Okinawa!

Ah, Okinawa...not the trip I expected, but nothing wrong with it. I don't even care that there was a typhoon that kept us from snorkeling and other beachy activities.

I think some of the friendliest people in Japan live in Okinawa. Everyone we met in Naha (nihonjin and gaijin alike) said they tried Tokyo and hated it. The vibe is much more laid back in Okinawa, kind of like the west coast of the US vs the east coast. I think it's the weather, which is warmer all year, giving it a more tropical feel. Indeed, there were hibiscus flowers everywhere, and cool windy trees (whine-dy not win-dy). Lots of folks in aloha shirts instead of suits. Random people smiled at me.

Our first order of business was to check into our minshuku. It looked nothing like the picture from the website, at least not on the outside.







I don't know what Greek seaside village they took that photo in, but the Minami-Kaze was right at a busy intersection, sandwiched between some other buildings. Whatever, we didn't come to Okinawa to hang out in our guesthouse.

Next on the agenda, what there was of one, was to locate the tattoo shop. We had found One Shot Tattoo online (MySpace of all things), and they looked like they had a good portfolio. We found it, and scheduled separate appointments a day apart. Since we had given up on going island-hopping or swimming or anything like that, it didn't really matter.















So, we started our sampling of the local cuisine. There are some things Okinawa is known for, like these dishes, which I tried and will probably never eat again, if I can help it:















Goya with tofu and Spam (goya looks like a mutant cucumber and tastes like the bitterest thing you've ever had. Supposed to be good for you, naturally)















Tofu fermented in sake for four months. Helen liked this and ordered it another night. I couldn't even look at it the second night.















Sea grapes. Not bad, but not very interesting, flavor-wise. Like not-salty roe, only it's a kind of seaweed.

We also tried the local shochu, which is called awamori, mixed with shikuwasa juice. Yum. Shikuwasa look like this:











A few of these, and some music, led us down a side street to Ti-Da, a neat little bar. The owner is a guy called Teru, who is also a dive instructor and is single "because he hasn't found the right woman." (we found out later that he's married. No secrets in a small town).















He introduces us to his friend the sanshin sensei (sanshin is the Okinawan shamisen), who treated us to an impromptu concert.



I was some sheets to the wind by this point, and didn't realize that I can't videotape sideways with my camera (and turn it around later, I mean). I apologize for the stiff necks and this is what the guy looks like right side-up:




















Teru then took us to his buddy's bar down the road (in a taxi, for what was probably a 5 minute walk). The bartender was half Brazilian. Apparently there are a lot of Japanese in Brazil, who knew? I spent most of the time talking to the guy next to me, a Mongolian who rides horses in the traditional Mongolian way (standing up, wooden saddle). Pretty interesting.

Rolled out of bed slowly the next day, had brunch, and Helen went off to get her tattoo while I shopped. Here's the tat, very cute:















Here's where I shopped, in the famous Kokusai-Dori's indoor market:















Tons of omiyage with these guys on them:















They are called Shi-sa (or si-sa, depending on who's spelling it), and they are the dog-guardians of Okinawa. I also found a sanshin shop. I wanted to get one for Jeff, but the real ones were prohibitively expensive and as they are covered with snake skin, taboo for export:















After the tattoo, we had some time before dinner, so we took the monorail to the end of the line and the Shuri Castle. It's different than other Japanese castles, as Okinawa was it's own kingdom for awhile, and had a lot of Chinese influence. Much more colorful. It had a nice little tea shop that gave us unlimited jasmine tea and little local cakes for 300 yen. Yum.















Traditional dancing:





























The king's cool hat:















There were also a lot of lovely trees:















This one actually is two trees: the inner stump is a super-old tree that was damaged by the war, among other things, and a new tree wound around it:




















For dinner, we went to a place that was recommended by a friend of Helen's. It was made to look like it was outdoors, though it wasn't, and had live traditional music. The food was much more palatable to me. Had some local sashimi (not as good--I am told that warm-water fish are not as good as cold-water fish), some wonderful little tempura'd bits of something that was either fish or vegetable, pickled papaya (or mango, I can't remember), and some other stuff that Helen ordered for us (like always).

Here's the music, kinda neat, if repetitive:


We located Paul & Mike's, the Canadian bar advertised on the tourist map. We met some interesting foreigners, including Paul himself:















Very friendly place. Sadly, the building housing it is going to be torn down, but happily, Paul is soon opening another bar called Rehab, so look for it if you're ever in Okinawa and tell Paul we said hi.

Here, we were treated to another impromptu concert by a self-taught Irish fiddler. Only in Japan can you see a Japanese guy playing Irish music in a Canadian bar:



The next day, I got my tattoo. Here it is (and my cool Okinawa hat):




















Dinner that night was at a totally different kind of place, also recommended by Helen's friend. It was a funny little place, run by a busy friendly little loud woman who kept bringing us free food. They are famous for goat-meat there, tho they don't usually have it anymore. Lucky for us, there was supposed to have been a big festival that weekend, which was canceled due to the typhoon, so they had a bunch of goat on hand. She asked us if we wanted tamako (is that right, Helen?), which are, you guessed it, goat testicles. How could we pass that up? They weren't bad, actually, though larger than I expected. Kinda, dare I say it, creamy. We also had goat sashimi, which was chewy. Both items had a very tough skin on, which was kind of like chewing rubber bands. We had a good giggle about how they get the hair off: shaving? waxing? Time for your Brazillian, Billy!















Helen eating goat balls:















We went back to the Canadian bar, where, for some reason, I had drinks bought for me by a random ex-US-military biker-looking guy who liked my new tattoo and a suited Japanese man who liked my Black Devil cigarettes. Like I said, very friendly. Our flight was at 8 am the next morning, so we decided not to go to sleep. We closed the bar and followed Paul and the fiddler to a sports bar to watch the rugby semi-semi finals (or something). I tried to follow it, but alas, my Americaness betrayed me and I hadn't a clue.

I need to go back there, and experience the other Okinawa, the beautiful beaches and clear waters and all that. There is supposed to be an amazing aquarium, too. I saw pictures. There were whales.

Thanks, Helen, and all you Okinawans, for a great trip!

Here's your Moment, jars of habu-sake, jars of awamori with whole snakes in them (Jeff has tried this, so ask him). It's supposed to be good for you: