Day 4 In Okinawa

The ghosts of me are everywhere. Everywhere I turned I saw myself walking down this street, getting a soda from that machine, and hearing kekko ("buzz off") from just about every door. But such was Shuri (and everywhere else I served). For reasons that are beyond me, my most vivid memories of Okinawa are in Shuri. If you've ever been to Okinawa, you know that the neighborhood roads are designed to confuse outsiders. If you don't live in the neighborhood, you're not supposed to go in. And if you get in, you're not supposed to be able to find your way out. Anciently, this is how varying villages defended themselves against raiding parties from neighboring villages - they'd confuse them.

Really, I think it had something to do with evil spirits having a hard time navigating crooked streets. Whatever the reason, very few streets make any sense. But I know them in Shuri. Yeah, I made a wrong turn or two, but I was trying to get lost. I intuitively knew where this road was going to go, and where that road was not going to go. I know, I know. You really can't understand how impressive it is that I redeveloped an intuition for Shuri's streets so quickly if you've never been there. You'll just have to trust me.

Miwa spotted a soda machine that sells hot chocolate, so we got a few and I rediscovered a sinister trait of Japanese soda cans - the bottoms are disproportionately heavy relative to the rest of the can. So, when you get to the bottom of the can, you still feel like there is more beverage left, because it is heavy on the bottom. But there isn't. It's empty. You feel compelled to buy another can because you anticipated having another sip or two, and now you've gotta have it. We didn't, though, get another.

We went through Shuri and got the hot chocolates as we were winding our way down to the Bridgestone bicycle shop in Naha - yes, the same one just about every missionary in Okinawa went to to get their Mudrock mountain bikes. I was looking for an Okinawan cycling jersey - having recently adopted cycling as a hobby in the States.

They didn't have one, but said their shop in Haebaru had one.

"Where is your store in Haebaru?" Miwa asked.
"Near Meikuman," said the cycling shop employee.
"I know it. I know where that is!" I exclaimed.

I, once again, got to play navigator. Miwa knew where it was too, but I think the location first registered with me because the Meikuman is near the infamous Haebaru McDonalds. We went over there and got the jersey. (For those of you who cycle the paths of Seattle, perhaps you'll see me wearing it sometime.)

We also hit a cookie store. I was hankering for a bit of a snack (no, not that kind of "Snack"), and stopped in a bakery on the ground floor of downtown Naha's giant Ryubo. We ordered 4 small cookies, and watched the employee proceed to wrap them each individually in cellophane, seal the bags, and put them all into another cellophane bag and seal that one too. Then put a sticker on it to make sure it stayed extra sealed. All the while I was holding my hand out palm up hoping she'd just put the cookies in my hand, without any wrappers. Of course not, I'm in Japan. And she was kind enough to inform me that the wrappers would hold the cookies for two weeks. That was good to know. We left the store and ate the cookies.

Perhaps the highlight of the day was the Okinawa Soba we had for lunch. That was great. It took a bit of work to find it (the classic, "when you're not looking for it, you see it everywhere. When you want to find one, you can't."). We asked the parking lot attendant next to Shurijo (yes, we went there. Touristy activity #2 for me on this trip), and she gave us a vague point in the general direction of "that way". We wandered around for some time looking for it. We even went into a Family Mart to ask the quickie mart lady if she knew of an Okinawa Soba place nearby. After consulting with her colleague, they had nothing to offer. So, we decided to (mostly on my inclination) wander through the neighborhood, and do a lap around the block like we would if we were knocking doors (I must say, here, that every door I saw cried out to me to knock on them). Coming to a near complete lap of the block to where we started (at the Family Mart), we spotted an Okinawa Sobayasan...two doors shy of the Family Mart. We went in, it was small, run by an Oba by herself, and the Okinawa Soba was great!

It felt like home.