Yoshi
More often than not, sitting on stools in a small space, we connect (make contact) with strangers when we travel.
A dining or a drinking establishment, sitting next to people we do not know; a conversation (somehow) begins. A question, a comment, a shared concern or interest; many times, we’re just looking for help and some instruction or direction.
More often than not, our (foreign place) conversations happen with fellow travelers. We learn to navigate (directions, menus, shared interests) together.
Blind can (and do) lead the blind. (It’s an organic, two heads better than one kind of thing.)
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There are many ideas, things I would like to put into words - about our recent eleven-day trip to Japan.
We just returned and my mind is not clear on so many things. I need time to reflect and digest.
So, I thought about something or someone - singular to write about.
Yoshi came to my mind.
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Lunch at a crammed, old, ten seat, hole in the wall tempura place, located just across the street from our modern hotel
(actually, a large, multi-story old department store, gone defunct, old building exterior kept in (turn of the last century) original condition and interior one hundred percent renovated).
The neighborhood was old, full of “good” (which is to say, thoughtful preservation) well done gentrification.
The tempura place however, seemed untouched. Old, ancient, but not amber.
The tempura place across from our gentrified hotel was vibrant. Original condition old, and still full of life.
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To begin our time (lunchtime) there (at the tempura place), we sat next to a young (twenty something) fellow traveler, a Korean man. He was visiting Japan with his family and had struck out (he said) on this day, for a day on his own, sans family.
He commented on C’s command of her chopsticks. (Note that he made no comment on my mastery of the same. OK Korean Dude, noted.)
Our new Korean friend asked if we had visited a Japanese bath house (onsen).
We had not (and unfortunately, we did not).
He recommended them, the onsen. (Not really a place to go for a bath, but more of an ancient tradition; a communal soak.)
The idea of it (soaking with strangers, and other naked men) gives me pause, but we should have, and regret not, experiencing the tradition.
(Next time. Next time we visit Japan. We will do this.)
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And when our young Korean friend finished his lunch, we said our goodbyes. Until next time our paths cross. We wished one another a good day.
It was then that Yoshi sat down next to us. An older local man, longtime fan of this (old) tempura place.
Yoshi struck up a conversation. Uncommon on this trip, in our experience (first time in Japan) for locals to begin a conversation with us, with foreign tourist.
This local man asked where we were from and then we exchanged names.
When we told him where we were from, he replied with -
“America, the greatest country on earth.”
“Japan, I don’t like it. Osaka, (where we were, his city) it’s dirty,” Yoshi said
(Osaka is decidedly - NOT dirty. Exceedingly NOT dirty. We found all of Japan to be nearly spotless, super clean. Osaka and Kyoto in particular.)
I think we were listening to the voice of a “the grass is always greener” mentality.
(You might well love America, but depending upon where you go - crying Native American standing on the side of the highway commercial - clean isn’t something that you’re always going to find. (Temper your expectations my new friend. Careful with your expectations.))
Given the current state of the world (chaos in general, at that moment in time, and who knows, maybe again tomorrow, oil prices will be sky high again), we weren’t expecting to hear a lot of praise for our homeland on this trip.
But then, don’t get Yoshi wrong. He is no fan of the “big man” in the “big white (is it still white?) house.
He asked us, “What’s up with great AGAIN”?
“Why does America need to be - - - Great Again?”
“America has always been great”, Yoshi said.
We shook our heads. “We don’t really know what the issue is. What led to the rise of this man,” we said.
“We don’t understand it either,” we said.
“We agree with you (Yoshi),
America always has been great. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but in total - always great. We agree.”
“We’re at a loss to understand, just like you.”
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C went back to the hotel room while Yoshi and I finished our big bowls of tasty tempura.
Yoshi struck me as being an older man in good shape. Full of life and energy. (I wanted to know his age.)
I told Yoshi how old I was and inquired about his age.
He replied with a “guess how old I am.”
Oh God. Setup for failure. The guessing game question.
I answered stupidly, which is to say - sincerely; “seventy years old?”, I said.
His face scrunched. (I screwed up. More international relations shot to hell.)
“Sixty-seven”, he said. (I aged my new Japanese friend by three precious years.)
“What a drag it is getting old.” (Rolling Stones song / lyric)
(We’re almost the same age. Yoshi and Scott.)
I tried to recover with a - “You look great.” (International relations on the mend?)
We shook hands. “So nice to meet you.”
I went back to our cool hotel, in an old, restored Osaka department store building, to join my C.
We made new friends in Japan.
A nice young Korean man.
A fellow (getting) older man.
(“We’ve always been great.”)
Yoshi
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PHOTO:
I wish I had taken pictures of people we met along the way.
I did not. (That’s a fail.)
Note to self. Next time - take photos of the people that you meet.
I took a picture of a Buddha.
Kind of works.
Like Buddha, Yoshi shared some much-needed wisdom.
Yoshi