Final Reflections - July 26

So here we are in a silver capsule, hurdling through a vast darkness over the North Pacific Ocean, having left Tokyo on Thursday, July 26th.  When morning breaks, it will be Thursday again.  It’s Groundhog Day in July.  Julia’s beside me watching The Hunger Games (in German ?!), trying to keep her mind off her achy, slightly feverish body.  And I’m thinking about Japan.

I don’t feel like I’m being torn in half, the way I did when I left after my visit 23 years ago.  I wasn’t ready to leave that time.  Maybe if I’d stayed then, and fed the part of me that craved Japan, I would have become someone else.  It’s an interesting thought, and I wonder about her.  But I didn’t.  I took a different path and became this person.  I like my life now, so I’m not particularly concerned about it.  And now, I don’t need Japan.  But I do enjoy Japan, immensely.  This time my departure just feels blessedly free of unfinished business.  Not that I don’t expect to return, mind you; I do!  Some day.

But for now, I feel happy and satisfied.  The trip went so well, we had such a rich variety of experiences, we felt so embraced over and over, and we had so much fun.  I got to see old friends and retrace many footsteps of places I loved.

I was glad to see that Japan seems to be doing well.  Perhaps this is a silly comment.  It’s certainly not an educated one, and doesn’t take things like the current economic trends into consideration.  It’s just that as I traveled around, things looked good.  Buildings, homes, neighborhoods seemed well-built and roads seemed remarkably (compared to Seattle) well maintained.  Public areas and restrooms were very clean.  There didn’t appear to be as much poverty as there was when I was young.  There appeared to be a high level of employment, given how many people were always at hand the moment you needed anything and businesses appeared to be thriving.  I saw lots of happy people.  The air in Tokyo didn’t seem as polluted.  There is recycling.  The waterways are cleaner than they used to be.  There seems to be some relaxing of the “us and them” attitude:  we got looked at some, but I didn’t hear the word “gaijin” (foreigner) once; in tourist areas, I heard a tremendous amount of Korean and Chinese being spoken; K-pop (Korean pop music) is apparently quite popular with some of the teens.  Of course, there’s Tohoku with it’s suffering, damage, displacement, radiation and the long, hard work of rebuilding.  And there is the fear of more earthquake-related nuclear problems.  And, I’m sure, many, many other concerns.  One inevitably sees things rather superficially as a tourist.  But I saw many things that seemed to indicate well-being, and that made me happy.

And finally, I got to share Japan and more of my history with my daughter.  Now she knows the places and a few more of the stories.  She knows what it feels like to be watched, to be the minority and an object of curiosity.  She knows what heavy Tokyo summer air and cool, moist Hokkaido summer air feel like.  She knows the smells that waft from the little restaurants selling tempura, udon and domburi.  She knows the tastes of Japanese sweets.  She knows the sounds and the crush of people in the market places.  She has experienced Japanese kindness and generosity.  Finally, we have Japan in common.  And that may be the most satisfying thing of all.