One Month In
As soon as we arrived and set down our suitcases in the new apartment, the empty cupboards and bare mattresses spurred us right back out the door to pick up some essentials. The first trip to the grocery store was a “Shopping Spree Showdown” as we piled up the cart with American and Japanese pantry staples. For home goods, Japan has their own version of IKEA, called Nitori. Over the course of a few trips, we single-handedly bolstered their Q1 earnings report, while turning our new apartment into a comfortable living space.
As Courtney got busy with work, I made the rounds at the various grocery and home good shops in the area. Digging through the aisles of Asian markets has always been one of my great pleasures, and now I was getting to do it daily. Food shopping was one thing, but acquiring new cookware and gadgets felt like Christmas all over again. With our limited space and temporary stay, I had to show some restraint as I built out our new kitchen, but it wasn’t easy. The ultimate test of will was a trip to a fully stocked restaurant supply store. In a fever dream of culinary possibility, I may have irrationally picked up a mandolin, but otherwise I more or less behaved myself. I also bought a requisite rice cooker, forgoing the pricier models for a much simpler machine that should suit our unrefined American pallets just fine. Next up is some high-quality Japanese steel, but that will have to wait until I go to a proper knife shop on the mainland.
We were still using Courtney’s boss’s car for the first few weeks, but started the hunt for our own ride right away. There are two main classes of car in Japan; white plate and yellow plate. White plate vehicles are larger, more powerful, and more expensive to own. They’re the equivalent to any standard vehicle you’d find on the road in the US. Yellow plates, also known as “kei” cars, are small, having engines under 0.66-liters, and are cheaper to own and operate. Our borrowed ride was a white plate, and we quickly found it outsized for Okinawa’s infrastructure. Parking lots here are comically tight, and we wound up on a few glorified goat paths that Google Maps had marked as roadways. With that bit of experience, we purchased a fun-sized car from a seller on Facebook. At a whopping 53-horsepower, our Mitsubishi EK Wagon struggles up Okinawa’s steep mountainous roads, but I’ll take turning radius over power any day here.
My other priority purchase was a new bike. Fortunately, I found the most hipster bike shop in all of Okinawa. I scoped the store out online before arriving in Japan, and with an Instagram feed full of pour-over coffee, deep-cut vinyl records, and do-it-all bikes, I knew I’d found the right place. One step into Taira Cycles and you’d think you were in Brooklyn, Austin, or Minneapolis. The shopkeeper, Yoshi, carries American steel brands All-City and Surly, along with boutique components and accessories. My ideal new bike would allow for a more upright position and be compatible for bikepacking. The Surly Bridge Club checked all my boxes and with luck there was one left in stock. While I would have been better suited with a larger frame, it fit well enough so I plowed ahead with the purchase. With new bikes being scarce during the “Great COVID Bike Boom” who knows how long I would have had to wait for the perfect ride.
After months of being sedentary, it’s been a joy to spin the legs again. Never a strong climber on my best days, the massive hills here have worked me over, but the more I ride the stronger I’ll get. Aside from the health benefits, riding a bike is hands-down the finest way to explore a new place. So far, my two-wheeled adventures have taken me to some of the top attractions on the island, not to mention the many unnamed viewpoints and small beaches along the coast.
A few weekends ago, we drove north to view the sakura (cherry blossoms), which arrive here in Okinawa a few months before they do on the mainland. Sakura viewing, known as “hanami,” is a huge deal in Japan. I liken it to fall leaf peeping in New England, but taken to a whole other level. As expected, traffic was bumper to bumper as we crept along the tree-lined roads, passengers jumping out along the way to snap quick photos here and there. I’m usually not one for crowds, but it was fun to join in the hype and experience an important part of the local culture. After hiking around and having an ice cream at Mt. Yae, we popped over to the Nakijin Castle ruins, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The impressive walls and the abundant blossoms throughout the castle were beautiful in the fading light. We endured Boston-esque traffic on the drive back home, but it was a small price to pay for a great afternoon of exploring together.
Most conversations I’ve had with people from home so far have started with the same question. “What’s the best thing you’ve eaten?” While we haven’t visited many restaurants, there have been a few noteworthy meals, including perhaps the best bowl of ramen in my life. The highlight so far, though, was a wonderful sushi dinner in the capital city of Naha. Courtney and I each got a full, multi-course meal that included the traditional sashimi and nigiri, along with tempura, chawanmushi (savory egg custard), and the most melt-in-your-mouth broiled fish I’ve ever tried. As we sat at the counter, I attempted to name each fish under the glass. “Ebi, saba, toko, uni…” The chef began quizzing me on some others, playfully goofing on me with a “Wow, I’m sooooo impressed!” act when I’d get one right. Our chef spoke little English, but busting someone's chops appears to be a universal language. Towards the end of the meal, the head sushi master, who spoke decent English, chatted a bit and translated for our other chef when needed. It was a great social experience to compliment a memorable meal.
Miso ramen from Tsukemenjinbei. Definitely in my all-time top three.
Another night led to an interesting food adventure. Courtney and I had both seen recommendations for a restaurant named “Warren’s Place Asian Cajun” nearby, so we popped over to try it. Down a dark, narrow road we figured we must be in the wrong spot until a small sign declared our arrival at Warren’s. The restaurant looked closed. As we exited the car to check, a young girl came out and confirmed our suspicions. “Are you from OIST?” she inquired. “Yes,” we replied, and she told us to wait a minute. After a short while a white guy with a goatee busted out of the house next door. “We’re reservation only,” he barked. “It says so right in the name on Facebook and Google. This is my home, we don’t just let anyone in!” I guess this was Warren. Seeing his level of agitation, we quickly offered a mea culpa for the confusion and promised to return another time, using the appropriate channels. To find some common ground, I noted Courtney’s Texas roots and love for southern cuisine. The instant he heard “Texas,” his demeanor shifted. And when he learned Courtney wasn’t just from Texas, but Houston, any lingering animosity washed away and we began chatting like old friends. Among the banter, Warren wove in tales from his own life; of living homeless in the US for years and now donating most of his food and money to those struggling in Okinawa. After a long conversation, he apologized for not being able to serve us, but asked Courtney if she wanted some gumbo to go. She politely declined, but he insisted. Not wanting to be rude, Courtney graciously accepted his offer. Into the house he went to fetch our meal while we stood by, unsure of what the hell had just transpired. Minutes later he reappeared with not only the gumbo, but a whole roasted chicken too - all gratis! He’s a character, but that Warren has a big heart and makes some damn good Cajun cooking to boot. We’ll be going back to Warren’s Place soon, and I’m sure I’ll have a full post to write after that experience.
Over a month has passed since arriving at OIST. On Day 1, we opened the door to a sterile apartment having to start from scratch, but a mere five weeks later it feels like home. After some initial craziness and having little idea of how things worked here, our pace of life has slowed and we’ve fallen into a comfort zone. We still have a lot to learn, though the challenges ahead don’t seem so daunting anymore.
