If the Okinawan diet is the marvel of fad-chasing, image-obsessed America consumers for the moment, there's little hope that our young nation will achieve the longevity for which Okinawans are so famous. While certain foods are key to the prefecture's high number of octa and nonagenarians, attitude and lifestyle choices are equally as important, and in few places can the holy trinity of theOkinawan elixir be seen quite like in Makishi Public Market, located in the Heiwadori on Kokusai Street.

It's easy to write the market off as a tourist attraction. On any given day, there are swarms of camera-bearing outsiders swarming the alleys for deals and the perfect Okinawan omiyage (souvenir). But equally as numerous, especially when you venture into the bowels of the marketplace, are aging Okinawans who come to this machigwa (local market) buy a few fresh items (likely what they can't grow or catch on their own) and catch up with acquaintances.

Some call Makishi "Okinawa's kitchen," a moniker that's right on the money. In this maze of covered alleys, an alert consumer can find almost anything needed to create a traditional Okinawan meal. The inner sanctum is home to a vibrant fish and meat market whose vendors politely hawk their goods to passersby. Parrotfish, octopus, squid, blowfish, shrimp, snapper, yellowfin tuna, and a dozen other varieties of seafood abound, artfully displayed on ice or in cases. Across the building are the pork vendors, who offer up every portion of the pig except the oink, say locals. You'll find mimi (ear), intestines, feet, hocks, and even chiraga (face flesh). Shoppers are also sure to pass an entire pig head or two, the smiling carcasses likely bearing sunglasses.

Poultry, goat, and beef are available as well, though are not nearly as plentiful as pork. Vendors can also be found with wide selections of pickled vegetables, tofu, and fish cakes. Just outside are vegetable vendors, nearly all of whom grow what they sell. Goya, or bitter melon, is a common sight, as are daikon (radishes), fruits, kabocha (a gourd sort of like a pumpkin), and fresh flowers. Sata andagi (Okinawan donuts) are available in abundance, as are chinsuko (Okinawan cookies) and products made from beniimo (purple Okinawan sweet potato). Eye-catching irabu (smoked sea snake) and jars of habu sake reel in tourists to the many stalls.

Perhaps the best kept secret of Makishi is the second floor, which houses a cluster of restaurants, some of which will even cook fish purchased at the market below. Staples such as goya champuru and Okinawan soba are also available. Many of the aging, wrinkled faces here and on the first floor have been working in the market for decades.

More than 400 storefronts exist in Makishi, selling everything from sanshin and star sand to used military surplus clothing and cheap blankets. Though businesses are legitimate now, the area began as a black market alley after World War II. Slowly, as Okinawa recovered from the devastation of the Battle of Okinawa, the core of shops expanded one by one.

Today, the Makishi Public Market is an Okinawa icon, the largest market on the island. And while it may be a portal to the stomachs of Okinawans, it's also a community lifeblood. Economically, it brings in hundreds of thousands of tourist dollars annually. But emotionally, it's a way for residents who have long patronized the markets to continue the traditions of the Okinawa of yesteryear, to connect with a rural past that is rapidly yielding to mega tourist resorts and shopping malls. And it's this sense of charm and island energy that keep people-tourists and locals alike-coming back.

Early History

Archeological evidence gleaned from illustrated ceramics fragments suggests that dance has been a part of daily life for thousands of years. Many early dances, such as those of Native Americans, derived from ceremonial and ritualistic purposes. Ancient Egyptian and Indian dances often had religious purposes, while those of ancient Greece were more celebratoryin nature. While Okinawa has several folk dances related to religious ceremonies, it developed its classical dances in a not-so-traditional way.

Already an established entrepôt by the time the Ryukyu Kingdom unified in 1429, Okinawa enjoyed trade with many nations, including China, Japan, Vietnam, Siam, and Java. With the influx of luxurious trade goods came entourages of visiting economic and diplomatic dignitaries that often stayed for months at a time and required constant attention and entertainment. Consequently, the Ryukyu court frequently held elaborate banquets involving fine foods and staged performances of ukwanshin (crown ship dances) and kumiudui (classical plays). For the purposes of the latter, the court appointed dance magistrates, or odori bugyo. The odori bugyo drew on the songs and dances used by locals during religious festivals and combined them with the cultural influences of China and Japan, thereby creating a terpsichorean art form that was distinctly Okinawan.

Classical Okinawan Dances

Among the classical Okinawan dances are men's dances, women's dances, boy's dances, and elderly people's dances. Each of these dances had highly choreographed routines and accompaniment from musicians playing the sanshin (stringed, plucked instrument), koto (zither), fue (flute), taiko (drum), and Chinese fiddle.

Men's dances, or nisai odori, are often characterized by dancers' attire-a white headband (shiru saji) and a solid black kimono worn hiked up with black and white leggings. These dances had a vigorously masculine nature and frequently incorporated karate movements.

Boy's dances, or wakashu odori, were often performed by boys about fifteen years old, just before their coming of age ceremony. Dancers wore bright red kimono and made flowing, yet still masculine, movements. Unfortunately, when Ryukyuan culture was forced to assimilate into the Japanese culture, the coming of age ceremony was done away with, and so the wakashu odori also disappeared. Today, only a few boy's dances-such as kutibushi and binuchibushi-survive.

Elderly people's dances, or rojin odori, were usually the first dances performed at the ukwanshin. Intended to represent ancestors dancing, the rojin odori were also performed to bring good wishes to guests.

Women's dances, or onna odori, were performed by males dressed in bright bingata kimono and red tabi socks. Onna odori usually depicted a reserved young woman expressing her passionate love for a man. Among the more famous onna odori are amakawa, nufwa bushi, and tsikuten.

From Classical to Pop

Following 1868 Meiji Restoration and consequential disintegration of the Ryukyu Kingdom, the court-sponsored dancers lacked financial support and thus took their talents to new commercial theaters popping up in Naha. In these theaters, commoners were able to see the classical dances, which had previously only been performed for royalty and high-ranking diplomats.

However, performances of the refined, precise movements of the classical dances evoked less than notable responses from the commoners. The dancers responded by developing zo odori, or popular dances. Zo odori reflected the daily activities of farmers, fishermen, and laborers in the community. The restrained and stylized movements of classical dances were thrown out, and dancers adopted vibrant and lively movements the conveyed a sense of freedom and happiness. These folk dances, or minzoku buyo, were performed at religious ceremonies and rituals that have been passed down since ancient times. Such dances included eisa and shishimai.

After summer rains bring unrelenting heat and humidity to prefectures throughout Japan, donning a heavy kimono for social occasions becomes a dreaded thought and task. In lieu of the layers of fabric required for traditional kimono, many in Japan opt to wear yukata during the nation's stifling summers.

As opposed to the heavy silk or synthetic fabrics used to make kimono, yukata arewoven from lightweight cotton and are not lined. Though traditional yukata feature indigo designs, modern conventions place almost no limit on the colors available. Young females can often be found sporting bright yellow or rosy pink varieties (with matching accessories, of course), while children can be seen attired in yukata emblazoned with popular characters such as Hello Kitty. Older individuals usually opt for more reserved designs, but the footwear of choice for all wearers are elevated wooden sandals called geta.

The word yukata comes from yu, meaning bath, and katabira, meaning under clothing. Originally, these summer duds were used exclusively by nobility following a bath. As time wore on and bathhouses became more commonplace, yukata became a part of the traditional attire at onsen and sentō. Today, most ryokan (traditional Japanese inns) still provide one for walking between the bathhouse and other buildings, though such varieties often feature only a simple sash for closure, as opposed to the more ornate obi belts used to secure the yukata of festival-goers.

On Okinawa, sightings of yukata-clad nihonjin (whose garments often feature local bingata designs) can most easily be had during the annual Orion Beer Festival each August. In other parts of Japan, yukata are common attire for fireworks displays, Obon events, and shrine matsuri.

Want a yukata of your own or one to give as a gift? Fine yukata are available at Mitsukoshi Department Store on Kokusai Street. For more economical versions, head to your local San-A or Jusco.

When you think of quintessential Japan, we're betting you think of the charms of Kyoto, with its many tea houses, kimono-clad geiko, elegant shrines, and narrow alleys. On Okinawa, Kyoto's cultural counterpart is Shuri, the former seat of the royal family of the Ryukyus.

While Kyoto may have been spared from bombing by Allied generals during World War II due to its cultural importance, Shuri was given no such bye. The area was (and is) located on an impressive hilltop, and this, combined with the fact that Japanese forces had turned the castle's buildings into a barracks and constructed an immense network of tunnels and caves underneath them, made the area a prime target for Allied bombers. Most of Shuri was leveled during the Battle of Okinawa, and it wasn't until years after the war that many of the buildings of cultural importance were restored.

But, despite the death and destruction, the heart of Shuri never died. Sustained by a hearty resident community, the area rose like a phoenix from the ashes to rebuild businesses such as Arakaki Kashiten (a family bakery that has made chinsuko (Okinawa cookies) for centuries) and tile-roofed homes such as those seen along many of the neighborhood's back alleys. If you look for it, present-day Shuri still has much of its old world charm. And while tourists may think that charm lies exclusively in the Seiden's vermillion pillars, the gold leaf on the Shureimon, or with the tourist photo ladies treading softly underneath the weight of hanagasa and bingata kimono, locals know it lies with the hand constructed shisa, the narrow streets decorated with pots of flowers, and the neighborhood grocery stores where locals come to gossip.

For centuries, Shuri Castle has stood as the pride and joy of the Ryukyu Islands. The home of Ryukyuan royalty, its vermillion buildings shone in the tropical sun, glimmers of gold emanating regal light from the pillars and gates. Destroyed on several occasions by fire, this wooden structure has seen many incarnations, the most recent of which was completed in 1992 after nearly four decades of researchand reconstruction following the building's demise during World War II.

If the walls of Shuri could talk, what would they say? Undoubtedly they'd recount tales of opulent court parties held to entertain visiting Chinese envoys, of moon-viewing and autumnal banquets, of the tense arrival of Commodore Matthew Perry in 1853. Perhaps they'd reveal the dark times that transpired in the maze of tunnels and rooms that exist below the expansive halls.

During World War II, the Japanese Army's 32nd Division made Shuri their power post. Lieuntenant General Mitsuru Ushijima gathered residents and junior high and normal school students from the area to aid the Army in tunneling under the castle. The task took only a few days, with the rag-tag crew boasting construction of nearly 1,000 meters of tunnels. Their depth of 15 to 35 meters below the castle ensured safety from incoming artillery and 2,000-pound bombs launched from U.S. battleships off the coast. According to a May 1945 issue of TIME, one battleship scored 25 direct hits on the castle grounds, "but the shells bounced off, said an observer, like ‘rubber balls'."

Eventually, the bombs and artillery managed to take their toll, leveling the once resplendent structure to the ground not long after Ushijima abandoned the castle and retreated to the south. Today, though the tunnels and underground chambers are closed to the public, their entrances can still be seen on the grounds of Shuri Castle, slowly caving in under the weight of the earth. But their presence reminds us of the past, of the citadel's story. And perhaps, if we listen closely, we can hear the walls delivering a message as important as the castle's history.