I pass through the glass vestibule into Coaska Bayside Stores. Up the escalator, and I am met by a steady bustle of shoppers and commuters navigating the mall. The lighting is warm, comforting with wood-inspired wallpaper and flooring, outlined by dark, bold accents. The six floors gleam through the windows and atriums. And it’s time for lunch.

To my left, Tully’s – one of two in the same building, and my preference over Starbucks. The table seating out front has been the setting for many hours of conversation over foamy soy lattes (the only thing I can confidently order). But not today. Do I take a right, left, or go straight? There are at least three different ways to go where I want or discover where I want to go. Because I never really know.

I go straight. Mellow Muji music competes with the bright lights and electric tones of a frozen food specialty store carved out of the former’s original sprawling retail footprint. I used to get lost in Muji, in the bedframes and air fresheners and stationery. It was only recently I discovered they stopped selling my favorite pens; now I see why they were all on discount two years ago. But that doesn’t stop me from passing through there. Every. Single. Time.

Across from Muji, automated cash registers yell out to a traffic of shoppers. Fruits and vegetables and dry products spill out into the atrium. I can’t help but look up at the skylight. The PA system adds pep to my step, as I scan through selections of pastries at the AEON bakery. The food court might be better for something quick, either my usual four donuts at Mister Donut or a serious meal at Amara Indian. I would navigate past sailors and high schoolers, grab a cup of water, and find a seat out of the way. But I changed my mind. Maybe not today. I want a sit-down restaurant.

One escalator takes me to the mouth of SKA-1 Dining, where I will walk through the arrangement of tempting menus and displays, imagining a booth and window view of the harbor. And still never commit. Because it’s a restaurant, it should be a special occasion. A family outing, maybe next week. Soon, I’m at the other end of the hall. Piano music echoes across the atrium from the public piano, where I too, once played with my sister. Where I used to sit listening to children and hidden prodigies, sometimes one in the same, play their ballads. I avoid it now.

The music fades, as I find a place to sit amidst the stores unfolding in time and space itself. Some seats face large picture windows, some straight into stores. I clutch my backpack and big Thermos hanging from the side. Thinking about how the stores have grown (and shrunk), open spaces in hallways experimented with, and, at last, all slots on the floor plan filled. They don’t print store directories anymore. I still have the first one I got when they reopened.

I’ve never seen a film at the movie theater, but I pass through it often to see what’s playing. Above the theater, I would always stop at the open room next to the trampoline park and arcade, where the city put up posters promoting their sister city programs or agricultural products. Now the Self-Defense Forces use it for outreach and recruiting. And I’m scared to go near it. So, I turn left towards the cat café. And I wander up to the 6^th floor.

At the top, there’s a bowling alley, and maybe an orange juice vending machine. Sometimes, you can hear the bowling pins from the floors below, and remember, “oh yeah, there’s a bowling alley.” All that’s left is the parking lot and the shopping carts are lost within it. A parking lot that ramps up, down, around, and spills out into the street at the ground level. The pavement makes a squeaky sound audible from any place in the garage.  

I’m reminded of the last night I was at the roof, when Coaska was still Daiei, clutching a book of piano sheet music from the Frozen Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, purchased at the music store. I never played anything from that book. I don’t know if I still have it. But I’m not sure I’ve let it go, either. The moon is always so bright from that height, and the views of the bay stunning against the night sky.

And then I remember, what about lunch – I forgot about lunch.

I navigate the mysterious features that I’ve come to expect at Coaska, finding my way back down to reality. And end up at the food court, at Mister Donut, with one French Cruller, one Honey Dip, one Mochi donut, and one meat pie, never warmed, because I get nervous when they ask me if I want it reheated, and I always say, “it’s fine as is.”

On my way out, I join retired gentleman and mothers with children along the ledge as they curiously point fingers and comment on the annex extension being built in front of the mall. It’s coming together, piece-by-piece. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know why I wish I knew.  

But I’m glad I came. And now it’s almost time for dinner.

Things to know

• Address: 2 Chome-1-12 Honcho, Yokosuka, Kanagawa 238-0041

• Hours: 8 a.m.-10 p.m. daily

• Website

Yokosuka Naval Base

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