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The Island of Oahu is one of those American places that fully embraced the car half a century ago.

If you are in Waikiki, you'll find everything in a walking distant. A bit pricey, but you can walk to it. Things are different in Manoa or in Kaneoe. You have to walk 15 minutes to reach a café, 30 minutes for a bakery, one hour for an Irish pub and I have yet to see a cheese shop. And there are many streets without sidewalk. There is a decent bus system, but things are so far apart that it is hardly convenient, except for the daily commute to the beach.

Fortunately, there is more than the suburbuian shopping malls. Here and there, if you know where to look, there are many family owned shops with a lot of warmth, humanity and cachet.

In the middle of Mo'ili'ili there is Da Spot, an exceptional smoothie and plate lunch snack bar. "Do you mind if I do it myself? Things are still in the same place?" A customer steps behind the counter to prepare his own special kind of smoothie. Is it possible that he can't find the one that he wants in the impressive list of 20 or so flavors? "Taste this sample while you make your mind." Chocolate, haupia, and something else with an exotic name. This one is not advertised yet, it's in beta.

Ako and her husband Ahmad seems to know all their customers by name. "Hello Mahdi, did you find an apartment yet?" The food they sell is quite unique too: Egyptian with a touch of South Pacific. Traditional middle eastern meals are augmented with tropical flavors. Coconut and pineapple meet curry and fava beans. They cook whatever they feel like that day; the menu changes all the time. There is always a vegetarian meal and there is no spam in sight.

For 6.50 USD you get a medium plate meal, a smoothie, and a baklava. That's good enough for me. I'm a strong supporter of mass transit. But, the bus from Kaneohe drops me at Ala Moana mall. If I need a car to go to Da Spot, so be it. Live Aloha.

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There are many strange and unexpected things in Hawaii. There are no mosquitoes, McDonald restaurants serve rice and homeless people are shaped like body builders. I guess there is no way around it when you surf all day. Usually, you can explain the unexpected by the remoteness of the young islands. But I still don't get why there is so much Spam.

Hawaiians love Spam. Grocery stores hold industrial quantities of it, and they have a comprehensive selection too. Spam is even served in restaurants. Almost all plate lunches come with a complimentary slice of Spam. Only the fish plates are free of it.

Who am I to complain? If they like it, good for them. I'm not a cultural fundamentalist either, far from it. I even eat poutine with chop sticks. But it gets too far when they replace salmon with Spam in maki sushi.

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In Montréal, bagel shops never close. Don't get me wrong, I could wait until sunrise to get a snack. I would not mind. And there are alternatives. But, when dawn barely shows, when birds start to sing, it seems that I'm hardwired for bagels, fresh from a wood-fired oven.

It might be that I'm skeptical. Do they ever close? Some say that they can't even lock their door. Indeed, Fairmont Bagel's door has no handle, knob, or anything that vaguely resemble a locking mechanism. This is hardly conclusive, they could install another door when they close. But no mater when I go there, at night, at noon, on Labor Day, or on Yom Kippur, they are open and there are other people shopping. Always, wood burning and bagels tightly packed, roasting in plain view for everyone to admire while the delightful smell makes their mouth water. One must have a really twisted schedule if he doesn't hit a lineup at Fairmont Bagel.

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