1. Sunscreen. Although I have long been a queen of sunscreen compared to many of my friends and acquaintances, the abundance and intensity of Okinawa sunshine has galvanized the quantity of my application moments. I pretty much reapply whenever I head outside unless it's night time or it's raining! In my bathroom cabinet resides a large container of the stuff, and I carry somewhat smaller tubes in my purse and in my backpack. Even the glove compartment of my car holds a tube of sunscreen.
2. The Expressway. Okinawa has one expressway--perhaps a cousin to a freeway and a step-cousin to the Autobahn--that stretches about sixty kilometers from Naha, situated in the southern region of the island, to Nago, definitely in the northern half of the island but about fifty kilometers short of Cape Hedo, the most northern point. It is a toll road with eighty kilometers per hour posted as the maximum speed, but it has no stoplights--a most worthy perk on an island where stoplights abound in all populated localities. Tolls can add up quickly, though; for my commute, I travel less than ten miles on the Expressway at a cost of about $3 each direction. To encourage potential renters to consider places in "outlying" areas--like where I live--landlords are often willing to negotiate Expressway fees into the rent. That is my arrangement. Since I head to school quite early in the morning, I often use the regular highway on the way to work because traffic has yet to jam the route. After school, though, the Expressway usually wins the very brief debate about which way to go home. Already two gentlemen who man the tollbooth where I pay when I exit the Expressway recognize me; we have a regular ritual of greetings in both English and Japanese, nods and smiles, and then thank-yous in the two languages once again; it's like both sides of the conversation must showcase their abilities in the native and the foreign language!
3. Roosters. Yes, you read that correctly. Even though night has yet to surrender to dawn when I leave for school in the morning, I hear roosters crowing somewhere out there in the darkness. They know the sun soon will announce its upcoming arrival at the horizon, and I know I really do live in an outlying locale.
4. Rice paddies. As referenced above, I am a bit of an outlier with regard to my place of residence. Just over the fence--and in full view from my side balcony--are rice paddies. The first time I saw my apartment with a realtor, the rice seedlings had just been planted. I have since watched their cycle of life all the way unto the harvest just over a week ago and now curiously await what comes next--another crop or some weeks to be fallow.
I took this photo the first time I saw the apartment with a realtor.
Scarecrows showed up in October.
Harvest.
And this morning...scarecrows down!
But not this one at the far end. We had a wild rainstorm last night, so I think the two scarecrows down may be "an act of God" and not "an act of farmer"!
5. Student name of the year. This school year, like my sister Diane--also a teacher--I have a preponderance of students named Jaden/Jaiden/Jayden/Jadyn/Jaydon/Jadon. Eight to be exact. Six boys, two girls, and six spellings.
6. Creatures. So far I have witnessed the presence of mice, a rat, a mongoose (the result of an unfortunate import choice), snails, snails on steroids (another transplant by mistake), and a variety of insects. In my own home I have encountered a spider on steroids (he cast a shadow on the floor!...which necessitated the use of the vacuum) and also a cockroach on steroids--tropical climate must be synonymous with "steroid." In fact, "Ricky"--because I felt like I could hear his cockroach exoskeleton actually click as he moved--and I met my first night in my apartment when I got up to go to the bathroom. I turned on the light and immediately understood I was not alone; Ricky occupied definite space there on the floor! He then scurried into oblivion as I contemplated how a cockroach found his way to an apartment on the ninth floor and survived for the weeks said apartment had remained unoccupied. We continued our nocturnal meetings for three nights in a row before I concluded there were too many of us and Ricky would be the designated one to exit. Still, Ricky just embodied too much crunch and muscle for me to confront him with brute force. The thought seriously made me shudder. Hence, I opened the bathroom cabinet and amongst the motley assortment therein located a bottle of body splash--healing garden green tea. I do not regret to inform you that Ricky ultimately succumbed to alcohol poisoning, and my bathroom smelled quite lovely nigh unto 24 hours!
I have not seen a habu--except for the one preserved in a bottle of sake on the bar near where we paid for a meal--and would most definitely prefer not to...especially in a real life situation.
"Two native and two introduced species of habu snakes--venomous and aggressive in nature--inhabit the vegetation and jungle of Okinawa, making hiking and late-night ground travel very dangerous for people here."
I watch for them when I start a morning run before it's fully light and comfort myself with thoughts that they probably don't like being near the ocean...something I have no idea whether is true or not!
7. Beach men. Here I run the path that follows the beach coastline near my home. Most of my runs commence near the time of sunrise, and often fishermen have poles set up at various points along my route. Lean, sinewy, and weathered, some listen to a radio or follow something on a phone; others watch the sea zen style. Yet they always nod at me and some of them even smile. There is one man who is not a fisherman at all, but he always shows at some point on any of my morning runs. This man never greets me; in fact, he never looks at me at all. He watches the daybreak over the sea while consuming a small morning repast: coffee in a can (probably from a vending machine or convenience store), a bottle of water, and something crunchy--a snack-like finger food fried crispy.
These photos I actually took on an afternoon run, so my regular morning beach men were not available for the photo op!
8. Cooler in the trunk. Well, okay, I just removed it last week because, after a foray into the commissary, I no longer feel the pressure to race home before my food melts and/or rots. But there is certainly a season here in Okinawa where one realizes some food may not survive the ride home without additional temperature protection!
9. Sea and sky. Always. And I may have a thousand photos before a year is up. Sea and sky--they are ever-changing and gloriously relentless in their capacity to teach me another facet of beauty.
10. Seasons? The calendar shows November, and the sweatiness factor--temperature and humidity--of August and September has begun to dissipate Yet, I still sleep with the windows open and only a sheet and a summer coverlet. Although I often wear a hoodie or jacket inside buildings air-conditioned to temperatures surely in the polar range, I have yet to need one while outside. So, I think I may be learning a different pattern to the seasons.
1 comment:
A cockroach can survive on the adhesive on a postage stamp for 30 days. One of the factoids I have heard over my life.
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