From The Latest Issue: The Island Between Worlds

My disposable camera was clicking away at record speed. A sprawling boulevard lined with palm trees, neon-lit store fronts, and a throng of people appropriately dressed to party or chill at the beach. But even that does not prepare you for American Village in Chatan. Quirky, colourful buildings that can rival a theme park, American-style diners, ice-cream parlours, shops and bars spilling towards the waterfront, all while sounds of pop music drift through the streets.

But the American West Coast aesthetic would only fool you for a minute before you spot the watchful eyes of the lion-dog guardian statues (shisa) boring into your skull from a candy-themed shop window. The incongruity of a town so enmeshed in all things American in a corner of Japan was so fascinating that peeling back its layers of history was all I could do. Because when you are in Okinawa you take everything in twice: once for what it’s supposed to be, and once for what it is.

At first glance, Okinawa is an island paradise for the city-weary Japanese and their equally jaded neighbours to escape to. As I strolled around the American Village, I asked for directions from a local and a lighter from a Taiwanese tourist. You would spot groups of Korean and Chinese tourists who have either flown in or disembarked from a cruise for the weekend. But the most prominent demographic of the lot are the Americans. All the distinct American trimmings of the place started making more sense when my 62-year-old guide, Hisami Takayama filled me in on the history of the island.

“There are over 55,000 Americans, soldiers and their families, in Okinawa,” she said, pointing at the American military base from the car taking us around Naha, the capital. “They have been here since the Second World War.” The California-esque entertainment district was in part a way for the Americans to feel at home and a ringing reminder of their significant influence on the local culture.

A Red Castle, A Resilient Island

When I flew in from Tokyo and landed in Okinawa on a press trip, my sole frame of reference was “Karate Kid II.” Okinawa, Japan’s southernmost prefecture with its cluster of islands, is the birthplace of Karate and of the mysterious Mr Miyagi in the movie. Learning of the island’s American history, I found it ironic that the film was actually shot in Hawaii, which closely resembles Okinawa. But after four days, it became clear that Okinawa could never be reduced to just one story. At Shurijo Castle, another side of the island slowly came into view. Scarfing down my onigiri (pork and egg sandwiched between rice and wrapped in nori), I gazed at the imposing red castle, its origins still shrouded in mystery and its future emerging from the rubble of renovation.

“There are about sixty thousand red tiles in the main hall,” Takayama-san said, pointing towards the structure, which served as the political and cultural centre of the Ryukyu Kingdom between 1429 and 1879. The castle’s architecture, combining Japanese and Chinese elements, was a thing to behold as I walked past vermilion gates, stone walls, and of course the ever-present eyes of the shisa statues. Shurijo was destroyed during the Battle of Okinawa in 1945 and rebuilt, only to be devastated by fire again in 2019. “Reconstruction of the main hall is underway, and the official opening date for the public has been set for November 23,” she informed us. When I asked when the castle was originally built, she paused for a moment before admitting that nobody really knows.

A Symposium of Worlds

It is easy to forget that Okinawa was not always part of Japan. For nearly 450 years, the islands were home to the Ryukyu Kingdom, an independent maritime kingdom that flourished through trade with China, Southeast Asia and Japan. Its history of cultural exchange gave Okinawa an identity distinct from mainland Japan, one that survives in its music, food, architecture, and language. It became part of Japan in 1879, before the aftermath of the Second World War placed it under US administration until 1972.

Having already encountered one of the most obvious traces of its layered history over a hamburger at a diner with red-and-white checked tablecloths, the more intrinsic, distinctly Okinawan facets drew me in even further. Like how Okinawan folk music is more popular among the locals than western or even Japanese pop music. Many restaurants have live music and the performers would do folk songs with the entire house singing along.

“Everyone knows this song in Okinawa and we have to sing along,” Takayama-san informed us, her excitement bleeding through the crinkle of her eyes at one such restaurant where we were having an authentic Okinawan dinner. The jangly three-stringed chords of the sanshin (traditional Okinawan instrument) filled the room and there was a sudden outburst among the crowd before it dissolved into a synchronised chorus of sorts. We all tried to follow the Japanese lyrics and the hand choreography before breaking into different pitches of kampai (cheers) and gulping down our beers as the jaunty jingle “Ojii Jiman No Orion Beer,” made the entire restaurant move. Even after our bellies were full with tempura, a platter of sushi, pork gyoza and plum wine we were still not ready to end the night.

The language was another thing. For a non-speaker, I was practically deaf to the nuances of different dialects, barely able to chime in an arigato gozaimas and hoping the lower I bowed, the more I’d be forgiven for my clumsy tongue. But even our Tokyo guide, Yuki, who had accompanied us, admitted she had difficulty deciphering certain words and phrases. “They are practically different languages,” she said. Yet the one thing that remains constant across all island destinations in the world is the chill, laid-back quality to everyday life. And perhaps it is no coincidence that Okinawa is also known for the longevity of its people.

What The Elders Know

Morio Taira, 91, and his wife Etsuko, 81, told us they’ve been together so long they’ve lost count of the years. I was sitting in a farmhouse in Ogimi village, a two-hour drive from Naha, devouring a lunch spread with expert chopstick dexterity. Our time in Okinawa was coming to a close and this was one experience that I was very excited about.

Okinawa is one of the original Blue Zones, known for its unusually high number of octogenarians, nonagenarians and centenarians. And this is what I witnessed among a very energetic trio of elders at lunch. Morio still takes daily beach walks, Etsuko enjoys regular nights out with girlfriends, and 83-year-old Hatsuko Yamashiro runs a 15-employee PR company promoting Okinawa’s shikuwasa citrus worldwide. For Hatsuko, her work provides a reason to look forward to each day. This sense of purpose, or ikigai, shapes life in Ogimi.

On my last day in Okinawa, I sat on the promenade watching the sun sink over the East China Sea, giving in to a few maudlin reflections. The island had shown me how destruction can be followed by rebuilding, and how resilience can leave something more beautiful in its wake. As the glinting sun tessellated the sea on the shore, it reminded me of Okinawa’s history—how it blends without gaps. It’s not just one world, but a gorgeous sum of all its bruised, beautiful parts.

The Information

Getting There: Fly directly into Naha Airport (OKA) via domestic flights from major Japanese cities like Tokyo (3 hours) and Osaka, or via direct international flights from select Asian hubs

Where I Stayed: La’gent Hotel Okinawa Naha, Hotel Mahaina Wellness Resort Okinawa, La’gent Hotel Okinawa Chatan

Where I Shopped: Bic Camera, Don Quijote

Where I Ate: Chinuman Restaurant for authentic Okinawan food, Gyoza Sakaba Kingoro for pork dumplings, Fuwato Rock Café for omurice

Other Attractions: Himeyuri Peace Museum, Okinawa World, JUNGLIA theme park, Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium, Chuko Awamori Distillery, teamLab Future Park Okinawa