Lessons Learned

Today marks the one-week anniversary of my arrival in Japan!  I celebrated it today by driving off-base by myself for the first time.  (Granted, it was to another military installation, Camp Foster to visit with their Red Cross office.  But hey ... it still counts.)

I'm still an island neophyte, but I've learned a few things in the seven days I've been here.  For example:

Lesson 1: The bugs are terrifying.

"Oh hi, I'm a spider and like to eat small rodents."

This is our resident pet spider.  He likes to hang out in between the screen door and patio door.  I feel like we've grown accustomed to each other.  He doesn't bite me.  In return, I don't smash him into a pulpy goo of spider-guts.  I'm hoping that eventually it'll evolve into a Charlotte's Web sort of situation, and he'll make beautiful webs for me that say stuff like, "Terrific" or "Radiant."  (Only they'll be written in Japanese, so I won't understand them.)

Our arachnid friend is roughly the size of a half dollar, which is by no means big here.  There's a web near one of the jogging paths that houses a creature big enough to eat a small bird.

There are also millipedes, slugs, snails, metallic-colored beetles and cicadas that deposit their huge, ancient-looking exoskeletons everywhere.  The other night, I made the mistake of leaving the porch light on, which turned into a lighthouse beacon for all things creepy-crawly.  I went outside to let Lucky relieve himself before bedtime, and I thought I'd stepped into a damn terrarium.

Lesson 2: You will immediately forget all of the Japanese you've learned the moment you're actually put on the spot.

A few days ago, the doorbell rang just as I was stepping out of the shower.  I threw on my (in retrospect, very short) bathrobe on and went downstairs.  Hair in a towel turban, remnants of yesterday's mascara still smudged around my eyes, dripping wet.

Beware, a crazy woman lives here

Two Japanese repairmen had been sent by housing to fix our screen door.  At least this is what I figured out, after much pantomiming and gesturing.  My already minimal knowledge of Japanese had suddenly vanished, and the spot in my brain where I store such information had a flashing neon "Vacant" sign.

While they worked on the back door, I ran upstairs to put on some actual clothes and comb my hair.  By the time I got back downstairs, they had already finished.  I meekly mumbled "sumimasen," which means, "I'm sorry."  (But what I was really trying to convey was, "I'm sorry I stumbled half-naked to the door and acted like a complete idiot."  I'm hoping that point got across.)

As they left, another phrase popped into my head.  "Domo arigato, gozaimasu" means "thank you very much."  I was so proud of myself!  I remembered Japanese!  With great gusto, I bellowed, "Domo arigato .... gozakdfjlsdakjlbjbkldflkflkdfj!"

Lesson Three: The Japanese are wonderful.

Everyone always raves about how polite and kind the Japanese are, and it's true from what I've encountered so far.  For example, the Japanese repairmen didn't seem phased that I'd garbled their language.  Instead, they bowed and told me to have a nice day.  (Granted, they could have been in hysterics during the car ride back to the housing office, but at least they didn't laugh in my face.)

Lesson Four: Always bring an umbrella.

Sunshine to storm in sixty seconds or less

But wait, it's beautiful today!  Not a cloud in the sky!

That's just nature lying to you.  She's going to dump a torrent of fury and lightning at any given moment.  (Usually right after you've dried and styled your hair.)

Oh well, I guess that's the downside of living on a gorgeous semi-tropical island .... life is hard, huh?

I'm sure I'll learn a lot more (and make a lot more mistakes) during my time in Okinawa.  So far, though, it's been great.  I can't wait to see what else the island has in store for me.