Staying here in Kunigami 国頭郡 has been an incredibly surreal experience. The feeling of remoteness is almost unparalleled in my experience. There is no internet here and almost nothing to distract from the peaceful serenity of nature. There are no guests in the other cabins and the owner’s presence is barely discernible.
This morning the owner dropped a big fish off at the main guesthouse building. It is laying on the front deck in the shade, one blank eye fixed on the wooden awning overhead. An omen? Time to move on. I have been here for weeks, after all. No, that’s not quite right—it can’t have been more than two nights. Feels like a small fragment of eternity for some reason. Is this what being disconnected is like?