Recently, I’ve been having trouble navigating the foliage of Makuhari’s sprawling concrete jungle.
I’ve been getting lost and quite frequently, I might add.
But in a place like Makuhari, with no heinous crime issues to fret about, I’ve experienced a joyful sense of wonder while caught up in the midst of what might otherwise seem utter, metropolitan chaos.
It is the constant stream of activity here that fascinates me; the citywide engine of business that never seems to lose steam, putt-putt, cough and die out like other weaker engines.
This is why, upon forgetting my way to Kanda University, the old man enjoying a cigarette on a park bench seemed a rare sight, enough so for me to use what limited Japanese to strike up a conversation with him.
I had always wanted to chat for a while with an ojiisan, or, grandfather/old man.
Aside from the older generation’s different way of speaking, which is far more honorable and formal by comparison, there is something to be said for the importance of learning about the Japan he knew compared to the Japan that I am living in now.
There were traditions alive then that are seldom resurrected in contemporary Japanese society.
Though I intended to keep our exchange brief and pleasant, our topics composed a grand, dynamic arc of emotions, shifting between contentment, grief, intrigue and confusion.
As we smoked a few cigarettes, we discussed the importance of language and culture as harmonizing forces in the world, the deaths of our grandfathers, the Hiroshima bombing, American-Indian relations and the love of a good woman.
Oh yeah, and of course, cats versus dogs.
It was about forty-five minutes long and it was the most engaging conversation I’ve had with anyone in Japanese by far, all because I had lost my way to school.
On the other hand, a rather traumatic experience occurred while getting lost on the way from Inagekaigan Train Station to my host family.
Riding my new cruiser from Chiba City Costco, which includes an automatic light, a built-in lock and a basket to suit utilitarian, commuter taste, I recalled what street to turn on but then realized how foolish it was of me not to write down directions beyond that.
Every house in the neighborhood essentially looks the same, with only slight layout differences.
After blasting through the entirety of Archers of Loaf’s raw 1994 release, Vs. The Greatest of All Time, I finally started to realize how screwed I really was without a working phone as I sweat like a bad liar inside my raincoat.
With no small degree of luck, a white-masked cyclist then appeared out of the thinning mist, as she turned right and entered her frontyard far ahead of me.
Without time to waste, I rushed toward her on my bike and asked her if she knew the Suzukis in panting Japanese.
She said she didn’t but was kind enough to ask her mother who immediately hopped on her bike as a wordless answer, choosing to laugh instead as she led me back to the house which was, as it turned out, only two blocks away.
I felt like an idiot. I thanked her quickly before locking up my bike but then she said something to me in Japanese that made me realize why getting lost was worth it in the first place.
She said, “You’re young and I’m old. Of course you don’t know the way, that’s why you should enjoy yourself.”
We’re all lost, just in different ways (Honoka’s never even been to the West Coast)!
When I walked in, my host mother immediately told me in Japanese about who she had called, worrying about my well-being, to which I replied honestly, “Yeah, I was worried for me too.”
She fixed me up a superb dinner of Japanese-style curry,karee, with rice, gohan, and my favorite kind of sashimi: octopus, or, tako.
I thanked her for the food, told her I was sorry for worrying her and assured her that tomorrow, I’d be getting a new phone with SoftBank to be able to reach her with.
Getting lost is always a terrifying strain of adventure, but like finding a needle in the haystack, there are smalls grains of wisdom to be gained from being shown the way by someone, even if your interactions are limited to that.
But getting lost without a way for loved ones to contact you is a different thing entirely.
That just makes you a fool; like me, I suppose.
