Road-biking in Okinawa

Loren's been trying to get me into cycling for years.  He's patiently (and sometimes not-so-patiently) encouraged/nagged me to ride.

Loren, of course, is an absolute natural on the bike.  When he rides, the bicycle almost seems like an extension of his body.  His long, sinewy legs pump effortlessly as he deftly maneuvers through traffic.  He keeps perfectly in cadence, even as he's climbing massive hills.  He bikes as easily as he runs.  (Which, if you've ever met my husband, is saying a lot.)  Loren loves bicycles more than he loves the dog and me.

I know that sounds drastic, but it's true. Even
our living room is dedicated to bikes.

I, on the other hand, look like a wobbly sack of potatoes slumped over a metal frame whenever I ride my ridiculously expensive bike.  I don't know what it is, but I've never been very good at riding.  For the longest time, whenever I would start to gain speed when going downhill, I would brake frantically and start to feel my life flash before my eyes.   I also tend to turn into a nasty, expletive-spewing beast while peddling uphill.  Despite all of this, Loren has retained the slightest hope that I'll someday turn into a cycling superstar like him.

Restroom posters, part two

Loren discovered this gem of a poster at a roadside restroom:

Japan has some seriously strict drunk-driving rules, including a 0.03% blood alcohol limit. (Roughly the equivalent to a beer. Or, in my case, sniffing a glass of wine...) 

True to form, the Japanese have chosen to highlight this serious social issue with a comical cartoon. Maybe Justin Bieber could learn a thing or two from the gentleman here .... 

Awa-dake Hike

It's gray and drizzly today, so I finally have time to sit down and post about last weekend's hike.  Hooray!

Two weeks ago, Loren and I visited Furushi-dake, but noticed a trail leading to its sister mountain, Awa.  This very helpful website said that the Awa-dake hike was about 5-6 hours, so we decided to check it out on a later endeavor.  

 

The cherry blossoms (sakura) on the Motobu peninsula were in full bloom last weekend, so we decided that it would be prime time for a hike.

Okinawa's famous cherry blossoms, with Mt. Awa in the background

Lost in Translation?

You're very welcome.

I encountered this sign in a park-side restroom on Hamahiga island.  As far as I could tell, there was no Japanese-language version of this sign posted.  It makes you wonder:  have they had issues with Americans improperly using the toilets? 

Yoshihatchi Sushi

Japan is a sushi-lover's paradise.

Everywhere I go, there's an abundance of good, relatively inexpensive sushi.  (Even the convenience store sushi rolls are delicious.  You can't go wrong with a 300 yen bento box from Family Mart.)

Loren and I usually frequent the sushi restaurants near the Sunabe Seawall, such as Kouwa Sushi and Sushi Zen.  They're delicious, but they're usually packed with other Americans.  (It's nearly impossible to get away from other Americans on this island.)  So on Friday night, I was in a daring mood and wanted to try something truly authentic.

I did my research and memorized every possible Japanese restaurant-related phrase.  Kore o onegaishimasu.  ("I'll have that one, please.")  Osusume no ryouri wa nan desu ka?  ("What dish do you recommend?")  One of my coworkers suggested trying Yoshihatchi restaurant in Okinawa City.

Sure enough, the restaurant was a random hole-in-the-wall down a side street off of Highway 23.  Big red, white and blue Orion Beer lanterns swayed in the breeze outside the restaurant.  I felt hopeful -- this was going to be a genuine "Japanese experience."

Sorry for the low-qual photos -- I used my iPhone that evening.

 

It's a Jungle Out Here

Okay, let's start by addressing the giant elephant in the room; it's been an inexcusably long time since I've updated this blog.  (I'm not talking about a matter of a few weeks.  I didn't post at all in 2013.)

I think the main issue is that I didn't think that I had anything particularly interesting to post.  Life overseas in Japan, on a beautiful semi-tropical island, had become a bit mundane.  You live anywhere for an extended period of time, and I think you start to take everything for granted. 

It took a trip back to the United States in December to make me realize just how special Okinawa is.  (Sorry, no offense to my family back home.  The vacation was lovely, and the company was amazing, but it was COLD.) 

Cold enough for Dad and me to be wearing coats on a train.  Thanks, Illinois.

I came back to Okinawa with a renewed sense of wonderment.  Everything seemed new and exciting and different again. It's my goal to maintain that feeling of curiosity and awe for the remaining year and a half on the island.  Sometimes I need to stop and remind myself to look at everything through fresh eyes.