So, the vacation is over, and I’m back in Tokyo, for better or worse. I didn’t write much on this trip, as I tend not to on trips where I have contacts in the region that I’m visiting. I had a lot of quality dialogues. I think that is the outstanding theme of this trip. I talked to Mark, I talked to Brandon. I talked to Adrian, I talked to Ken. I talked to Professors Knight and Jones. I also had several very prophesying dreams and in the end I somehow managed a rather eloquent soliloquy at the airport in Toronto, despite being at the height of exhaustion. I was firing on all four cylinders vocally, in Japanese mind you.
Most of all, I didn’t wake up once feeling the sick dripping nausea that plagues me so often on bleary Tokyo mornings. I want to really figure out why that is, but unfortunately the scientific method fails me here with not enough meaningful data and too many experimental variables. Why does Tokyo smell so comforting to me?
Tony performs in the optometry section of Wal-Mart. “Save the farm, Babe!” Happy pumpkin. Dad during a tight 7-1 loss to Tony in air hockey.
Narita kicks the stuffing out of every other airport I’ve been to. It’s compact, efficient, and you can get through it either way in twenty minutes. It’s a great introduction to everything that comforts me about Japan: quiet, efficiency, etiquette, and crisply energetic women.
As an amusing little “you had to be there”, when making my way from the gate to immigration, I decided to take the stairs to the quarantine check as everyone else was queuing up to board the escalator. This is nothing strange for me, as it satisfies several of my core principles associated with selecting manual over automated anything. But since I was the only one who did in this situation, burdened with a number of bags I drew a brief peppering of remarks and hushed comments from the elderly ladies riding the short escalator.
Wakai ii ne. Erai, erai! Etc. (It sure is nice to be young. Wow, [he’s] great, fabulous!)
The catch here is this prompted a handful of elderly men behind me to get out of line for the escalator and in a ruffled sense of pride, huff their way up the stairs as well. Yes, I’m home, drawing attention and savoring the Spartan nature of my life yet again.
Mr. Jefferson. Our national champion lacrosse team. The middle of a narrow victory over NC State. Rachael enjoying autumn.