At first, many were leery of the oddball penguin newcomer.

In truth, some were still coming to terms with Daiei, still calling the stores "Holiday Mart" like back in the day.

But Don Quijote? That's not a Japanese name, right? Hey, are they still going sell bento and Sato-hap?

As it turned out, Don Quijote is Super Daiei, Daiei XXX-treme. There's everything Daiei had, but lots more of it, piled and stacked six deep in a labyrinth of shelves, all obsessively labeled with huge, sometimes misspelled signs hanging from the ceiling.

The produce department doesn't just say "Produce." There are signs with letters about a foot high that announce "apples," "potatoes," "oriental vegetables," as though shoppers need to be told what these are.

A sign over the blank CDs says "Blank CDs." It hangs next to another that says "Disital media." Yes, spelled that way.

Outside, many of the vendors that were attached to the hull of Daiei remain: Sushi Robot, U-Choice-In (home of the roast meat manapua) and, taking first place in the quirky name competition, AAA BBQ.

Inside, the store's stereo system is just a few clicks shy of "rave" level. Somebody's iPod must be plugged in and set on "shuffle" because first it's "Instant Replay" by Dan Hartman, followed by "Me Name Junior Gong" and later that Styx classic "Lady." Can you buy that iMix? In this place, probably.

After all, Don Quijote has lots of odd stuff for sale.

There is an entire freestanding shelf about 8 feet long and 6 feet high carrying various brands and flavors of incense, including a "Bob Marley variety pack."

There is a wall of car fresheners that offer potions in cans, seed, mist and with little spinning fans in scents like "gardenia," "lemon" and "yuzu."

Forget the limited "Asian food" aisle in other grocery stores. Don Quijote is worldly and inclusive. There are specific sections set aside for Chinese, Korean and Filipino food, as well as designations for "Cup noodle Japan" separate from "Cup Noodle US."

And then there is the venerable seafood department, where you can buy fish with the heads, tails and scales still attached wrapped neatly in cellophane on a styrofoam tray, and every version of a pan ever created, from the pancake-and-black bean type to the "I don't know what's in there but it's good" type.

And on and on. There are those neck massager balls on a stick like the one uncle keeps next to his TV chair, but fancier. Signs direct you to sandals and surf pants. Surf pants? Not shorts? In this store, they probably do sell surf pants.

And throughout the pandemonium is that loopy penguin, flippers extended in a saucy taunt, as if saying to orderly Wal-Mart around the corner, "Bring it on!"

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.