Shimoda Mall

I did it. I drove to the mall and went shopping...by myself. Most would say this isn't a big deal, but I have a large fear of getting lost. A fear so crippling, that I would rather stay put than even risk the chance of getting lost. My heart pounds like it will leap straight out of my body, my breathing becomes rapid, almost to the point of hyperventilation. Anxiety is a cruel animal that drives most of my interactions, or lack thereof.

Having a smartphone with Google Maps in the United States helped calm this fear, but in Japan, it offers little comfort for a few reasons:

• The maps are written in Kanji, or Japanese writing.
• There are absolutely no street signs.
• There is only one person who can help me if I do get lost.

It takes me almost a full two weeks to work up the courage to even think of going to the mall. I'm faced with the fact I must go soon after a short trip to the Base Exchange comes up fruitless for work attire. My lack of foresight in quickly getting a job caused me to bring virtually no work clothes in my suitcase. Thursday afternoon finds me asking the commander's wife for directions. 

She emails what appears to be fairly idiot-proof directions:

"Take road out of the POL gate straight. Once you get to Universe (grocery store), take a left. Drive for a while until you see a pink sign for Aeon Mall. There should be a Lawson's (convenience store) on the corner. Take a right. Drive past fields and forests until you see the Aeon Mall."

So Saturday afternoon, I grab my iPod and set off. Other than missing the entrance to the mall and having to turn around, I nail the directions flawlessly.

My first stop is the pet store where they sell puppies. My heart stops when I see a bulldog puppy. Beautifully brown and white, just like the one I've dreamed about. And then I see his price tag. ¥680,000 or $6,800. Looks like getting a puppy might have to wait.

I set off on a mission to get what I actually came for: clothes. After checking a few boutiques, I find myself absolutely in love with Japanese fashion. All of the clothes I loved at Forever 21 are everywhere here. Lacey skirts and shirts in tan, black, and dusty pink.

Already knowing I'm larger than most of the nationals I've seen, I make a beeline for the plus size section. Size is just a number. I find a beautiful cream-colored tulle prairie skirt that hits my knees and a black see-through button up shirt with cream lace details. I am immediately thankful I'm not top-heavy.

After a fairly successful shopping trip, I reward myself with some Pepper Lunch. The first time I had Pepper Lunch was when I went with Mark's co-workers to purchase Dark Knight tickets. It's what we call a vending machine fried rice place. Just like a snack vending machine, you insert your money and select your meal.

Once you've made your selection, it prints out a ticket that you hand to a cashier. They have a little drink menu that's English on one side and Kanji on the other and you point to your beverage of choice. They hand you a beeper and you sit and wait for your food. Pepper Lunch serves meals on a cast iron plate, so like a fajita, it continues cooking at your table. The cashier says something in a sing-songy voice, just like every other Japanese woman. I nod my head in a bowing fashion and smile. I've noticed this works most of the time.

I ordered the "Teriyaki Burger" which is more like a salisbury steak. It comes with a fried egg (like most Japanese meals), corn or bean sprouts, salad and white rice. All that for ¥1,000 (or about $10).

I see another American family a few rows down and say hello. It's funny; when you're in a country where you don't speak the language, anyone who speaks yours becomes an instant friend. There's usually a look of relief that flashes across both faces, mainly because one or both parties has a question that requires solid English to answer. I finish my lunch and head back home, this time without losing my way.