Okinawa

I have to say up front: Forgive this post. I think I’ve been awake roughly 24 hours at this point, but it’s hard to keep straight when you’re crossing the International Date Line and moving all about.  I’m stinky, useless, and exhausted.

I arrived in Toronto about 11 pm last night. My flight was delayed two hours, and when I landed I had a text from the girl I was AirBnBing with that she had looked it up online and seen the delay (thank God, I was worried she would just think I was flaky). She said she had just put the key in the mailbox for me and wrote a few instructions on how to get in.

I took a ridiculously expensive cab to the apartment, which was small and hot, but perfectly comfortable. Until I closed my eyes. Then suddenly everything seemed too loud, too dramatic. Every time I moved the sheets sounded like an approaching tsunami. A fly was dying in the window between the glass and the blinds, and all night his death throes pulled me from slumber and back to the dimly lit room. Needless to say, I did not get a ton of rest.

In the morning, the dog in the apartment barked and woke me around 8 am. I rolled around, but eventually gave up and packed everything. I didn’t want to take another crazy expensive cab, so I looked up a shuttle to the airport that stopped at a hotel about a 45-minute walk from where I was. I left the girl (who I never actually met) a note thanking her for her hospitality and set off.

I had really wanted to see Kensington Market, but there wasn’t much to see. It was just a series of little fruit shops and antique stores that I didn’t have time to enjoy. I did, however, stop to get breakfast at a little corner café. Toronto is a cool city, with eclectic looking people everywhere and hidden nooks and crannies waiting to be discovered. I’ll have to explore more on my way back through.

When I got to my gate, I was a bit early so I stopped at the bar across the way and started up a conversation with Kyle, the platinum-haired bartender. Very, very gay was Kyle and I showed him a picture of Coston to which he responded, “THAT’S worth going to Japan for.” He told me about how his ex took him on a date to one of those restaurants where you eat in complete darkness. He hated it and would never go back.

I told Kyle I’d come by on my way back around and hoped he was there when I did. Then I boarded the plane where, for 14 hours, we chased 2:00 pm halfway across the world. I tried to sleep, really I did. I may have dozed off for an hour or so, but I’m just no good at this sleeping business anymore.

I landed in Japan just as the rain came in and we sat on the tarmac for a while waiting for a gate to open up, watching the water steaming down the windows. When I finally did get into the airport, I was a little surprised at how unsurprised I was. Had I not gone to school in Hawai’i or taken Japanese as a language, I think I may have been really overwhelmed. But I did, and I did, and I actually remember more than I thought I would. Without looking at the phrase book at all, I asked a woman in Japanese where my airline was, and she responded in Japanese, and I understood her. And she understood me. I’m not saying I’m ready to talk the global financial crisis yet, but I can at the very least order a coffee and find the bathroom. Where they only have hole in the ground bidets, for your edification.

So now I sit on tarmac number two, waiting to take off for Okinawa. My phone doesn’t work, so I’m just assuming Coston will show up somewhere I eventually end up. I’m honestly too tired to worry about much at this point. The flight is delayed about an hour because of the earlier storm, so I figured I’d take this opportunity to write an update. We’re off to Vietnam early tomorrow, so who knows when I’ll have another chance?

Sleep. Sleep is honestly all I can think about.