This was the rumor of the Japanese girls who lived on the small island of Okinawa; and Tanner, who was from a small town in Iowa, was trying to convince me that this was not just a rumor, but something that was as factual as the island's history.

"Didn't you ever see 'The Karate Kid Part II'? Why do think Daniel San was willing to fight all those guys just to keep that chick? She knew the secrets too, man!" Tanner was becoming quite adamant.

"I think that was an American actress, Tanner. Her Japanese accent wasn't even that great."

"It doesn't matter that if she was American or Japanese in real life. She was portraying an Okinawan girl, one who knew the secrets. I think it was based on a true story."

The poor young girl who was the subject of this debate was Kyoko Matza. I had met her through a friend who was dating a Japanese girl who taught English at a local college. The English teacher introduced me to Kyoko, and the two of us had been dating for about three weeks.

Our first date had been just a few days before Christmas, and Kyoko said that she knew of a wonderful show that we could attend together, a show that should remind me of Christmas at home in America. I agreed to go and the date was set.

The show was actually an outdoor play in which "Alice in Wonderland" met "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer." The show included a laser light show of Santa Claus, Christmas wreaths, and giant stars that spelled NOEL projected across the sky. Enormous machines pumped out billowing clouds of smoke to provide a projection surface for the lasers. This was about as festive as the "Captain Eo" show at Disneyland that featured Michael Jackson as a space crusader. "Alice" was a young Japanese girl who wore a bright yellow wig that was more of a helmet (minus a chin strap) because there were no individual strands of hair; just a textured mass of rubber, like the kind attached to the Ronald Reagan masks that were popular in the late '80s. All the dialogue was in Japanese, of course, and projected over speakers that were placed in abundance around the park. The volume was far too high. The night ended with a fireworks show that surpassed all pyrotechnic displays that I had ever seen on America's Independence Day. It was also the first that I had seen that was held in celebration of Christmas.

Kyoko stood just shy of 5-feet tall and weighed about 95 pounds. Her car was not much larger. I sat, hugging my knees, and responded to her questions about Christmas in America. As we drove parallel to a long chain-link fence that made up the perimeter of Camp Schwab, a Marine Corps base that was about 12 miles south of mine, she changed the tone of the conversation.

"Neek (this was how she pronounced my name), when I was just a young girl, my family would drive past these fences and I would see all the Americans on the other side. My mother told me that we were not allowed to be on the other side of that fence. I thought America was on the other side of that fence, Neek."

We arrived at the gate of Camp Schwab. The armed guard at the gate hailed us to a stop. I explained that Kyoko was only dropping me off and planned to turn around without entering the gate.

"Thank you for the wonderful evening, Kyoko. Call me and we can do something next weekend."

"Thank you, Neek. I had a wonderful time with you."

I gave her a small kiss on her mouth. She accepted the kiss. Her lips parted slightly and I could feel the pressure of the braces that ran across her teeth.

"Goodbye, Kyoko."

"Goodbye, Neek."

And that was the first date. Not exactly an American date, but not Japanese either. We had been on several dates since, and the first kiss had escalated to more kisses and other juvenile petting, but nothing more than what would warrant a detention if we were caught under the bleachers in 10th grade.

"You see, Tanner, that's the problem. She still lives with her parents and I can't bring her on base. So it's impossible for us to be alone."

"You can do it in her car, dude."

"I'm not gonna put the poor girl through that. Besides, I don't think it's big enough."

"Well, it looks like you're screwed, man. Or not screwed, I mean."

"Shut up, Tanner. Besides, I don't know if she's ready for that. It's not like dating an American girl. With them, you just kind of know."

"Well, maybe you can find out on your next date. When do you go out again?"

"Tonight."

I met Kyoko at the front gate at about a quarter to six. She told me earlier on the phone that we were going to see a movie. She said that it would be a surprise. I'd hoped it would be "Godzilla" or "Mothra" or any Japanese movie that featured an angry Japanese guy in a cheap monster suit. I loved those.

"So what's it going to be?"

"I don't think that I understand your English, Neek."

" I mean what movie are we going to see?"

She handed me the two tickets that she had already purchased. It took me a moment to find the title amidst all the Kanji that was scattered across the piece of paper that was about the size of an unfolded matchbook. Then I saw it, in plain English. "Meet Joe Black," an American film.

"Neek, it is starring Brad Peet. Do you know this movie?"

A picture of Brad Pitt in a Godzilla suit smashing buildings and breathing fire flashed through my head.

"I don't think that I've heard of it, but I know who Brad Pitt is, and he is pretty good."

"Yes, he is a hunk. Is this good English, Neek?"

"Yeah, That's about right."

We were about 20 minutes early, so we had to wait in the hall outside the theater. Others were waiting with us. A couple leaned against the wall and whispered to each other. A group of schoolgirls still in their uniform white shirt and blue skirt huddled together. High giggles were mixed in with cartoon-like voices speaking Japanese. I thought that I heard Brad Peet's name in between the chatter. I took notice of a T-shirt that a teenaged girl was wearing.

"Kyoko, that girl is wearing a shirt that says BOAT on it. Why would she wear that? Is it a name brand here?"

"She likes it because it is written in English. It is American."

"No American would wear that shirt. Does she know that?" My thoughts turned quickly to the karate style T-shirts that were worn by teenagers across America when I was a kid, T-shirts that had Japanese Kanji written on them. I wondered what some of those shirts said.

A girl who appeared to be in her mid-20s caught my eye as she passed. She was different. She wore mascara and lipstick. Her hair was longer than most, and layered. It was also highlighted.

"This girl is trying to look like an American girl, Neek." Kyoko said this with some resentment in her voice.

"Why would she want to do that?"

"I don't know, Neek."

"Do you want to look like an American?"

"Oh, yes."

This desire to be or appear to be American repeated itself in many areas of the Okinawan culture. They listened to American music that they could not understand. They paid exorbitantly for American clothing. The theater featured only one Japanese movie and five American films. Kyoko said that very few people purchased tickets for the Japanese film.

During our film I found that I consumed movies very differently than did the Japanese. There was a scene in which Brad Pitt, or Peet, was struck by a car with such startling force that my immediate reaction was laughter. I knew many of my friends would have had the same reaction, but Kyoko, as well as the rest of the viewers in the theater, had a different one.

"Neek, why do you laugh? This is so sad. Brad Peet got heet."

My laughter worsened with this poetic comment and I began to attract the attention of all the solemn faces that filled the theater. For a moment I thought that I may have to leave the theater to gather myself, but after a while my laughter ceased.

After the movie, Kyoko and I sat at the Sea Wall. This is a place where young lovers would go to be alone and enjoy the view of the bay. Looking out across the bay my mind wandered. I thought of the fierce battles that ravaged this small, unassuming island. Before the war, Okinawa was an independent state of Japan. This gave the Okinawans the freedom from rule that they wanted, and gave the Japanese the freedom from providing for this island financially. It was a happy marriage for some time. During the war, however, the Japanese saw what a vital role Okinawa could serve as a forward base for air operations, and to ward off attacks from the Americans during the "Island Hopping" campaign. The Japanese took control over the island, showing no respect for the people of Okinawa or their culture.

When the Americans finally landed forces on Okinawa, they greeted the native Okinawans with gifts of chocolate, and formed a quick, but important friendship. Even today when the native people are asked about the relationship between Americans and Japanese after the war, Okinawans hold more ill feelings toward the Japanese than the Americans from their actions at the time.

The Americans eventually took the island from the Japanese, culminating with a fierce battle at Shuri Castle. Japan has never had a fully operational Armed Force since; America would not allow it. As for Okinawa, it is still heavily occupied by American forces, and serves as a vital forward deployed unit, protecting the Eastern Hemisphere. It has been said that there are no bases on Okinawa; Okinawa is a base. And that is what brought me to the island, serving in the Marine Corps.

"Neek, what do you want to do after you leave the Marines?"

"I don't know, finish school I guess."

"You mean college?"

"Yeah, college. What about you?"

"Oh, I finished college."

"Really, what did you study?"

"Architecture."

"So what do you want to do next?"

"I wish to marry an American man, move to the United States and continue my education."

Okay, I guess Japanese girls were never taught that great American secret about not scaring your man off by talking about marriage too soon.

It was getting late and all the teenage couples were leaving. I knew that soon we would also have to leave. Kyoko showed no signs of a desire to depart. Eventually, we did depart, however, and as we climbed back into her two-cylinder vehicle I knew that it was again impossible for me to sneak her back into my room. If I were able, we would be greeted by my roommate from the top bunk of our beds -- not exactly a romantic scenario. At her door her parents would greet us, her mother with a sleepy bow, and her father with a samurai sword to the back if my neck. So I prepared myself for another lonely night in the barracks.

"Neek, I don't want you to go home yet."

"I don't really want to go either, but everything is closed and you can't get on base."

"Maybe we could go to Love Motel."

I was not familiar with this term and thought that Kyoko's English was failing her. She surely meant hotel. The "love" part was just her tongue slipping on the amorous surface of her mouth.

"You mean hotel Kyoko."

"No, Neek. My English is fine. I mean Love Motel. It is a place where girls go with their boyfriends. Are you my boyfriend, Neek?"

"Yes." Easy answer.

"Okay, we will go. But only to talk." She could be so American at times.

So we were off. My destination was unknown, but my goal was obvious. During the drive we shared simple conversation, but my attention was elsewhere. I could only hear Tanner's voice in my head, promising me all the hidden treasures that this young girl had to offer me. And right then, I believed every word.

Just as I thought Kyoko's mini-vehicle might give up and roll backward, we crested the hill that we were struggling to ascend. The road we were driving on weaved down the other side of this hill into a valley with bustling traffic and scattered neon lights. Set far away from the others, one large neon heart caught my attention.

"That is it, Neek. That is Love Motel."

My oasis. Eventually we reached what certainly should have been the front of the motel, but it was dark and I saw no door for entry, no curtains glowing in windows with illumination that promised other inhabitants. Fear struck deep within my heart and loins. What if this place was closed? Did love motels keep strict hours? Was there such a concept of working hours at a Love Motel?

"Kyoko, I don't see anybody. Is anyone working here?"

"You will see, Neek." I was in her world now and she was in charge, and I loved every bit of it.

We entered a small driveway on the side of the large building that stood several stories high. This driveway looped around the back of the building, which I soon found out, was the business end of the building. Along the back wall of the motel, large bay doors were positioned one after the other for the length of the building. Some were opened and others closed. Kyoko pulled into one that was opened. The huge door was on rollers, like some garage doors found in America, and it rolled steadily until it closed loudly behind us. It was dark, and now it was getting a little creepy.

As one door closed automatically behind us, another opened of its own accord in front and above us, revealing a set of stairs that ended at Kyoko's car door. I remained silent. I was paralyzed.

"We are here, Neek."

We followed the small sliver of light escaping from the door that was slightly ajar. Kyoko led with confidence -- she apparently had visited this place before. She pushed the door further open to reveal another door. At this point, I half expected a giant rabbit in a top hat to spring out of this one, complaining that he was late for some appointment. What actually was behind this door was not as strange, but just as spectacular. It was a room, but not just a room. Its centerpiece was a large circular bed with black sheets, black pillows and a black blanket. The carpet shared the same hue. It looked new and clean. Upon closer examination I found that the entire room was circular. The ceiling was all clear plastic. About six inches behind the plastic was a black backdrop made of cloth with hundreds of tiny white lights peaking from behind the cloth. The wall was put together the same way, except there were three-dimensional planets hanging from strings scattered about. I was able to recognized Saturn and Jupiter. I was in outer space.

"Neek, you watch the television. I am going to take a shower."

Kyoko slid a panel that was invisible to me away from the wall to reveal a large television. On the nightstand next to the bed there was a tray. On the tray lay four condoms and a remote control. I grabbed the remote. Kyoko opened a black door with a black handle and slipped into the bathroom.

After several minutes of watching game shows that I did not understand, and Japanese porn that I understood about as well, Kyoko returned clean and warm.

A few hours later we were dressing and getting ready to leave. I had yet to see anyone who worked for this strange motel. There was no front desk to check into, and I wondered how we would pay before we left.

I saw Kyoko reach into her purse and pull out several thousand yen. She rolled her money into a tight cylinder and placed the roll into a small plastic canister that rested on the tray where four empty condom wrappers now lay. She then placed this canister into a small pipe that was protruding from the wall above the shelf. There was a loud noise that reminded me of my grandmother's old industrial vacuum cleaner, and the canister disappeared. After about 30 seconds the noise returned and the canister fell from the pipe with a jingle. Kyoko opened the container and poured what was her change into her purse.

"Let's go, Neek."

The Japanese were all about saving face. It was not inappropriate to have a late-night rendezvous with a friend, but it was wrong for anyone to know you were doing so. This was culture. This was the stuff you didn't learn on "The Karate Kid II," or the Travel Channel. I had lived in Okinawa for several months, visited multiple museums, read a book on customs and courtesies, and learned more about the people in one night than the rest of my stay on the island. I learned that Japanese girls had desires, just as American boys or girls did. I learned that there were places that young couples could go to satisfy such desires. Most importantly, I learned that Tanner was right. Their mothers do teach them things.