Oki All Day!

Okinawa! The tropical get away of Japan. Basically Japan’s Hawaii but a lot closer. I went there with a friend. Below are some pictures.

So what is Oki All Day? It’s a T-shirt we saw a surfer girl wearing the day we landed and struggled endlessly to find all over Oki. When we finally found the shirts (available in only one place in Okinawa!) they were sold out of our massive gaijin power sizes. But Oki All Day isn’t just a shirt – Oki All Day is a lifestyle. And we lived it:

Wake up early go for a swim, scale the beach for Japanese sea treasure, cruise around the island and go sightseeing, get back to the beach before sunset, swim, make friends (cuz everyone’s friendlier in Oki), eat, and say goodbye to the sun slowly while toasting Chu-His, get hammered, light off fireworks on the beach with Japanese locals and tourists alike, sing karaoke with our Oki friends/bartenders (free drinks for partying), go to bed, wake up and Oki All Day again. If you still have questions about what I did there just watch Karate Kid Part II – or just watch this clip. It was like that, too. Everyday.

Kyoto again

Nara

Kobe Pictures

Osaka Pictures

Sakura season

I can’t explain cherry blossoms. I’ve asked several people and none of them can appropriately express what they see in the blossoms either. Maybe the English language doesn’t have the descriptive words necessary to detail them. It’s a Japanese thing. Whatever the reason, the unofficial answers to my poll are as follows:

• Pink
• Fluffy
• Beautiful
• Delicate
• Different
• Pink
• Fluffy

Fucking groundbreaking. It’s an ineffable feat in all actuality. They are flowers on trees. You must look up at them as in reverence not down as if tending to something. They live approximately three weeks before the wind disperses their pedals over everything. They are a reminder of the transience of beauty. Their beauty exists for a short period of time and eventually fades revealing new beauty in the bare branches.

Of course beauty is relative, but I don’t shutter at most things in nature. Even when paired with the background of hideous modern, Japanese style apartments, the drab concrete and awkward tealish, egg-nog, and gray hues glow behind the blossoms.

Many sakura trees line a river near my house. As I walk  by  my heart would gain a beat. All of this gushing comes in response to my first sakura season – they have not become a habitual beauty   – much like the autumn foliage in New England.  I still find the fall leaves of New England beautiful, but they have become an inherent part of my emotional response to nature’s vanity.

I don’t remember my first snowfall. When it happened I was too young to remember anything. I grew up with snow. I find snow beautiful but it has existed on my nature’s palate from before I can remember. I’ve met people who have seen the ocean for the first time and have met people who have seen snow fall for the first time. Some are fearful, joyful, tearful, elated, euphoric – whatever. Each time they view the ocean after, or witness another snowfall their reactions may wane from their initial giddiness, but it links and meshes itself to their pre-conceived perceptions of beauty. I’m not sure how many more times I’ll witness a sakura season, but I hope to always be mindful of their affection.

Now enjoy some fucking beauty:

Some things I’ve noticed

If you live somewhere, anywhere, for an extended period of time you begin to NOTICE things about it.

Japanese people can’t dance: And I’ll specifically talk about girls here because there’s nothing that kills a boner jam quicker than watching a Japanese girl dance. As I see it, music – specifically dance music – lends itself as an instruction manual. The music sends audible directions to your body telling it how and when to move. It’s a physiological response – it’s biology baby.  Japanese people do not have this reactive gene.

Japanese people stiffly gyrate up and down, side to side in no discernible order or rhythm. It’s worse than Elaine. A Japanese girl dances as if she is experiencing rigor mortis concurrently with a seizure. Their body vomiting paired with even shittier club music is a double whammy of shit sucking proportions.

I expressed my unrest to an Aussie friend. After bitching about Japanese girls’ ability to do anything even resembling the hokey pokey, she unwrapped the epiphanic  golden ticket in my mind: Japanese girls have no hips. I have no explanation for guys – maybe because they have smaller woowers this throws off their balance as well. Who knows? Regardless, my Aussie friend is right

An object in motion will stay in motion. What’s that called again? Oh ya, FUCKING SCIENCE. Some turd said that a long time ago, and it applies irrevocably here. The nerd’s even got me talking like a scientist now.

Their thin, hipless bodies do not create enough centrifugal force to stay moving. There’s nothing to orbit around them, either. In an American club, full sized women create a gravitational pull creating an orbit of men whom surround them – mostly unwanted satellites. In Japan, Japanese girls cannot even create this galactic organization of Japanese men because Japanese men are just as shapeless and hopeless in their attempts at two-steppin’.

My Aussie friend told me that she’s been accosted on many occasions at Onsen (Japanese-style spas). She is molested by the women in the bathing room. She told of flesh hungry zombies who Bela Lugosied over to her in pursuit of a squeeze. They squeezed her boobs, legs, ass – they were dumbfounded to find such a shapely creature in their presence.  She didn’t mind lending her body to science and I appreciate her sacrifice in helping me qualify my curiosity.

I can’t express enough my sincere condolences to my penis. It is a travesty beyond travesties to view a good-looking Japanese girl dance. The butterflies in my stomach blow their brains balooey upon sight. That’s my physiological reaction.  Poop.