I go down to the boat to put on new mooring lines. It is very hot and despite the fact that there are many little jobs I could do, once again the heat drives me away after 30 mins. Why is the engine not fixed? Well, several parts are needed and the ordering and delivery have been delayed by the Obon holiday and the war in Ukraine. Can’t be long now.
I drive off to Convention City the huge shopping centre just across the road from the marina.
I should have walked! Above the two floors of stores, there are a further two floors of parking. I go in by a different entrance than usual and park the car in a different area than usual. However I have strong recollection that the car was close to the Tokyo Hands escalators.
I do my shopping and carrying a heavy bag I take the escalators up to where the car is waiting. I look for the car – she is not there. I walk up and down but I cannot find her. She should be easy to find all Japanese reverse into parking spaces so the nose of the car points out. Whereas I, an idle foreigner, just swing straight in and thus the rear of the car points out. I just have to look along the rows and spot the cars displaying there rears and one has to be mine. There are very few and mine is not amongst them.
The parking structure is very big and there are masses of cars. It is also very hot and sweat pours off me as I tramp up and down with my heavy bag. After 30 minutes of searching I start to worry. I have left the keys to the car and my apartment under the front seat and the unimaginable starts to form in my mind. Has someone stolen her? No, this is Okinawa no one steals anything.
I keep searching up and down the rows. I even search the other floors of the parking structure. Nothing. I am now distressed and panting like a hot dog. What if the thieves have gone to my apartment and stolen my flute! After an hour I go to the shopping center’s information desk and explain my difficulty. I am a sorry sight with red face and sweat dripping off me onto the beautiful clean floor. A security guard shows up and I show him a photo of the car from my phone. He is smiling and generally wonderful. He zooms off to look for the car. 5 minutes later he is back; he has found my car!
She is parked near the Tokyo Hands escalators. I must have walked past her at least 5 times but I did not see her. It is scary. Anyway, thanks security guy!
Happier stuff – Arisa takes me to a restaurant that principally serves pig ribs that have been cooked forever.
After 11 years in Okinawa, I stumble across little containers of precooked rice. These are great as I always cook far too much rice.
When I start up my computer it automatically connects to the Okinawan free wifi service, called Be Okinawa.
In the center of San Francisco I get about 40Mbps and pay far too much. Thank you Okinawa.