Ask someone from Kaua'i if they're from Hawaii and they'll say yes. But ask them which island and watch what happens.

There is Kaua'i time and there is O'ahu time and they are not the same thing.

Moloka'i runs on a different clock entirely. The Big Island has two sides that barely recognize each other.

Hawaii is eight islands and a few dozen microclimates and a few hundred years of history that most visitors don't have access to because they're looking at the ocean.

The ocean, for the record, is worth looking at.

Waimea Bay on a big swell day when the Eddie is on and the whole island comes down to watch.

Duke Kahanamoku at the entrance to Waikīkī because he introduced surfing to the world and this is how Honolulu says thank you.

Mauna Kea reaches 13,796 feet above sea level and deeper than that beneath the ocean. The tallest mountain on Earth measured from its base.

It is also sacred to Native Hawaiians. Both things are true and neither cancels the other.

Na Pali Coast from the water in summer when the sea caves are accessible and the cliffs are doing something that shouldn't be possible.

Waimea Canyon on Kaua'i, 3,600 feet deep, ten miles long, and almost impossible to describe to someone who thinks canyons only exist in the desert.

Makawao on Maui, where the paniolo culture runs deep and the upcountry has its own entire personality separate from anything happening on the coast.

Slack-key guitar on a Wednesday night somewhere that doesn't have a sign.

Kona coffee in the morning before the trade winds shift.

The honu resting on the beach at Poipu. Nobody rushes them. That's the whole lesson, actually.

The Hawaii hoodie and sweatshirt from Strange Allies carries the name in a cream retro arch. Regular fit. Reads differently depending on which island you're from.

A gift that means something to anyone who has had the argument about which island is best.

A souvenir that doesn't care which side you're on.

Hawaii contains multitudes. It always has.