Konnichiwa

  Fussa, Kanto, Japan
Sunday, September 13, 2009

With the pictures from Wyoming refusing to cooperate and download, the Western blog is waiting to be finished.  In the meantime I'm here in Japan and have started my work at Yokota Air Force Base.

The trip started with a 13 hour plane ride (my seat mate an interesting young  Microsoft financial executive from Rhode Island) followed by a rush to the shuttle for another 3 hour road trip - me passed out and snoring like a trooper from the time we pulled out of Narita - and finally landed me on Yokota AFB around 9 PM Japanese time.  I stumbled off the bus, almost forgetting my luggage, to be met by two enthusiastic MFLC's and my POC. They drove me to my room and deposited me at the place I'm to call home for the next 6 weeks. 

I've now been here for 4 days and the local time is 13 hours later than at home which means I'm finishing up the day you're waking up to. I've found the library, taken the train, walked into town and I'm driving around the base on the left side of the road. Surprisingly, jet lag hasn't been much of a problem. 

Japan is a strange land for someone from America - even stranger after spending the last 6 weeks on the Wyoming plains.  I can't communicate with anyone try as I might to separate the strange sounds of the language.  I can't read any of the signs or writing.  My cell phone doesn't work and the local phone I've been given for my job isn't much better. There are buildings and signs everywhere lining the highways - visual hyperbole.  The police carry batons that look like star wars swords and use them to direct traffic or stuff you into the "squishy train."  And amidst all of this you keep smiling and bowing to be respectful.

I feel like I'm in the movie Lost in Translation which I just watched again and am now certain is actually a documentary.  It's a rather quiet environment where elementary school children ride the trains without an adult companion and wear uniforms that include white hats and leather backpacks - red for girls/black for boys.  The staff tell me that these good looking backpacks cost 3 to 4 hundred dollars.  Things here are expensive.

At any rate, I'm safe and sound.   Exploring the food markets (note the fresh ginger) filled with items I have never seen or heard of and can't begin to read the symbols that describe them. Today when I walked into town I stopped to look at a lovely Japanese garden.  While I was admiring the lush, well groomed foliage, the owner of the home came out to talk to me.   He invited me in to stroll through the garden while he provided me with the history of its origin.  As it turns out he is an 87 year old veterinarian who is closing his practice  this week to retire.   We talked gardens and travel and he invited me into his traditional Japanese home to meet his wife and look at his travel pictures.  I removed my shoes and shuffled through the corridors and rooms  that featured sliding screened doors that closed off one room from another and opened up to the outside providing a view of his lovely garden.   After a delightful visit we made plans for me to come back for tea.  His wife spoke little to no English but smiled as we looked at picture after picture illustrating their full and well traveled life together. 

The weather here has been fantastic although we are smack dab in the middle of typhoon season. Fuji has been visible in the distance every morning.  Not quite as spectacular as the scene in Lost in Translation where Bill Murray is hitting golf balls.