On Tuesdays I teach an English class to a group of Japanese women here in Okinawa. In addition to making my cheeks hurt from laughing so hard, they continually impress me with their dedication to studying and their natural aptitude for language. And they giggle like no one I’ve ever met.
My friend Yukari is a smart cookie and a dedicated student. She, like most of the Okinawa descendents, speaks a combination of Spanish and Japanese, with a Japanese accent. It’s a beautiful thing, sounds excellent over karaoke, and is just one of the perks of living in a Japanese colony in South America
Tom was away the other day, and Yukari, knowing I was home alone, brought me dinner. What a sweetheart, she showed up at my door with a big bowl of rice noodles and some sushi rolls she’d made for me –sushi a la South America that is: seaweed paper and rice with pickles, mayo, lettuce, and a hotdog in the middle. I wasn’t sure whether to put wasabi or ketchup on it.
That there is what you get when you cross Japanese and Bolivian cuisine. Amazing, eh.
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