Arrival in some places doesn't always meet expectations. From stories I had read of Taketomi, I had built up a picture of a sleepy subtropical paradise. This island at the southwestern end of the Okinawan chain was, I learned, a place of coral-sand streets and quaint Okinawan life, an island where cars were banned and where life gently plodded along at the pace of a water buffalo -- and a slow-moving one at that.

So after being jetted over to the island on the fastest boat I've ever traveled on in my life, walking over the car park, which looked as if it could handle serious numbers of tour buses, and continuing on the tarmac road past the huge visitor center and the helicopter landing pad, I thought it wise to adjust the image of Taketomi a tad.

Word has certainly got around about Taketomi. Locals relate how in the summer months the narrow streets of the very spread-out main village are thick with visitors. Since 90 percent of the island's income comes from tourism, the locals would, of course, be the last ones to complain about that situation. To appreciate Taketomi at its charming best, then, it is necessary to arrive in the off-season. Not that the off-season means having to compromise with the weather: While Tokyo is shivering in late November, Taketomi basks in a balmy sandals-and-shorts heat.