Naruto (Part IV)

After a great night's sleep in the Mongolian Tent, we made our way to the north east tip of Shikoku to the Naruto Straight. The straight connects the Seto Inland Sea and the Pacific Ocean between Shikoku and Honshu. Twice a day, as the tide changes, the water flows through the straight at a rate of up to 20 kilometers per hour creating whirlpools that can span up to 15 meters in diameter. We missed the peak viewing time by about an hour, but it was still well worth it. The bridge spanning the channel allows for traffic on the upper level, and has a pedestrian viewing area beneath the road 45 meters above the water. There are sections of glass on the bridge so you can look at the water rushing between your feet. I managed to read the katakana around the glass panels. It read: "No Jumping." No kidding.

Bridge perspective

The bridge is just over a mile long and the pedestrian area is enclosed by wire mesh but is open to the air. About halfway across the suspension bridge I thought of that footage of the golden gate bridge dancing its ass off during an earthquake. Then I imagined the bridge collapsing into the whirlpools and being unable to escape because of the wire enclosure. This is why my brain is not my friend. I managed to get a grip on this ridiculous train of thought and have a great time anyway, but the Naruto Straight Bridge now ranks number 1 on the list of places I don't want to be when the Tokai Earthquake hits. If you check out that link and still think I'm being overly paranoid about earthquakes, well, you're just stupid. :-)

The view facing the Pacific

Naruto Bridge Video

While watching the whirlpools we got in touch with T.K. and Thi once more and finally met up with them as we came off the bridge. The plan for that night was to drive south to Tokushima to attend Japan's biggest summer festival and home of the famous Awa Odori Dance. So, It was back in the ever shrinking car and back on the road.

T.K. and Thi following us in the cutest car ever made

My legs are under all that stuff.

Happy it's my turn in the front seat!

Naoshima (Summer Trip Part III)

After a cold night of camping in the East Iya Valley, it was off to the next ferry bound for the small island of Naoshima. Once the ferry was underway, we took a strategic nap on the carpeted area right next to the outlets where we plugged in three phones and two digital cameras. An hour later we were greeted by a giant pumpkin as the ferry docked.

It's the Great Pumpkin, Lizzie-chan!

Naoshima is an island known for it's extensive collection of modern art. The entire island and its various museums and installations are meant to combine to form one big art environment. I can totally appreciate this concept and I do love me some culture, but I really enjoy an art museum on a rainy day, not when it competes directly with tropical island paradise. Joe and Liz were much more disciplined tourists that day, so while they went off to the museums, I sun bathed on the beach and went for a swim at sunset. The colors just kept getting better and better so I swam back to shore and grabbed the camera.

I'll do some learning right here, thank you.

Liz is an itinerary planning genius, and should seriously consider a career planning amazing trips. In her endless research, she found a place on the beach that rents out authentic Mongolian Tents. The tent had 5 beds, a heater, a small fridge and a table and chairs. The interior was incredibly ornate with hand painted supports, bright blue lattice framing and a red and white fabric ceiling. Our nomadic tribe of three felt quite at home inside and had room for more.

The Mongolians knew how to camp in style

Our tribe of three was about to expand. For the last two days, Joe and Liz's friends T.K. and Thi had been shadowing us by a hundred kilometers or so, all over Shikoku. Since the beginning of the trip, we had been in touch once a day and planned to meet the following day. Rinse and repeat. Now it was going on day 5 and we were still one ferry ahead of the stragglers. We made plans to meet tomorrow at Naruto's famous whirlpools and got back to work relaxing on Naoshima. After sunset, we found a good spot at a picnic table near the water, and Joe once again worked his magic with the portable stove.

Home sweet home

Mongolian tent circle

When we checked in, we were told to bring our shoes into the tent with us or the racoon dogs would steal them. I had read all about Japan's famous Tanuki and at hearing this, became instantly obsessed with capturing one on camera. From Wikipedia: The legendary tanuki is reputed to be mischievous and jolly, a master of disguise and shapeshifting, but also absent-minded and gullible.
We were banking on gullible when we set an onigiri (rice ball) as bait to draw them into a clearing next to our picnic table. Instead we saw their mischievous side. Whenever one of us would venture back to the tents or the bathroom we would inevitably see at least one Tanuki, until that is, we brought a camera. I walked for twenty minutes with the camera ready and saw nothing, but on my way back from a quick walk to get some ice, I had my hands full and nearly tripped over three of them on my way back to the table. They didn't go for the bait while we waited, but luckily Liz has eyes like a hawk and caught one of them spying on us from a shrub and I managed to get a quick picture before he was gone.

Tanuki-san

View from the dinner table

Shikoku Trip: Part II

Rafting in the Iya Valley

Day 2: We woke up early and made our way a few hours inland to the beautiful Iya (ee-ya) Valley. The valley is considered one of Japan's three hidden places and with the state of the roads, I can see why, but more on that later. We arrived at Happy Raft, an Aussie owned rafting company deep in the Oboke Gorge. Our guide was Nepalese and a bit difficult to understand. In the beginning of the trip he yelled to us over the sound of the river that our team name was something that sounded like either Chuck Martins or Chick Party. He went on to describe a fierce warrior tribe from Tibet and I think our name had something to do with that. Whenever we would clear a set of rapids, he would have us all raise our oars in celebration and chant our team name. I still wasn't sure what it was, so I decided to go with a cross between my two best guesses and yell "Chuck Party!" when cued.

Our guide was impressively experienced with Class 5 rapids in Tibet and seemed a little bored with the novice class 2-3 scene, giving him an air of recklessness. He would send us down the rapids backwards or sideways all while telling us to relax, and then suddenly yell "Get Down!", which means get low in the boat and hold your oar up over your head. After nearly finishing the first set of rapids (key word: nearly) he called for us to raise our oars in celebration and shout "Chuck Party!", all while the raft continued into a rock that nearly knocked me out of the boat. I found myself wishing we had been assigned to the cute Kiwi guide in one of the other rafts. He kept pushing his team out of the raft, but only in the calm areas. Oh, and he had nice arms.
Check out the picture above. Joe, in front, is pulling the Washington crossing the Delaware pose complete with a determined but calm facial expression. The rest of us, including our guide, have our eyes closed and are screaming. I'm in the back on the right in the blue helmet. Our guide is in the white helmet. Below: This is what to do when your guide says "Get down!" I was quite good at that part.

A little team bonding

Team Chuck Party, thrilled to be back on land

Back on dry land, we set about the business of finding some lunch and a suitable campsite for the night. We knew we wanted to be near the river, and had clearance to camp right there at happy raft, but we decided to go looking for that perfect spot since we had all day. We made our way to back up into the mountains of Iya and enjoyed the view from a Mom and Pop soba noodle shop on the side of the road. We had our afternoon open, so we checked the map and set out to find Iya's famous vine bridges. On our way we noticed what we thought was a man driving a spotted golf cart down a steep mountain road. Upon further inspection we discovered it was a scenic lady bug ride for 400 yen. How could we resist?

Ladybugs incoming!

The lady bug ride offered some spectacular views at the top.

After that priceless little pit stop, we were off to find the bridges. The first of the three was easy to find and was crowded with tourists and shops. The bridge was beautiful and a little scary considering that the space between the planks was usually about the length of my foot.* We marveled at how an attraction such as this could never exist in the super litigious U.S., as someone would sue as soon as they lost a flip flop and shut down the site forever.

Lizzie-chan crossing carefully in loose sandals

And now me...

Cute couple shot next to the big waterfall.

Lonely Planet advised that to escape the crowds and see the longer, higher and therefore better bridges, the more adventurous traveler should take route 438 about 30 kilometers east to the "husband and wife" brides in East Iya. It also mentioned riverside camping near the lesser known bridges. Perfect. What Lonely Planet failed to mention was that Rt. 438 is a single width, two way, non guard-railed, precariously balanced (on sand bags in some areas), insanely terrifying mountain road. We also were unaware that 438 was to be only the second worst road we traveled in Shikoku. 439 was twice as bad, but we'll get back to that on day 6. On these kinds of roads 30 kilometers takes an entire afternoon. We followed the road through its many twists and turns and only screamed when we looked over the edge for the first half hour or so. Joe wins the golden driving gloves award for never showing us he was scared and for keeping all four tires on the road at all times.

We made a few mistakes along the way, first following signs for the resort named after the vine bridges, rather than the vine bridges themselves. This kind of thing happens when your most literate group member can only read half of the sign. We came across an intersection soon after that marked 438 as going in either direction simultaneously. We picked the wrong one and had to double back after discovering it was a dead end. We made it to our destination just after dark. Luckily the moon was full that night and we could see where we were going because in order to get to out camp site we had to carry everything we could from the car, down a few hundred steps, and then across the longer, higher, scarier vine bride mentioned in the guide book.

Joe set up camp in the dark while Liz and I had a beer. He actually said the following: "Sit, have a drink, play some cards. When I'm done setting up the tents and building the fire I'll start on dinner." And when we protested: "I like doing this! Relax! Sit down!" Then he made us a delicious dinner out of almost nothing. Our stash contained chicken, potato chips, some thin steak strips and ampan bread (a roll with sweet bean paste in the middle). He coated the chicken in crushed potato chips and then grilled them on the portable stove. The resulting miracle, which we named Chipken, was a contender for the best chicken I have ever had. Then he grilled the steak and the ampan bread which combined made an awesome salty-sweet steaky sandwich. Those were some good eats! I highly recommend camping with Joe. As a matter of fact, I highly recommend cloning Joe.
Joe- this post goes out to you in all your awesomeness, and I think we should get to work on that self-contradictory impromptu campsite cooking book pronto. Ohmygoshiimas!

*Foot note (pun intended): the yellow sandals I am wearing in nearly every shot throughout the trip were bought here in Japan. They were 1000 yen, or $10, and are a size LLL. They just barely fit me.

Summer Vacation: Shikoku Trip Part I

So, let me tell you about my trip, mini-series style. It's just too big to read in one sitting and there are 60 some pictures that need to be uploaded, so please peeps, be patient. Now, from the beginning...

The Shinkansen is Japan's Bullet Train. I now fondly call it the Shink because I love it so much it needed a pet name. We Americans have been missing out on how amazing a train ride can be because of the sorry excuse for a rail system that is Amtrak. For my fellow SAT dorks out there- The Shinkansen :: Amtrak : Neiman Marcus :: Big Lots. I began my trip in style on the Nozomi Train, the newest and fastest of the lot. It looks like a streamlined duck on the outside and makes a cool whistling noise at top speed.

The Shink beats the hell out of flying any day. There is no turbulence, no lost luggage, no weather delays, no 8th on the runway for takeoff, no emergency landings and best of all, no pilots. This is the way to travel. At 190 miles an hour, the trip from Tokyo to Hiroshima took just under 4 hours and made about 6 stops including Osaka, Kyoto and Yokohama. The inside of the train is modern and ultra quiet. There are vending machines and seat service that includes bento lunches and cocktails. The doors between cars open automatically as you approach them like in star trek and the toilets have heated seats and speakers that play running water noises when you sit so you dont have to hear yourself pee. The seats recline way back and you have plenty of leg room to stretch out. Earthquake phobic people like myself can rest easy knowing that the trains automatically stop when an earthquake is detected. I got to see quite a bit of Japan fly by on my trip from one end of Honshu to the other. Here's a peek:

I arrived at Hiroshima terminal around 6:00pm and stepped outside to find Joe and Liz, who were kind enough to plan this whole trip and then invite me along. Joe and Liz were the ones who started the snowball rolling that eventually avalanched into me quitting my job and moving to Japan. They had similar late 20s crises and came here a year ago. I had met Liz a couple of times and Joe once, but didn't know them well and hadn't heard much about their move to Japan until that fateful day that I had beers with Chris Grant. I had been having an awful day at work, sitting though theatrical zoning meetings and arguing with the parking authority on the phone when I suddenly had a feeling like someone was standing on my chest. With all the opportunities I've had and all the choices I've made, this is what it comes to? Working in West Philly arguing about whether or not a bike rack will be reinstalled in a municipal parking lot on Baltimore Avenue? This can not be my life. The thought had just floored me when Chris called and said "happy hour?" A few hours later I was still in the thick of my gloomy realization when I asked Chris to tell me a story because I didn't feel like talking until I had knocked back a few V&Ts. Then the snowball came my way: "Well", he said "Did I tell you that Liz and Joe moved to Japan?"

That snow ball came full circle when ten months later I was walking out of the train station at Hiroshima and Joe and Liz were waiting for me in a tiny Mitsubishi packed with camping gear.

Joe and Liz in Hiroshima

We were going to Shikoku: Japan's oft-forgotten, most scarcely populated and reputably haunted island. Shikoku wasn't accessible by bridge until the 90's and was used in history as a place of exile. Joe, Liz and I all seem to follow a pattern of self-exile (at least for the time being) so I suppose Shikoku was a fitting place for us to vacation. But first things first. We spent our first night in Hiroshima and made our way to the Atomic Bomb Dome, the only building left standing within a mile and a half radius of ground zero.

Gembaku Domu (A-Bomb Dome)

The ruin is somber but beautiful, surrounded by peace park and two rivers. It is strange to pay your respects at a memorial for an autrocity commited by your own country. I would have been glad to rest assured in the knowledge that the murdering of civilians ended with Hiroshima, but sadly, it continued in another part of the world even as I stood humbly before the dome. My students are moved at the fact that I visited Hiroshima so early into my stay, and as a majority, the Japanese seem to regard Hiroshima as a reason to strive for peace in the future rather than a reason to remain bitter towards Americans. I am grateful for their attitude, because although Japan's citizens must be among the quirkiest in the world, they also hold grace and dignity in high regard. I think I will learn a lot from my neighbors.

The dome and peace park

After spending the night in Hiroshima, we set out the next morning for the port of Kure to catch a two hour ferry to our isolated island home for the next 7 days. The ferry took us across the island dotted Inland Sea. The water is a deep blue green and the mountains appear to be painted on the horizon in varying shades of gray. The sea could use a good skimming in some areas, but that trash comes from Korea, just ask anyone.

The Sato Inland Sea

We arrived in Matsuyama and after checking in at the guest house, we took a rope lift up the mountain in the direction of the famous castle. It was my first Japanese castle and it did not disapoint. The woodwork, costume displays and views of the city were top notch according to Liz and Joe who have toured their share of Kyoto's famous sites.

Matsuyama Castle

The view of Matsuyama over the castle's eaves

After poking around Matsuyama for the day and witnessing the beginnings of their Summer Festival, we hopped a streetcar and took it to Dogo Onsen, Japan's oldest and most famous bath house. I had butterflies going in and as it turns out, they weren't unwarranted.

Dogo Onsen

There is a type of over-exposure therapy in which one faces a fear for an extended period of time until the anxiety ends and the phobia is cured. An onsen is that kind of treatment for the fear of being naked in public. After this experience I don't think I will be revisited by my naked graduation speech dream again.

We bought our tickets (about $8) and were given a bar of soap, a towel the size of a dish rag and a locker. A few minutes later, my new friend Liz and I were standing naked against a wall in a steamy room filled with about 30 Japanese woman wondering what to cover with our towels. Before entering the bath in the center of the room, you are required to sit, scrub and rinse at a washing station on either side of the room. The bath was crowded and the washing stations were filled with women chatting away and conditioning their hair, so Liz and I waited awkwardly for about 25 minutes making small talk and trying not to stare. This is supposed to be relaxing.

We finally snagged two washing stations next to each other and tried to act casual while we washed our hair with bar soap. We eased into the scalding hot bath a few minutes later and kept our eyes on the fountains and the domed ceiling until we couldn't stand the heat anymore and got the hell out of there. The naked anxiety was gone after the first 15 minutes, but I still wouldn't say it was relaxing. Maybe in February after being cold all day, but not in August when you've reached your heat threshold by 2pm. I did feel clean as a whistle, that is, until I put the sweaty clothes back on that I had been wearing to hike the moutain all day. That must be why everyone else had yukata (japanese summer kimono-style robes).

Me, post-bath, headed for a stiff drink

Joe, Liz and I had a moto for our trip: "Learn it." Living in Japan is daunting enough even with your own apartment and a daily routine, but when road tripping in an unfamiliar place, there is always a new obstacle that needs tackling. We vowed to dig in our heels and figure things out rather than getting flustered. Getting gas? Learned it. Buying the right Ferry ticket? Learned it. Navigating with maps solely written in Kanji? Learned it. Naked public bathing? Learned it.

This was only the first 24 hours of my trip. You can see why this will take a while. I will try to keep them coming at a steady pace, so ease off me with the demanding emails people! And as always, when you read new posts, leave a comment! They keep me motivated.
My pan-handling sign: Will write for comments. :-)

Translate please!

I found this cartoon map of my area at Usui train station. I can tell it's my 'hood' because of the giant Dutch windmill just left of center (Eww! I said left of center). It blends in here about as well as I do. Only my geek friends will get this: The windmill reminds me of Sim City for the Super Nintendo. When you reached a nominal level of success growing your city, you would start receiving gifts to place around town. At first they were cool gifts, like the mayor's mansion or a police headquarters, but soon the game designers ran out of ideas. After progressing through the game for a while you would receive weird buildings like, well like a giant Dutch windmill. You'd have to plop it in your city somewhere so that you could receive the next gift, but sometimes it just didn't fit with the concept you had going on. That must have been what happened here.
Now on to my point: I am inheriting a very nice bicycle after the break from a teacher who has finished his reign and I would like to go exploring. This map is exactly the info I am looking for, but it would be ever so much more helpful in English. I know translating is a pain in the ass, so if you only want to cover a number or two, just leave them in the comments section and let the other bi-fluents pick up the slack. In case you were unaware: Mup, Alex, Masako, Daisuke, Ben and Brad- I'm looking at you. Thank you very much in advance!
ps- Don't forget to click on the pics for the full size version. And also, there is no number, but I'd really like to know the meaning of the bearded tourist and giant peanut walking hand in hand. Really really. Here are the close ups:

The kindness of strangers and the onset of Schizophrenia

Today was a good day. Not for any big reason, there were a few small ones (I found some great stuff while shopping) but mostly it was that my head was back in the right place after a few days of feeling like I was slipping out of my honeymoon phase with Japan.

The slipping started last weekend when I hit a wall with my inability to communicate. I was on the train in central Tokyo heading for Alex's home town and trying to activate my cell phone. Alex had been in Japan all of 12 hours when we were scheduled to meet up, so he didn't have a cell phone yet and was going to be away from home when I got into town. The plan was for him to call my cell phone around 11:30 and I would tell him which train I was on, and which station I was headed for (there are several options). I bought my cell phone the night before, for specifically this purpose and others just like it. I was informed that it would not be connected until 11am the next morning, and given instructions on how to call and activate my phone at that time. I had the instructions in English, and a half hour to get it working before Alex called. Simple, right? Wrong.

Just after 11:00 and well on my way to Shinjiku, I dialed the number, followed the instructions, and heard a recorded reply in Japanese that ended with 'ma sen'. That's not good. 'Ma sen' is what is added to the end of a sentence to make the whole thing negative, as in "your phone is NOT activated", or "that is NOT the correct code", something along those lines. The problem is, 'ma sen' is the only part of that sentence I could understand. I tried it several times and listened again to the recording, straining to hear over the noise of the train and wishing I could ask the automated chick to speak slowly. After 5 attempts, all I got was 'ma sen'.

I was at an impasse; I was pressed for time and I needed this phone to work in order to find my friend in a suburban city of 600,000 people. For the first time since I landed, I felt like crying. I looked around the train hoping to see a fellow foreigner with a friendly face, ideally reading a Japanese newspaper, as to imply bi-fluent status. I saw only Japanese faces, and as it's impolite to make eye contact on the train, no one looked back to see my wide eyed lost little girl expression that has come in so handy here.

I took a deep breath and turned to the teenage girl sitting next to me. I said (in Japanese) "Excuse me, I don't understand this." (holding up my phone and the activation instructions) "Can you help me please?" She looked at the Japanese instructions and started to speak in Japanese while gesturing to the booklet. She was probably saying, "Well, you call this number and then type in your code." I started to answer and said "Yes, but I don't understand...," and here's where my vocabulary ran out. I searched my mind's index for how to say "what the voice is saying after I enter the code", or "what I am doing wrong", or "how to get this piece of shit phone to work in the next 5 minutes or less" but I didn't know how to say any of those things. (Still don't).

Instead I just offered her the book and the phone and said "you please". She looked shocked and pointed to her nose which is the Japanese way of saying "me?" I nodded furiously and bowed a couple of times in my seat. She understood apparently, and followed the instructions while listening to the prompts herself. After a minute or two she handed the phone back to me, smiled, and said "OK!" Alex called three minutes later.

So, to the Japanese teen dressed in a school uniform and cramming for a test on the Yamanote line between Ueno and Shinjiku: Thank you. You saved me that day, both from spending a day searching for my friend in a strange city and from an embarrassing crying spell on a crowded train. I would have told you as much, but I don't know how to say that either.

Unfortunately, that feeling of helplessness and isolation lasted longer than the cell phone dilemma. It reared its ugly head again a few days later at the travel agency when after an hour I walked out with a $400 train ticket, a massive tension headache, and a feeling that my travel plans may not have been clearly communicated at all.

Since then I have been squashing a rising doubt in the back of my head. I was walking to work the other day thinking about where I could find a pair of river shoes that would fit me for my upcoming rafting trip, when it surfaced, loud and clear. "What the hell am I doing here?" The voice asking paid no attention to my current train of thought and sounded pissed. It seemingly came out of nowhere, and just as surprisingly I answered it, quickly and without thinking. "Shut up, I'm on an adventure." That was it. Hmmm, I just had a subconscious argument with myself while wide awake. That's a first. I pondered whether I should be concerned for my mental health, but my justification is this: It was a completely valid question, and a pretty solid answer at that, so I'll let it slide. If they (I mean I!) start arguing over sports scores however, I'm going straight to the Tokyo Counseling Clinic I see advertised everywhere. At the bottom of their posters it says "English accepted". Oh good, how about Visa?

Scenes from a Japanese Summer festival

Obon is buddhist festival holiday in which families return to their home towns and honor their ancestors, who's spirits are believed to revisit the family home during the festival. There is a specific dance, the bon-odori done during this time to welcome the spirits back from heaven. Nearly every town in Japan has a summer festival and some do it bigger than others.
My friend Alex, from Philadelphia, came back to his home town, Hachioji, for the summer festival and invited me to come along. I was glad I did, as Hachioji happens to be one of the towns that goes all out.
Hachioji is a large suburban city about 45 minutes West of Tokyo. I live 45 minutes East of Tokyo, and then there is Tokyo itself in the middle to contend with, so the trip took just over two hours each way. When I arrived, Alex took me to meet his uncle who was the guardian of the town's most precious festival symbol, the float shown above. Both the float and the carving of the bird that rides atop it are considered city treasures. When the floats aren't being pulled through the streets as part of a parade, they are on display and host musicians playing drums and flutes. Take a listen:

We had some lunch at a ramen shop and then came back to the town square to see the ice carving competition. The competitors were limited to hand saws, while the winner from last year put on a demonstration with a chain saw. It was in the 90s and the sun was blazing. You could see the melting water cascading down the sides of the statues even as they were being carved. It was a race against time, except for one man on the end who had the only spot in the shade and paused to contemplate his next cut. We theorized that he must have some connections in local government to get that spot under the tree. We had VIP seating at Alex's Uncle's float station to watch the main attraction: an 8' ice carving of a swordfish leaping out of a wave.

After visiting Alex's Grandparents, we strolled the stands along main street and I got a crash course on Japanese Festival food. There were a few familiar items, like cotton candy and hot dogs, but most of it was new to me. I had tried Okonomiaki once before and loved it. It's a pancake stuffed with squid and cabbage, grilled, and then topped with BBQ sauce, mayo and dried fish flakes. I know, it sounds revolting, but you're wrong. It is deceptively delicious. There was plenty of other choices too, as you will see:

Don't worry, this one's a game, not a food.

After sunset, there was a Geisha dance show that was very popular. Alex told me it's very unusual to see an authentic Geisha dance ceremony in public. It is very secretive and normally, you would have to be at a private party with Geisha to witness it. My adult students confirmend this today when I told them the story and they wouldn't believe that I had seen it until I showed them the video. They kept asking, "Outside?!?, they danced outside?" The Geisha apparently gave away the milk for free(so to speak) on this night, and I was glad to witness it.

The music and singing heard in the video were performed live.

I felt a little star struck.

After the Geisha demonstration, Alex and I went for snacks and drinks at an Okinawan style restaurant. Okinawa is the southernmost prefecture in Japan and consists of a series of sub tropical island surround by emerald water and coral reefs. At the bar they had lots of copies of Okinawan magazines and the pictures sealed the deal. Okinawa is absolutely where I am taking my Dad when he comes to visit. The lifestyle seems to be a mix of Japan, Hawaii and San Diego. They served mostly seafood and vegetables at the restaurant, grilled, steamed, raw, fried, it's all delicious. Can't wait to go!

Okinawan style restaurant

Alex and I at the bar.