Chapter 55: Land of the Rising Sun, Part I

June 15/16, 1994, Aboard a 747 bound for Japan

“Good morning,” I said when Meredith woke up.

“Good morning. What time is it?”

“I’d have to do some higher math to know for sure,” I chuckled. “But we’re about two hours from Tokyo, which I think means it’s around 10:00am in Japan and about 10:00pm in Los Angeles. They’re about to serve us breakfast.”

“Weird, but I guess it makes sense,” she asked, then smirked, “Did you enjoy sleeping with me?”

“Why yes, I did!” I chuckled. “But please DO NOT joke like that with your dad! I’d like to live to be thirty-two!”

“Can we play that last chess game after breakfast?”

“Sure.”

“Your rules?” she teased.

“No!”

“Coward!”

“Meredith,” I warned gently.

“Sorry. I’m just having so much fun and you’re lots of fun. I guess I got carried away.”

“You did. And you should be careful about that.”

“I know; I know,” she sighed. “Do you have a business card?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because we’re friends, silly!”

I nodded and extracted a business card and handed it to her. She stuck it into the small clutch purse she had with her. Our breakfast arrived and I was very surprised by what I was served. Where Meredith had pancakes, sausage, and eggs, I had steamed rice, miso soup, grilled fish, dried seasoned seaweed, and a small green salad.

“I thought you ordered breakfast,” Meredith said.

“I’m guessing this is a traditional Japanese breakfast,” I said. “I didn’t check in advance, and I never talked about this with the Japanese people I know in Chicago.”

“It looks more like dinner,” she observed.

“It does, but given how messed up our body clocks are going to be, I’m not sure it matters!”

We ate, and after we finished, we both had coffee, and then we played two games of chess, by the normal rules, before the captain announced our descent into Tokyo’s Narita airport. I double-checked my customs declaration and immigration card, and was satisfied I’d filled them out correctly. I raised my seat back, and tried to mentally prepare for the actual start of this new adventure.

June 16, 1994, Narita Airport, Japan

The tires screamed in protest as the 747 touched down on the tarmac. The engines roared when the thrust reversers engaged and we lurched forward as the brakes were applied. A few seconds later, the pilot swung the plane to the right and we began taxiing to the terminal. The pilot announced the time, 12:22pm local time, and I reset my watch.

“What time is your flight?” I asked.

“5:00pm. It’s a two-and-a-half hour flight. When will you be back in Chicago?”

“The 20th of July, if all goes according to plan. How long are you staying in Okinawa?”

“Two weeks. Then it’s back home to San Diego.”

“May I give you some advice?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“It can be very dangerous to flirt and tease the way you were if you don’t mean it.”

“Who says I didn’t mean it?” she smirked.

I shook my head, “Be serious, please.”

“I was,” she said.

I took a deep breath and let it out, and decided to simply let it drop. I’d managed to walk right into ANOTHER predicament with ANOTHER girl. And it had taken less than twelve hours, part of which was spent sleeping. Maybe going to a monastery and locking myself away was the right solution. Of course, Elyse would say the opposite, and tell me the right solution was to get my brains fucked out by the cute young girl next to me! But that wasn’t going to happen.

The plane eventually rolled to a stop after what seemed like an interminable taxi, and the seatbelt sign was extinguished. We got up from our seats and grabbed our bags, then headed down the stairs to exit the plane. We walked down the Jetway and into the concourse, following the signs to passport control. We took a short shuttle ride to get from the concourse of Terminal 2 to the passport control stations. We were directed to the left, and I was happy to see relatively short lines. When it was my turn, I stepped up to the desk and handed over my passport and the forms I’d filled out, taking care to do so with both hands.

“Reason for your visit to Japan?” he asked.

“I’m here to train with my Shōtōkan master in Oguni in Yamagata Prefecture. I have a letter of invitation.”

I used both hands and presented the letter, written in Japanese. He scanned it, stamped my passport and forms, and handed them back.

“Thank you, Mr. Adams. Welcome to Japan!”

“«Dō itashimashite»”, I said, doing my best to remember what I’d been taught.

He smiled, nodded, and indicated the way I should go.

I took a few steps and waited for Meredith to come through, and then we walked together to the baggage claim, and then on to customs. I had nothing but my personal effects to declare, and after some perfunctory questions, I was allowed into Japan. Meredith followed a minute later, and I helped her find the directions to where she’d catch her flight.

“It was fun flying with you!” she said. “Thanks for making the flight interesting.”

“You’re welcome! Have a safe trip to Okinawa and then home.”

“Good luck with your training!”

She smiled, stepped close, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I watched as she walked away, then turned to head to the arrivals area. I stopped at a bank of phones, and after reading the instructions, used my AT&T Calling Card to call Chicago. As best I could calculate, it was just past midnight at home, but I’d promised to call.

“Hi, Honey,” I said when Kara answered the phone. “I’m safely in Japan.”

“Good! Jess is sleeping. I don’t have to get up early, so I was waiting in your study. Do you want me to wake her?”

“Only if she said you should.”

“No, she didn’t. There is someone who desperately needs to talk to you.”

I chuckled, “Put her on.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Birgit squealed. “Are you still on the plane?”

“No, Pumpkin, I’m in Japan. Remember I showed you on the globe?”

“You flew over all the water?”

“Yes. And now I’m in Japan. I love you, Pumpkin. I’ll see you when I get home.”

“I love you too, Daddy! Here’s Mommy!”

“Hi,” Kara said.

“Thanks, Honey. I appreciate it. Take care of her and the rest of the kids for me. And take care of Jess.”

“I will. I love you!”

“I love you, too!”

I hung up and walked out into a large arrivals area. I saw a sea of people, and looking around for the promised sign. It took about three minutes before I saw a young man in blue jeans and a polo shirt holding a small sign that said ‘Steve Adams’. I walked over to the young man and bowed slightly.

“I’m Steve Adams. You must be Hisakawa Hiroshi.”

He bowed slightly deeper, “I am. Welcome to Japan! Do you need food or drink?”

“No, but I could use a restroom, please.”

“Come this way.”

He led me to the restroom, and watched my bags while I emptied my bladder. I washed my hands and went back into the arrivals area.

“This way, please,” he beckoned. “We need to take the Narita Express to Tokyo Station. I already have our tickets.”

“Do you need me to reimburse you?”

“No, it’s not necessary. You speak no Japanese, is that correct?”

“Correct. I know about ten phrases and a few words. That’s all. And I don’t know any Kanji or Kana characters.”

“That’s what Robert-san told me, but I thought I’d check.”

“How long is our trip?”

“To Tokyo, about an hour. From Tokyo to Yonezawa Station is about two-and-a-half hours. And from Yonezawa Station to Oguni Station is about 90 minutes. Robert-san will meet us at Oguni Station. The drive is about fifteen minutes to Grandfather’s house. We should be there about 10:00pm.”

“The trains run on time?”

“Yes. They are rarely late.”

We followed the signs to the Japan Railways trains, and boarded the Narita Express for Tokyo.

June 16, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan

Three trains, and three stations later, we alighted from the last train at Oguni Station. While it had been light out, I’d watched as we’d swept past Japanese cities and Japanese countryside. My body clock was a complete mess, and I alternated between dozing off and being wide awake. I did my best to stay awake, knowing that I needed to get my sleep schedule matched to the sun as quickly as possible.

“Robert-san, this is Steve Adams.”

I bowed at the same level I used for Sensei Jim, and Sensei Robert returned the bow.

“Welcome!” he said, extending his hand.

I shook hands with him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I said. “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

“If you heard it from Jim Miller, don’t believe a word of it! Want to know a secret?”

“Sure!”

“He told you what he said about you? When you first came to the dojo?”

“He did.”

“He was quoting me. Any guesses as to who I was talking about?”

“Jim Miller!” I chuckled.

“Right the first time. Let’s get you to the compound, and get you settled. I’m sure you’re beat from the trip. Do you need anything to eat?”

“I’m fine. We got something at Yonezawa Station. What I need is sleep!”

“Then, let’s go!”

The three of us put my bags in the trunk of the white Toyota sedan, and Hiroshi pointed to the front. I almost got into the driver’s side, laughed, then walked around to the left side and got into the passenger’s seat.

“Forgot we have right-hand drive here?”

“I did.”

We drove along mostly darkened roads and I lost all sense of direction. About fifteen minutes later, we pulled through a gate and Sensei Robert parked the car. We got my bags from the trunk and I followed him towards what looked like a small cottage. He opened the door, allowing me to step inside. I slipped off my street shoes and slipped on soft shoes which were on a mat waiting for me. I looked around and took stock of what I assumed would be my room for the next five weeks.

The first word that came to mind was ‘cozy’. The floor looked to be traditional Japanese, a style called ‘tatami’. From what I’d read at the library, the room appeared to be an 8-mat room, which made it about 3.5 meters by 3.5 meters. In the far corner were a pair of Japanese-style futons, which were basically only thin mattresses, without the frame of American-style futons. They were stacked one on top of the other, and a quilted duvet was folded at the foot of the futon. Two pillows were side-by-side at the head. The single window in the room was just behind the bed, but it was covered with some kind of framed, translucent material.

In the opposite corner on the same wall was what looked like a stylized Franklin stove, but given that it was summer, I didn’t feel I’d need to use it. A small, low table was in the center of the room with a cushion with a wooden back on either side. A pair of cabinets set into the near wall, as well a door led to what I assumed was the bathroom. Hiroshi walked over and opened the door, confirming my assumption.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

I shook my head, “About ten hours of sleep should do it!”

“Breakfast will be brought to you, and after you eat and bathe, come up to the main house. Just follow the path through the garden, and come in the sliding door. There is no need to knock.”

“Is there an alarm clock?” I asked.

“Besides the roosters?” Sensei Robert laughed. “We’ll wake you for breakfast. Don’t worry.”

“OK. I’m going to wash up a bit, then get to sleep.”

“Good night, Steve!”

“Good night, Sensei! Good night, Hiroshi-san!”

I bowed and they both bowed back. They left and I took a couple of deep breaths, then got my shaving kit from my carry-on bag. I went into the bathroom and saw a small, square, waist-high tub with a seat. On the wall were a shower head on a hose and a regular tap. I was VERY happy to see a western-style toilet, though it was plain, unlike the highly technological ones I’d read about. I quickly stripped off my clothes, used the toilet, then used a washcloth I found on a shelf to wash up. I brushed my teeth and then put on my silk pajamas which I retrieved from my large, soft-sided bag.

I laughed when I realized I was, in effect, going to be sleeping on a mat in something similar to a sleeping bag, just as the men would be doing when they went to Devil’s Lake. That said, I found it oddly comforting. I looked at the shelf above the futon, and saw it contained a small oil lamp. I used matches I found there to light the oil lamp, and put my wristwatch on the shelf next to it. I didn’t know what the exact plan was for the morning, and I didn’t want to have to mess with removing my rings and chains, so I took everything off and put them in a small cloth bag I’d brought for that purpose, and put it on the shelf as well. I doused the electric light and got into bed. I pulled the light duvet over me, my head touched the pillows, and I was out like a light.

June 17, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan

I awoke with a start to soft footfalls and movement in the room. I slowly took stock and remembered where I was. Japan. Sensei Hiro’s compound. I took a couple of deep breaths and stretched, then sat up.

“Good morning!” a young Japanese woman wearing a floral print dress said. “I have your breakfast.”

“«Arigatou gozaimasu»! «Ohayō gozaimas».” I said, remembering what I’d been taught by Sensei Ichirou and Ailea. (“Thank you very much! Good morning.”)

She said something in Japanese, and I must have look confused. She switched to English, and said, “I was surprised you spoke Japanese. Do you speak it well?”

“No, I know only a few phrases,” I said, still trying to get my bearings. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“I am «桜子» (Sakurako), the granddaughter. You are Steve-sama, the new Sensei from America. Come have your breakfast. Are you able to eat like a Japanese?”

“Yes, I can use chopsticks, and I like Japanese food.”

I got up, very happy that I’d decided to wear my pajamas, and went to the table. I sat on one of the cushions with the wooden backs, Sakurako placed my breakfast before me, and poured tea for me.

“There is coffee, if you prefer.”

“Tea is fine. Just assume I eat like a Japanese and don’t worry about it!”

“We drink coffee here, too!” she said with a laugh.

“Sorry, I’m a bit out of sorts.”

“It’s a long way to come.”

“Your English is very, very good. Did Sensei Robert teach you?”

“Yes, and I took special classes, just as my brother did. Did he tell you he’s attending university in Hawaii?”

“He did. And that your parents live in Kobe. I’m curious, aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Sakurako smiled, “Yes, but I have today off to greet our guest. Grandfather made the arrangements. Starting tomorrow, I will bring your breakfast before I leave. School doesn’t start until 8:30am, and it takes about an hour to get there. I am home in time for dinner at 6:00pm.”

“Do you go on Saturday as well?”

“Yes, a half day.”

“What grade are you in?”

“The third year of «中学校» (chūgakkō), Lower Secondary School. Robert-san says that is like ninth grade.”

“How old are you?”

“I am fourteen. Please, eat; they will be expecting you soon. It’s not raining today, so I will hang your «敷き布団» (shikibuton) and «タオルケット» (taoruketto) on the line outside. The pieces of the futon need air and sun each day. I will show you how to beat them with the «布団叩き» (futon-tataki) once a week to keep the insides loose.”

I nodded and began to eat while she gathered the two mattresses and the thin, summer-weight duvet, and carried them outside. I sipped tea between eating rice, fish, and some kind of fermented beans. This would play havoc with my low-carb diet, but so long as I got sufficient exercise and sleep, I could manage for five weeks. Rice in Japan was going to be the ‘boiled potatoes’ of my year in Sweden. I chuckled recalling just how tired of potatoes I had been by the end of that trip.

I wondered if I’d be able to run each day. I’d have to ask Sensei Hiro about that. I wasn’t sure how much information Sensei Jim had relayed to him about my regular routine. But of course, MY routine wasn’t important here. If I couldn’t run, I’d find time to exercise, even if it meant moving the small table out of the way and doing kata early in the morning or late at night.

Sakurako returned and sat down across from me, and waited quietly while I finished eating. When I did, she stood and picked up the tray she’d brought my breakfast on.