Saturday, November 01, 2003

Driving home, I listened to Okinawan music. I think I can trace my depression tonight to that.

I loved Okinawa and remote Miyako Island. But Miyako was so remote: I imagine I would first need to fly to Naha, then to Haneda, then somehow make my my way to Narita if I were to escape Japan. It seemed so distant and isolated. Miyako's grocery shelves had no fruit jams other than the usual Japanese favourites of strawberry and blueberry. No bookstores where I could read all the foreign magazines with inflated prices in yen. No chance to escape to Tokyo for an Ethiopian restaurant. Just Miyako Island.

I could not live in Miyako and I knew I was crushing someone else's dream.

"You should go by yourself there and take diving lessons with Toro's girls."

The reasoning behind this suggestion was that I would go and rediscover Miyako, make stronger ties and cement my Miyako friendships, perhaps fall so in love with Miyako I would request we move there.

Gyoda was already so quiet for me. Two hours to the big city! No movies, bookstores, clothing stores, libraries, museums. Beth as well two hours away.

Miyako seemed even more hopelessly secluded.

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