The cutest commute...

On afternoons when I’m walking back to the village hall from Okabe Junior High School, to board the bus back to Shizuoka City, I often exchange konnichiwas with people gardening along the road. One day I said hello to a couple of women standing in a corn field, staring at me…nothing unusual (I’m used to people's shock/curiosity, especially in rural areas). But when I was about two blocks away from the bus stop, a car pulled up alongside the road and blocked my path. It was one of the staring women, who got out and asked where I was going (in Japanese, natch). I said, Okabe shiyakusho—that’s the bus stop. Not satisfied with this, she asked me where I was going from there. I replied that I was taking the bus to Shizuoka City (actually, I think I said what would translate as “Bus go Shizuoka City”), and my, she got excited! She pointed to herself and said a bunch of words I didn’t know, then opened the car door and told me to get in. “Ikimashou!” I recognized: “Let’s go!” I said it was okay, I didn’t need it, but she insisted: “Please! Please!” she beckoned in English. I sat down; she plopped a bag o’ sweet corn on my lap and closed the door. We were off.
We made surprisingly decent “conversation” during the 20-kilometer drive: I learned that she likes Shizuoka's lack of snow, but she doesn’t like the muggy rainy season. She works at a furniture store and lives in Shizuoka, but she had the day off so she visited her mother (the other woman I saw in the field) in Okabe. She has a son who attends Minami High School, but he’s not a good student; he plays soccer instead. To this, I said that maybe someday he would play for the S-Pulse (our local J-League team)—and immediately she said, “Thank you!”…then she thought for quite a while and eventually pronounced, “It is good…have dream!”

I answered her questions about how long I’d been in Japan and where I worked and how long I planned to stay. She asked how tall I was and where I was from; I had to repeat “Wisconsin” about seven times as she repeated it, seemingly puzzled, until I finally just said “near Canada.” Then she asked questions about America in general: “Do Americans eat rice?” “Do Americans drink tea?” What a sweetheart! She insisted on delivering me to my door—and when I asked if I really should take the corn she said I must, because she already had a lot.

Don’t worry—I won’t be getting into cars with any strangers who are less cute than this lady. I like to think this little event was actually a treat for the both of us.The same day, I’d also been given a box of chocolates from the 1982 World’s Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee, if you can believe that! The week before, I’d tape-recorded myself reading a long speech about college home economics programs in Japan, so the wife of one of the teachers at my school could practice pronouncing the speech in English to present it at a conference in Knoxville. I guess she ended up doing well, thanking me for my time with chocolates and cinnamon pastry twists that her husband gave me at school, saying they hoped the treats would remind me of home. Quite the week for free eats, no complaints!