Return To Where I’ve Never Been

Dearest Rachel –

I’m sure that, to my tablemates, my Japanophilia may seem a little strange. It dates, as you remember, from our college days, before I was aware of terms like ‘anime’ (back then, what little there was that came to the States was referred to as ‘Japanimation,’ and even then, those who coined the term were aware of how… problematic… the term sounded, especially if one leaned too heavily on the first syllable) and otaku. The cultural exchange begun with the groundbreaking of the Diamond Star plant on the outskirts of our college town at least brought me somewhat up to speed with the concept of ‘manga,’ though, and by the time I was enrolled in a J-term class to visit cities in various “Asian Tiger” nations, I was already making plans to get my hands on some actual copies, even as I was all too aware I wouldn’t be able to read them.

So it shouldn’t surprise you that, as we’re coming in to yet another port I’ve never been to (which, considering how many places Daniel and I visited just last year, is actually rather surprising, but there you are; one more reminder that even a three-week trip around the country isn’t enough to do it justice), I still feel like I’m coming home a bit. Heck, I even shouted “Tadaima, minna-san!” (I’m home, everyone!) upon stepping ashore in Ishigaki, much to the bemusement of both my fellow passengers, and, I shouldn’t wonder, those on the dock greeting the Serenade of the Seas on its inaugural visit. “You’ve never been here,” someone must have thought, “where do you get off saying you’re ‘home’?”

But that’s how it is; having spent a bit more time here last year, I’ve been looking forward to the return – even if it’s not to a place I’ve ever been. It still feels, well… not so much familiar, of course – Japan is decidedly alien to an American like myself, no less so than any of the other places we’ve been to – but in a way, I think I know where I am in a way I couldn’t say about, for instance, Indonesia or Korea, let alone China.

All this is to say I’d be darned if I let a little thing such as a cold (or maybe it’s a fever?) stop me from seeing this place.

Fortunately, it hasn’t come to that. After sweating through another night dealing with this cold, it seems to have broken. While I’m not a hundred percent by any means – I’m still congested, and slightly lightheaded – I don’t think I’m in a position where I absolutely need to ice my forehead down in order to pass the temperature scanners. True, I haven’t actually checked my temperature – I don’t even have a memes to do so – but I’m fairly certain I’m in a normal position. So it looks like I’m good to go. 

Since we didn’t dock until eleven in the morning, I had the time to recover from my night that much more, as well as scan a copy of the local tram schedule, just in case I might want to wander about after our short excursion; two hours ashore isn’t nearly enough, especially if we’re staying in port until nine this evening.

The only question that remained was whether I would have the kind of strength to make it through the day and get my time’s worth out of the place. At least I have the tour to get me started.

I didn’t get pulled aside as we were passing through the immigration terminal, so apart from this interminable coughing, I think I’m good to go for the rest of the time I’m in Japan. Regardless, I may still have to stop in at a Don Quijote or somewhere similar in order to replenish my supply of cold medication.

Despite the ticket listing them in the opposite order, our first stop is at Dejima, the man-made island built to sequester the Portuguese (and later Dutch) traders from overseas.  It’s of a size that it would be quite comfortable for the fifteen year-round inhabitants – indeed, rather excessively ample, in fact – but when a trading ship would come in, the hundred or so crewmen would overcrowd the colony.  Indeed, most of the crew was required to stay aboard their ship; which wouldn’t be an issue with a cabin like mine, but you just know that wouldn’t be the case back then…

After half and hour of being shown around the place (and half an hour to wander on our own, which for my purposes is much appreciated), we drive halfway up Mount Inasa, at which point we pick up what they refer to as a ‘slope car’ to carry us the rest of the way up. It’s not exactly a funicular, as the incline changes from time to time as it ascends.

We’re given about forty minutes or so to wander around; I take the opportunity to climb the spiral staircase next to a building that probably housed some shops and a restaurant or two, but I didn’t bother to check.  All I could do was to take photos and video, and find a suitable nook to scatter a few of your ashes.

And that, supposedly, was that; we were dropped off at the cruise terminal, and left to our own devices. I asked Masako where I might find the nearest Don Quijote, and she suggested taking a cab; she didn’t even mention taking the tram. I mean, she supposedly knows better, being a local and all, but that seems a bit… much?

Maybe I should’ve just generalized by asking about a ‘pharmacy’…

I decided to strike out on my own – and strike out I did.

My single-minded pursuit meant that I was in no mood to look for any other potential souvenirs, and so I came back to the ship completely empty-handed (and worse yet, not particularly empty-headed, thanks to the congestion). But I felt like I had at least made an effort out of it, and been in a few places that no one else would have bothered to go, so there was that. A less than perfect day (not through any real fault of the city’s, and certainly not the weather’s), but not a waste, either.

I still need to get that soda-flavored ice cream, though, now that I’ve got that in my head…

Anyway, we have yet another destination to go to, so I need to prepare myself. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.