This week I applied for a job on Kadena Air Force Base in Okinawa, Japan. I qualify for it, and what the heck? Nothing is holding me here. I could use an adventure! Since then I’ve been reading about that beautiful island, and my imagination has taken off. I can already visualize my life there.
As a civilian, I would be living off base, probably surrounded by very polite and gracious people who find it nearly impossible to communicate with me. I would bring next to nothing with me, as I’ve always longed to live a simple, uncluttered life, and this would be the perfect excuse. Just me, my dogs, my laptop, some clothes… the basics I can always pick up at garage sales. I’m sure a lot of the military personnel who leave the island also leave a lot of stuff behind.
I wouldn’t need a big house. A tiny little thing would do, as long as it had a bit of yard for the dogs to run in. But I’d want it to have western amenities. I’m not one to squat to do my business.
I’d buy a car there, some little off brand that looks like a motorized roller skate with the steering wheel on the right hand side. Rush hour traffic will take some getting used to. I hear it’s a nightmare. But on my off days I would explore the island.
I would have to get used to the slower island pace, but I don’t think I’d have a problem with that. I’m a slow paced kind of a girl. And people talk about boredom and loneliness, but I’m a bit of a homebody anyway, so it’s not like I do much even here.
Actually, it might do me some good to get out of my shell and meet people. Join some clubs, learn the language, do something other than bury my nose in this laptop. I do suspect that the ratio of American males to American females is quite substantial, and that wouldn’t hurt my feelings one little bit. However, I’m sure there are fewer single ones in my age range. And even fewer still who are politically liberal. That could be a problem.
I’d spend a lot of time trying to experience the culture. The food, the festivals, the limited tourist attractions. The aquarium sounds phenomenal. I’d go to the beach, feel the sand between my toes. Occasionally take trips to other parts of Asia that I could never afford to see otherwise. It could be really good.
I lie in bed, imagining my Okinawa life. I sometimes have to turn on the light and write something down so my mind doesn’t grind on it and keep me from sleeping. Like, can civilians shop on base? Can we get our mail on base and bank there? Will they help me find a place to live, or is that service only for military personnel? Will I be able to get my prescriptions? Can I really live without pizza delivery?
All these questions will have to be answered. IF I get the job. That’s a big if. And that’s the problem with my overactive imagination. I’ve fleshed out my Okinawa fantasy so fully that it sort of feels as if part of me is already living it. Which means that if I don’t get the job, I’ll be mourning a life that I was supposed to live, that I imagined I did live, even though I’ve never been farther west than Los Angeles in my entire life.
Okinawa dreaming has its pros and cons.
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