It is three minutes to sunset on the Saturday after the American holiday of Thanksgiving. I am standing atop the tallest mountain in Nagasaki, looking from the roof of an outlook center down onto the mini metropolis I have come to love over the past eight and a half weeks. I’ve seen and felt many great things, yet there is still so much to be done. Every day I find myself tallying up the things yet unseen that must be seen. I have yet to see Nagasaki’s most important (purely my opinion) attraction, the Peace Park and Atomic Bomb Museum. I find that my mind is crowded with a sense of urgency. I cling to the feelings of surprise that come when a Japanese taxi driver impresses me with his level of English comprehension and I eat up every sentence of English broken by hand gestures, Japanese, and laughter that comes from my friend’s mouths. I have a mere four weeks left now and it seems like so little. This weekend I watched the neon lights of Nagasaki ripple through the valley like wind through tall grass as night fell, and I saw friends smile as the red, setting sun was lost behind mist and clouds.
On a lighter note I also saw many many penguins. K took 20 of the exchange students to the Nagasaki Penguin Aquarium. It was small and understaffed but the cute awkwardness of penguins overcomes feelings of discontent, and reflective aquarium glass makes for interesting picture taking. After watching these little guys for some time my friends and I all piled into three rental cars and strapped in for one of the scariest rides of our lives as EO drove us to Mount Enasa for sunset watching. No offense to EO but by the gods in heaven and Valhalla Japanese traffic is 10 times scarier than any driving I have ever seen in the States. Narrow roads and seemingly no speed limits equate to a mad cap race around bustle that keeps the passengers and drivers on their toes at all times. I’m sure it really is much less dangerous than I imagine it, but at the time, it felt like every red light was a gift from some divine force that allowed me to loosen my grip on the seat.
This weekend was quiet, but much needed. I have purchased my tickets for an overnight bus trip to Osaka to meet up with my dear friend Andrea. I will be gone this coming Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I’m also planning to visit Kyoto, which is the ancient capital city of Japan. Through World War II it was one of the few cities that sustained little damage so all of the temples and shrines are old as can be. I look forward to writing about that experience.
All in all this weekend was a much needed rest before the storm of my last few weeks. I can hardly imagine coming home on essentially the doorstep of Christmas morning. Strange to imagine that I will have to re-adjust myself to American living. Love to all those I couldn’t call and wish happy Thanksgiving. I miss you all, and wish I could share more. . . but some would argue that my silence says it all.
Until next time.
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2 comments:
I think that's one of the measures of a great experience. If you don't want it to end and you start imagining how you can do it again before you are finished that's a big clue that you are in the zone. Stay right there, full tilt, for the rest of your time then bring that joy and hunger for discovery home to share. Maybe it's contagious. Maybe my flu shot won't protect me from you.
Love-
Dad
Kyoto sounds like a blast!
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