Around half-past eight, in Naalehu, Hawai’i, I walked into Shaka, the southernmost bar and restaurant in the United States. When I asked for food, the goateed man behind the bar apologized for the fact that the kitchen was closed. “What about poke?” I asked. That simple question broke the tension between my hunger and his schedule. With an air of relief, he waved me toward America’s southernmost refrigerated Coca-Cola case, which contained several [...]
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