Two heavy-set locals perched merrily on bar stools-one strumming a ukulele, the other an electric bass, giggling their way into their second set. A young woman steps before the crowd, smiling as if she’d waited her entire life for this moment. The first chord is struck. The dancer transforms into a shifting breeze, mesmerizing the audience with an unrealistically sensuous sway of hips known as hula.

In Hana, you may find a mild-mannered Haole girl doing the honors on any given night. At other times a pair of wizened Tu-tus (aunties) gives sway. Weekends even call the menehune-sized keiki’s (children) to the stage. Singing and dancing seems to be a prerequisite to residency in Hana.

To witness this mirth, visitors in the know head to the foremost (and one of the only) bar/lounges in town-Paniolo Lounge of the Hotel Hana-Maui. To match the homespun display of talent, you’ll want a tropical drink named after the characters of Hawaiian mythology. Pele will give you passion and Maui strength. I just wanted a Leilani, a heavenly ambrosia, to match my mood. With the broad assortment of tropical fruits born in Hana, this is definitely the place to try a pink-spiked punch elixir, paper umbrella and all.

It’s fine to linger into the second set since the lounge offers a choice pupu menu, a hearty-enough substitute for a meal. Try the delectable Lobster-Avocado Tian for a true taste treat. Chunks of Maine lobster are mixed with assorted diced vegetables and folded into a cream dressing. The mixture is then molded into a cup-sized portion meant be eaten with paper-thin lavosh. It’s "broka da mouf."

Since Paniolo is the Hawaiian word for "cowboy," you can confidently order the glazed barbeque ribs. For pan-Asian tastes, try the steamed dumplings and seared ahi wrapped in wonton skin. Conservative diners will be surprised by the signature Paniolo fries seasoned with seaweed, served with a pleasantly surprising wasabi-flavored ketchup.

You snack, you sip, you applaud. You notice the distant palms now casting shadows in the moonlight. The ocean surf seems to have grown louder. Lights are low. Cool, misty breezes are warmed when the bartender lights the open hearth lava rock fireplace.

The singers strum a final chord, and then break into gales of laughter. Inside joke. They pack up their equipment. Guests linger a while longer. No one is in a hurry in Hana.