by Julia Spalding

I lifted my head from the beach mat one dazzling afternoon on Maui's west coast—a stretch of sand quivering with vacationing humanity—and saw something that forever changed my orientation on this island of quiet, rugged beauty. A wiry Hawaiian boy in mask and flippers was shuffling out of the Napili Bay, a spear in one hand and an octopus in the other. The creature was as long as he was tall, and as he rinsed off its gray-brown tentacles in the surf, a clutch of his friends excitedly gathered around to admire the day's catch. The boy's father looked on from the beach, quietly nodding his approval.

Maybe it was my steady diet of mango daiquiris or my week of general shiftlessness, but for that first Paul Gauguin moment on the golden sand, I couldn't help but feel a little out of the loop. What else about Maui, the second-largest of the Hawaiian Islands, was I not seeing through my tourist goggles?

Created in a fiery explosion of two volcanoes (or by a powerful demigod who pulled it out of the sea with his magic fishhook, if you prefer), Maui is a hot spot that has not forgotten its roots. For every resort restaurant with a sunset view, there is a family-run diner where locals order potato-mac salad and wash it down with guava nectar. For every shop owner selling candles and board shorts, there is a native Hawaiian artist practicing the traditional mediums of lei-making or tapa-weaving. And for every sunset dinner cruise, there is a community outrigger canoe club bearing the torch for an ancient Polynesian way of life, in full ceremonial glory.

It's hard not to act like a giddy tourist in a place that serves no drink without a tropical flower on its rim, but when visitors want to step beyond the perfunctory Hilo Hattie experience, the Valley Isle will proudly oblige.

The revival of traditional Hawaiian culture has manifested itself in everything from a reintroduction of the Hawaiian language in island schools to elaborate Polynesian stage shows like Ulalena, a weekly Cirque de Soleil–like production about Hawaiian mythology and history. Up through the brochure kiosks, the resort-wear boutiques, the New Age entrepreneurs, and the real estate developers, echoes from Hawaii's past are getting louder and louder.

Music Lesson
Its people are listening, too. The movement is reflected in the range of Hawaiian activities at resorts such as the Kaanapali Beach Hotel, where guests can finesse the hukilau hula dance or listen to a ukulele jam session by employees who are encouraged to "talk story" about their island. "We are very dedicated to teaching our guests about Hawaii," says Lori Sablas, director of Po'okela (cultural training) at the hotel. Born and raised on the island, Sablas says she has watched her Maui become a little too Westernized over the years. "If we as an industry don't take responsibility for preserving our culture, then who will?" she wonders.

Fortunately, others have stepped up to the plate, as well. Radio station KNUI-AM, for example, features an all-Hawaiian music format. KNUI program director Boy Kana'e believes it is the beauty of the Hawaiian language itself—simple, melodic, and full of repeated syllables—that gives the music its built-in happy rhythm. "There is no way you can say 'aloha' in an angry way," Kana'e points out. "There is a flow to the language, even in our names, and the music is an extension of the language."

Old-school Hawaiian music is on the bill every Friday night at Blue Marlin Harborfront Grill & Bar in Ma'alaea, one of Kana'e's favorite local venues for live entertainment. But prepare to adjust your attitude about this buoyant genre that brought us hits like "Pearly Shells" and "My Coconut Hat." "When you see a 6-foot-5, 300-pound man singing falsetto," Kana'e says, "you're like, wow."

The music's natural companion, hula, has recently taken on a historic feel. Hula schools and performing groups on Maui have reclaimed the sacred dance form, demonstrating its powerful gestures, facial expressions, and hand movements in productions that span the theatrical spectrum, from free performances at shopping malls around the island to the show-stopping Old Lahaina Luau production, which tells the history of the island through its evolving forms of hula.

Local Flavor
Sometimes, though, it's hard to know where Maui's history lesson ends. Or even if it has ended. The island's unique chain of settlers, combined with its isolated geography and welcoming spirit, have turned its 728 square miles into a melting pot of Polynesian, Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, and Western ways. Cultural lines have blurred, styles are still merging, and nowhere else is this more obvious than in Hawaiian cuisine.

"The food of Hawaii is a mixture of all these different cultures—on one plate," says Yvonne Biegel, author of the guidebook 50 Thrifty Maui Restaurants. That explains why, technically speaking, everything from sticky rice to saimin noodles to Spam fall under the heading of local food.

But Hawaiian food stripped down to its purest element is a starchy, pudding-like staple called poi. Made from pounded taro root, the highly nutritious dish, whose consistency is measured by how many fingers you'll need to get it from the bowl to your mouth (one-finger poi, two-finger poi, three-finger poi), is best used as an accompaniment to stronger-flavored foods. When locals make it at home, they cover the bowl of mashed taro with a dishcloth and let it ferment to soured perfection. Visitors have a hard time getting used to the taste, but the highly digestible treat is part of the daily diet for Hawaiians. "Taro itself goes back to the beginning of Hawaii," says Biegel. "Hawaiians believe that they, too, come from taro."

Outside of their favorite auntie's kitchen, locals say the buffet-style Hawaiian Friday Lunch at Mixed Plate serves the best homemade poi (along with other Hawaiian soul foods: kalua pig, ahi poke, and pohole fern salad). The fresh poi made by the employees of Kaanapali Beach Hotel is also well-known on Maui, witnessed by the fact that it sells out regularly. Some say the enthusiastic sharing of food in Maui is the essence of aloha spirit—that genuine friendliness, openness to strangers, and willingness to give freely. Visitors who respond with an open heart and an open mind will be rewarded, seeing a whole different side of Maui.

Riding the Waves
Perhaps you'll see it aboard one of the island's most traditional modes of transportation—the outrigger canoe. In ancient times, the canoe connected all of Hawaii, and the world's most isolated island chain depended heavily on the craftsmanship and seamanship skills of its ancient Polynesians. Canoe clubs still practice at Hanakaoo Beach in the early-morning hours, and some will take visitors out for a spin in these modern-day versions of the hand-carved canoes their ancestors fashioned out of massive logs.

The Kihei Canoe Club offers visitor paddling ($25 donation requested) every Tuesday and Thursday at 8 am. "Sometimes in the winter we see whales," says Alika Atay, who serves on the board of directors for the Kihei Canoe Club. "Other times it's turtles, dolphins, or rays. Whatever the day brings, that's what we see." As an inside treat, the guides sometimes teach their charges favorite chants, perform a wreath ceremony, or gather the canoes at the end of the ride for a traditional prayer of thanks—for the fresh water we drink, for the sea that we play in, and for the privilege of paddling on Maui.

And for those who are so happy to show us Maui's true soul, a special thank you for sharing.

Los Angeles-based writer Julia Spalding, a frequent visitor to Maui, is still trying to acquire a taste for poi.

Good to Know

Layout. Most development is along the south and west coasts, in stark contrast to the unpopulated inland territory, called the Upcountry, and Maui's southern shore. Both of the latter areas are an adventurer's oasis, provided you rent a good 4-wheel-drive vehicle, allow yourself plenty of time to get from Point A to Point Z, and know that weather conditions can change dramatically from one side of the island to the other.

Money. Prices are steep, mainly because practically every consumer item has to be shipped in. Grocery and gasoline bills are particularly shocking, but at Maui's numerous roadside farmers markets, locals will cut you deals on everything from backyard-grown Maui onions to Hawaiian print backpacks.

Food. Splurge on a few amazing restaurant meals during your visit, as Maui is home to several world-class chefs pushing the Pacific Rim envelope with local ingredients. But don't ignore local comfort foods: macadamia pancakes, papaya with lemon, fish cakes, potato-macaroni salad, and that sweet refresher, shave ice.

Don't Miss. An easy, breezy bike ride down the sleeping volcano, Haleakala. You begin in the clouds and end up at the ocean, after cruising through miles of fragrant backcountry and quaint cowboy towns. Even in your bright yellow slicker and safety helmet, you'll feel as close to Maui as you can possibly get.

Take Home. Hit the Banyan Tree Art Fair in Lahaina on the second and fourth weekends of every month for handmade Hawaiian quilts and carved wooden bowls. And pack as many Wow-Wee Maui chocolate candy bars as you can. Flavors include macadamia nut-banana, Kona-caramel, Kaanapali Estate coffee-toffee, and Hawaiian coconut.