One Museum. One House of Worship (Japan Day 1)

That is what my mother told me. She said it many times.

“One museum and one house of worship: that is my limit. After that, the little stone statues become a blur and I can’t remember any of them properly.”

I really wanted to show her whatever she wanted to see. But, I lived in Japan for many years. I really wanted to see my friends, some of whom are practically family. I have seen the famous places.

She would go on.

“I want to see what living in Japan is like. I want to visit your friends. I want to walk around regular places. Do you have any idea how many temples I have seen?”

My mother has traveled a lot. She likes meeting people. I tried to plan accordingly, but there are a few places I couldn’t help but take her. It wouldn’t be a proper tour without seeing a few famous places, right?

My mother only saw the most impressive places in Japan.

Our first full day on the ground was in Kyoto, visiting Kawa-san. After a relaxing Japanese-style breakfast and warming our toes by the hot coals under the table, Mrs. Kawa began to excuse herself to walk their dog.

“Do you mind if we join you?” I asked.

My mother and I had arrived in the dark the night before. She had seen the darkened courtyard of their 18th century home, and the traditional interior (better than any museum, trust me), but the neighborhood had been merely a blur out the car window.

The three of us, and the dog, exited the courtyard and began a tour of the rice paddies. (Kawa-san stayed behind). Kawa-san owns three rice paddies. The neighbors (busy with their farming) were pleased to pose for my mother’s pictures. We asked questions and enjoyed the scenery.

We then took a walk up the hill to the neighborhood temple. This one didn’t count as a ‘house of worship’, of course, because it was really just a simple walk around the neighborhood. We met the family who took care of the temple, and they offered us a bag of ginko nuts. My mother rearranged their two year old’s toy cars as the rest of us chatted. On our way back, we admired another neighbor’s garden and were rewarded with fresh mikans (tangerines). We also coincidentally ran into the Buddhist monk (father to the two year old) returning to the temple in traditional clothing.

We stopped for a picture, of course.

So, having been gone for only a short while to walk the dog, we returned to Kawa-san with an arm full of gifts and a camera full of pictures.

Kawa-san laughed with joy. He told us that having our picture taken with the monk was highly unusual and certainly would bring us good luck. Armed with fresh gingkos and mikans, it was tough to argue that we were lucky.

Our luck had only just begun, because Kawa-san decided that he would show us how to cook them. It is quite exciting to watch gingkos roasting. They pop out of the pan like stone popcorn.

We visited a few other local temples that day too. We played tennis by the river. We went out for a fabulous dinner.

We ended the day with a Japanese bath, warm toes, and a soft futon.

Did we see one museum and one house of worship?

No. We did a lot better than that.

My mother called

My mother called me in the Spring.

“So, Honey, what are your plans for this summer?”

“Well, Mom, we have a lot of travel planned, but we’d really like to see you. Do you have some time to come up to Cleveland?”

“That isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

She was vague. My mother is vague occasionally, like anyone, but I wasn’t following her this time.

“Will you be at home long enough for us to come down?” I offered. “If we’re around, I could probably come to you.”

My parents travel a lot. My dad works out West. My mother works on the East Coast. They travel more than your average grandparents, and are thus rather difficult to visit.

“That would be nice. I would like to see the kids, but that isn’t what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” I finally asked. My kids were beginning to get restless, in spite of the fact that I had only been on the phone a few minutes.

“I have quite a few frequent flyer miles. You know, your father and I travel quite a bit.”

“Yes, I noticed that. What did you have in mind?” I was trying to think ahead. Maybe she would suggest my sister and I meet her in Vegas. That might be fun. Hmm.

“I was thinking we might go to Japan.”

My reaction was visceral. I started to sweat.

“Japan? Really?”

“Yes. Well, you haven’t been in quite awhile. I thought it would be fun, but maybe you don’t have time.”

“Um, I could probably work that out,” my mind raced, my heart pumped, my body sweated. I started going through the weeks of the summer. They were pretty full. I tried to start switching things around in my head. I started imagining who would watch the kids. What would I do? I couldn’t say ‘no.’ I couldn’t say ‘yes.’

“Maybe in the Fall? Would the Fall work?” my mother asked calmly.

She was serious.

“Um, the Fall?” Yes. My husband had to take a week off every quarter. I might even be able to do the Fall. “Yeah, the Fall. Are some weeks better than others? I’ll call Jay.”

And thus our trip planning began, all those months ago. My head has spun in disbelief ever since. So much has changed since I left in 1999. So many plans must be made before I go. What will we do? What will we bring? Where will we stay? What do you say after all these years?

We are on our way. By Saturday night, I will be bowing in salutation to Kawa-san in Kyoto Station. I will tuck myself into a futon under his roof. I will smell the reedy smell of tatami mats and the smoky, salty grease of tako-yaki at the stand near the Station.

I remember standing at Hiroshima Station in 1994 on the day I moved to Japan.

The smells in the air, the background noise, the high-pitched woman on the train imploring us “wasuremono ga nai you ni go chui kudasai” – “Don’t forget anything.”

In 1994, I remembered Japan as it was in 1987 during my exchange student days in high school. I remembered Japan as it was in 1990 during my days as a college student interning at a Japanese company. The emotions returned, as clear as you would expect if you could travel through time. Standing in the Station in 1994, seven years after my high school exchange experience, I felt the emotions of a high school student, thrust into a country without her parents, barely able to introduce herself – excited and anxious and alone and proud.

I remembered the book I was reading on the plane in high school. I expected to look down and see my old shoes.

And now, in 2009, I remember my going away party in 1999. The most poignant memory of my last days in Japan was that I did not feel like I was going home.

I felt like I was leaving home.

I grew up in the U.S. I spent my childhood in the U.S.

I became an adult in Japan.

If you have ever lived in a foreign country, you know that repatriation is far more difficult than orientation. If you have never lived in a foreign country, I’m not sure I could adequately explain it.

You can’t go home again. It won’t be the same. I’m not the same. But I can’t wait to get there.

Thanks Mom (and Dad)

Why I Blog

Dear MIT Mommy,

Kawa was very surprised by your dynamic journey to the Wyoming on your blog between June 11th and July 6th.. I guess It will be neccesarry for you to prepare for winning succsession of your family's every summer(?) plan.

Your regular canon camera gave us not only very beautiful and strange views ,but waked up my precise memory in the more than fifty years ago.

When Kawa was in the ages as like as Andrew,　ａ ｌａｒｇｅ ｐａｒｔ of Japanese just became to be able to buy a TV and watch several contents made in USA as a symbol of free and open and prgressed culture.

There was a prgram of TV broadcasted weekly "The Wild K.ingdom" produced by Walt Disney himself .

It was long term program as one of the above mentioned very interesting animal life .movies just in the national park,Wyoming.The program gave very large influence to our Japanese.

Thank you for my time trip to fifty years ago !!??

Kawa

An American Welcome

There is always room at our table. Especially for family - even if the family isn't technically ours.

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a dear and long-time friend in Japan. The best description I can give you for Kawa-san is to call him a host father.

Perhaps that is too vague.

In 1990, I worked for him in Japan as an engineering intern. Although I lived alone in an apartment in downtown Kyoto, he and his family adopted me. I went with them on family vacations. I played junken (rock-paper-scissors) with his children. I bathed in their family tub.

He and his wife danced at our wedding, during their first trip to America together.

As an adult in Japan, my husband and I spent many nights at their home on weekend visits. Gifts from their family still decorate our home.

Last weekend, Kawa-san’s nephew’s family stayed at our home.

I was a little anxious, quite excited, and very honored. In a very small way I opened my home in a way that doors had been so graciously opened for me, unconditionally, so many years ago.

Kawa-san sent me several emails, including basic information about their family. But, most of all, he very specifically asked me to show them “American BBQ.” The emails I received from his nephew and his wife (they have a 3yr old and 6 mos old) requested a ‘nature walk.’

We did our best to provide the best bbq and nature walk available in NE Ohio. This was their first visit to an American home since moving to the U.S.

Lunch: Homemade burgers (hand mixed by my hubby), all the toppings, grilled dogs, potato salad, and cole slaw.

Snack: Jumbo, homemade chocolate chip cookies

Dinner: Smoked pork ribs, smoked pork shoulder (the smoker was on all day during our nature walk below), six homemade sauces, baked beans, sides from lunch, fresh strawberries, blueberries & pineapple, and corn on the cob.

Dessert: Ice cream with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and sprinkles

Sunday Breakfast: Belgian waffles, eggs to order, bacon, sausage gravy, fruit, coffee and orange juice

While our bbq dinner was caressed by smokey goodness in our smoker, we went for a nature walk.

They said their daughter didn't speak English well and was very shy.

That lasted about 12.5 seconds.

Come splash with me!


Okay, Gladys!

It's okay to get a little wet.

That's what daddy's are for anyway. (I think he is enjoying it even more than his daughter, what do you think?)

It isn't easy to skip stones in Kawasaki City, Japan. But, I suppose some things just come naturally.

I think they had a really good time.

I know we did.

Thank you, again, Kawabayashi-san.