Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Thursday, October 17, 2019
Kobe, trains
On a train yesterday, I pointed to the name of my destination to two young women beside me. One was wearing a long gray dress with NYY logo on it. They conferred with each other and dissolved into laughter over their lack of English, my lack of Japanese. A studious looking woman in front of me took over, telling me in English that I was on the wrong train, Hanshin instead of Hankyo. She wrote a description for me of where to get off and transfer to a local train and then onto the right one. The NYY logo woman and her friend walked me part way and gestured dramatically to where I should go. I used up my ticket, then didn't have enough change to get another, which is when I adopted the policy of simply walking through open gates after people who used their tickets. (Shame! at least I didn't have to vault, as one does in Paris.) Coming back was another adventure, though mostly in self-doubt, eased by a businessman on a bench. Arrived to my hotel room to find that the good Elijah Cummings had died. I have not traveled alone in a country where I did not speak the language in a long time. It felt easier when I was 20, somehow. Or even 30!
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
The view from Kobe, Japan
1.
Walked to the port of Kobe, which features an enormous Starbucks. I did not enter. Was reading the plaques at a memorial to the 1995 earthquake--mostly a lament for the port itself--when I heard the sound of laughter. A woman approached in black pants, her ehu hair unkempt, carrying a plastic drink cup. She laughed again, loudly, as she walked past. We walked quasi-parallel for a short distance before she turned toward the water and started to dance. Her arms flung outward, her legs moving side to side, the plastic cup in the midst of it all.
2.
Walking uphill toward the hills behind Kobe, I stopped at a light. A mother was attending to her son (maybe 5), dressed neatly in a blue uniform with black shoes. He spoke loudly, with confidence, and hailed a friend across the street. "Bye bye!" he said. My eye happened upon his mother's bag. Bright image of shave ice! "Matsumoto's Haleiwa," it read. I laughed and pointed to her bag, said "Matsumoto's." "It's our last name," she said. "And I live on O`ahu," I responded.
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
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