Image by hII!H

I promise to never again ask my husband why he is taking another picture out an airplane window! I finally realize that each time he flies; he recovers, at least for a few moments, a child-like curiosity and wide-eyed wonder of what he sees. You can’t always tell when those moments will find you.

Softball games, county fairs, picnics, berry picking, swimming in the creek, riding down hill on sleds, ice-skating on the pond, deer hunting, high-school plays…all scenes from my childhood in rural Pennsylvania. My grandparents, parents, other relatives, friends, and neighbors and I lived quiet lives revolving around family, home, and community. Trips to Florida and Canada were monumental adventures, exciting events celebrated with slide shows and stories of new sights seen. Only local service men experienced exotic lands across the oceans.

My limited knowledge of Japan followed me into adulthood: samurai, sumo, geisha in kimonos, rice, Mount Fuji, and green tea. As time passed, new images of Japan pushed their way forward – Japan as a powerhouse in technical innovations and top-notch manufacturing. And then, the real lessons began with my first flight west to the land in the east.

“I can’t believe I’m actually standing in Japan!” I thought, gazing out my high-rise window at the Keio Plaza. “It just doesn’t seem possible. Who would have ever believed that I would make it from the farm on Sugar Hill to Tokyo! I wish my Aunt Belle were still alive so that I could tell her I’m here doing business with…”

Japan! Where trains run on time and people politely wait their turn in line… Where taxis have pure-white starched headrest covers and people sensibly aren’t embarrassed to break into a run when late… Where simple lunches are served with care on real china and “set” meals are served without choices of side dishes… Where toilets make cheering noises and shoes are taken off in restaurants and placed in perfect alignment at the door… Where fish guts are actually listed on the menu and every meal challenges the I-don’t-like-seafood eaters of the world!

Japan! Where a westerner stands out like a red cherry in a bowl of bings and rules for bowing are somewhat baffling… Where clerks and waiters shout “welcome” and “thank-you” and wrapping up everyday packages is an art form… Where in business, a smile isn’t always a positive and a frown isn’t always a negative… Where centuries-old temples sit peacefully among high-rise office buildings and young people grow much taller than their elders… Where 3.5 million people pass through Shinjuku train station every day in such a rush of humanity that I have to look down at the floor to keep from getting motion sickness!

Japan! Where Mount Fuji looms off in the distance and bullet trains fly low through the countryside at 186 miles per hour… Where rice fields grow right up to back doors and no land is wasted on oversized lawns… Where the heaviest people would be among the thinnest at home… Where giants Sony, Panasonic, Hitachi, Mitsubishi, and Fujitsu develop the latest have-to-haves and massive electronics stores hawk these wares with a lights-flashing, beautiful-girls shouting, loud-speaker blasting, wonderfully-chaotic style!

Japan! Where…

Even after making several more business trips to Japan, that moment when I gazed out over the rooftops of Tokyo for the first time remains forever etched in my mind. In today’s fast-paced and over-exposed world, we’re lucky to find occasional spontaneous moments of joyful wonder. Take another picture out the window, Gary. I know how you feel.

The window fan merely moved the stifling July air around the living room as sweat gathered on my forehead, but I still considered fixing a cup of hot green tea.

A few minutes earlier, while searching for a photo of our new house shutters to send to my aunt in North Carolina, a stray picture fluttered to the floor. “How’d that get in there with these new pictures?” I wondered, staring at hundreds of rooftops spanning out as far as the edges of the photo would allow. Tokyo! Tokyo taken a few years before from the window of my room at the Royal Park Hotel in the southern Chuo-ku area of the city – ah yes, that was the day…

“Dang, I wish I could have scheduled my business meetings all in one week so that I didn’t have to stay the weekend,” I thought, on that hot, hazy July morning in Tokyo. Though tempted to stay in my room all day, I picked up my wallet, put a city map in my pocket, and started out the door.

This was my fourth trip to Japan, but the first traveling without a colleague from the U.S. The previous four days had flown by in a whirlwind of trains, planes, buses, and taxis as our agent and I visited customers from Tokushima in the south to Hakodate in the northern island of Hokkaido. Now, a long weekend in Tokyo yawned before me as my usual sense of adventure lost out to loneliness and a strong urge to go home.

I walked aimlessly down the busy sidewalk. Gray skies and monochrome buildings towered over hoards of black- and gray-clad strangers; colors to match my mood. Should I take the train to Shinjuku or Ginza to shop? Find a temple or museum? I stopped at a corner pastry shop, but the daifuku, with its azuki bean paste and sticky rice, while tasty, only reminded me of how much I wanted a Krispy Kreme. Turning around, I started to retrace my steps. “I’ll just go back to my room, work on the computer, and watch 12 hours of CNN,” I thought gloomily.

Halfway back to the hotel, I paused in front of a small pottery shop. The open doorway beckoned to me and two old women called out a welcome in unison. “Irashimase!” The beautiful Japanese handy work lining the walls and center table also drew me into the shop. I moved slowly around the small room admiring teacups, sake sets, rice and noodle bowls, teapots, chopstick holders, and sauce plates. The two women followed me with watchful eyes.

Without saying a word, I marveled at the rich colors, mainly in multiple browns and blues, with an occasional piece in deep blood red or moss green. I admired cups and bowls with traditional Japanese themes hand-painted on them, some boldly, others delicately – sailing ships, koi fish, cranes, cherry blossoms, dragonflies, and intriguing written characters whose meaning will always remain a mystery to me.

Circling the room again, I smiled at the animals etched into the children’s ware – cats, dogs, rabbits, and dragons; all recognizable, yet with a distinct Japanese artistic twist. Picking up several items, I fingered the different finishes of the pieces; the rough stoneware and the incredibly smooth porcelain, and wondered why typical American dinnerware is so predictably smooth and symmetrical. Why not uneven, and odd-shaped, and wonderfully unique like these?

My mood softened as an hour slipped away in quiet exploration. Finally, I pointed to four small blue and white bowls with a tiny painted dragonfly flitting across each center. The women prepared them in typical Japanese style – placed carefully in wooden boxes, and then beautifully wrapped, as though intended as a present especially for me.

I reached for the package, beginning to bow and back toward the door, but they motioned for me to sit. Confused, I nevertheless, sat down, while they disappeared into the back of the shop. Several moments passed, and I began to think that I had misunderstood. Just as I rose to leave, they returned with a tray and three rust-brown teacups filled with hot green tea! And so, with sweat on my forehead, I sat and drank hot tea in silence with these two old grandmotherly women…suddenly not so alone after all and not really so very far from home.

Unable to communicate through words, these two ladies touched me by sharing their tea time with me. After finding the photo of the Tokyo rooftops, I rummaged though the back of my cupboards, finding the bowls from this memorable day in Japan. They will reclaim a spot in the front of my cupboard again – ready reminders of a good day and a welcome cup of tea.

Image by tamaki

“Here, take this. I won’t need it when I get to Japan,” I said to my husband right before going through security at the airport. I handed him $300 in cash and my personal credit card, gave him a kiss and hug, and thus began my seventh business trip to Asia. International travel can be challenging, but I felt confident and calm as I climbed the airplane steps for the long journey from small-town Towanda to big-city Tokyo.

Nineteen hours later, I shuffled slowly along with the other weary passengers heading for customs at Narita Airport. “Ten days; this is the longest business trip I’ve ever taken,” I thought as I passed by the foreign currency counter, knowing that I could get yen at the hotel using my credit card. I headed straight for the bus counter to buy a ticket for the Keio Plaza Hotel – 1200 yen or about $12, cash only. Safely on the bus, I dozed during the ninety-minute ride.

“I am sorry, but we cannot do currency exchange with a credit card,” the young women at the hotel counter said early the next morning. “Rats,” I thought, “The other hotel I’ve stayed at in Tokyo would do it.” I quickly counted the cash in my wallet, finding that after paying for the bus ticket, I now had $68 left, enough for about 6800 yen. “OK”, I thought, “This won’t be a big problem; I’ll just find an ATM machine sometime today.” Looking up, I spotted Mr. Ando, our business representative in Japan and our busy day began.

On our way to the train station, we detoured into the bus terminal to find an ATM that would accept U.S. cards, but my pin number didn’t register. I called my husband and a co-worker in hopes of verifying the number, but neither could find my paper with the number. Frustrated, but only slightly concerned, we spent the day between meetings in taxis and trains, with no time to stop at a bank. Fares for the day amounted to 2800 yen, which took my cash down to a measly 4000 yen. Maybe tomorrow……

The next day, I called the bank that issued my credit card, but they couldn’t verify my pin. They offered to send me a new pin in seven to ten days. Scratch that idea! Without revealing the full seriousness of my situation, I told Mr. Ando that I wanted to stop at a bank. We found a few minutes to do so, but the bank wouldn’t issue money to me without the pin number! After shucking out more coins for train fares that day, my funds were down to 1400 yen, with six more days looming ahead before returning to the land of easy cash. “Tomorrow, I’m on my own in Tokyo with almost no money, among 12 million strangers,” I thought. “Oh well,” as I turned out the light to sleep. “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

Up early the next morning, I decided to take a taxi to my customer’s office so that I could charge the fare rather than pay cash on the train. I carefully chose a taxi with credit card symbols on the window. When we arrived, I handed my card to the driver, but he shook his head and pointed at his card reader. It took me a moment to realize that it was broken. He needed cash! I sheepishly told my customer of my dilemma, and he graciously paid the fare.

After the meeting, I walked up the street to the Royal Park Hotel where I’d stayed during previous visits, convinced that my money problems were over. “We are very sorry, but we cannot issue funds on credit cards unless you are a guest,” the lady at the counter told me apologetically. For the first time, I felt a slight wave of panic, and with a heavy heart, I parted with the rest of my yen for the train trip back to the Keio Plaza.

After a good night’s rest, I awoke feeling quite optimistic, knowing that I would be able to get currency after my flight to Korea, either at the airport or at the hotel. On board the flight to Seoul, I talked with a gentleman from Indiana who was also traveling on business. We swapped stories of our work and families, plus I told him the sad tale of my cash troubles. When we left the plane, he handed me a 50-dollar bill and his business card. I didn’t argue too much with him, since it was a bit unsettling to land in Korea with only $2.40 in change in my pockets!

My optimism faded at the foreign currency counter at the Incheon Airport. They required cash to make an exchange, so I could only get $50 worth of Korean won. The hotel exchange desk proved to be a bust too, requiring cash to do an exchange. Somewhat discouraged by the latest failed attempts to get cash, I nevertheless relaxed in Seoul the next day. I shopped the afternoon away in Itaewon, paying for new luggage and an antique wooden jewelry box with my company card – not per company policy, but this trip was an exception! (Yes, I did pay for these myself once I got home!).

Customer visits on day eight went well, without any need for cash, so I began to think that the 50000 won in my pocket might be just enough to get home without the need to panhandle. It helped my attitude that 50000 won sounded like a heck of a lot more money than $50! Despite my positive thoughts, I decided that I’d try one more time to secure additional funds. I stopped at a bank that was very willing to issue won on my credit car without a pin, but I left empty-handed. Why? I had violated one of the top 10 travel rules – keep your passport with you at all times! I had left it in the car and there was no time to retrieve it and return to the bank. Foiled again, but only two more days to go…

My last business day took me from Seoul on the train south to Daegu. I traveled with a business agent who spoke limited English. Since we couldn’t chitchat, I didn’t tell him about my money woes, which created new suspense. At the train station, while I was trying to decipher the credit-card-accepting ticket machine, our agent was buying my ticket with cash. He expected me to pay him back with cash. So, I gave him cash – all my cash! As we rolled on down the line, I reasoned that meals could go on my credit card and the bus to the airport in the morning was free. With that settled, I relaxed and watched the beautiful Korean countryside pass by.

As we left our last customer’s office, I felt light-hearted, already anticipating the end of this 10-day adventure. Considering the events leading up to this moment, what happened next shouldn’t have surprised me. It did. When we reached the train station, our agent asked for my money for the return trip to Seoul! “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I thought. “The money that I gave you this morning was only for a one-way ticket?” I asked, my stomach starting to churn a bit. Sure enough, it was the end of the line and there was nothing left to do but beg. I threw myself at his mercy and after much hand-signaling and mis-communication, he finally realized that I was penniless. He would have to trust me to repay him or leave me stranded in Daegu. Fortunately, he paid, and I hopped on the train back to Seoul.

Day ten of this adventure meant backtracking my way home; Seoul to Tokyo to Detroit to Elmira to Towanda. In Detroit during a layover, I stood in line waiting for a bagel and rummaged for the U.S. coins on the bottom of my pocketbook. Problem? The bagel cost $2.45, and the change totaled just two-forty. I turned to the man behind me in line and asked, “Do you have a nickel?” That’s Japan and Korea on $8 a day plus five cents!

When I told this story to my family, they assumed that I was terribly stressed during this trip. Surprisingly though, except for a few moments of distress, I always felt that things would work out OK. And they did. Was this just due to dumb luck? I don’t think so. I believe that most people are basically kind-hearted and willing to help someone in need. Yes, I mailed money back to each of these kind souls, but I know that each helped me without total assurance of that. Trusting in the goodness of others can help us through troubled times. Now, if I only knew who that man in Detroit was so that I could return his nickel!