A Través del Pacífico

This blog is no more. Today we bid sayonara to Japan and return to our roots in South Texas.

American Airlines
Tokyo/Narita Airport to DFW, then DFW to San Antonio, then a long drive south in the dark hours of the night through the brush country.

We pick up our former lives where we left off back on August 10.

the new old life Blog
http://new-old-life.blogspot.com/

Last Day/Night

Tonight we stopped in a great little "Mexican" place called Surf Taco. It is in an area called "The Honch," a bar district directly across the street from the Naval Base. Every town should have one of these. Great drinks, food, atmosphere, decor, and music.

After tonight, though, the feeling Melba and I share is that it's tiime to go home. "Let's just go!"

I feel like a kid who is having a loose baby tooth pulled with a string and he's thinking to himself, "Just do it. Now. Just pull it!" The day is perfect; the air is still and cool, the sky bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Perfect. Let's just get on the plane and go.

Our Last Week

The final hours are slipping away much too fast. You want everything to register in your memory. It feels like the struggle to hold on to a good dream before you wake. If you were in our shoes you would understand how you want to envelope yourself in the essence of this city and its people. An agreeable way to begin is to eat and drink with the locals and our friend for life, Marissa. We found a great place to eat called Pepper Lunch (see video), then we went to what amounts to a little Japanese beer joint and numbed some of the pain of separation with cups of sake.

Ants in Our Pants

Melba and I are like a couple of horses whose riders have turned them back to the corrals after a long work day. They know that they are headed for their stalls and the water trough. There is almost no stopping them.

We are ready to go home. Mentally, the switch has been made. Our time and experience in Japan have been compartmentalized in the travel section of our brains. Our noses are pointed toward South Texas. We have ants in our pants.

Compounding our antsy condition is the miserable weather we woke up to this morning; windy, cold, and drizzly. Poor Melba still has to put in two more work days at school before we leave.

Clean Clean Clean

We vacated the apartment and moved into the Navy Lodge. Once again we are down to living out of a couple of suitcases. Melba spent a good part of the day cleaning our former home according to her standards. That's a lot of cleaning. At 3 o'clock Monday afternoon Mr. Kudo of the Housing Office will come over and perform a final inspection of the property and take the keys off our hands. Melba didn't leave much for the cleaning crew to do before the next family moves in. They'll probably just stand outside on the sunny balcony, chat, and smoke a few cigarettes. It's just possible that she may have left the apartment cleaner than how we found it when we moved in.

Cheers

Marisa, our newest life-long friend, discovered a little hole-in-the-wall joint just off Blue Street here in Yokosuka. It serves up skewered meats seared over an open flame and cold beer or sake to wash down the bite-sized chunks of beef, pork, or chicken. She brought us there tonight. It's a place called Sagamiya. We soon discovered that she is a regular there. The Japanese locals were very excited to see her walk in. Their eyes lit up.

Sagamiya's isn't a big deal to look at. It doesn't amount to much more than a few stools, a bar, and a small grill. The interior is compact enough to shake hands with every customer without having to get up, but the Japanese clients don't shake hands. Out by the narrow alley patrons can just stand and order their meats or drinks through the large window. It's a good and steady business. It would be great to have a place like this back home.

Miss List

I will miss...

...the economy and efficiency of my Nissan March. The little car had little to no 'passing power' but in my corner of Japan who needs it?

...the 24/7 pageantry of ship traffic on Tokyo Bay. From two-man fishing boats to navy destroyers, the show was never-ending and never the same. Tokyo Bay had more costume changes than a Miss America pageant.

...the orderliness of community life on the naval base. Everything in its place, and a place for everything. This was the best maintained living environment for people from incredibly diverse backgrounds. It is as honest a harmonic convergence as can be achieved on this earth.

...witnessing the pride and professionalism that the Japanese employees of the base display day after day in the work they perform. What an incredible work ethic.

...the public transportation system. With only a few Yen in your pocket you can get just about anywhere in this country with ease, speed, and comfort. America, are you listening?

...the rain showers you can count on. If the rains back home in South Texas were as dependable as they are here everyone would want to be a rancher.

...seeing on a daily basis the young men and women in uniform serving the United States of America in overseas bases like here in Yokosuka. They are proof positive that America still has a great future.

...the wonderful variety of trees; big, beautiful, leafy trees that make you want to lay under and write or read a book.

...seeing Mount Fuji at sunrise and at sunset. Look up majestic in the dictionary and you're sure to find a picture of it.

...the litter-free nature of Japan. What a clean and neat society. There's probably more trash on the five miles of highway shoulder from the ranch driving into town back home than in five-hundred miles of Japanese highways.

...the mass of neat and well-dressed Japanese making connections in the major train stations. What a wonderful and attractive people.

Roughing It

It's surprising how comfortably a person can sleep on the floor if they can just keep their expectations of comfort relatively low for a few nights.

Thankfully, we vacate the apartment Friday and move to the Navy Lodge until we leave next week. It's been nothing short of an adventure since day one back in August.

Single Digits

The days left to us in Japan can be counted in single digits. You often hear it said that time flies when you're having fun. If that is true the time spent here must have been an orgy of joy because the days are falling away from the calendar as steadily as the red and gold leaves floating down from the trees that line the streets here.

Melba has to work until the 16th. Other than that there is little to do except wait like expectant fathers outside a delivery room. There are only a few leaves left on the trees. They drift through the crisp air and fall to the street like confetti in a ticker tape victory parade. I hope they're still a few left to fall on us when we board the shuttle bus to the airport in a few days.

Begin Week #18

Reading Ronda's blog this afternoon (http://saenz2007.blogspot.com/) I was reminded of a couple of tall glasses of beer Rene and I enjoyed last Saturday in some upscale shopping complex in Tokyo. Rene chose it; a German brew labeled Franziskaner Hefe-Weisse. What a damn fine beer. Melba took a generous gulp from my glass and her eyes lit up. "Wow!" she pronounced, and the girl has a more discriminating palate than I. We'll have to track that label down once we get an opportunity back in the States.

In that instant the beer brought to mind the shift I have begun to make in my psyche over the switch from waking up to a South Texas landscape in a few days, rather that the one I have grown accustomed to in Japan over the last few months. I have imbibed precious little beer since I arrived here. Back home I only drank a couple on a Sunday afternoon at the Ranch or a couple during the week with my compadres, but never alone. Here in Japan I have been separated from both my like-minded male friends and the familiar comforts of the Ranch. I thank God that on a few occasions Rene and I could shoot the breeze over a couple of cold ones.

On a Clear Morning

Early this morning I got up out of the bed in our room at the Yokota AFB Kanto Lodge, looked out the window, and saw a snow-covered Mt. Fuji reaching up into the clear blue sky beyond the range of mountains southwest of Yokota. I dressed quickly and drove to the roof of the NEX parking garage for a clearer view and a better angle for a picture. The snow-covered volcanic cone is forty-five miles away.

The Pearly Gates

For twenty-five years I have believed in all faith that I would arrive at the Pearly Gates. Today I did. We were walking along a street in Tokyo when we happened on a high-scale sports casual wear store that specializes in a brand labeled "Pearly Gates." I could not resist the temptation to have my picture snapped in front of the place. The sunny clear blue skies and cool temperatures that greeted us this morning were a sight better than the cold rainy reception we received last night when we stepped out of the subway station onto the busy sidewalk.

The city is as clean and good-looking as its citizens.

Behind the Bushes

The Japanese apply a completely urban interpretation to the phrase "behind the bushes." We were walking along a street called Gaien nishi dōri Avenue when my eyes focused on a familiar, if not oddly out of place, porcelain shaped object behind some sidewalk foliage. It looked like a urinal. I looked again. It was a urinal; more than one. There, along the sidewalk of a busy street, was a bank of urinals inside a small enclosure with no door. The only thing that veiled the pissers from the stream of pedestrians were a handful of potted bushes.

The New Sanno

This weekend will probably mark our last hurrah in Japan. We got on the train to Tokyo to have a good dinner at the New Sanno. It's an American-style hotel restricted to U.S. military personnel and officials. We are spending the night here.

Lost in Translation

Communication is so important. Its significance ranks right up there with the needfulness of the five senses. Case in point, a simple thing like transferring ownership of a vehicle is child's play in the States. At the very least the process in Japan is perplexing if there is a language barrier. Getting a simple point across to a clerk with an almost non-existent English vocabulary becomes a whirlwind of frustration lost in translation. The process should be left to the more knowledgeable. Language cripples like me should be strongly discouraged from going it alone.

Today I was in Yokohama at the Land Transportation Office to "get the registration canceled" on our vehicle. I hitched a ride with Derek, a fellow I know here. He's a seasoned used car dealer on the base and I had asked for his help. He makes runs to the LTO daily. When we arrived he pointed me to the registration office. It's one of many offices in a large complex. The clerk and I exchanged smiles and politely nodded in hushed agreement as she performed the paperwork. Derek walks in, looks over my shoulder, then at the forms on the clerk's desk and begins to wave his hand over the paperwork saying "iie, iie, iie." I know that means no in Japanese. Derek saw that she was filling out forms to "junk" my car. That is what she understood "get the registration canceled" to mean. Communication is so important.

The Commute

I felt like one of the natives today. By that I mean that I took a round-trip commute from Yokosuka to Yokota and back without referring to my rail map. I have it down pat; Yokosuka, Yokohama, Hachioji, Haijima, and finally Fussa. Then the reverse to bring me home; two hours twenty minutes each way, more or less, usually more. I even took a short nap on the train like I see so many do.

I will miss the commuter train service. It offers such an efficient way of moving thousands of people from point A to point B. The trains are very clean. Passengers sit quietly for long stretches and they respect everyone's space. Many sit and just stare at the floor, lost in their thoughts. More than half in the car snooze. Some read. I think that many have earphones permanently embedded in the sides of their heads to listen to music 24/7. Few, if any, carry conversations with anyone unless its on their cellphones. Many, as soon as they step into the car, flip out their cell phone and begin texting, if they weren't already doing so as they stood on the platform waiting. The teenagers text just a fast as their American counterparts.

All are neat and well-dressed. Americans would do well to emulate their attention to personal attire. If it were not so intrusive I would snap a photo of every man, woman, young boy, young girl, and child that impressed me with their attire. By now I would have thousands of photos. This is a good-looking bunch.

Fading Fast

The specter of our faithful Nissan March still lingers in its former parking spot. Like my Mom says, "solamente quedan los requerdos." That will also ring true about our four-month adventure here in Japan. It, too, is growing faint, dimming as December 17 draws near. South Texas, the Ranch, the old familiar things are becoming increasingly more and more distinct. They grow sharper in the mind's eye while the joy that was my experience in Japan looks for a cozy corner where the best memories are kept to rest until my dying days.

Begin Week #17

No longer automobile owners in Japan we are once more afoot. There will be many opportunities to get some much needed exercise in the time left to us here in Yokosuka.