Take Me Away, Toyama

読者の忍耐はありがとうございます。
Thank you for your patience, readers.

I've been busy as a bee, or perhaps more appropriately a cicada セミ to say the least. With finals, a trip to Toyama, and a tour of Japan with the madre 母, I've had little time to write let alone breathe. I'm taking a moment now, though, to pause and reflect. Japan has taught me the importance of setting aside time for rest in order to appreciate the often exciting but exhausting days of studying abroad.

This is the first of my closing posts, a trilogy if you will.

Part I: Take Me Away, Toyama.

After my first final of the semester, I packed up a few belongings and my study essentials--my precious Japanese textbook and Kanji flash cards--and set out for a "sweet escape" to Toyama 富山. Putting my Japanese to use, I navigated around the ticket counters and found my reserved seat after some assistance from a kind Japanese businessman. We boarded the train together and before parting he presented me with a Chinese fan 扇子 souvenir, the key to surviving Japan's sticky summer humidity.

Once aboard my first bullet train 新幹線 from Tokyo, I began pacing myself through the four chapters composing my Japanese final that awaited my return. Between memorizing vocabulary and drawing Kanji characters in the air, I chanced to take in the change of scenery 景色--from Tokyo's bustling boulevards with suited figures flying into their workplace to stretches of rice fields with only the bobbing straw hats of farmers showing signs of humanity.

After passing mountains blanketed with evergreen trees and roaming rivers that splashed into the sapphire sea, I arrived in Toyama. I tiptoed into the hotel's public bathhouse pleased to find an empty, hot-tub-sized basin ready to receive me. Readers, it had been some time since I had been able to enjoy a luxury such as a bath. My roommates and I had braved our "sketchy" shower complete with a rocking bathtub that shifted whenever you climbed into its depths. The hotel's bath thus served as a rare spa-like experience that my-tuckered-out self savored.

The next morning I greeted my high school sensei in the lobby for a Japanese breakfast buffet. Finished with our feast, we headed over to the local high school where I surprised my dear high school friends, Laura Breidenthal and Emily Nathan. Following my brief introduction to the rest of the high school group, I joined Laura and her host sister, Azumi, in the back of the tour bus as we headed to the Ainokua village in Gokayama 五箇山. Against the back splash of the azure sky and vibrant, verdant green of the rice fields and surrounding trees, the traditional huts looked as if they had popped out of a storybook.

Once inside, our group learned about how these farmhouses were made to withstand snow with their thatched roofs that mirrored hands in prayer. During wartime, the village stored gunpowder and weapons and even housed their prisoners in this isolated part of Japan. Saving the most impressive feature for last, Sensei explained how no nails were used in building these huts. Instead, the Japanese tied pieces of rope in an intricate fashion to hold the structures together.

Leaving the praying rooftops behind, we hopped on the bus and got off at a picnic site where we had a Yakisoba やきそば barbecue overlooking the picturesque countryside. Slurping the tasty noodles, a sound of politeness in Japan, Emily and I caught up with one other and enjoyed practicing our Japanese with our new Toyama friends.

With our stomachs satisfied, I rejoined Laura and Azumi for some funny pictures, posing in front of the gorgeous garden 庭 at the picnic site's entrance. As we began the return trip back to the high school, Laura, Azumi, and I relaxed in the air conditioning エアコン, sharing Japanese words, miscommunications, and highlights of our trips.

At the end of our time together, I asked Laura if she was thinking of returning here some day. She admitted, "Before this trip, I wasn't sure," and then continued, "Now that I've had this experience, though, I'm definitely coming back." I told her I had felt the same way when I first ventured to 日本 with Sensei and our class. We, birthday twins think alike. We both realized that learning about Japan barely scratched the surface of this gem. Only through living here, even for a short while, can we understand and appreciate this culture that is so unlike ours. A culture of patience, acceptance, and expectations.

And of course, the added bonus of our favorite snack, Daifuku Mochi 大福餅 (sticky rice balls (mochi 餅) filled with red bean paste (anko 餡子)).