Leaving the train station we headed in the direction we thought the park might be, based on my memory of one Japanese-labeled map I saw on the Internet the other night. We walked past some pretty strange buildings: a square glass cube in the middle of a traditional looking neighborhood, a pink two-story with a statue in an alcove,
and a commercial building only three feet wide.
The last is common here, but they strike us every time we see them.
We wandered for hours, just looking at Japan, at Yokosuka. At the top of the hill we found a beautiful grocery store, the upscale shiny-floor kind with isles of fresh fruit and gourmet items. That was strange. Most grocery stores in Japan are in the basements of shopping centers. They're small and pretty basic, with linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting.
On the other side of the hill we found an explanation. Without meaning to, we had wandered into the ritzy part of town. The houses were wide. They had yards, real yards with grass and flowers and a place to keep the dog. Some even had parking spaces.
In a country the size of California supporting 2 percent of the global population, space is the ultimate luxury.
We wandered on until the highway stopped us. Then we turned around and headed home. No park for us.
I answered Grant's cockroach comment with, "Remember the first day we went out on town together. We were fascinated everything was amazing. Now we walk around saying well if we find something interesting ..."