22 hours to Okinawa
Wednesday, February 7th
It’s 5:15 in the morning Okinawa time, and although I’m still exhausted, my California time body clock won’t let me sleep more. My husband, Art Bobroskie, myself and our 14 year old son, John traveled 22 hours to get here.
We will be here for three months exploring the islands to learn all that we can about the culture, history and contemporary life in Okinawa. I have packed all of my wax carving tools and gemstones recently purchased from the Tucson Gem and Mineral show. As soon as we find an apartment I will set up a tiny work space so that I will be able to create new designs during our stay here. John has packed a suitcase full of books and will home school while we are here.
Monday Feb 5th.
I am awake before the 4:00 A.M. alarm mentally checking the final things off on my packing list. I work a final three hours in my office and at 7:00 A.M. I am surprised by an unexpected visit from Alisha, Sterling and Molly. We had said our goodbyes last night so I am completely surprised and delighted. We exchange more hugs and kisses and take a final long look at our 5 month old grand daughter, Molly. She will be crawling when we return in late April but Alisha promises to e-mail us photos. Our friend, Michael Shulman drive us to the airport and although we have 7 bags and Art’s oversized crated bicycle, we are early and check in is smooth. John has been anticipating 12 hours of non stop movies and is immediately involved in the remote control that operates the tiny seat back screen positioned in front of him. John is already taller than I am and he folds himself into the window seat. I scrunch into the middle seat, the peanut butter between Art and John. The flight is surprisingly painless and the 11 hours pass easily between movies and mediocre airline food. We land at Narita International Airport, Tokyo ahead of schedule.
We still have another flight to catch from a different airport so after proceeding through immigration we retrieve our bags, pass through customs and catch an Airport bus for the 1 hour and 20 minutes transfer to the Hanada Airport. Before leaving the United States, I had ordered yen from my bank at home. Having yen in our pockets streamlines our entry. We don’t need to agonize over the airport exchange rates and deal with currency exchange in order to purchase our 3,000 yen bus tickets to Hanada. We have taken this bus many times before and it seems outrageous that it costs nearly $30.00 each to transfer from the international airport to the domestic airport, but that is the way that it is. The bus is convienent and easy and our 7 bags and bicycle are immediately loaded underneath the bus. I look out the window in a jet lagged daze. The air is hazy and the sun is low in the sky. The route isn’t particularly scenic, but all is interesting when you travel. Blue and red tiled houses and apartment buildings with laundry drying on balconies whizz past us. We speed past industrial areas and past high tech districts with unusual and sometimes futuristic architecture. Ferris wheels are silhouetted grey against the hazy skyline and the towers of Disney World’s Magic Castle pierce the haze. The sun is a burning red ball on the horizon when we arrive at Hanada Airport. We watch it set, dipping low under an immense red steel arch. I wish for immediate access to my camera to capture the moment, but my camera is packed securely beneath my computer and sleep deprivation has all but immobilized me.
After retrieving our baggage from the belly of the bus we recheck our bags for the flight to Okinawa and wander the multi level airport shopping mall during our lay over. The airport mall sparkles with brilliantly lit shops and restaurants. We survey the plastic food displays in front of a dozen restaurants and finally chose a restaurant for dinner. Our “set” meals are served on black and red lacquered trays arranged with various sized lacquered dishes and covered bowls. The flight to Okinawa is half empty and John and I are able to stretch out on empty seats and sleep away the two hour flight.
Warm and humid air rushes at us as we deboard the plane and we float dreamlike along glassy corridors lined with literally hundreds of brilliant blooming orchids. The air is heavy with their fragrances. We have already been through immigration in Tokyo so the moving conveyor belt hums us silently and quickly to the baggage claim. Takaki and Tadashi meet us and it takes both of their vans to accommodate the three of us and our luggage.
We have hotel reservations at the Super Hotel. Checking in is a high tech experience. There is a desk clerk but check in is processed by a machine somewhat like an ATM. A screen displays room options and Art presses the screen and enters the number of people in our party and number of nights needed. He slides in crisp bills and a receipt prints out with our room number and a code to open our door. Our triple room is 8000 yen, (about $75) including breakfast for the three of us. Our room is on the 7th floor and Art punches our security code into the key pad. A light flashes green, we turn the handle and enter into our postage stamp sized room. The room is approximately 10 feet x 10 feet square equipped with a stark white fiberglass bathroom pod. This imaculate room is more like a state room onboard a ship than a hotel room. John is exhausted and climbes immediately up the black steel ladder to his narrow and tightly made bunk bed. Art and I fight with suitcases trying to find space to fit them into our room. There are no closets, but two wall racks with three hangers each for our belongings. A queen sized platform bed consumes the majority of the room, tucked underneath the single upper bunk bed. A narrow desk is along the window side of the room with a 12" T.V. at one end, a hot water plate at the other and a tiny refigerator squeezed underneath. There are three pair of bathroom slippers hung below the narrow wall mirror and an emergency flashlight. Art falls into bed immediately but I take some time in our tiny and bathroom cleaning up from the long trip. I am not a stranger to the high tech world of the Japanese toilet, but this is the first time I have had one of these amazing toilets in my room. I hope the following comments will amuse and not offend my readers. The bathroom "pod" is aproximately 4 feet x 5.5 feet and remarkably well designed. A small but very deep bathtub is against the not so very far away wall with a tiny sink angled between tub and toilet. There is a drain in the center of the floor. I sit down to relieve my bladder and the cushioned seat is heated. Immediately there is a rush of water filling the toilet. The controls along side of the toilet have visually explicit icons. One button regulates a warm jet stream of water aimed at one’s butt and a second button operates a wider spray of water. There is a controll slide to regulated the pressure of the water. Although these features are more than satisfactory, this toilet lacks the of hot air option to dry one’s bottom. It also lacks the musical or "flushing noise" feature that I have noticed in some upscale public bathrooms. (A user can push this button to cover up any embarassing bathroom sounds he or she might emit.) Familiarized with the toilet I move to brush my teeth. Individually wrapped disposable toothbrushes are provided with miniscule tubes of toothpaste. There is one pivoting water faucet positioned between the bathtub and the sink. I swing the faucet so that it points into the sink, turn on the cold water and brush. I note that I will have the option of a deep bath or the use of a shower wand in the morning. Wall mounted soap and shampoo dispensers are installed for our convienence. Exhausted by the trip I slip gratefully into crisp sheet and sleep.
Marty