It's all over

I'm at the baggage claim in Portland in the holding area before customs. My eyes are fighting a noble battle to remain active. I did not sleep on the plane. Nay, I watched three and a half movies and looked out the window at the black sea below and the blinking lights on the right wing.

Damn, I was tired. It's harder on the way back, the jet lag. I have spent the last two days sleeping or walking to another room in the house to continue sleeping. I woke up yesterday at 3 a.m. after going to bed at about 7. I had some leftover Chinese, checked my email. Then I fell back alseep on the couch until 7.

On the conveyer belt, the bags all looked the same. But might is special. It's the Giant Jansport Backpack. The one I never should have used. The one that stayed in Nagoya during my second leg in Tokyo. It was stuffed full of dirty clothes and a few gifts that didn't fit into my carryon - a smaller backback. It was bulging in some places. Tumors, likely filled with dirty underwear. This bag probably liked me about as much as I liked it. A mutual distrust.

I saw it, emerging from the place below, onto the belt. I was on the far side, so I pushed to the front, waiting for it to come to me. Then I saw it - the bag had spit up. Dirty clothes were spilling out, the zipper open at least two feet. I grabbed it.

"You lost a sock," said a woman standing just behind me.

"I better wait around for it. Don't want to cause a security alert," I said, chuckling at my own joke.

It's been a while since my subtle, American humor has been effective. I have been doing a lot of laughing at my own jokes.

"Was it just one sock?" I asked.

Yes, she said. Just one.

It came around, I grabbed it, stuffed it into the bag, zipped up, and prepared for the customs agents, who let me go without checking me.

A few years ago, on a previous trip to Japan, I came home with a bottle of sake (rice wine), a gift from my friend's parents to my father. Customs picked me for a random check, and the bastards took the sake and poured it down the sink right before my eyes. I was not old enough to have booze in the states. They took it, but at least they didn't jail me.

Fortunately, my sock didn't cause an international incident ... even if that would have been a more excited close to my journey.

...

Now home, I have had time to reflect on the journey. Twenty-two days stumbling around an island nation. Bumpy, sleepless rides on night busses. Having no plan for what to do during the day and where to sleep at night. Or when to move on to the next city. Or what to have to dinner. I always had "no plan," which some of my Japanese friends found a little surprising.

I spent too much time in Nagoya, where the bulk of the "no plan" time was spent going to Meijo University with my friends. This is also the town of revolving homestays, where nobody could host me long-term, so every day was practically spent finding out where I would sleep the next night. My friends were quite busy, making it hard to spend much time for them. More than a week there was overboard. That doesn't meen it wasn't fun. And I've already written about the fun things there.

Next time, I will have a plan. Make sure anyone who offers to host me before I leave the states is serious about it. Make sure friends I want to visit are free. But I like having no plan. So maybe I shall forget.

Overall, it was a fun trip. And despite the ackward, solitary Chistmas Eve, I don't regret traveling during the holidays. For 22 days in the winter I was freestyling my way around a foreign land, learning, watching, eating and drinking. And now, all of these memories are locked into my consciousness, leaving at least a small part of forever nestled in the bossom of this great nation*.





* How's this, Phil?

One Yen For A Good Year

Tokyo knows how to ring in the new year, and thanks to trains running all night for the occasion, I joined the party. We did the countdown, from 7 to midnight, at a pub in Shibuya, which was packed, K-1 boxing and pride fighting taking us into the night. An American nearby was bitching at about midnight -- where was the ball? Where is New York City? Being several hours ahead of the game, I suggested that they show last year's ball, kind like when NBC cut to year-old footage of the M&M baloon at the Macy's parade when the 2005 version decided to attack innocent bystanders. But even without the ball, 2006 arrived.

We instantly left the bar and joined the masses as they flooded the streets. I offerered a "happy new year!" to roughly everybody I could utter it to. I exchanged high fives with random people. I was offered a pull from a fifth of whiskey. We made it throuh the person-to-person crowd and caught a train to Asakusa, a famous historical district and home of a temple. Japanese good to these sights en masse on New Year's eve and day. We joined the huge crowd in the narrow walk way, about 15 feet across, and took babt steps to the temple. Once there, you offer a financial gift and make a wish. People were throwing their money from feet away and moving on. I had a 100 yen coin, but I had somehow lost it. I scrambled. I found a 1 yen coin and gave that. I doubt my wish is going to come true. I felt like that guy in church who ackwardly passes the collection plate without giving any cash.

And now here we are, 12 hours after Japan welcomed 2006, and I need to go back to sleep.