Love and Truth (4 page)

We approached the runway and I lost sight of the beautiful sea-green blanket. The city emerged in front of the airport. It was the city that I would call home for the next twelve months. I saw cement, huge buildings, and throngs of people It was like Dallas, but without the greenery. There were so many people walking, and taxis everywhere. I blinked and saw clusters of mopeds and scooters on the roads. Our landing was smooth and I was thrilled to be off of this plane. My ass hurt and my joints were stiff. My feet felt like they congealed to my Adidas, and I was dying to eat some real food.

I slowly made my way to baggage claim and was relieved to see that my luggage arrived safely. My host family had to work today but they arranged for a driver to pick me up. I saw a tiny Japanese man wearing an old fedora and holding a sign with my name. I approached him and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Nicole.” He smiled and bowed slightly.

“Hello, Ms. Harrison. My name is Yuki, and I will be driving you to the Nakamura home.”

”Thank you, Mr. Yuki. It’s so great to meet you. I’m looking forward to meeting my host family. Please call me Nicole. How far is the drive from here? I’m starved and cannot wait to get a shower. That flight was something else.”

Yuki smiled. “It’s only about thirty to forty minutes away, depending on traffic. We can go through the McDonald’s drive-thru to get you a bite to eat on the way if you’d like.”

I couldn’t believe it. I just flew over seven thousand miles to an exotic tropical island and here was McDonald’s. I hated fast food at home, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it here either.

“Mr. Yuki, that’s thoughtful, but I really don’t like McDonald’s.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re American and you don’t like McDonald’s?”

“No, Mr. Yuki. I don’t really like fast food. I’m a dancer and I try to watch what I eat.” He smiled and said he knew just the thing for me. He loaded the suitcases into the trunk and opened the passenger door. We buckled up and were on our way. I ravenously scanned through the window, taking it all in. Riding on the left side of the road felt strange and left me feeling disoriented. After driving for about fifteen minutes, we pulled into a store parking lot. I looked up and the blue-and-white sign read LAWSON, in all caps. I wanted to text Annie to tell her everything wasn’t in Japanese symbols.

Mr. Yuki walked around and opened my door for me. I grabbed my backpack and we went inside. I looked around and nothing was familiar, except for Coca-Cola and a few other American drinks. Some of the candy was familiar, but for the most part everything was in Japanese script. Mr. Yuki walked over to one of the refrigerated aisles and grabbed two triangular rice-looking snacks. He offered them to me, and said they were healthy. It didn’t look appetizing, but I was here to try new things. I started to pull out my wallet, but Mr. Yuki stopped me.

“Welcome to Okinawa, Nicole san. This is
Onigiri
and this is
oishi
.”

I didn’t know what
oishi
meant but I hoped it was good. I grabbed a bottled water and we got back on the road. I peeled the plastic wrapping off and tried the
oishi
. I was immediately surprised. The rice was perfect and the salmon tasted fresh. The seaweed added a pinch of saltiness, and I inhaled it.

“I was hungrier than I thought,” I said to Mr. Yuki.

He chuckled and handed over the
Onigiri
that he got for himself. “Here, Nicole san. You can have mine. I’m not too hungry. Plus my wife puts them into my
obento
daily.”

I ate the second one quickly. I gulped down some water and turned back to looking through the window. We passed the Marine Corps Air Base, Futenma, and I laughed at what Annie said about all the military guys that would be here.

We pulled into a side street that was so small that I wondered how two cars could pass through at the same time. The buildings were all multi-story concrete boxes. I wondered if these were apartments or houses. Mr. Yuki slowed to a stop and I saw the name
Nakamura
on the outside of the house by the mailbox. I looked up and saw that the house was a huge gated three-story. There was a chest-level concrete barrier that wrapped around the house. Mr. Yuki got out of the car and retrieved my luggage from the trunk. I followed him to the front entrance and noticed the Shisa dogs perched on top of each side of the entrance. I knew these dogs from studying Okinawan culture. They resembled a cross between a lion and a dog, from Okinawan mythology. I knew that people placed pairs of Shisa on their rooftops or flanking the gates to their houses because they were considered to be wards, believed to protect from certain evils. When in pairs, the left shisa traditionally had a closed mouth and the right one an open mouth. The open mouth warded off evil spirits, and the closed mouth kept good spirits in.

A sweet looking, elderly Japanese woman opened the door wearing an apron. I assumed this was the housekeeper.

“
Ohayou gozaimasu
, Nicole San,” she said. I recognized the words for good morning as she bowed.

“
Ohayo gozaimasu,
” I said, bowing. She patted her chest. “Nobuko San.”

“It is nice to meet you, Ms. Nobuko.” I said. She turned and swept her hand, motioning for us to come in. I walked in and quickly she started speaking in Japanese, pointing to my feet. Mr. Yuki looked at me and explained that it was improper to wear outdoor shoes indoors. I glanced at Ms. Nobuko, who was opening a cabinet filled with slippers.

“Nicole San, you just grab a pair of the indoor shoes and replace them with your outdoor shoes. This is a
tansu
. It’s a cabinet for shoes.”

I didn’t know this from my studies, and felt embarrassed. I learned later that before entering their homes, Japanese people remove their shoes to avoid soiling the floor. This tradition stemmed from the fact that traditional Japanese homes featured
tatami
mats that were used to sit on while eating. I also learned that the Japanese pay close attention to differences in space. The outside world was clearly delineated from the home or inside space. Taking off shoes was also a sign of leaving the outside world behind, along with its troubles and worries.

I was fascinated with this culture and looked forward to immersing myself in it.

Chapter Three

Ms. Nobuko escorted me across the most beautiful and pristine dark wood flooring I had ever seen. We climbed the stairs to the second floor and I fell in love. The floor of the guest room was
tatami
mat, the walls were natural-toned, and a beautiful rosewood armoire and dresser were on the far wall. There was a giant window that gave the room natural light leading out onto a balcony and my bed was a Japanese-style platform bed. It was low to the ground and the frame was the same rosewood color. A fluffy, solid white cover and pillows lay on top. An perfect orchid sat on the nightstand. A tall glass vase sat in one corner, partially filled with pebbles, and holding tall, green bamboo shoots. Everything was so clean, crisp, and earthy. Mr. Yuki placed my luggage on the floor near the dresser and wished me well. He spoke briefly with Ms. Nobuko and left.

I suddenly felt uneasy standing alone with Ms. Nobuko. She spoke almost no English and I wasn’t sure how long it would be before my host family got home. I remembered learning via email that Ms. Nobuko was the house
Mama san
, which was something like a nanny. She was responsible for maintaining the home in whatever way it needs.

I decided to start unpacking and take a shower. I opened a door that I assumed was a bathroom. As I walked in and looked around, I quickly realized this wasn’t a typical bathroom. It looked like a great shower room. The shower head was perched to my right next to a sink that looked like a large, hammered silver bowl with a beautiful silver oval mirror hanging above it. There was a drain in the middle of the floor, which was strange, but there was no door separating the shower area from the toilet and sink. The walls and floor were covered with a sea-foam tile, and across from the shower was a tiny half-bathtub. There was no way for me to fit inside it. I knew the Japanese people were small, but this seemed too strange. After a quick Google search, I learned that Japanese bathtubs are generally shorter and deeper. The common position in such tubs is sitting up, with your knees pressed to your chest. The idea was to have water covering your shoulders. Although it seemed foreign, the point was to soak as much of your body as possible. Generally speaking, most Japanese people showered before entering their soaking bathtub, to keep the water clean. The more I thought about this, the more it made sense.

I got undressed and turned the shower on. It was a rainfall-style shower head, and I couldn’t wait to wash away the grimy feeling from the long flight. The shower felt heavenly and the jetlag overwhelmed me as soon as the water hit my shoulders. My heavy eyes popped open when I realized that I forgot to text my parents or Annie to let them know that I arrived safely. I quickly finish showering, rung out my hair, and grabbed a towel from the towel rack. I wrapped the towel around myself and ran into my room to reach for my phone.

Me
:
Mom I am so sorry that I have not texted you sooner. I got swept up in the excitement of everything and forgot. I am doing great. The island is beautiful from what part I have seen and the host family has an awesome home. My room is amazing and I love it here already!