Automatic doors open, you step through and the sleek monorail whisks you from the spanking-new air terminal to the profuse lights of the dense urban center. Except for having exchanged wintry weather for the almost-perpetual balmy summer of Okinawa, arrival in Naha at night can seem mightily like the departure from Haneda, only in reverse.

And in the full light of day, the first impression of Okinawa's capital tends not to ride easily with its poster image of turquoise sea lapping lazily onto a stunning, coral-white beach deserted except for an equally stunning bikini-clad young woman. But after a while, you see beyond the ubiquitous concrete faade of urban Japan, and it becomes clear that you have arrived in a very different part of the country.

The difference becomes evident as you walk along boulevards lined by acacia-like houboku (Delonix regia) trees with their exotic, fine, fernlike leaves. It is yet more apparent in the single-story Okinawan houses, with their distinctive square plans and smart, red-tiled roofs, hidden here and there among the modern cityscape and in the refreshing openness of the inhabitants.