Day 9, July 21 – The Island That Took Our Winnings but Stole Our Hearts

We had big plans for today—one of those jam-packed itineraries that looks great on paper. The plan was to wake up at 6:15 AM, hit the road by 7:00 for the 1.5-hour drive to Hiji Falls, hike the waterfall for about 1.5 hours, and then make our way to the Churaumi Aquarium by 10:30 AM. After spending a few hours exploring, we’d top it all off with a visit to the ocean water park before heading back.

Well… that didn’t exactly happen.

We did wake up at 6:15, but one look at the conditions at Hiji Falls changed everything. Heavy rains had made the area unsafe for hiking, and there were warnings about flooding and dangerous conditions. So, instead of lacing up our hiking shoes, we made the wise (and slightly lazy) decision to crawl back into bed. Clearly, we were more exhausted than we realized because the next thing we knew, it was 10:30 AM.

While everyone else slowly came back to life, I sat with my favorite vending machine coffee and did a little work, trying to figure out if we still had time to make the 1.5-hour drive to the aquarium and water park. Then Slade and Tara decided they weren’t feeling the long drive, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Three hours in the car for a single-day trip is a lot. Still, I felt a little pang of sadness because northern Okinawa is breathtaking—its beaches, mountains, and waterfalls are some of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. But this is their vacation too, and sometimes rest wins over adventure.

Instead, we opted for a slow, easy day around the rental. We picked up some last-minute souvenirs, and for our final night in Okinawa, we went out for one last yakiniku dinner. This place was an experience in itself—robots delivered the food, and everything was ordered on an iPad. Limited human interaction: order on the iPad, robot brings your food, eat, repeat. Weirdly efficient and kind of fun.

The Robot That Delivered Our Dinner

Our Last Yakiniku Dinner (Tara was sick of Pics, LOL)

One thing I’ve noticed during this trip is that many restaurants, bars, and tourist spots seem to have mostly foreign workers now. Ten years ago, nearly every establishment was staffed by locals. I couldn’t help but wonder why. Are they cheaper labor than locals? Or maybe there are just too many tourist-driven businesses for Okinawa’s local workforce to fill? Another thing that always amazes me—how are these foreign workers so fluent in Japanese? I lived here for over five years, and my Japanese vocabulary still consists of about six words:

• Kon’nichiwa (Good afternoon)

• Konbanwa (Good evening)

• Ohayō gozaimasu (Good morning)

• Arigatō gozaimasu (Thank you very much)

• Sumimasen (Excuse me)

• Gomen nasai (Sorry—which I used a lot).

After dinner, we headed back to the rental to pack. With a 5:15 AM wake-up for our flight to Bali, there was no putting it off. Slade and Tara went out for some last-minute souvenirs, while Michael and I decided to tempt fate with one last trip to the casino.

I wish I could say we walked out with another $300 win, but Okinawa’s slot machines had other plans. What they giveth, they taketh away—and they took it all back tonight. At least it was only our Okinawa winnings; Tokyo’s $3,500 jackpot is still safe. Still, I’d already spent that $300 in my head, and maybe even a little of the imaginary jackpot I was so sure I’d hit tonight. Lesson learned: don’t count your yen before the reels stop spinning.

Back at the rental, we zipped up our bags, that familiar mix of gratitude and sadness settling in. Another win would’ve been nice, but truthfully, this trip has been worth more than any jackpot.

Okinawa is more than its beaches, sushi, or vending machine coffee (though I’ll miss that coffee like a long-lost love). It’s the sound of cicadas at night, the glow of neon lights turning a corner store into magic, and the quiet kindness tucked into every “Arigato.” Our day didn’t go as planned—Hiji Falls was closed, the aquarium never happened—but maybe that was the point. We slept in. We laughed over robot-delivered yakiniku. We slowed down, and the day ended up being better than anything I could have planned.

As I look around this quiet rental one last time, I can’t help but feel that tug in my chest. Okinawa feels like home—maybe because of the Marine Corps memories, maybe because if Slade ever gets stationed here, we’d pack up and visit in a heartbeat. Or maybe it’s just that this island knows how to remind you what really matters.

Tomorrow we trade this peaceful island for Bali’s tropical chaos, but tonight I’m thankful for everything Okinawa gave us—good food, good laughs, and memories we’ll talk about for years.

Here’s to the island that took our winnings but gave us something better—memories worth far more than $1200.

Thank you for taking this detour with me.

Kolleen