Honolulu's Chinatown Is the Creative Heart of Urban Hawaii
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Paul Strouse
In one 15-square-block swath of this metropolis on the Pacific, you can catch exhibits from cutting-edge contemporary artists, have dinner at one of the country's best Vietnamese restaurants, browse rare books and prints, or shop for one-of-a-kind housewares, fashion, and ephemera at effortlessly cool vintage boutiques—all against a cinematic backdrop of midcentury architecture that feels frozen in time. The neighborhood isn't in Los Angeles, San Francisco, or Seattle, though. It's Honolulu's Chinatown, about five miles west of tourist-saturated Waikiki, near the courthouses and government buildings of downtown.
With travelers to the Aloha State making a greater effort to engage with local life beyond the beaches and resorts, many are giving Chinatown, also known as the Chinatown Arts District, a closer look. That's especially important at a time when Chinatowns across America are shrinking or disappearing altogether due to gentrification and rising costs of living. And it's worthwhile in Honolulu because—and I'm speaking as someone who was born in the city—there's absolutely no other place in Hawaii like it. Walk around the neighborhood after a bowl of pho at The Pig and the Lady or dim sum at Fook Lam and you'll encounter the most diverse mix of histories, cultures, and languages—including Mandarin, Cantonese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Tagalog—to be found on the islands.
When it was established in the 1840s near Honolulu Harbor, Chinatown was where whaling ships docked after hunting expeditions in the Pacific. Throughout the sugarcane era that began in the 1850s, Chinese plantation workers settled the area, turning it into a bustling commercial district. During World War II brothels and gambling dens along Hotel Street gave Chinatown a seedy reputation that was exacerbated in subsequent decades by illegal drug use, vagrancy, and prostitution. Most of that activity has vanished over the last 15 years, thanks in no small part to a thriving restaurant scene that has redefined fine dining in the city. But the neighborhood still has its gritty side.
“I wanted to be in a permeable, creative part of Honolulu for the adventurous and curious,” says Maile Meyer, a native Hawaiian who in 2020 opened Native Books, which specializes in Hawaiian literature. It's a sentiment shared by many of her fellow small-business owners, who appreciate the window the neighborhood provides onto the local culture of an island many outsiders imagine solely as a land of palm trees and mai tais. “What I enjoy about Chinatown also sometimes frustrates me—it has a life energy,” says Travis Flazer, who, with his partner, Mark Pei, opened the shop Hound & Quail 13 years ago. They sell an assortment of local curiosities, including taxidermy pheasants, vintage field jackets, and bowls made of coconut shells. “It's not clean, it's not perfect. I think that's what keeps it interesting,” he says.
Reasonable rent is one factor behind the flourishing creative community here, along with institutions that draw like-minded locals—and, increasingly, discerning tourists. The Arts at Marks Garage was a pioneer when it opened in 2001 in a former parking structure, and it remains an incubator for various forms of creative expression, with poetry readings, cultural workshops, music performances, and exhibits from contemporary Hawaiian artists. One block over, the Downtown Art Center—a nonprofit that partners with such organizations as the Hawaii Potters Guild, Hawaii Handweavers' Hui, and the Hawaii Watercolor Society—opened in the fall of 2020. It offers exhibition space to artists who would otherwise have few options to produce and show their work. It's easy to combine stops at these hubs with a visit to the Honolulu Museum of Art, the state's largest fine arts museum, where works by Monet and Picasso sit beside an expansive Asian art collection.
“There's history and culture here,” says Roberta Oaks, who opened her namesake shop on Nuuanu Avenue in 2009 selling colorful printed aloha shirts of her own design. “I always felt like I belonged in Chinatown, in this creative community. Our goal as small-business owners is to attract and cater to locals. By doing so, an authenticity is created that pulls in visitors who are looking for a real experience.”
Chinatown is also, Flazer observes, a place for a different kind of Hawaiian adventure, one that doesn't involve hiking Diamond Head or taking a surf lesson. “When you walk behind a closed door in Chinatown, you never know what to expect,” he says. “But it's often something wonderful—a beautiful wine bar you never knew existed, like Tchin Tchin on Hotel Street. This is where you find surprising pockets you don't get anywhere else on Oahu.”
This article appeared in the December 2024 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.
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