardens. You just can't grow plants like that in Ohio- period.)

Once you entered the Kahiki, external signs, like daylight no longer guided you. The Kahiki had the same lighting at 4pm as 11pm. It felt like a timeless place.

The Kahiki's dinning room design- built around the massive idol, created a certain coherence- a feeling of the 'God' watching over the entire village that was unique. In all my travels, I've never seen anything quite like it. The roof's peak was just above him, so all focal lines came back to him.

Here, you were undeniably entwined with the Tikis, and in their space, their village- not the other way around. They were not decoration- they 'owned' the space.

Best of all, the people of the Kahiki, the hostesses, the staff, the shopkeepers at the Beachcomber shop, the musicians, and perhaps most of all, the bartenders all exuded Aloha, and welcomed you in every way to their islands. The 'villagers' made all the difference, without them, the Kahiki would have been merely an architectural marvel.

There is simply nothing else on earth like the Kahiki.

And I miss it more than words can say.