June 8
10 pm
Today has been a very long, yet extraordinary day. I woke up around 2:30 am and laid in bed waiting for the alarm to go off, anxious about the day’s events. Being dropped off and saying goodbye was difficult, but I still savor the hugs from Gayle, Reed and Lucy.
This poem came to me as I sat in my seat, waiting for take-off:
Saying goodbye to children
is hard—that ice box forming
in your throat, a new Adam’s
apple—lodged there, blocking
air, words formed only with
lips in breath of silence saying
“I’ll miss you.”
Wife’s clay eyes glistening with
tears teeth smiling, conflicted
cheeks quivering tight—you’ll
just be so far away—and yet
in the universe a world so small
held up by God’s pinky, delicate
like crystal balancing in a
midnight pirouette, my eyes full
and me walking away and then
back again to say “bye,” and
me choking back thoughtful tears.
The flights were timely, if not smooth (the first hour out of Chicago proved that it is the windy, white-knuckle city), and once we landed in San Francisco, everything moved like clockwork. Although my group had a slight rush for lunch given our late arrival, we managed to inhale some sustenance before our group meetings.
On the downside, my room got screwed up. Because the elevators were packed, and because I had been an L-shaped statue for more than 7 hours, I chose the stairs. My room is on the 8th floor of the Sheraton. Once I arrived to room 812, however, my key card wouldn’t work. Some new-found friends down the hall said I could store my stuff in their room and change for the session that was about to start, so I took advantage of that, hoping to deal with the situation later. Well, after the sessions, and just minutes before our departure for our next adventure, I went all the way back up—using the stairs mind you, because the elevators were packed again—to get my digital camera. After I came back down, I went to the front desk. They resolved the problem with my room key, seeing as how someone else had my key, and although the other gentleman’s room was 322, he had taken up residence in my room. So, I had to climb those 8 flights of stairs again to deliver the new key to the individual, and then come back down. So, I got my exercise in for the day (I’m not complaining) but worked up an unfortunate sweat in the process. And then I was close to the last person to get on one of the four charted busses headed to the Consul-General’s residence.
So after hearing welcome speeches from the director of the Fulbright Program in Japan who will also serve as one of our guides in Japan, as well as speeches from former JFMF alumni regarding what to expect and how to make the most of our experience, everyone is even more excited and anxious to get in the country. And then finally, after our lectures and brief break-out small-group sessions, we got a taste for the hospitality of the Japanese people through a welcome reception dinner at the official residence of Yasumasa Nagamine, Consul-General of Japan.
10 pm
Today has been a very long, yet extraordinary day. I woke up around 2:30 am and laid in bed waiting for the alarm to go off, anxious about the day’s events. Being dropped off and saying goodbye was difficult, but I still savor the hugs from Gayle, Reed and Lucy.
This poem came to me as I sat in my seat, waiting for take-off:
Saying goodbye to children
is hard—that ice box forming
in your throat, a new Adam’s
apple—lodged there, blocking
air, words formed only with
lips in breath of silence saying
“I’ll miss you.”
Wife’s clay eyes glistening with
tears teeth smiling, conflicted
cheeks quivering tight—you’ll
just be so far away—and yet
in the universe a world so small
held up by God’s pinky, delicate
like crystal balancing in a
midnight pirouette, my eyes full
and me walking away and then
back again to say “bye,” and
me choking back thoughtful tears.
The flights were timely, if not smooth (the first hour out of Chicago proved that it is the windy, white-knuckle city), and once we landed in San Francisco, everything moved like clockwork. Although my group had a slight rush for lunch given our late arrival, we managed to inhale some sustenance before our group meetings.
On the downside, my room got screwed up. Because the elevators were packed, and because I had been an L-shaped statue for more than 7 hours, I chose the stairs. My room is on the 8th floor of the Sheraton. Once I arrived to room 812, however, my key card wouldn’t work. Some new-found friends down the hall said I could store my stuff in their room and change for the session that was about to start, so I took advantage of that, hoping to deal with the situation later. Well, after the sessions, and just minutes before our departure for our next adventure, I went all the way back up—using the stairs mind you, because the elevators were packed again—to get my digital camera. After I came back down, I went to the front desk. They resolved the problem with my room key, seeing as how someone else had my key, and although the other gentleman’s room was 322, he had taken up residence in my room. So, I had to climb those 8 flights of stairs again to deliver the new key to the individual, and then come back down. So, I got my exercise in for the day (I’m not complaining) but worked up an unfortunate sweat in the process. And then I was close to the last person to get on one of the four charted busses headed to the Consul-General’s residence.
So after hearing welcome speeches from the director of the Fulbright Program in Japan who will also serve as one of our guides in Japan, as well as speeches from former JFMF alumni regarding what to expect and how to make the most of our experience, everyone is even more excited and anxious to get in the country. And then finally, after our lectures and brief break-out small-group sessions, we got a taste for the hospitality of the Japanese people through a welcome reception dinner at the official residence of Yasumasa Nagamine, Consul-General of Japan.
The residence sat atop some of the highest hills in San Francisco overlooking the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. The sunset view, though somewhat blinding, was spectacular. I took this picture from his window. The house itself, redolent with the high ceilings, archways and excessive details of early twentieth extravagance felt very much like I imagine Jay Gatsby’s house in the novel The Great Gatsby would have been like.
160 of us mingled easily just in the foyer, sitting room and dining rooms of the first floor, toting plates of the most surprisingly ornate sushi, teriyaki beef and tempura I have ever seen. Platters moved on the fingertips of tuxedoed ghosts whispering their way through the house. The noise from so many conversations was at times deafening, like being at a rock concert and shouting at one’s friends standing right next to him.
Here I am standing with the Consul General after we exchanged our meishi, business cards. He looked at mine and said "Oh, International Baccalaureate. My daughter graduated from an IB school in the UK and then went to Oxford. Very good program. Very good." So that was a nice connection, and should be an inspirational one to all of my students out there who are reading this and who I often hear saying unkind things about IB, or complaining about it. If it's good enough for the Consul General of Japan, then...
Throughout the evening trays of wine and sparkling water appeared magically, levitating from the nothingness, coming just in reach for your hands, then vanishing into a sea of suit coats and blouses. Simply phenomenal. Tomorrow will bring new wonders and I look forward to them all. Good night.
2 comments:
Ahh...the man goes abroad again.
Japan is a place I have always wanted to visit, so for the time being, I'll attempt to live vicariously through your blog.
How long will you be gone? Will you be stationed in Tokyo or elsewhere? Sorry for all the questions, it's been a while...
Congratulations on the journey, Ryan. Safe travel from here to there - and back again.
GH
Mr. Spiller says . . .
You should have written a haiku
Post a Comment