Paradise Found, Paradise Lost and Paradise Bought.

In this global age, there are three versions of "The Real Hawaii." On my recent trip to the islands, I encountered all three.

Peppered among the palms of paradise are the homeless, gathered in groups of twos and threes along Kalakaua Avenue (The Strip) at Waikiki Beach. Elsewhere on Oahu are the Occupy Wall Street groups. The latter have found a common bond with the homeless, living outdoors under the tropical sun. These are the residents of Paradise Lost.

The throngs of tourists who come to Waikiki are the fortunate ones who can afford an average $200-plus per night for a hotel room with a lanai and ocean views. They are transient residents of Paradise Found.

Alone in his own surreal wonderland, Oracle CEO Larry Ellison just bought Paradise — the island of Lanai. The third-richest man in America and a global potentate, Ellison now has a territorial homeland befitting his stature.

The three Hawaiis clash and interact in many unexpected ways, indicative of what the new globalism promises.

Hawaii has the third-highest ratio of homeless to the general population in the U.S., the numbers swelled by migrants from the U.S. mainland.

George, a Vietnam War vet, is a sharp-eyed, wheelchair-bound regular on The Strip. He came via Chicago to the islands for a construction job. When he was seriously injured at work, he became homeless. Every day, if the police let him stay, he is found on the sidewalk outside a Starbucks. He is helped by a small circle of friends also stationed nearby.

Like many of the homeless on The Strip, George has relied on and benefited from the kindness of strangers.

He is flush with belongings, packed tightly into luggage given him, he says, or discarded by tourists. One woman gave him a beach umbrella, now retrofitted as a shade piece for his wheelchair.

I saw no sign of tourist unhappiness with the homeless, whom they rarely notice. But the police do enforce various ordinances on a selective basis. Such policing seems most concerned with demarcating living/sleeping spaces from plants and lush greenery so attractive to visitors.

Demarcation issues are more stressed by police in the OWS encampments. At Thomas Square, a sign declares that if regulations on the banks were as closely enforced as the park regulations, America wouldn’t be in its current mess.

In common alliance, both the police and the tourists bristle at the OWS presence.

Dean, a protester and a tech-educated ex-mainlander, told me he once got a $170 jaywalking ticket for crossing a deserted street at 2 a.m. In Paradise, OWS folks are an unwanted burden to those pursuing passing pleasures and summer luxuries.

Then there’s Larry Ellison. A tippy-top 1 percenter, he just bought 97 percent of Lanai.

I asked various individuals what they thought of the island’s purchase. Opinions were mixed.

Travis, a government worker, firmly believed one person shouldn’t have the whole island, not in this time of concerns about sustainability and stewardship. A young Army man from North Carolina saw nothing wrong with the purchase.

"Good for him! … Wish it was me."

George on The Strip had this idea, his eyes lighting up a bit as he spoke: Maybe some kind of home and work could be found on Lanai for the homeless. But like the pigeons on the beach, George might move when necessary but not too far and not for too long.

A waif from Jersey said it best, perhaps, when she hoped that Ellison didn’t think he owned every lanai in Hawaii. I couldn’t ask him. He wasn’t hanging out on my lanai.