My favorite Island

When my Dad came to Japan, I knew he wouldn't be Tokyo's biggest fan, as he hates cities in general, so logic would insist he would hate the world's biggest city most of all. After he managed not to go Godzilla after the first week of being dragged through the sea of humanity that is Tokyo, he was rewarded with a much better kind of sea, the turquoise sparkly kind.

The Kerama-retto is a group of islands about 40 kilometers West of Naha off the coast of Okinawa Honto in very very southern Japan. It's so far south that it just about fails to be recognizable as Japan in all but the ever present kanji, taunting me to do or buy something, if only I knew what. The food, language, and geography are a oddly reminiscent of parts of Taiwan, China, Mexico and Hawaii, creating a place that only a republican could hate.

First Glimpse of Zamami Village

Lately, I've taken off the training wheels, and rely more on advice from my Japanese friends than I do from Lonely Planet. It got me through some rough times, but I'm a resident now, and feel like a tool lugging it around and consulting it every time I get hungry. LP doesn't have a lot to say on the Keramas, and it makes for a nice quiet vacation with locals and accidental tourists like us, who got lucky and found paradise.

The Queen Zamami

On board the Queen Zamami, departing Naha

We took a one hour high speed ferry to Zamami Island, the happiest and friendliest of the Keramas (trust me), and made our way to a small guest house called Akabana (meaning red flower) that I read about on someone else's blog. It was a lucky find, since the people at Akabana, both staff and guests, have become life long friends who I keep in constant contact with and have seen lots of since.

Checking in, no idea what was in store for us!

Akabana's red clay tile roof

A row of colorful Shisas outside of Akabana

The first face to greet us was Ippei (pronounced ee-pay), who is a giant ham of a skinny Japanese guy. He is famous for his chicken dance, Osaka comedian impersonations and ear to ear grin. His English pretty much ends at welcome, but we hit it off just fine anyway, and he ended up being my first Japanese Kiss, awww.

Ippei and Me

His lovely partner in running Akabana is the insanely adorable Ako-chan. My Dad said it best when he described her as "a whole new kind of cute". Ako grew up in Hokkaido, the snowy, northern-most area of Japan, and hasn't been back since she came to Zamami as a tourist two years ago.

Ako-chan

Her English is beginner level, but she made immediate changes to her Japanese to accommodate my level, and we were able to communicate really well, using the -imas forms of the verbs and standard Japanese (text book style). Ippei, on the other hand, spoke with an Osaka Dialect, which is very different from Tokyo's, used lots of slang and colloquialisms, and didn't pity me with any reduction in speed. He and I communicated best through flirting, and managed to have conversations only when we were both good and drunk.

A few colorful locals and two guests, Miki and Ryo, both traveling alone, rounded out our family for the five day trip and were major contributing factors to Zamami Island's almost instant status as my favorite place on Earth. We spent about 15 minutes settling in, and were immediately ushered to Ippei's van for the sunset tour up on the Western cliffs of Zamami.



That night marked our introduction to Awamori, the distinctly Okinawan liquor known for being cheap, strong and the happiest of buzzes. We bought a big bottle along with some fruit juices for mixers and were puzzled by the looks of shock as we made rounds of cocktails for everyone around the picnic table that night. Turns out, Awamori is almost exclusively drunk with just ice and water, but the Japanese are far too polite to point out our ignorance and choked down drink after drink resulting in a pretty bad sugar induced death hangover the next day.

We beat the crowds to Okinawa by scheduling our trip two weeks before the beginning of the season, and the weather was quick to point out the difference a few days can make during Japan's volatile Spring season. The first day was a mix of clouds and sun, but I hadn't seen water that blue in years and my Dad lets nothing stand between him and a coral reef, so we braved the chilly water for hours until we couldn't take it anymore, and were rewarded with some awesome fish sightings.

Lion Fish!

Cheryl broke her internal thermostat somewhere in Costa Rica and is freezing at any temperature below 82, so spent most of her time searching for shells, resulting in exceptionally heavy luggage for her return trip. That night we met our old friend Awamori, this time on its terms and realized the error of our ways, never looking at fruit juice again. That evening the rain started, but we didn't care, building a fort of umbrellas at the outdoor table and doing what one does in Okinawa, which apparently is drink, talk, and wear wigs.

Miki, Ako, Ryo

Ippei, Me, Dad, Cheryl lookin' good

The next day was cloudy, cold, windy and rainy, but my Dad and I are nothing if not stubborn, so we rented full wet suits and headed for the reef. We only managed an hour or two before crying uncle and heading back to the house for a nap, but good snorkeling is good snorkeling and it was a great day despite everything.

In full wetsuit gear

That night something in the universe shifted. My Dad has held a lifelong contempt for karaoke. He refuses to even remain present in a bar during karaoke night and has been vocal about his disdain for amateur singing amplified at any level. As luck would have it, on this particular night, Dad and I got an early start on the Awamori at a second floor bar hidden above a dive shop, got into a good conversation and completely lost track of time, so were not present when the decision to go to karaoke was made. After the group searched for us for a while, they left a note and went without us, leaving us with no choice but to join them. Dad flinched upon entering the bar when he realized what was afoot, but eased at the news that it was all-you-can eat AND DRINK for 1000 yen (10 bucks). He braced himself for a night of torture but vowed to me that he would not sing and settled in at the table next to Cheryl. What Dad had not anticipated, however, was the ever present group harmony mandate that pervades Japan, and he was inundated by adorable faces begging him to sing until he broke down and agreed to a duet with Ippei. He had been at the table a mere 6 minutes when they broke him.

At my own peril, I give you the legendary duet of Aerosmith's 'Don't wanna miss a thing' that resulted. Ippei knew the tune, but couldn't read the English lyrics, so he mumbled incoherently except when singing the familiar chorus. Dad could read the English, but had no memory of the melody or rhythm of the song, and so went off on a intelligible but creative re-mix of his own.
Feast your ears:

The full crew (and one weird guy) outside of the karaoke bar

Things were very different in the atmosphere too it seems, because the next day we awoke to weather that seemed to belong to a different part of the world. It was hot and sunny and perfect, with the water showing off its full spectrum of blue and green, and a festival on the beach to make it all official.

Furuzamami Beach on the sunniest day

I met my giant purple fish friend that day. I caught him out of the corner of my eye and then stalked him for a least an hour. He was about 2 feet long and had amazing yellow fins and a beautiful labyrinth pattern on his skin.


A beach friend showed up out of nowhere and tapped me on the shoulder to hand me some fish food in the shape of a sausage. Until then the fish had been allusive, staying just out of my reach, but as soon as I was in possession of the fish stick, the tables turned and I went from chaser to chasee. Up close, from the dead-on perspective, this fish had a serious mouth full of teeth, and a weird hair-plugs looking mustache. He meant business too, taking half of the fish stick in one bite, prompting me to scream and abandon the other half while back pedaling and swallowing sea water.

Click the picture to get a close up of that 'stache!

Run Away!

I caught it all on video, including the audio of me screaming through my snorkel.

I loved Zamami so much, that I booked a return ticket before I got back to Tokyo, to arrive 10 days later for golden week vacation. It was a great decision, and you will see why in my next post, Zamami #2!