Okinawa

New week, new adventure. I wasn't teaching, and so somehow I got all excited and signed up for far too much travel during the second half of this semester. But I am prepared. I bought the double-extra-super-large bottle of migraine pills.

This week I am in Okinawa.

This was my morning walk. 

This was (part of) my dinner.

Sea grapes. Little tiny beads on a string from the sea, on tomato with a side of kumquat. It was surprisingly light and delicious. It did not have a sea weedy taste at all, but tasted like freshness and summer with a hint of light salt.

I have also eaten a great deal of raw fish, in just two days. Sometimes it is more fun not to travel with your family, who would not have tried the sea grapes or the sashimi.

No, family, I take it back. I love you all even when you are picky eaters, and you could have ordered the chocolate cake at the sushi restaurant and not gone hungry. It would have been ok. You should come next time, family.

Every house has a pair of stone lions at the gate. The one on the left has its mouth closed. The one on the right has its mouth open. Why?

And this is a picture of the place where I am working this week. A colleague described it as a research institute that rises out of the jungle.

I really really like it. They flew me here with business class tickets. Business class! I have been thinking that I want to get a job here. Because the institute rises out of the jungle and overlooks the ocean and business class. Business class!

I promised Tim that we wouldn't move again until Jonathan was out of school. But maybe in a few years, if the institute is hiring, we could move to Okinawa and live in the jungle overlooking the sea and fly business class to conferences. And learn Japanese. And live in a subtropical climate and eat a lot of raw fish and try sea grapes. Tim, you will love it! Love it!

The humidity here, by the way, is like a gentle hug.

A breeze blows off of the ocean, and you breathe deeply, and your lungs feel soft and full. And when the breeze blows away, you can still feel the air against your skin, and it hugs you and says, "Don't worry, Sweet One. I will keep you safe from the dry." The boogers in your nose are soft and gentle and smooth. Your cold sore melts away. And your skin is baby soft without that crusty eczema that babies get when they are unfortunate to be born in the desert on top of a mountain, like I was.

Why? Why do people live in cities on mountains in the desert, where the very air hates them and scratches at their skin and lungs every day of their lives? People should move to Okinawa, where the air is gentle and humid.

When we move to Okinawa, and I come home, stepping off of my business class flight, I will breathe deeply and sigh and the very air -- the very humid air -- will welcome me home with a gentle hug:
"Welcome, Sweet One. I love you and will keep you safe. And try the raw tuna. It is delicious."