The Japanese

I have not yet discussed the Japanese people. This is because I've heard many things, read many things, and wanted to form my own opinion before sharing it with you. Well, I've been in Japan two weeks now, and while I think I could spend a lifetime gaining a measure of the people, I have at least scratched the surface enough to share my thoughts.

I have the utmost respect for the Japanese. They are polite, efficient, gregarious, kind, funny, charming and more than anything else – honorable.

Several events illustrate these traits for me. The first happened literally less than an hour into the country. I was lost on the streets of Tokyo after emerging from the subway. Giant bag in tow, eyes as big as saucers, the neon lights blinding me, I looked like a two year old in a mall who’s been separated from his mother. Immediately I was approached by a man in his late twenties. He asked me where I was going, in decent English, and I told him the name of my hostel. He whipped out his iPhone, typed in the address, and in a few seconds had the location and a directions for me. I was at my hostel less than ten minutes later. It was a good thing he showed up, too. I was about to head in the opposite direction from my hostel. Whoops.

A second experience really won me over. Ben and I were making our way out to Nara, which is about 40 minutes from Kyoto. We were cracking jokes, making fun of each other, discussing travel, and in general acting like twenty-somethings. We almost missed our stop, and had to charge out of the train at Nara station.

It was only hours later that I realized that I had left my Kleen Kanteen on the train. The water bottle was nothing, though I had grown attached to it, as I am want to do with inanimate objects, but what really broke my heart was that a carbineer that had belonged to my father was attached to it. I have no idea when or where he got it, but I had taken it from the garage and kind of made up a back story for it. It's all metal and has no locking mechanism. The engraving on it says KG-2000 and the other side says Bonaiti, Italy. I tried to brush off my disappointment and irritation. Somehow Ben and I still had a good time in Nara (They have tiny deer! All over the town! And they bite people!). It has several beautiful temples, and the path to the temples are lined with stone lanterns, thousands of them, that make you feel like you are in a samurai movie. Also, the pastries are delicious.

Still, when we made it back to the train station I was a little despondent. I resolved to ask about my water bottle, purely on what I know of the strength of Japanese character. In any other country, I would have just walked onto the train and written the water bottle off.

The information desk guy spoke broken English, but the second I mentioned a water bottle, his eyes lit up and he jabbered excitedly, "A black one?"

"Yes, about this big," I indicate with my hands.

"Please wait." I don't allow myself to hope.

Ben cocked an eyebrow at me. "If they have it, I'm going to be super impressed."

"It would be a miracle."

The information desk man came back cradling my water bottle, "This?"

"YES!" I think he was shocked by how excited it was. I filled out some paperwork and with my best Japanese thanked him profusely. It boiled down to repeating "arigato" about a dozen times and bowing my head.

I'd gotten my water bottle, and miracle of miracles, they had been storing it in the cooler. It was ice cold.

The last experience I'm going to talk about was my dinner last night. Ben had left for Hiroshima, and I wasn't feeling like going out with a whole bunch of people. So I wandered alone from the hostel, looking for a meal. I found myself in a tiny hole-in-the-wall place run by an old man and his wife. Three ancient Japanese men in dress clothes sat on the customer side of the bar that ran the length of the restaurant. They regarded me like three sphinx until I put on my best smile and said, "Konnichiwa!" The old man and his wife responded back with some unpronounceable Japanese, and the Three Wise Men nodded and went back to their food. I sat down at the bar a few stools down.

The old man surprised me by asking in passable English where I was from while handing me a menu written in the same. After some small chitchat, he flipped my menu over for me and pointed at a dish, "Teriyaki Chicken. My best dish." It was priced mid-range, so I ordered it. The old woman brought me tea and water while the Three Wise Men conferred quietly among themselves.

After a time, the Wise Men asked a question to the old man, who then looked at me, "Where you from?"

"United States." I'm always hesitant about identifying myself. The United States are so controversial, and I could just as easily pass for a Canuck just to save myself the grief. I've stuck with the truth here though, and not yet regretted it, except for a lively conversation on gun control my second night in Tokyo.

The old man relays my answer to the Three Wise Men and goes back to cooking chicken. The easy noises of cooking return, and the Wise Men drink their tea, nodding and speaking low Japanese to each other and the owner.

Just before my meal comes the Three Wise Men get up and begin to leave. The owner and his wife go through the standard thank you for coming rituals, with the kind of personal flourish that makes me think this might be a regular thing for these guys. As they pass me, the Wise Men bow.

I've been in Japan long enough to know this one.

I bow right back, matching their depth and head inclination. They nod in what looks like approval, but is really just inscrutable old man language, and disappear out the door. Two minutes later my food comes. As I eat, the owners and I converse. I discover they have a daughter who lives in Australia, and is married to an Ozzie. They proudly show me pictures of their granddaughter, who is quite beautiful. My chicken is delicious. The wife compliments my skill with chopsticks, which makes me feel all of ten feet tall.

Too soon it's over, and lacking real reason to stay, I thank them profusely and disappear into the night.

There's just something about the Japanese. They're so unique, so different and yet so similar. I've yet to have a bad experience with them – knock on myself. I think I'm going to miss Japan and it's people.

-Doug