I woke up riddled with bites from bed bugs or something, my flesh itchy and sore, it was terrible. I went downstairs to complain to the front desk and he didn’t believe or understand me, maybe both, and offered to change the sheets for 600 yen instead of moving me, since the hostel was booked. I was too miffed to say anything I just shook my head and walked off. I felt cheated, and ignored in my suffering, all the things that go through our minds as were suffering and others do not, or cannot care enough to even believe us.
I needed to escape the hostel, so I went to one of the highest rated vegan friendly restaurants in town. The place was called Zorba, a mix of Greek and Indian food, I had been there last night and really enjoyed it. I sat one seat away from a beautiful Russian looking woman, but said nothing despite wanting too. When a group of people came in needing seats I suggested we scoot over, which she was willing to do, but the group backed out of staying there and we kept our places.
It was then that I asked what she was having and we hit it off in conversation, very quickly discovering the fact that we were on similar paths spiritually, though she’s had it much worse than me, having been married to a very rich and powerful Muslim man from Dubai 14 years ago, and has been trying for 10 years to get a divorce and go back to Ukraine, but her husband will not allow it. They had been very much the same when they met, partying and eating everything, but then she had a spiritual awakening and no longer partied or ate meat, and thus felt completely out of place and alone in Dubai.
We finished our meal and she asked if I would walk with her for a while after, and of course I did. There was attraction between us but it was the kind of, two ships passing in the night, scenario that one learns to enjoy even though very little happens. Like a fine wine one inhales yet does not truly taste. A promise and a thrill without any of the accompanying accoutrements of relationships which we all know so well. Finally we finished our walk and I gave her a link to my blog and website, then we parted ways, the drizzling of rain causing our outlines to vanish into the night.
The next morning I hopped on a bus and went north several hours to a place called Yanburu, the tiny town at the extreme north of the island where very little existed or went on but was perfect for getting away from it all. I was late by 30 seconds to my next bus, running to the station with my packs, but the next one was only 25 minutes away. I sat at the station waiting, watching as bus after bus came and went. Finally I made it to Yanburu, the bus dropping me off at the very last stop next to the hostel itself before heading South again. Being dropped off that way is the kind of feeling that can only happen in tiny towns at the edges of the world. When the doors close and the wheel spin away, all that remains is you, and the last stop in civilization.
The hostel was massive compared to all others I’ve been in thus far, a six story building which was clearly important and much better attended when it was built in the 1970’s. Now it was a far cry from its beginnings, yet still impressive, as the interior design choices, rock wall, pool table, cafe and writing/reading zone all in the lobby being good examples of what I mean. The staff was sparce, yet incredibly knowledgeable and spot good English. The hostess suggested a beach nearby and I went straight for it.
Within minutes I was passed by dozens of elementary school children who all spoke to me in broken English, asking me where I was from and what my name was. Even now, 80 years after obliterating their country and occupying it, the Japanese still show such love and interest in Americans. I have mixed feelings about the entire affair, as anyone who views history from all sides will, and must, if they are to be objective. Japan modernized in order to prevent itself from being a vassal to another empire, and then when America cut off its oil because it was becoming too strong, Japan became an empire to secure their growth, and thus world war 2 happened. When one realizes how empires actually function, one see’s through the bitter edges of narrative which entrenches itself into every slice of history.
Once passing the school children I soon found myself all alone on a long stretch of sandy beach. Not wanting to get my shorts wet, as they were actually sweat shorts not designed fro swimming, I stripped naked and ran into the water. It was cool and the salty water was soft and calming. I got back to shore, put my clothes on, and began picking up trash to add to the massive bags of it which the locals manage on their own. Like all islands there are certain places where trash collects due to the currents of the ocean, and this part of Okinawa fits the bill.
I went for a long walk and was approached by a crazy looking Japanese woman who handed me a bag of already opened treats, she stroked my hair opening and said.
“Like Jesus...”
“Yes...” I said, with a smile, and was tempted by her cigarette far more than the treats she offered, yet I resisted both. I can’t imagine Christ taking a drag of Marlboro lights with the common lunatic, but then maybe that’s exactly where you’d find JC.
I walked around the peninsula and got some snacks before coming back to the hostel. There I met a nice Spanish lady who was beginning her journey with Psychedelics and we chatted a long time about my journeys with Ayahuasca in Peru, which she was going to do soon.
Once we concluded our talk I went to bed and was ruthlessly kept awake by a pounding and pulling at the door, I finally realized it was someone trying to get inside it, I opened it and the very essense of a homeless drunk faced me on the other side. It took 15 minutes of him trying and failing to appologize to me and find his way to bed before his chain saw snoring finalized our relationship. I could have killed the man...