The Luau at Black Rock

After our morning spent driving a small piece of the Road to Hana, Conservative Hubby and I were ready to relax. So we spent the afternoon hanging out at the many resort pools, soaking up the sun.


And then it was time for a "must" on your first visit to Hawaii: a luau.


Based on a recommendation, we decided to check out the one at the Sheraton. It was an easy walk down the path along the beach from our hotel, which was a plus since we weren't interested in getting in the car again.


When we arrived, we had plenty of time for photo ops.


And watching the roasted pig as it was pulled out of the ground. (Sort of reminded me of the Collins pig roasts of my childhood, except I don't think My Dad and uncles ever dressed like this ...)

Then it was time to eat.


Here are the friendly folks we dined with. The ones with their backs to the camera are from Great Falls, Montana. This isn't all that far from where My Mom grew up and where My Grandma still lives. Small world, eh? Later in the week, we also ran into some people from Sheridan, Wyoming, who visit my home town each year for the motorcycle rally. Again, small world.


Anyhow. Then the sun started to set.


And the show began.


It was fun.


Colorful and energetic ... and full of the history of the islands.

Of course, when it came to the last performance of the evening, it was spectacular. I won't bother interrupting the show with words ...













(The next day, Conservative Hubby asked our favorite tiki bartender, Jerome, how authentic the show was. Jerome said it was pretty darn authentic. And so we believed him, because we believed everything Jerome said. I'm pretty sure Conservative Hubby had a man crush on him ... probably because he decided Jerome has the best job ever.)