The last Saturday of each month is music at the Smugglers.
It is always fun mainly thanks to the natural exuberance of Okinawan women who just love to dance.
I sleep in very cheap hotel and am on the road home at 7:00. I first go to watch birds as one morning last week I stopped by a damn and there were families of Great White Egrets, little ones in dull plumage, and loads of Black Crowned Night Herons. Today nothing.
However I stroll down the stream that exits the damn. It is full of fish. I photograph them and in so doing knock my lens cover into the river.
My immediate instinct was , “Rats, but I will just get another.” Then I thought, “Er, this is a very beautiful little river and chucking bits of plastic in it is probably not good especially as the Olympics have just begun.”
So after a longish trek I find a place where I can get into the stream and start to wade back.
It is quite – I mean quiet, usually shallow but with some fun deeper pools, very hot, fish nibble my coral wounds, turtles flop off stones, kingfishers flash by, bejewelled dragonflies copulate.
I recover my lens cap and go home at last.