(written on the plane from NRT to SFO 23 October)
Being able to relive Sunday gave me extra time to put my jetlagged thoughts into a more cohesive narrative on my brief trip to Japan. Seeing as this was Asia, it wasn't a surprise that I was able to fulfill a few quality culinary pursuits in the form of melt in your mouth sushi, ramen far superior to its supermarket wanna be counterpart, and onigiri that just goes to show that the Japanese really do know their rice. My tastebuds could have gone home content after consuming these treats, but there were still cultural faux pas's to be made, overpriced souvenirs to be purchased, and shrines to be photographed on this trip.
What they say about the streets and railway stations of Tokyo being packed is true, and everyone on the subway is either asleep or completely zoned into playing games on their cell phones. But the sardine can of a subway station was surprisingly bearable, because there was not an annoying ring tone on volume setting 6 to be heard, turning the heads of irritated passersby. So in the midst of the class 3 rapids at Tokyo station, it was actually rather peaceful. I can't say this has negated my traumatic travelling experiences in China (especially on the bus), but hey, you have to start somewhere, or at least that's what the therapist tells me.
Kyoto lived up to its postcard-esque reputation, even though I didn't catch the brilliant fall foliage or celebrated cherry blossom spring season. It had character, though, rich in history, courtesy, and overall charm. If I had to choose amongst Tokyo, Kyoto, Nikko, and Koyasan (the four cities I visited), I'd choose Kyoto to make my home.
By far, though, the highlight of my week abroad was the reunion with my third grade best friend, Mariko. After more than two decades since our last goodbye, God saw fit to let us rekindle a friendship built on recess, ABCs, origami gifts, countless letters, and birthday and Christmas cards. It was an experience to talk to her on the phone, as I did not recognize the gentle, yet joking voice speaking to me in nearly perfect English. Finally seeing her in the train station was quite the event; I think my friends identified her before me by the jacket she told us she was wearing and the friendly wave she offered. When I saw her, I was struck by how beautiful she grew up to be, and how familiar her eyes and smile were. Two hours and a plate full of tempura later, I was amazed at how well this stranger knew me.
Waving good bye in the train station made me sad, for fear I would have to wait another 20 years or so to see her again. So now it's your turn, Mariko, to meet me on the west side, and soon, so our reunion doesn't have to be overshadowed by the doleful cloud of a long, impending separation.
Having more closely considered my latest Asian jaunt, I only vaguely recall the sights, tastes, and smells of Japan. All of that was upstaged by the re-illumination of a special friendship.
