When I was 10, I lived on Camp Courtney Marine Base in Okinawa, Japan; the friendliest, most beautiful place I've lived in my 18 years. To a 10-year-old, everything about the foreign place was magical. The food was rich and tasty, they people (who could obviously tell I was American) were helpful and kind, and the cities were bright and cultural. Everywhere you turned, there was something new to learn and something fun to do. My family did a lot in our three years of living there, from the Annual Naha Tug of War to eating at the Tree House restaurant, Gajumaru. But the one thing we did that I'll never forget was our evening walk through Uruma City.

A number of military bases are spread throughout Okinawa, each differing in size and primary branch. Camp Courtney, one on the Marine Corps bases, was a quaint little area right outside Uruma City. Uruma and Courtney went hand-in-hand. They were both simple and kind, like two little old ladies who sat on the same bench everyday at the park. We were fortunate at the time to live near the gate at Courtney, so occasionally, my mother would take me and my younger brother on long walks outside the base. I can still hear the bustle of the small shops we would pass. An old man trying to haggle with a merchant, two ladies gossiping at the bus stop, children playing in the old rusty lot behind a little booth; their mother cautious to keep an eye on her boys as she worked in the sun. Uruma City was magical.

That evening, I'd taken my new Nintendo DS out with us because my mother promised me we would stop at the toy store a few blocks over after we grabbed some treats at Family Mart. The prospect of going to both places made me happier than ever; going to my two favorite places in one day? Awesome!

I jumped in stray puddles with my brother, singing the Japanese animal song I'd learned in foreign language class, embarrassing my mother, but I didn't care. The stones of the cobblestone sidewalk were old and weathered, but I loved them, they stuck out like teeth, and I found it funny to hop onto the wobbly stones even when told not to.

The Family Mart stop was brief; we were there almost every other day so we knew what to get, where to find it, and the cost. AJ was lucky enough to find a 1000 yen (10 bucks) lying on the floor, though. I made my mom wait another five minutes so that I could comb the store for extra money, but found none.

The toy store, covered in old and new game posters from head to toe, had no distinct sign; everyone around those parts just knew it as The Little Toy Store. Like Family Mart, we were in there so often buying Pokemon cards that we knew what to get, where to find it, and the cost. I'd saved up 500 yen to buy a new pack, which was a lot. That money could have been five iced apple teas! But I'd saved and walked out the door a happy girl, hands full of Family Mart and Toy Store bags.
As we treaded home, the sun had finally begun to sink behind the buildings of our little city, dying the wobbly cobblestones a golden orange. The steakhouse near the gate opened for dinner service, so the smell of roast pork wafted through the air. A warm breeze swirled as we took what I called "the long way home" through the city towards the Camp Courtney side gate.
Another evening perfectly spent in my Uruma City.