Advertiser travel editor Wanda Adams is on a Norwegian Star cruise around the Islands, originally scheduled to also visit Fanning Island in Kiribati. This is the second of her daily diaries.

By Wanda A. Adams
Advertiser Travel Editor

SOMEWHERE OFF HAWAI'I, Aboard the Norwegian Star, 4:35 p.m. — "You know what I like about this? You really feel as though you're traveling. Not like an airplane where you get into a little box and then you get off the little box and you're somewhere else. On the ship, you're always where you are." Uh, right, Bonnie.

But to be fair to my cabin-mate, it was 5:30 in the morning when she made this observation as we stood on our balcony in our nightgowns, wiping the sleep from our eyes.

The windows of the homes along the Hamakua Coast reflected the rosy dawn and we saw cliffs, sea caves and waterfalls you can't see from land.

Bonnie has a point: Cruising is travel as it used to be, at a pace a human can comprehend. We watched O'ahu slip away last night as we at a late dinner. Then we slept in the rocking arms of the open sea and awoke off Hilo. Civilized.

Learning opportunities

Norwegian's trademark, "Freestyle Cruising," means you can eat when you want in the restaurant of your choice, as opposed to being assigned a table and a seating for the whole voyage, which is common on many cruise lines.

But Freestyle Cruising doesn't mean you won't be asked to share a table with people you've never met. This morning, our tablemates were Herb and Betty from Philadelphia, who have cruised a great deal in their retirement and have definite views on all shipboard matters.

The pair were full of questions about where to see black sand on the Big Island, how to get to Moloka'i for a day and whatever happened to the Bishop Estate scandal. But between these, they showed us how sitting with the same people throughout a cruise isn't bad.

Their best friends are people they met on a cruise to Greece. They like the opportunities to meet and exchange views and information with people they might not otherwise encounter. In fact, a cruise is full of such learning opportunities.

For novice cruisers, especially, the experience of those who have sailed many a sea is one of the few onboard extras that's both valuable and free. Like a number of people we've met, Herb and Betty are hooked on cruising because they like to pay in advance and know what their vacation will cost them.

But, especially aboard this mega-ship — which is somewhere between a floating hotel and a mobile mall — the opportunities to spend additional money are forcefully brought to your attention almost hourly. How do Herb and Betty stick to a budget?

Betty was firm: They skip most organized excursions, preferring to find another couple with whom to share a cab on shore in order to see something they're interested in.

They don't shop — on board or elsewhere. They're smart enough to refuse the smiling offer of a drink that appears to be a welcome-aboard freebie until you are presented with a bill. (Bonnie and I fell for this gambit and now own a pair of souvenir mugs that are so hideous they're far beyond tiki kitsch.)

Mostly, Betty and Herb just say no. Their joy comes from the sights they see and the people they meet. Good advice.

Small-town day

The guidebooks tell you that the Hilo Farmer's Market is only open on Wednesdays and Saturdays. But in fact, it's open almost every day, with vendors selling fresh obake anthuriums the size of small platters, bunches of ho'i'o fern picked in the rainy valleys, and lychee by the boxload.

Having arisen and breakfasted early, Bonnie and I hopped a cab and were cruising Kamehameha Avenue in Hilo before 8 a.m. The ostensible reason for hopping ship was to file this story at The Advertiser's Hilo office (much less costly than the $37.5 a crack and 75-cent-a-minute e-mail charge for wireless Internet aboard ship).

But we never connected with our Hilo correspondent, so, well, we just had to shop.

So don't bother going to Hilo. There's nothing left.

I bought all the Hilo Macaronic Co. Hilo Creme Crackers, the Mountain Apple brand smoked 'ahi at my favorite KTA store. At an antique shop, I found a 1954 Kekaha, Kaua'i, community cookbook with a Portuguese recipe in it I'd never heard of.

Bonnie had her mission: To visit the quirky Sugahara Lauhala Shop operated by sisters Elsie and June Sugawara.

The sisters, who are elderly and growing frail, aren't always there, so we were thrilled to peer in the door of the shop on a Hilo side street to find Elsie playing hanafuda cards with her old friend, Dorothy. We let the ladies finish their game while we bought up half the store; this is some of the last made-completely-in-Hawai'i lauhala left.

Following that interlude, we had just an hour before we had to be aboard ship, so we spent a riotous 15 minutes at Sig Zane's aloha wear shop, buying what we could while we kept an eye out for the bus that would take us back to the ship. (They don't tell you onboard that you can take a $5 round-trip into town by city bus; instead, they urge you to take the Hilo Hattie shuttle which offers, you guessed it, another shopping opportunity.)