“Hawaii is not a state of mind, but a state of grace.” — Paul Theroux, an American novelist and travel writer
“I didn’t expect to fall in love with a village—but here I was, walking slower just to stay in it longer.” That moment happened somewhere along Ali‘i Drive in Kailua Village, as the ocean pushed gently against lava rocks and plumeria trees dropped their blossoms at my feet. Kona isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be. It wraps you in a rhythm that feels older than time—woven with salt air, history, and a deep sense of peace.
Best Things to Do in Kona, HI
Kailua Village
I began in Kailua Village, the heartbeat of Kona. The pace here is soft—people walking barefoot from shop to shore, surfers with boards under their arms, the smell of grilled mahi mahi mingling with salt and sunscreen. I wandered past art galleries and open-air cafés, watched a fisherman cast his net into the shallows, and paused in front of a mural depicting ancient Hawaiian royalty. It felt alive with layers—tourists mingling with heritage, commerce brushing against culture. “This isn’t a resort town,” I thought. “It’s a real place with an old soul.”
Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park
Next was Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park, where black lava fields stretch out to meet the sea. I followed a sandy trail past ancient petroglyphs and into an open clearing where fishponds once sustained generations. A green sea turtle rested near the shoreline, and I stood still, not wanting to disturb the silence. The ocean here wasn’t loud—it whispered. And the land answered. “This is what sacred feels like,” I wrote in my notes, hushed by the presence of something deeper.
Puuhonua-o-Honaunau National Historical Park
Further south, I reached Puuhonua o Honaunau, the “Place of Refuge.” The reconstructed temples, tiki carvings, and royal grounds stood stoic against the coast. The lava underfoot was jagged and hot, but the palm trees swayed as if to remind me: forgiveness has always been here. It was once a sanctuary for those who broke kapu—sacred law—and standing there, I could feel the gravity of second chances. The air felt still, as if even the breeze chose to listen.
Kanaloa Octopus Farm
In the afternoon, I visited the Kanaloa Octopus Farm, tucked away near the Natural Energy Lab. I watched as a guide gently introduced a small octopus—its skin pulsing with color, its arms curling like quiet questions. Learning about their intelligence, their curiosity, their near-magical way of moving through the world—it stayed with me. Afterward, I stopped at a nearby café and ordered a poke bowl: cubes of ahi, creamy avocado, bright ginger, and a bed of warm rice. The flavor was balanced and ocean-fresh, with a hint of sesame that clung to the back of my tongue. I ate slowly, watching the sea from my shaded table.
Hulihee Palace
Back in town, I stepped into the elegant quiet of Hulihee Palace. Once a royal vacation home, it now holds Hawaiian artifacts, portraits, and stories that pulse through its coral-lava rock walls. I admired feather capes and koa wood furniture, pausing at the wide lanai that overlooked the bay. The past didn’t feel far away—it felt like it was sitting in the next room, sipping tea, waiting to be remembered.
Keauhou Bay
At Keauhou Bay, the day softened into golden hour. I walked the shoreline and watched paddlers move across the water like ink strokes on glass. This bay once welcomed royal births and quiet victories—it still feels protective, like the sea gathers itself here before spreading wide again. A couple was fishing off the rocks, their lines arcing into the horizon, and I sat nearby just to listen to the tide pull at the lava. "You could stay forever,” I thought.
Atlantis Adventures
As the sun dipped low, I boarded a submersible with Atlantis Adventures for a descent into Kona’s underwater world. Through thick glass, coral formations unfurled below, and schools of bright fish swam past like scattered jewels. The light filtered down in ribbons. A sea turtle glided by—calm, assured. We hovered near a sunken ship, algae-covered and transformed into reef. The silence down there was complete, but never empty.
Kona At a Glance
- Drive Time from Kona Airport: ~15 minutes south to Kailua Village
- Vibe: Historical, ocean-kissed, deeply rooted
- Highlights: Sacred sites, sea life, walkable town, cultural landmarks
- Best Time to Visit: Winter for calm seas and mild weather; late spring for fewer crowds
- Cost: Moderate; many historical parks have low or no entry fee
- Food Tip: Try a local poke bowl near the Natural Energy Lab after visiting the octopus farm
- Local Secret: Mornings on Ali‘i Drive are best for coffee and tidepool exploring before the shops open
Travel Tips: Best Time to Visit Kona, HI
In my experience, November through May is the sweet spot. You’ll get sunny days, low humidity, and fewer crowds. Plus, December through March is prime whale-watching season—nothing beats seeing a humpback breach offshore while sipping your morning coffee.
How to Get to Kona, HI
- By Air: Fly into Kona International Airport (KOA). I love how easy it is—open-air walkways, quick baggage claim, and you’re in paradise in no time.
- By Car: I always rent a car in Kona. The island’s best beaches, parks, and coffee farms are spread out, and the drives are as scenic as the destinations.
- By Cruise: If you’re visiting by ship, Kona is one of those ports where you’ll want to hop off and explore right away. Everything from the waterfront to shops and beach spots is close by.
Where to Stay in Kona, HI
- Recommended for Families: Outrigger Kona Resort and Spa – I’ve seen families thrive here—plenty of space, a fun pool, and manta ray viewing decks that kids absolutely love.
- For Couples: Holualoa Inn – Nestled in the hills above Kona, this peaceful inn feels like your own private hideaway. Sunsets from the lanai and gourmet breakfasts made this one of my most relaxing stays.
- For a Boutique Stay: Kona Tiki Hotel – I love the vintage island vibe here. The rooms are simple but steps from the ocean, and the sound of waves at night is all the luxury I need.
Final Thoughts
Kona is layered. It doesn’t rush or perform. It teaches by letting you stand quietly in old places and watch new waves roll in. I came with a list of places. I left with a deeper understanding of presence—how it feels, how it heals, and how Kona lives in it completely.
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