This last morning in Nakadomari with these relationships so quickly and firmly woven would prove heartbreaking. I had been here for a total of ten nights, five at the beginning of my journey and now five again near the end. This last five nights, I had not hauled my big 50 pound (I would come to find out it was no longer 50 pounds when I left Okinawa, as I had to pay a fee for this overweight bag) up the four flights of stairs to "my" room, truly more than a room, as I could happily live in this little space with its tiny doll house kitchen and washing machine and the clothes line on the balcomy and its tatami floors and the deep stainless bathtub and all the wonderful wood and even its little 100 yen for two hours of AC air conditioner.
Back home at Yamauchi Inn with my thoughts and Fuchaku san's pottery from Mama Yamashiro and Hiroko, I felt sad to be leaving Nakadomari and these special people, By the time I'd leave tomorrow, I'd have spent a total of ten nights in this little place, but it wasn't enough.
I had saved a word document for this day and entitled it “Potter” so I could go back later and write about the day, but I’ve just returned from the pottery and it’s 11:35AM and I am absolutely compelled to sit right away and think about the special place I’ve just been. This is the kind of time you allow yourself, a gift to yourself, for reflection.
Last night, before we all said our good nights, Mama Yamashiro said she would take me to her friend’s house at 10:00 this morning. Mama Yamashiro had held up one of the beautiful pottery cups she uses and said her friend, she makes these cups. I was delighted to be able to meet her friend and see her pottery. I couldn’t wait to see where this pottery, beautiful and elegant and perfect, was made and by whom.
This morning I awoke after a drugged slumber. I don’t know if it was actually induced by Mama’s herbal potion or not, but I didn’t wake up except to, still asleep, feed the A/C. The first sign of morning I was aware of was the village loud speaker chiming what sounds like “What Child is This?” at 7:00AM, every morning at 7:00AM. I rolled off my futon and folded back into its place in the closet and decided to take a bath. My phone rang while I was in there and I sprinted into the tatami room to talk to my husband for awhile before resuming my bath and then I went over to Mama Yamashiro’s to say good morning and have “coffee only” with her.
This morning, I met her sister and Hiroko and her daughter Momoka were there, too. I had not eaten, but was not going to eat here, except while we were talking, a geimai – the mama san’s rice and bean patty, was placed before me, then some iwashi – little fried whole fish, these with their eggs in them, and some other chunks of cooked fish and some fish that had come from a tin and was in a teriyaki type sauce.
I didn’t have my camera because I’d intended to say hello and have a cup of coffee with 2 Okinawan sugar cubes in it and go to breakfast at the Sea Side Drive In. Note to self: Never go anywhere without your camera! I dashed back for mine and there are photos to prove it. This breakfast was delicious and I enjoyed every bite and these people are so charming and delicious them selves, you fall in love the minute you meet them.
We agreed to meet again at 10:00 for the trip to see the potter. I arrived at 10:00 to see Hiroko in the already
running car and Mama Yamashiro and I got in for the ride to Uruma in Ishikawa. We drove up to find the potter’s house on the side of a forested hill. Hiroko told me this place was called Kijimuna, “ghost.” She said it in the way you lower your voice to say certain words. This was intriguing.
I should say here that everything about Mama Yamashiro is charming, but one of her charms is that she refers to everyone, male and female, as “she”. I had a picture in my mind that I would be meeting a woman, then as happens all the time, I found I was wrong.
The humble, quiet potter greeted us. A man. Fuchaku san. Shinji. This quiet man, bespeckled, slight of
build, graying hair closely cropped, is a potter, yes, but he is more than a potter. His work is extraordinarily exquisite and he is truly an artist. I didn’t need to be there long to know in my heart I was in a most special place, a place that I would remember for the rest of my life whether I took a photograph or not. With people I will never forget. There is magic here.
We entered his home to what is more aptly described as an art gallery, as there were simple wooden shelves lined with the most glorious array of pottery I can imagine. One one side is a gorgeous antique hanging from the ceiling, a mobile of sorts, with an aged piece of huge bamboo, fat and burnished, with the curved root, from that hung a large wooden carved fish and from that a hook with an iron tea pot hanging from it. On the right side of the room was a step up into his quarters, I suppose, where I could see floor to ceiling bookshelves and sliding rice papered doors. We were served tea from one of his teapots into his lovely handle-less cups.
I felt like such a gawky American in this place, but could not stop myself from taking photos of the beauty all around me. The quality and design were as fine as anything I’ve ever seen. I felt God’s presence in this place with these people.
Mouth open and uttering “thank you” and “gorgeous” and “so beautiful,” I walked around and around and around the space. Hiroko and Mama smilingly watched me take it all in, my eyes wide. They are so pleased to see me so pleased. Mama san and Fuchaku san are talking away, busy, and I don’t know what they are saying. Hiroko picks up a tea cup and then another and asks if I like this one or that one – “kore, kore?” (“this, this?”) “Yes, they are all so beautiful” I say. Suddenly, I have a fear. Do they mean to buy for me? I get that knot in my stomach. This is not the way this is supposed to go. We go to the shelf where Fuchaku san has displayed his shisas, Okinawa animals that are virtually everywhere to ward off evil and keep in good. More “kore, kore?” Then a beautiful small orb shaped vase, stunning in its green blue glaze. I dash to my pack and grab my wallet. This talk between Mama Yamashiro and Fuchaku san has most assuredly been negotiations and I had been oblivious. It is suddenly crystal clear. “No, no, no, Mama!” “Too much!” “I cannot accept” “Please, I will buy myself” I say. We do serious battle. I have my Louis Vuitton wallet out. She has her Louis Vuitton wallet out.
I won the battle to pay for my lunch yesterday, but will lose this war today. I burst into snotty tears, hug Mama Yamashiro, domo arigatou gozaimasu’s over and over to the smiling Mama and Fuchaku san.
Hiroko is waiting at the back door to take me to the studio and the kilns and finally drags me away while Mama Yamashiro talks to Fuchaku san and he wraps and boxes these treasured gifts.
My husband had read my email to me this morning and there was a response to an email I’d sent to Jeff and Jenny who’d lived above the Yamashiro’s restaurant and had recommended this place. There is mutual love and friendship and affection between Jeff and Jenny and the Yamashiros that is obvious when you talk to either of these parties. I’d sent a question to Jeff and Jenny about the Yamashiros’ generosity and was worried that my lunch victory the day before may have offended the Yamashiros. Jeff had sent a message back that was flashing like neon in my head at that moment. The message amounted to this:
Don’t try to out give an Okinawan. Send a nice gift when you get home, something they will treasure.
I could give a gift a day forever and never feel I’ve given enough to express the gratitude in my heart.
I am still numb, but suddenly I find myself at the kiln area above the studio on the side of this hill. The kiln is actually kilns – a long, red clay snakelike structure with the opening at the bottom and going up the hill. It is arched like an igloo and looks to be made by hand. Opposite that is a kiln that looks like a conglomeration of several joined red clay kilns, igloo like, as well.
There appears to be another typical modern looking kiln as well. From there we go to what must be Fuchaku san’s studio. Hiroko opens the sliding glass doors and we enter the area where he makes his magic. There is a potter’s wheel with a doughnut pillow on a bench beside it. There are large plastic covered blocks of clay. A table full of cups drying, newspaper gently placed over them.
There are paintbrushes and tools. Works in progress and various stages of completion.
I photograph as much as I can and video it, too. There is pottery everywhere – on the grass, on shelves. Each piece is lovely in the artistic accidentalness of its placement. Each piece is beautiful and unique. Works of art everywhere your eye falls. Mama Yamashiro and Hiroko go to get in the car and I stay behind to thank Fuchaku san many more times and to bow and to compliment his artwork and wish for the thousandth time my Japanese was better and vow to make it so before I return.
Once we are back “home” Mama Yamashiro tells me we will leave, three girls – Mama Yamashiro, Osumie and me, at 6:00 to go see the fireworks at Onna Matsuri, Onna festival. Hiroko tells me to come eat at 5:00.
I had known I would be taken to meet a potter and see pottery and I was more than excited to be able to do that. What I’m finding every day, though, is I lack the imagination to come near knowing in advance how delicious and wonderful and blessed each experience will be. That is the magic of Okinawa. That is the magic of every single person I meet here.
Yesterday was busy from start to finish and I had vowed to catch up today. I spent some time writing and then went over to ask Mama Yamashiro and Hiroko if I could follow them in my car to the dance performance that evening, as I had no idea how to get there, where specifically the venue was or what the address was. Mama Yamashiro said her friend, Osumie, would take me with her and I was greatly relieved. Mama wanted me to go to another friend’s garden with her. I believe I understood that this friend is out of town right now and Mama needed to do some tending.
We loaded into my car and Mama directed me up a side road hill to a tiny road and to her friend’s garden. We both were laughing at my GPS girl the whole way, as she talks to me in Japanese ad nausem. I’d taken some bug wipes because Mama had offered me, while still in her kitchen, a new windbreaker style zip up jacket, except it was made of netting, like tulle, and the hood of it had black netting to go over the face. I knew it might be buggy, but refused the jacket and asked Mama to wear it herself.
We got out of the car and Mama Yamashiro donned her long sleeved Ralph Lauren linen shirt, knee high rubber boots and a bonnet with the netting over the face. I went commando with only the 25% deet wipes for protection and a camera and video camera to capture the moments. I wish I could have a tape to hit to play the way Mama talks, so sweet and lovingly. As she stooped to go under bars and tromped through knee high weeds, me behind her she said over and over “You be carehull. Take it easy.” Jeff and Jenny, can't you just hear her saying that?
I hope I got that on my videotape. I watched her take that little sickle and hack off goya and other vegetables.
She cut a branch off a banana plant with that thing. We walked up the hill a bit to the mango house where she unwrapped the little white bags with wire ties that were on almost every mango to test for readiness. None were ready. Next month. Again, atsui desu ne. Yes, indeed, it was certainly hot. She went to a hose and put it into the mango house, a greenhouse really, and turned it on.
Baby san would come later to turn it off. We went over to the grass and she offered me her shirt to sit on and I offered it right back to her and we ended up with it on the ground between us while we were cooling off in the breeze.
It was time to go to talk to her friend, Osumie san. We wound down around the hill and came to a large house surrounded by a fence with a big double gate.
A barking dog ran down to meet us. Then another one. And another one. Pretty soon countless yard dogs had come to the fence, followed by Osumie san. Mama Yamashiro arranged my pickup from her restaurant at 5:00 that evening. It turns out, the dogs were not countless after all. There are 16 dogs. All shapes and sizes and coats. Apparently, Osumie san is a bit like a local dog shelter and loves animals and never refuses one. Mama Yamashiro tells me she has snakes that come up to her house. She is a snake lady. But, when she tells the snakes to stop and not come in, they listen and mind her. Mama laughs and covers her mouth and loves telling about that, I can tell.
Back at the house, Mama asks me to come to her store, restaurant, later for some goya juice. I was served the beautiful green goya juice and offered sugar syrup to go with it, but decided to drink it straight. It is
bitter, for sure, but it tastes so fresh and healthy I drank it right down.
She served some warm from the oven crispy tofu, Okinawa sugar butter cookies, too. Her daughters, Taeko and Shigeko, were there and Hiroko’s daughter Momoka was there. Another daughter was there, too, but I have to ask for her name again. I took photos. Pretty soon Mama cooked me some goya champaru and served it with goya pickles, seaweed salad, soup with a fish base and tofu, and another seaweed and rice. When I had eaten like I’d never seen food and went to pay, they refused, but I battled on and paid, worried later that I’d seriously offended by refusing this gesture.
The Renaissance was next on my agenda and while furiously working away at my usual bench, I was delighted and surprised by my friend and her daughter and husband!!
They were there to walk around and take photos and I got to visit with them for a while, a real treat for me!! It took quite some time to finish my work and then I toured around this home away from home myself. Stopping by the dolphin lagoon where dolphin encounters can be purchased and wonder of wonders,
I couldn’t help notice the Renaissance sells zen zai, too!! Guess whether I had their version. If you think I did, you are right. Their version came with what must have been condensed milk on top and it was in a tall glass with both a spoon and a straw. I watched the kiddies in the pool and ate that Renaissance zen zai enthusiastically.
Back in my room, I had very little time before my 5:00 rendezvous with Osumie and stretched out on the tatami to close my eyes for just a moment and awoke with a start at 4:48!! I jumped into action, changed clothes and got back to the restaurant by shortly after 5. Osumie was a bit late and Mama Yamashiro went to the door to look out at least 10 times before finally Osumie pulled up. I am totally in island mode and it didn’t bother me in the least, but apparently Osumie felt badly about it or was worried we’d be late because she drove like the proverbial bat….I kept saying “Daijobu desu.” “It’s okay” and “Yukkuri” “Slowly” to no avail and eventually we pulled into the beautiful civic center looking venue with a bit of time to spare. I am thankful to have been driven, as I don’t know how in the world I’d have ever found the place at all.
We seated ourselves and before long, a voice came over the loudspeaker announcing the dancers. It turned out this was an evening long extravaganza with music of all sorts, singers, instrumentals and dancers of all types. I didn’t know when I’d see Hiroko and kept looking through my zoomed out lens to see if I could spot her face, wondering all the while if I’d recognize her with the white makeup on.
The curtain rose on the first act, a full stage of instruments, an orchestra, really, set against a backdrop of Shuri Castle that you’d swear was actually the castle! I was a bit apprehensive about photographing at first, but then noticed others filming and snapping and got into the act myself.
The dancers and their costumes were gorgeous and when they exited, it looked like they were on wheels, as you could not see any bobbing of heads or moving of feet and the audience rewarded them with hearty applause. Act after act followed. There were several groups of Polynesian style dancers. There was a group that looked like a local ladies chorus. There were lots of musicians – sanshin, koto, taiko drums, flutes, a stringed instrument, instruments I’ve never seen or heard.
The Okinawan vocals and instrumentals sound haunting and a bit melancholy at times to me and I love it for its distinctive sound. Before long I thought I’d spotted Hiroko and Osumie leaned over to me and pointed her out, too.
I got video that I later may have taped over a bit, but I know I got photos, too.
The closing act, a group of men singers with sanshin, was a real crowd pleaser, the audience singing along and clapping. The lead singer did the whistle bursts and whoops I love and then the concert was over. The evening lasted almost 3 hours and I loved every second of it. It was priceless to me.
The trip home in the dark was a bit slower than the trip there and when Osumie san and I returned from our special performances in Uruma, Mama Yamashiro was just finishing up at her restaurant and we all gathered in her kitchen, like women do all over the world, to talk and laugh and in this case, be served hot Godiva cocoa and for me, a big bowl of fine, angel hair like soba with bacon. The soba was not offered, but simply presented and I was grateful because I was actually hungry, not having eaten since the goya champaru set I’d eaten at lunch at Mama Yamashiro’s restauant earlier in the day, the one I thought I’d never be hungry again after.
Hiroko came in before long in a simply elegant chamois colored kimono wrap top and long matching pants, residual white makeup still on her arms and hairline. She is a beautiful and talented and hard working woman and now she is my friend. I hugged her and told her how much I’d enjoyed her performance and thanked her over and over. She finally sat down and took out the bento she must have gotten for herself after this long day and offered it to me and Osumie. Of course, I declined, but that is the kind of generosity this family possesses.
Osumie has had quite a bit of trouble sleeping, only sleeping short stretches at a time and Mama had just the remedy, some of her potion. She shown me this potion before and there are large lidded jars of it (the size you might see pickled eggs in or large dill pickles in on a counter in a country store) on a cart in the kitchen. She adds the herbs to it as she goes and it steeps over time. The base is vinegar. I had smelled it before and it is actually a pleasant smell. The herb part looks like faded turnip greens. Mama said it would help Osumie sleep and she prepared little cocktails with it for all of us. She took little tumblers and put some of the juice, made with vinegar and now flavored with the herbs, into the tumbler. She then added water and some ice cubes and then she squirted some Okinawan honey into it. The drink is absolutely delicious. Maybe it was the power of suggestion, but I found myself getting sleepy and before long Osumie and I both said our “oyasuminasais” and went home.
I have only four more nights of Okinawa. Only two more nights in Nakadomari with these warm people, now among my many new friends. By the time I leave here, I’ll have spent 10 nights of my 22 day journey back to Okinawa here in this little village by the sea.
This day began with work in my room, seated on my tatami floor with this borrowed ichiban laptop in my lap. Staying caught up is a challenge, especially when I’m feeling the numbered days I have left and anxious to do all I can while I’m here. I’ll be moving on to Naha, for Monday and Tuesday nights and Wednesday evening, I’m heading home to Atlanta and my family waiting for me there on Thursday morning at 6:00AM.
I must have made more strides with my Japanese than I’d thought because when I phoned the Super Hotel in Naha and got the person who does not speak English, I was able to make my reservations without any problem, instead of just hanging up and asking Meiko to make reservations for me. I think I was able to do that. I hope I was able to do that. We’ll see when I go to check in on Monday if I was as successful as I think I was!
I was determined to go into the little café on the beach I’d walked to in Nakadomari, so set out for some breakfast after my work in the room. This little Sea Side Drive In café is adorable and looks like something out of a time capsule. Inside, it is clean, clean, clean and there are huge tanks of saltwater fish. On the back wall is a big, not full size, pink Cadillac on the wall. What makes me feel most at home is the absolutely giant collection of die cast cars in several glass cases along the walls. After my mother passed, my father began a collection of die cast cars and has quite a collection, but it does not rival this one. I took several photos of this big collection and sat down to order my breakfast.
When my beautiful iced tea arrived, I photographed it against the background of the beach with its little pitcher of sugar syrup. Here, occasionally there is a straw of granular sugar, but overwhelmingly the sweetener provided almost everywhere is in syrup form. I perused the menu and thought about ordering an omelette, but they were 950 yen, so I decided on a burger, 230 yen, to go with my 210 yen tea. While I was waiting I spied shore bird fishing in the surf and tried to get a photo of it for my family, but my 12x lens wasn’t quite up to the task. I think this bird was a kind of small heron, though.
My burger arrived and I have to say, I was so excited to see it and hungrier than I thought and I forgot my obligation to photograph it and ate it up. It was the most delicious burger I’ve ever seen, perfect in its old fashioned simplicity. With crisp lettuce, a tomato slice, onion and a cucumber, I dressed it and bit in.
The bun was toasted inside to that thin crispy perfection and the burger, small and juicy, was absolutely divine! I think I ate it up without ever putting it down!
I was ready to make yet another foray to the more northern part of the island, more north central than Miyagi Minshuku was. I was going to go to Nago to see Pineapple Park and the Ryukyu Butterfly house, the Orion Brewery and to try to find the Kyoei Glass Factory. That was my plan.
The drive up to Nago was glorious and the water a more turquoise, aqua color than I’d seen it yet. This storm out there has put a different face on the water, with some rolling whitecaps way out, but the water on the shore is lapping just about as gently as it ever has. It’s more the color of the water that has changed and looks almost neon and lit from within. It looks alive with color and it glows. I wanted to stop for photos, but couldn’t find a pullover place in the fast (37 mph or so) traffic.
I decided to pull over in Kyoda at the Yanbaru Products Center. I would say I wanted to buy more stuff, but it was really just an excuse to get another zenzai, the shaved ice with azuki bean syrup and beans and mochi, and this stop did not disappoint. I found my prize and sat on the bench with some mama sans, and I ate and savored my treat and sweated. I was happy. Inside, I decided to buy that shiikuwasa juice I’d been eyeing, deciding it is just going to be a bit “spendy”, as my friend says, but worth it because it is just one of those things in Okinawa I’m addicted to and I won’t be able to get it in Georgia. Right there underneath the juice is a box with azuki beans on it, and mochi and shaved ice. Well, obviously, I know there’s no shaved ice, but if anyone could get shaved ice into a box it would be the brilliant Japanese. No, I figured it is everything I need for the zen zai and I could find the shaved ice at home. We’ll see when I get home. I’m going to wait as long as possible to open it, so I’ll be delaying my gratification, as all good grownups are supposed to be able to do.
Now, I’m happy and full of beans and mochi and it’s time to get to Pineapple Park. Pineapple Park is a kitschy place and more fun than a barrel of monkeys. I pay my 400 yen entrance and am guided to a Pineapple car that has instructions about not touching the pedals and what to do if “something happens”. There is an Engrish speaking voice coming out of my car to tell me all about the flora and fauna I am seeing and it is pleasant as can be. I wish it had paused briefly so I could take a photo from a still and not moving car, but it moved so slowly, it really didn’t matter.
The word “pineapple” is a compound word. It comes from pinecone, as the pineapple resembles one, and apple because it is delicious like the apple. The pineapple car stops and empties you out into the winery part of the park where you can see the history of pineapples and sample the different wines – dry, sweet and kiss wine. After that, you snake around a series of stops where there is a sample at every stop.
There is pineapple vinegar and pineapple and other fruit combo vinegar and you can taste it and it is delicious and I got some for dressings back home. There is every sort of pineapple sweet – cookies, cakes, pies,
wine cakes, chocolate covered pineapple (white and
milk), candy. There are samples at every display and I tried some of everything, more than one of some until I was thoroughly sugared up and almost comatose.
There are pineapple toiletries and soaps and I got some of the pineapple/charcoal soaps because they were yummy and practical. There were even shiikuwasa products there, my fav, and I sampled and purchased.
Once done there, I decided to try to find the Ryukyu Butterfly Garden. It is close to the Ocean Expo Park and I
finally found it after a convoluted route. There is a shop with native Okinawan products, the same ones you see in most of those shops, but I never get tired of seeing and tasting them. I paid my entrance, 400 yen, and toured the gardens. The best part about the park was the view of the bay in Nago, which was that gorgeous color with the storm out there in the ocean far away.
The butterfly house itself was not too large, but there were tons of
beautiful black and white butterflies. I only saw a couple of two other types, one orange and one the chocolate and blue colors I love. There were red trucker type hats hanging on stakes that I figured out you could put on and then some butterfly attractant would be deposited on your head and you would have butterflies sitting all over your head before you know it. I opted not to do that.
Now I’d try to find the Orion Beer Brewery.
It was not clear where specifically this was from my map, but I stopped to ask directions when I thought I’d gotten close. I was not too far and the nice clerk in Family Mart even copied his big map on the copier and gave it to me. I bought a bento with sushi there and ate in from my lap in the air conditioned car. I must have turned before actual turn, because I found myself at another convenience store and the young girl there told me, in Japanese to go up to the second signal and go right and then around the big tree and I would see it. She was right and all that happened, but I had missed the last 4:00 tour by 25 minutes. I was not meant to tour the brewery today, but have excellent directions for anyone wishing to do so. Pass the Big 1 on your left in Nago and make the next right on 84 and you will drive right to it.
On the way home, I passed for the umpteenth time a store with shelves visible in the window that were just full of Ryukyu glass. I stopped in and browsed around and the glass was gorgeous. When we were here in the 70’s, the Okinawan glass was rather crude in colors like brown and gold and green and the occasional blue and most objects were big globe like buoys with roping around them and there were some tumblers, too, but not that much else that I can remember. Now the glass is made in a kaleidoscope of colors and in every possible object under the sun. The colors are vivid and varied and there and the glass objects are pretty pricey. A tumbler might be $12 each.
The best part of this shop, though, is the actual glass blowing in a high ceilinged open shed area out back. Out there, men worked in choreography of sorts. One visiting one fire filled oven and going to deposit a glob of molten glass onto another man’s vase where it was stretched into a handle.
There were parfait type glasses being made and the objects being made were in every color of the rainbow. One family had paid for their toddler to
participate in the process and I watched him stand and wait nervously in his long sleeves and little gloved hands.
The glass artisans helped him through the process of blowing and then turning his glass and the proud parents both stood by photographing and videoing every moment of it. I could relate! I had to photograph it myself!
My friend from TravBuddy, Julia, had phoned me throughout the day because we wanted to coordinate a rendezvous for later that night. I got home in time to hurriedly freshen up
and change clothes and drive to meet her at Sam’s Café, near where we lived in quarters in the 70’s.
With her good directions, I drove right to it and walked right up to her sitting on the stairs waiting for me! I recognized her from her photos and greeted her warmly! We went right in where she introduced me to the ritual of signing in on Sam’s huge, oversized guest register. We photographed each other signing in and were shortly shown a table.
Sam’s was another place that transported me back in time to someplace that was conceived before I was born. It was warm and inviting and the uniformed waitresses were friendly and the food was delicious. Julia had chosen the perfect place to meet! There was a soundtrack of American oldies and I could imagine Americans going there for decades for a taste of home on Okinawa. We both had garlic roasted chicken and the salad with Japanese horseradish dressing was some of the best dressing I’ve ever tasted. If only they would provide the recipe, which is a closely guarded secret, I’m sure. The breads were yummy with a pineapple butter on the side to spread onto it. The soup was delicious, too.
It was so incredible to talk to Julia, an avid traveler and adventurer, a Marine brat married to a career Marine. She is planning a trip to Japan to climb Mt. Fuji by herself for her fortieth birthday next month and she is loving the life on Okinawa, having been here four years with only one more to go! We spent a great evening getting to know each other in person and she was every bit as delightful as I’d imagined!
I made it home on that Friday night after being swarmed by Okinawan youths on noisy motorcycles at several traffic lights. There were whole gangs of them and even when I was in my room, I continued to hear hordes of them speeding by on the highway for a long time, their engines a loud and high pitched whir.
I awoke feeling refreshed, but was determined to catch myself up on my writing and photos, so after a little instant noodles that weren’t all that great, but filled me a little, I sat in the room for quite a while loading and exporting photos and writing about my adventures until then.
It was a lazy morning and soon I was ready to put on yesterday’s clothes and make my trek to the Renaissance for the use of their wifi.
Once there, I had a few emails to return and I was ready to begin my process of uploading photos from iPhoto and entries from word documents. I never open this computer without a silent thank you to my friends who have lent it to me. I took a few pictures around the lobby and realized I had a headache and I was famished.
I went to the Sailfish Café and saw a sumptuous buffet spread out, but really wanted just a sandwich. The hostess told me it was only buffet and I didn’t have the nerve to walk out with the look on her face and the emptiness in my stomach. It was like I was being led down a path and I didn’t or couldn’t stop myself. I was led to a big round table with a crisp big linen napkin and a basketful of silverware and chopsticks in the center of it and it was all out on the lanai overlooking the blue and white stripe umbrellaed beach and there was music playing and glasses clinking and it was just so nice.
As I walked up one buffet spread and down the next, I couldn’t help think of how much all this would cost. This was not that kind of trip and I was already thinking about how I might economize for the rest of it to pay for this. I can’t begin to say what all was there and some of it, I’d never heard of. There was every Asian food imagineable. There were several curries for rice, sliced pork and beef, and stir fries galore and breads and salads (including jellyfish and tofu salad), there were pizzas, stews, a fruit table with gorgeous fruits and a dessert bar with everything from crepes made to order to cakes to my favorite Okinawan shiikuwasha sorbet.
I helped myself to whatever my heart desired. I had two different waitresses come up to take my photo with my camera for me. This was a resort and it was, well, it was nice like resorts are. I chose a little slice of pizza, but mine had sliced goya on it – yummy – and it was delicious in that way that pizza can be when the crust is so perfect and the flour on the crust gets on your lipstick and you haven’t had anything remotely resembling American food since July 2 and it was July 17.
I had another piece of that stuff. I had a smoked mahi mahi salad, an baby octopus stir-fry, an assorted cold seafood selection with the biggest mussel I’ve ever seen, I had pork and beef and chicken and pretty much all the animal groups.
I chose two halves of passion fruit, a new favorite I don’t know how I’ll ever live without and something I could really embarrass myself with eating so much of if I had a chance. I chose something I didn’t have any idea about and still don’t, it was a dark brown spiky thing on the fruit table.
Japanese desserts aren’t like the Cheesecake Factory mile high concoctions. No, they are these little dainty ladies at tea sized slices, which only makes us Americans feel like that allows us to taste even more different kinds of dessert.
I did'nt show out too much, but I had a bit of the ganache cake, rich and dark chocolatey, and I tasted a fluffy cheesecake thin, and a little slice of banana bread with black tapioca coconut milk on it and I had the shiikwasha sorbet that I saved for the last and ate with my eyes closed in the deliciousness of it all.
I inquired about my check and my smiling, uniformed, picture taking waitress brought my check where she reverently, with two hands presented it to me and watched my face as I took it in. I looked slowly down, holding my breath and when I saw the total, honest to goodness it was all I could do to keep from laughing aloud. 2200 yen. I had imagined at least $65.00 dollars worth of amazingly wonderful cuisine. This lunch, all less than $22.00 of it was still costing me more than any dinner I’d had here, but it was so much less than I’d expected I felt like I was floating. I felt like I did when we took the stray cat to the vet after it had been hurt and the vet knew we were doing a good deed and I let the vet do everything but clean that cat’s teeth and added it up in my head to over $600, but it was only $183 and I cried and embarrassed my girl.
No problem. I’ll pace myself for the rest of the day, not that I’ll be hungry again. I won’t have dinner – and I didn’t. I had a big Japanese cracker wrapped in black seaweed the Yamauchis had given me that I’d saved. And an Orion.
After lunch, I drove through some rain and decided it was time to see if I could recollect enough to find where we used to live. I took good old 58 south and turned left on 130 and that took me to 330 where I turned south and before you knew it, for the second real time since I’d arrived, I knew where I was. I drove along the fence with the barbed wire on top and saw that family housing inside.
I passed the gate my sister and I would walk out of to go to the Japanese bank to exchange our allowance for yen and shop by ourselves without my worry wart mother all day long and we’d go home with pencils and scented erasers and pencil boxes and dried plums that the American kids all called seemores and trinkets.
I parked my car and stood at that fence with the barbed wire on top and took some pictures of the government housing inside. I couldn’t see our old quarters, but I saw some that looked like ours. I wished I could go on to see if I could make my way back to ours after all this time. I cried and cried. I wasn’t expecting that.
I got back in my car and drove back north on 330. This road was our main drag and our go to road back then. I think I only remember driving along the road that’s called 58 when we went to Kadena AFB to go to their PX or to go to Camp Kue to the hospital to do my Candy Striper job. The funny thing about my drive north on this day is that everything was there, but it was out of proportion somehow. It’s hard to describe. A & W was there, but I remembered the hill it is on as being higher. Kubasaki High School, my old high school, came up way before it should have and I remembered it being further. Rogers’s department store was there, but I remembered it being further back from the street. The cut off to Awase Meadows Golf Course was closer to Rogers than it used to be. The traffic was stop and go, rush hour I guess. I turned down toward Awase Meadows and remembered it being further down that road. Now there are fences with barbed wire and postings all along the road with the golf course behind the fences. I don’t remember the fences. I took some pictures. I was going to go see if I could find the old apartment we lived in, brand new then, before we moved into quarters, but the traffic was crawling and it would be late enough when I got back to my room as it was.
My gas has gotten low again. I’d put gas in this little Demio after driving it for 5 days and it had cost about $44.00.
I pulled into a service station near the American Village and was greeted by a smiling attendant who filled up my tank for me and with two hands presented me with my credit card on a traI’d driven another just about 5 days and filled up for $50.00.
Once home, it was almost sunset and I took a pretty long walk north on my little street in my little village and came across several little restaurants and one 24 hour diner on the beach that looked kind of like an American one.
I noted those for later, as I wasn’t eating dinner tonight. Once the sun went down and I got some glorious photos of the clouds, the diner’s neon went on and I got some photos of that. I took lots of video. I walked along the seawall and it was nearly dark and came upon a group of men drinking Orion and playing gate ball. I’d read about gate ball and know the older ladies are supposed to be able to engage in lively games of it. I know it was gate ball I’d come across because one of the men took the sharp point of some scissors and spelled it in the dirt for me. There was an American among them. He said he’d grown up in Okinawa and had been a colonel in the Marine Corp. He was speaking Japanese and Hogen, the Okinawan dialect, to the Japanese men and they seemed very impressed by his colonel status and he modestly downplayed it. He mentioned he’d gone to Kubasaki High, but had dropped out. Something about his man didn't seem very Marine Corps colonel-y to me, but what do I know.
Back in my room, amazingly, the breeze was so cool and strong; I opened my window on the parking lot side and the door on the beach side and was comfortable without an A/C feeding. I don’t know whether it was actually cool enough, or whether I’d gotten acclimatized, but it felt good. Maybe this little typhoon spinning out in the ocean had kicked up a breeze. I’d seen on my one channeled TV earlier a little spot when the female announcer told about the typhoon and a map was shown, looking much like our impending hurricane maps, and after the brief typhoon spot, the announcer bowed to her audience. You don’t see that in the states.
The waves were lapping on the beach and the moon, nearly full was rising over the hill, spotted with houses, on the other side of the inn. What a lovely night. It would be perfect if only my family and friends could share it with me.
I’d checked out of Miyagi Minshuku last night and said my goodbyes to the Miyagis and the other guests. For four nights of wonder, breakfast and dinner included, my bill had been 24000 yen, roughly $240.00, a bargain!
Klaus and Lina had set my cell phone alarm for me last night to ring at 6 today, but I woke earlier and was able to turn it off before it went off. I’d told Naomi not to expect me for breakfast, but when I had the car loaded, I knew she’d be up in the kitchen already, so went in to say goodbye one more time. She presented me with a sandwich on French bread she’d made and wrapped in cellophane to take on the road. I was so touched I cried. She also gave me their card with her daughter’s phone number in Sapporo on the back. I hope our school exchange group will go next year and I can call Momoko then. I can’t imagine how fascinating the offspring of Naomi and Masa must be.
I was underway to my friend’s house by 7. She had planned a party day for me and the ladies from Okinawa Hai. I’d been reading their blogs and contributions and entries and seeing their photographs for about two years on the Okinawa Hai site. I was so excited to be meeting the beautiful, smart, funny women and couldn’t wait to get there!
I was going down the west side of the island on 58, which runs along the coast for the most part and had to stop for a photo of a magnificent rainbow. I got back underway and there was another one. Then another!! I think it was a lovely thing to be able to see in the early morning as I left Kunigami and took it to be a good omen.
Part of my directions said to get on the expressway, which I had not ventured onto before. I stopped at the gate and yelled “Sumimasen” to the attendant several lanes over. He smilingly came to my car and helped me with what to do between my Japanese and his bit of English, and I took my ticket to proceed to exit 4, where I paid 700 yen for the quicker ride, worth it, as the trip ended up taking 2 ½ hours in all, even with the expressway.
My friend and I visited and caught up with each other and our past few days and soon she and I and her precious little daughter were off to the base where I would go to the phone store for my phone’s 10 day check up and to the ATM with English for some yen to get me through the next few days, or the end of my trip if I was lucky. We passed the dental clinic, still in the same place as when my mother volunteered there through the Red Cross 35 years ago! We made the turn and I said that I remembered a chapel being at the top of the hill and sure enough, there it was. The PX was exactly where it had been when we lived on this island, except the commissary wasn’t at one end of it and the mall area was more congested with vendors. The theater was right across the street where I remembered it! We took care of business and were off and running to our gathering where I would meet in person some incredible women and their children.
Storm clouds were gathering in earnest by the time we left the base and to say they were black would be an understatement. Those clouds were seriously dark and angry looking, but we were not bothered by them in the least and we proceeded to the little shopping center where we would meet the ladies and have lunch. This would be the first real rain I’d seen since I’d arrived as the only other rain had happened in the evenings at Miyagi Minshuku. A little early, we stopped by the Uni Qlo store, a kind of Japanese Gap my friend told me, where they had really adorable t-shirts and clothes for men, women and children.
I spied some things I wouldn’t mind having, but will have to go back because it was time to go to our restaurant in the same center. We walked across the parking lot, umbrellas open to the rain by then, to our restaurant to find most of the women and their children already there and I had the oddest sensation of seeing celebrities I’ve ever felt. It was really like seeing Hollywood celebrities, as I’d read about these women and their lives and read their stories about all things Okinawan and felt I knew them, even called them by name, and couldn’t believe I was meeting them in person at long last!! My friend had given me a priceless gift and I wonder if she knows how much it means to me. We pretty much took over the tatami room of this little restaurant and that was perfect for our assemblage, as the kiddies were at home and comfy and we could visit and be comfortable, too, and the food was delicious to boot! I had a yummy Okinawan soba and a fried chicken cutlet.
My batteries for my camera chose then to call to be changed, and I’d just changed them the day before AND the day before that and mentioned it to one of the women in attendance with her precious baby and she offered me the use of their battery charger, as I’d fried mine with non-rechargeable batteries back on my second day here. The Japanese batteries I’d bought weren’t lasting any time at all. In addition to offering me the use of her charger, she invited me to dinner at her home where I’d later get to meet her gorgeous 3 year old daughter and her wonderful husband in their lovely home. She prepared a feast, not only delicious, but beautiful, and she and her husband were gracious and generous hosts and I had a wonderful time with them and their girls.
I am truly touched and amazed by being so cared for and taken care of by such lovely people as these Americans so far from home on this little island.
From our restaurant, our group moved on to the wondrous and fabulous 100 Yen Store in the same center!! You might think the 100 Yen Store is like our dollar stores, but it isn’t. The 100 Yen Store is so far superior to a dollar store, you can’t even compare the two and I’m not just saying that because I love all things Japanese. The selection, for one, is vast and varied and there is tons of it. The quality is incredible and I was able to buy all kinds of things to take back that I will appreciate for their value and quality and so will others. These are the kinds of purchases that are fun to make and sure to please. I was able to find everything from Hello Kitty for my girl and her friends and my niece to snacks to a book to practice my hiragana to souvenirs. I’d be in some serious trouble if I lived here and had access to the 100 Yen Store 24/7, but I’d be organized, too, as there is everything in the world for getting and keeping you organized!
Two of the ladies from Okinawa Hai and their children met the rest of us at the 100 Yen Store and these are two ladies who are preparing to leave the island this week to go back to the US. I, a mere reader of their entries, am sad to see them leave, and I can only imagine how much the other women left here will miss them and how much they will miss their friends here on Okinawa. I think there is a special bond, formed quickly by necessity when life can be nomadic, between the wives and families, and the relationships forged can be sustaining in a place where things are so foreign and husbands are often absent in service to our country. It can be difficult when you are always either leaving or being left by your friends. I know that myself. These fabulous “girls” and their beautiful children are close and it is easy to see how much support for each other and affection for each other there is in this group. I sat and just observed this group, chatting away, their children playing together, and I knew I was seeing the definition of friendship and love played out in front of me and I was so happy to be a part of things, even for a little while. Thank you, girls, for coming out with your little ones on a rainy day and allowing me to be a part of your fellowship!!
By the time my friend and I left the store, we were on our own, having shopped a marathon shopping session as I got the tour of the store by a seasoned professional and my friend pointed out things to me I might not have seen and made suggestions only someone who knows could make. She has totally immersed herself in this culture and embraced it and is oriented like a native. I left the 100Yen Store with two big bags of goodies and we wrapped the breakables at the fabulous wrapping station together.
Once done there, if it wasn’t apparent before, it was apparent now, I needed another bag that I could check for the trip home. The two bags I’d brought with me were full when I got here, so my friend took me along to another store she thought would have the suitcase I needed.
We went to a Sanne store and it is a little hard to describe because we don’t have anything I know of in the US to compare it to, like most of the stores here. It is a department store of sorts, but also a supermarket, but also a bakery and a series of restaurants and food vendors.
Once parked, at the top of the escalator, we found a little vendor that sold zen zai, a marvelous concoction of finely shaved ice, topped with those wonderful azuki beans in sweet syrup and then further topped with mochi. My mouth is watering just recalling it and I’m already thinking about where I can get it today!! It is almost cruel to be introduced to something that is that delicious and addictive that I don’t know if I can get anywhere in the states. I’ll have to eat it as much as possible while I’m here and then just go cold turkey when I get home.
My friend patiently and lovingly gave me the tour only professional shoppers can give, going from one department to another. There are clothes of every sort – a professional women’s section with all black, a kimono section, lingerie, children’s, mens, restaurant with artificial food samples in gleaming glass cases sprinkled in among them. There is a section for housewares and linens and we arrived at the luggage area and were able to find a good sized bag on wheels for 7900 yen and I took it, happy to know I could take my things back! Then we went down to the supermarket area where there was gorgeous produce, all kinds of meat and fish and beverages and snacks and essentials and my friend found her favorite version of her favorite cookie and we both bought them!
She had phoned her husband that I needed another international phone card and when we arrived back to her wonderful apartment with its fabulous view and within stone’s throw of the seawall, he was there with my card!! I will never finish thanking this family for everything they mean to me and for everything they’ve done. Her husband had even gotten a bumper sticker, I heart Okinawa, for me that I intend to put on my Honda Pilot as soon as I get home!! Thank you so much for everything.
When I said goodbye there to my friends, I was off with directions to the home of another new friend, the one who’d offered me dinner and the use of her battery charger. The directions were great and I drove right up to her beautiful home in Yomitan. There, I was met by this lovely family and a simply beautiful dinner in their beautiful home. I thoroughly enjoyed our time together and the meal was delicious, a wonderful aromatic soup, mounds of picture perfect sushi, vegetables and seaweed wrapped onigiri she’d made…I had such a lovely time with this family and their two little girls, but tried not to overstay my welcome and said goodnight with a heartful of thanks and the knowledge I’ll get to continue to see them in their great blog!
I drove north on 58, now comfortable with it and how to get to Nakadomari. I don’t have any reservations for the rest of my trip, as I’d left the last reserved place that morning. I decided to go back to Yamauchi Ryokan, as I loved Nakadomari and am comfortable in this place. I drove up to hear Mr. Yamauchi outside playing his sanshin, the plucking of the strings so beautiful and so distinctly Okinawan sounding it pulled at my heart, and I felt I could not have been in a more right place at that moment.
Mrs. Yamauchi came back with fresh linens and I was right back up to my old room, #1, on the third floor. It felt like home tonight, but I was too tired to think about carrying my 50 pound suitcase up the four flights of stairs, so I just picked out some pj’s, undies and toiletries and went on up. I fed the A/C 100 yen and lined up several other coins on the windowsill for later and made my futon on the floor and went soundly to sleep. This day had been a perfectly lovely one and I gave thanks for everyone who made it so.
Last night at dinner, before we all retired to our rooms, my new friends from Sweden, Eva and Deepak and their daughter living in Berlin, Lina, and her boyfriend, Klaus, decide to organize an excursion to Hiji Falls for the today. We planned to leave after breakfast in my little Mazda Demio and head for the falls we’d all heard about. I had charged my batteries and gotten new ones for the camera, packed bug wipes and sunscreen and water and we were off to put our five selves in the car after saying our goodbyes to Mike and Mariko who were going on to an outer island for more snorkeling.
The Japanese are indeed brilliant, because the little 660cc Demio pulled the hills with the five of us in it without and trouble. We made it to Hiji Falls, a rain forest, parked the car and went to the entrance center to check it out.
The entrance center is more like a lodge in North Carolina with its log construction and high ceilings that follow the roof line. My friends presented me with a ticket and insisted on treating me for the rest of the day, pronouncing me a member of Team Lahiri!! What a pleasure to be a member of this particular team, as I knew the day spent with these people would be as fun and interesting as can be!! I think they were thankful for the excursion, but the pleasure was all mine, as I wouldn’t have had near as much fun without them!!
It is interesting to note there is a blood pressure monitor right before the entrance to the hike to the falls. Of course, we all had to sit and have our blood pressure taken before starting our 1.5km, each way, adventure! Once done, we were asked to wipe our shoes on a mat to kill a fungus that might kill Yanbaru forest frogs. We passed campsites with platforms waiting for tents on
the way to the trail to the falls.
This course could be a little challenging and a great workout if you wanted to try to rush it, but we didn’t rush at all. We went at a leisurely pace, stopping to rest and take photos all along the way.
There are some steep and long stairs, going up and down, and the path is well done and nice and safe. We pass signs all along the way warning us to take caution, not to touch ropes and to beware of the habu (this sign with photos of the dreaded habu).
Before long, we were at the .7km mark and the suspension bridge. It is a beautiful little bridge, well constructed and new looking. We are just soaked to the skin, as it is hot and just as humid as can be, almost like being in a sauna.
I stopped often to have a drink of
my water and sport drink. We passed several parties of hikers coming back from the falls and were eventually rewarded with arrival at our destination.
Jeff had already warned me in an email that the rocks were slippery, so I didn’t venture too far out on them, but the falls, about 30 feet high, are beautiful and the breezes blowing at the falls and across the water provided a welcome relief from the heat.
We relaxed and took photos and watched the other people at the falls. I never saw anyone go in the water, but some got close and I could tell others wanted to, but didn’t.
Finally, it was time for our hike back. The scenery was just as gorgeous on the way back, and I saw things I hadn’t seen on the way in.
Some campers had pitched their tents while we were on the trail, but I honestly cannot imagine sleeping in a tent in that humid forest. We were glad to use the nice restroom in the “lodge” when we got back and Deepak treated us all to beverages that we sat and drank and refreshed ourselves with. Then, realizing we are all hungry, we set out for a lunch. We ended up deciding to go to the Kunigami Native Products Center first and were delighted to find a wonderful jewel of a café in there!! The ladies who worked there were artfully arranging soba in a huge natural wooden bowl, twirling
the soba into little mounds on top of crushed ice in the bowl that had to be more than 12” in diameter.
A sprig of bamboo and a cherry or two completed the picture and next to the soba was a plate of delicious looking tempura and matchstick sliced vegetables. Eva and Deepak decide to have that right away and who can blame them?! Lina and Klaus, vegetarians, had a lovely tofu soup and salad and I decided on the curry and rice and salad.
It came and we all thoroughly enjoyed our lunches – they were not only delicious, but artfully done and we all appreciated the care that went into making our food.
After lunch, we were off to find Banshofu Weaving in Kijyoka Village. Kijyoka Village is so charming and ancient looking, I’d have been satisfied enough just with my stroll through this place, but after a little looking and asking, we were able to find Banshofu Weaving up on a hill.
The strands that are woven to make the fabric here are made from banana fiber and there is quite a process involved in the weaving. This fabric and the products made from it are extremely expensive and after seeing the painstaking process, it is easy to see why. The fabric, in the end, looks a bit like a coarse linen and the designs woven in are beautiful, some simple and some intricate.
After a look around the somewhat air conditioned shop, we headed upstairs to see the workers.
There are maybe a half dozen stations set up on the second floor with a loom and a woman weaving at each station. The word sweatshop came to mind, as it was just as hot and stuffy as can be. No photos were allowed upstairs, and I was sad for that because a picture really does say a thousand words.
There was steam involved, too, and we saw one woman pouring water on a stretched sheet looking fabric next to her station. The looms looked antique and the process appears to be one that hasn’t changed since its inception. There was not one word spoken and the ladies quietly went about their weaving, the only sounds being when the foot pedals were pressed and the thumping of the looms. On the way out, we stopped in a wash room to watch a mama san rinsing dye out of skeins.
This northern region is sparsely populated and there are not many tourist destinations to speak of, but Klaus spotted something called Kakanji Shrine and we all decided we needed to see it while we were there. There is no main sign for it off 58, or anywhere, but we were game. Off we went. We passed the military Okuma Resort and the post JAL resort and felt we were close. We stopped at JAL and were directed to go back the way we came. We were craning our necks to try to spot it. I went to a couple of men having sashimi outside at picnics and asked.
The tore some cardboard off their Orion box and drew a map that took us back where we had been, passed the JAL to a tiny little orange torii (my picture didn’t turn out) and in the little overgrown area was a little pale blue building that did turn out. We don’t know the significance of this shrine, but we can say we’ve been there.
It’s getting close to dinnertime at Miyagi and we decide to head back, but first we’ll try to fit in a quick side trip to the giant Kuina bird statue on the side of the mountain at Hedo Point.
Masa had taken my friends up to the area a few days before and they are well oriented and we drive up a one lane, winding, straight up road – the only time my Demio had any hint of strain. We arrived at a nice parking lot and went up to take some photos of this giant, hollow statue.
There are stairs that take you up into the bird, and Lina went up to have a look while the rest of us photographed it. It is really beautiful and looks different up close.
That done, we went the remaining 10km back to Miyagi, where Masa and Naomi were holding dinner for us. We made our apologies and were introduced to our new guests, a rock climber and a man who works on the mainland for Toyota, Yoko.
With Mike gone, Yoko became our new official translator. His English is very good and he is quite entertaining.
Dinner was the pasta Masa had promised us, vegetarian with a mildly spicy sauce made with tomatoes.
There were dishes of sliced ichiban Okinawa ONLY black pig pork, a delicious rice, a bowl of tiny little fish (iwashi?) that Yoko had caught and Naomi had fried so we could pop them whole and delicious into our mouths, the Okinawa ONLY lime, some fried Okinawa potatoes, there were stir fries, okra with sauce, fresh pineapple and it was all wonderful and delicious!
Our new guests were entertaining and after dinner I sat with Deepak and Yoko and we talked about the US election and they asked me who I thought would win, as they are watching with great interest in their countries. I have no idea. Deepak thinks Obama will work with Hilary and he likes Hilary very much, I can tell. To these two gentlemen and gentle men, the environment seems to be the number one issue of importance and we talked at length about the other issues that are important to the Americans. I wish I had more time to be at Miyagi to talk to these interesting and informed and kind people. Tomorrow, though, I leave Miyagi, as I had left the Super Hotel and Yamauchi Inn before it, before I was feeling really ready…
I ate my onigiri and wondered if it might have been a hold over from lunch with the Spam and eggs stuffed in it, but it didn’t matter. It was delicious and it was the last real food item at the little market in Oku Village and it tasted good to me as I ate it on the walk to the beach. I'm on this adventure without my camera and traveling lightly for about the first time since I arrived. No pack, camera, passport, nothing. I'll have to depend on my memories of this jaunt and I know my memory will not fail me this time.
The family traveling from Sweden and Germany are a really wonderful and close family of loving people. They are kind and generous and love adventure and they happily tell me about the wonderful snorkeling on the beautiful beaches near Miyagi. They are as fit as can be and have walked all over this region, having traveled here with no car. Even back in Sweden and Germany, they don’t own cars and do their commutes via bicycle. I love talking to each one of this party as they are warm and funny and intelligent and inquisitive and their love spills out freely. They have had a fabulous time at the beaches and report all kinds of beautiful fish and corals.
I decide to take off, eating my Spam and egg onigiri as I
go, to see about finding a beach for myself. I don’t have a beach towel. In fact, Miyagi doesn’t provide towels, so I’ve been using
my handy camp towel from The Container Store when I bathe and it is doing
triple duty these days. I have my
bathing suit on and wrap my pareo around and take off from the directions my
new friends have given me. I turn
right on the little road right outside Miyagi and head down to what looks like
a construction site where there is a bunch of big machinery moving those giant
jack like concrete objects around.
We have speculated that this might be for some typhoon damage control
project. Since I’m on my own, I
opt not to go to the little beach adjacent to the construction site and follow
the directions to go up and around the hill mountain. I can look down to see breathtaking
private coves and beaches, but there is not way to them unless you can rappel
down a forested cliff. Finally, I
spot my friends’ party in the water and on the beach and still see no access
until I walk on and see a parking lot.
I parked in the deserted lot, noting the stealy boy signs, but no stealy
boys in sight, and found a little path to the beach. My friends must have hiked down the beach and around some
coral to their beach, but I decide to walk out and wade in right away. I know the water can be warm, but this
was surprisingly warm, with no surf at all. It felt so great to splash around and float in the water
with not a soul in sight. I got
out of the water, finally, and spread my pareo out on the sand to stretch out
and dry off before I walked back to Miyagi, not seeing another soul as I
went.
The afternoon of leisure, without ever leaving Miyagi’s Oku Village, was perfect and timely. Back at the minshuku, I turned on my A/C and relaxed on the grounds until it was time to get cleaned up and ready for dinner.
Masa and Naomi had prepared a feast for us tonight and served it Smorgasbord or buffet style. The wide noodles (Okinawa ONLY says Masa) were delicious and there was a beautiful shrimp dish that Masa told me I could eat with our without the shells.
I peeled mine. There were delicious, spicy sausages and fu champaru and stir fry peppers and a dish with greens and delicious Okinawa pineapple. We were
talking and visiting after we had all eaten until we couldn’t and Masa got up from the table and brought back a handful of shells and put them down by a pineapple rind on the table. These turned out to be the largest hermit crabs I’d ever seen and he told us they love pineapple and would come out for it. We all watched, spellbound, as the first of the shy creatures ventured out of its shell.
Before long, the crabs were walking around all over the table and we were all joyfully snapping photos of them in the waning light. Apparently, these are around on the ground among the rocks and coral and I had never even noticed them. Masa had just gotten up from the table and picked them up because he knew how to look for them.
There are many visitors who come to this table, all delightful and interesting and with stories and lives to share.
The breakfasts and dinners here are always delicious and beautiful and lovingly presented and full of locally grown and caught foods. Masa san, exceedingly proud of where he is fortunate enough to be, points out without hesitation the number one
Okinawa only foods and we are happy to know this information, but happier to hear him when he talks about his place and to watch his face come alive with pride and light, as he is most assuredly telling God’s honest truth
I woke up again to the cicada bugs and sunlight streaming in and look over to see it is 7:45. I got myself dressed and presentable and sprayed on my 25% deet Deep Woods spray and headed to breakfast with our interesting group. Everyone in the group was looking forward to snorkeling today and the beach.
