Kumamoto, JAPAN

 

The Sushi restaurant staff got a kick out of seeing me, an American.  They treated me wonderfully and showered me with gifts despite the fact that I couldn't choke down their sushi. 

 

 

 On July 20, 2002, fifteen small town Montana kids set out for a far away land.  We were unprepared for the journey that lay ahead of us. Japan was unprepared for us.

After a fourteen hour plane ride next to a Korean guy that spoke no English and had shaved arms, I was ready to turn around and go back home to the culture I knew. 

I had no expectations for this trip.  The only thing I knew about Japan was that they ate with chopsticks and spoke Japanese.  I couldn't eat with chopsticks before I went on the trip without stabbing myself in the eye, and I didn't know a single word of Japanese. 

The fifteen of us all had a different family waiting for us in a small room of the state capital.  We ate lunch with our families for a half hour, then were sent with these complete strangers for the next 8 days.  For the second time of my trip, I was ready to go back home.  

 

  

 

These were beautiful houses in my neighborhood.  I would go for a short walk around the neighborhood every morning by myself. 

My host mother, Yuko, was the most gracious woman in the world.  She allowed me, a strange American into her home for 14 days.

 

   I spent the next 14 days with Yuko and her daughters Ai and Yuki.  They lived in the most wonderful neighborhood.  All of the neighbors were very friendly.  They threw a party for me the first night I was there.  We actually pulled a barbeque grill out on the street and cooked dinner.  They lit of sparklers in my honor.  For some of the neighbors, the older ones,  I was the first American they'd ever seen. 

I felt famous in Japan.  Everywhere I went, people would wave to me, tell me hello, and even ask to have their picture taken with me.  I loved every minute of it.  Everyone I spent time with showered me in gifts.  Yuko's mother bought me a beautiful yucata (a summer kimono). 

I went on the trip very open minded about experiencing new things.  I knew that spending two weeks in Japan would be a fun vacation and would be a great break from the farm.  I never dreamed that I would fall in love with the country.  It wasn't so much the country that I fell in love with, it was the people.

When I left my host family's home in Matsubase, tears started to well up in my eyes as we drove through the neighborhood for the last time.  But I fought them back and wouldn't allow my host family to see me cry.

  

 

My host family and I went to a tea ceremony in a nearby town.  They dressed me in this kimono and made me wear these funky wooden sandals.  The sandals were about 3 inches too short and my toes hung over the end.

 

I could only kneel in this position for fifteen minutes tops.  It made me feel embarrassed when women three times as old as me were able to hold the pose longer. 

  When we got to our hotel, the place where my host family would say goodbye, my host sisters began to cry.  I kept telling them not to cry, that I would be back.  I hope to return to them someday.

Everything I experienced in Japan was completely new for me.  From the sushi that I tasted, to the kimono I wore, to the rice fields I passed on my daily walk, to the raw horse meat my host mother and I ate, I have developed a deeper appreciation for the Japanese culture.  My heart goes out to the people of Japan.  

 

 

Peace!

  
 

 

 

 

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January 3, 2004