Exploring Chatan-cho

I was pretty bummed today because I was really missing Matt when I woke up this morning. It was the first day that I really let his absence get to me. I think it is because there is so much I have wanted to tell him and we haven’t yet been able to be in touch. I found out this evening from the call chain that the Marine communication system is down in Korea and not expected to be up for the next couple days.

The past few days I have been exploring the area around our apartment and the city of Chatan-cho. It is considered one of the most Americanized parts of Okinawa, mostly because it is bordered by three military bases, and is home to Mihama – the American Village. However, the neighborhood where our home is located is quite Japanese. Each day, after some breakfast, reading and emails, I started off in a different direction on Kamisedo to see what I could find. I liked walking through the neighborhood because I felt like I could see more and take more in. Since it is so hot here during the day, I went in many of the shops along the way – groceries, drug stores, antique galleries, shoe stores (with everything from traditional Japanese sandals to New Balance), aquarium and pet stores and of course, the ubiquitous 100 Yen shop.

Yesterday, I wandered clear to Mihama, which is about a thirty-minute walk. I went down to the beach, which is considered one of the prettiest on the island and found the cool dragon sculpture. I also explored Jusco, the giant department store, for a bit longer than Matt and I had when we stopped to look for tatami mats for our floors and slippers for our feet. It is a very fascinating place: half mall/half department store with a food court and supermarket. Smaller boutiques are located along the sides of each floor, with the department store in the middle. I found out that in Japan I wear a 38 in women’s clothing and a size 24 shoe – I am definitely not considered a petite here!

When it was time to head home, I decided to take a taxi because there was a dark cloud looming overhead, a good sign that one of the frequent downpours was about to occur. The taxi experience itself almost made my day. The taxi was immaculately clean and the seats and seat backs had white lace and linen covers. The driver wore white gloves and spoke no English. One thing I should mention is that Japanese do not name their streets and often the numbers are based on when the buildings were built, not where they were located. So you cannot get in a cab and say “815 Kamisedo”. Actually, I ended up giving the driver directions, in very elementary Japanese (and with GREAT help from my phrase book) on how to get home. I was limited to one-word phrases like “hai”, “migi” and “hidarii”, but I still felt like I had made a small accomplishment.