John D. Fries still remembers fishing in the waters off Waikiki Beach in Oahu as a child in the 1960s. "Growing up, my family's hunting grounds were a source of food first and then entertainment," he says. “Today they are a stadium surrounded by hotels.”
Born and raised in Waikiki, De Fries was appointed head of the Hawaii Tourism Authority in September 2020, when the coronavirus shutdown sent the state's economy into decline but the community and environment were thriving. In 2019, the state of 1.5 million people hosted a record 10.4 million visitors - unsustainable numbers that left residents feeling stingy. Although tourism generated $2.07 billion in tax revenue that year, Hawaiians lamented its impact on traffic, beaches, and the cost of living.
For locals, de Fries says, the calm in 2020 has been "somewhat exhilarating." "I felt like we got our islands back."
But this was not sustainable either. Nor was the surge in July, when visitor numbers exceeded their 2019 level by 21% despite strict Covid-19 testing protocols, mask mandates, capacity restrictions and staff shortages.
“It was like putting 220 volts of electricity into a 110 volt circuit,” says de Fries. Rental cars have become so rare that U-Hauls are found in beach car parks; Resort prices are up, with hotel stays on Maui averaging $596 a night in August; New taxes were sought; Holiday thirsty visitors did not hesitate.
What comes next is a radically changed experience for visitors - and locals - hopefully in a good way. For the first time, the majority of the Hawaii Tourism Authority is run by Native Hawaiians, rather than mainland whites with hospitality degrees. With input from local residents, ranging from farmers to hotel owners, each of Hawaii's four counties has created a strategic plan that extends to 2025 and focuses on sustainable destination management rather than marketing.
The plan relies heavily on community participation and visitor education. "In the past, visitors fed what strangers thought they wanted," says Kainoa Horcajo, founder of Mo'olelo Group, a Maui-based consultancy that helps hotels reimagine their cultural experiences. "Now, it's time to take a risk, challenge the visitor, and give them something real."
Here are the ways your experience with the state may change in the near future, perhaps forever.
You will need a reservation to visit famous natural attractions
Would you like to see the black sand beach at Waianabanapa State Park on Maui or cross the Kalalau Trail on Kauai off your wish list? You will now have to make a reservation anywhere from 24 hours to 30 days in advance, depending on the location and season.
The new system, which covers nearly a dozen of Hawaii's most-visited parks, aims to reduce traffic in local communities and deal lightly with natural resources. The parking and entry fee for non-residents, which can cost anywhere from $5 to $15 per person, will also help with better site maintenance.
Take, for example, the Hanauma Bay Nature Reserve on Oahu, a marine area that received 3,000 visitors per day before the pandemic. The new measures there limit admission to 720 visitors per day and raise fees from $5 to $25 for non-residents. Before getting into the water, everyone is required to watch a 9-minute educational video talking about coral regeneration and marine life, and the park is closed two days a week to allow the ecosystem to rest.
Shaun Dee, executive vice president and chief commercial officer at Outrigger Hospitality Group, which operates nearly two dozen properties across Hawaii, calls this the future of sustainable tourism. "The water is cleaner, the visitors are educated, and the revenue helps run the bay," he says. "It's a win for everyone."
You will have to get a crash course on being a good tourist
The informative video at Hanuma Bay is just one example of how the country is trying to raise cultural and environmental awareness among visitors. In September, Hawaiian Airlines began broadcasting a five-minute video reminding guests to use only reef-safe sunscreen, stay away from endangered animals like monk seals, and be wary of rip currents and beach breaks in the ocean.
Meanwhile, John Benson, general manager of the Hyatt-run Hana-Maui Resort, has removed all previous amenities such as towels and lounge service at nearby Hamoa Beach, home to Hawaii's sacred cemetery. It will only restore them to their former state if the site can be properly honored with guidance from the local kupuna, or the elders, he says.
"Guests complain," admits Benson. “But when I explain why the services are being suspended, they begin to understand that the land around them is not just for photos and enjoyment. It has deep cultural significance. It is our responsibility to educate them.”
You may be charged a custody fee upon arrival
Oahu is currently lobbying to create a rolling tourism fee that applies to all incoming tourists and directly supports conservation and environmental management programs. The country appears eager to agree, given that it cannot spend more than 1% of its annual operating budget on managing natural resources.
Expect this to sound somewhat like the $100 fee that is charged when entering the port in the Galapagos, or included in tickets to the small Pacific island of Palau. (In the latter destination, it's called a "pristine paradise environment fee.") The government is looking at both examples to model what might come soon.
You'll see a less colonial version of Hawaiian culture
In the past, tourism fueled the stories marketing executives thought white people wanted to hear, says Clifford Nyoli, cultural consultant for the Ritz-Carlton, Maui, Kapalua, and former president of the Native Hawaiian Hospitality Association.
Hawaiian food was pineapple pizza and spam; The a luau were just girls dancing in grass skirts. Now, chefs proudly incorporate indigenous Hawaiian ingredients like ulu, or bread, into dishes, and luaus have become as much historical lessons about Polynesian immigration to Hawaii as they are entertainment.
For example, those garments would not include grass skirts—a uniform that nineteenth-century missionaries offered as a more modest alternative to traditional skirts and lion cloths made of kappa, or bark cloth. "Now when kumo teachers are told that costumes are too revealing, they respond and say that's traditional dress," says Nyoli.
You will also see this change when you receive a lie upon arrival. Now it will be made from locally grown flowers rather than orchids, which are imported from Southeast Asia with high financial and environmental costs and have only been used for decades because mainland whites found them satisfying.
At the Four Seasons Resort Maui in Wailea, local florist Lauren Shearer, owner of Hawaiian Flora + Fauna, teaches visitors how to make wreaths from local animals such as blue jade, crown flower, and fern. "Ancestors didn't just use alcohol for personal adornment," Shearer says. "It has also been used for peace treaties and for establishing hierarchies."
Other clichés are also rejected. For example, the newly renovated Outrigger Reef Waikiki Beach Resort on Oahu highlights modern Hawaiian music, not just traditional ukulele, hosting award-winning guitarists like Sean Na'auao every night. And at Grand Wailea, a Waldorf Astoria property on Maui, cultural ambassador Kalei 'Uwēko'olani goes beyond offering stilt canoe oars and brings in storytellers like navigator Kala Baybayan Tanaka to share tales of her father's historic technology-free Hokulea canoe crossing from Hawaii to Tahiti.
You will be encouraged to give
Last November, the Hawaii Tourism Authority launched a campaign in partnership with Hawaii Tourism USA (formerly the Hawaii Convention and Visitors Bureau) to introduce the concept of malama, or caring for the earth. "Everyone is attached to Aloha," says de Fries. "Malama stands out as a sister value."
"We'll always have tourists coming in for a poolside myi, but programs like Malama help us target a more mindful traveler," says Ilehia Johnson, public affairs officer for the Hawaii Tourism Authority.
Since its inception, the program has grown from 16 hotels and airline partners to 110 today, all committed to rewarding guests with a free night's stay if they spend a day helping clean beaches or reforest the land.
Traj Allen, a 36-year-old recording artist from New York, and his partner Barry Howe, 42, recently took their first trip to Hawaii and spent a day planting trees on Kauai with the Waikoloa Dry Forest Initiative to participate in Malama.
"I thought in my head we were going to a beach destination, and that experience was one of the highlights," says Allen. "It was a special feeling to be able to leave a legacy."