Tourists everywhere.

There are so many tourists in town that last night at 7:30pm  I could not find a restaurant with a spare table and it was nine o'clock before I happened upon an establishment which could relieve me of an extortionate amount of money for a very ordinary meal. This morning's breakfast was a similar event which after a twenty minute wait for a table to become available turned into a true farce, first of all a meal completely different from my order appeared then after remonstrating with the waitress my meal appeared but the seniors version of my order, by then I was so hungry I ate what was delivered and then had to argue about the bill. I find this kind of contretemps quite a challenge as you can imagine because us Brits don't like to complain do we? I am learning rapidly that Johnny Foreigner is quite accepting of viable complaints so don't be embarrassed go for it.
Today was an excercise in tourist avoidance and most of the morning I was quite successful until I had the hunger pangs and started looking for lunch, I am afraid Waikiki is a dire place for food suitable to the European palate, most places cater for the Asian tourist with sushi, noodles and udon whatever that is and the rest of the offerings are either inedible chains such as McDonalds or grease-ridden fast food pizza or Mexican joints it was that bad that I wandered around for over three hours before I found an ABC shop similar to the traditional 7/11 that sold basic sandwiches.
I did venture into the Ala Moana Centre, according to Leena it is the largest outdoor mall in the world (aren't Americans great with their superlatives?) anyway I lasted less than quarter of an hour and most of that was spent lost in Macy's which I had incorrectly thought was a department store not just for women's clothing. The best thing about the place was a Buddhist monk in his orange robe sitting on a bench outside Victoria's Secret talking on his iPhone, I wish I had had my camera with me.
This evening's culinary adventure was a non-chain fast food takeaway that specialised in steak, chicken and surf to go with the turf, the food was good, reasonably priced and the staff were helpful to this ignorant traveller, I will go back there again. I finished off the night at Kelley O'Neil's which had a diddlyie band who when left on their own played Irish songs that always had some reference to whiskey in them and when induced to play "Irish songs" they changed the tune (think of Eric Clapton and his second take on Leila) and in some cases the words, in fact their version of Black Velvet Band was pornographic but that was OK because no one could decipher the brogue anyway.