🇯🇵 Day 17 🇯🇵

Our second rest day in a row, and last one before the beginning of our C Spoke.

The morning started with some much-needed maintenance. The zipper on my Bontrager rain jacket had failed—quite a disappointment—and the zipper on my top tube bag wasn’t working either. Lisa and Yuki helped me with repairs, and I even got to use some of my long-forgotten sewing skills. I put a fresh coat of Silica Top-Off wax on the chains and repaired the handlebar tape.

We lingered around the familiar dining room table with Masa and Yuki, sipping coffee, nibbling on fresh grapes, and laughing about yesterday. The three cats (猫 – neko) kept us company—sometimes jealous that we were stealing attention from their parents—jumping into our laps or scratching the chairs to remind us we were sitting in their chairs.

By 11 a.m. we were off for lunch with Eiko Ishikawa and her husband. Eiko, who had been the head English teacher at Kushigata Junior High during my years there. She was such an invaluable help back then, especially since there was no internet or translation apps. She would write Japanese phonetically so I could practice easy phrases, and she explained countless school lunches (給食 – kyūshoku) to me. I’ll never forget the day she told me that the “roast beef” I thought I was eating was actually whale—served on the anniversary of school lunches being introduced in Japan. By then I had been here nearly two years, and not much surprised me anymore.

During lunch with them today we spent time reminiscing about the junior high school, looking at photos, and talking about past and future travels. Lisa and Eiko worked together in the kitchen while Ishikawa-san and I studied a world map and traded travel stories.

Lunch was a feast: freshly fried tempura—chicken, shiitake mushrooms, carrots, eggplant, sweet potato, and a delicate green leaf called shiso (紫蘇) with its light, refreshing flavor. Alongside came two kinds of cold noodles: soba (蕎麦), the nutty buckwheat noodles, and sōmen (素麺), thin white wheat noodles, both dipped in soy-based sauce with chopped green onions. For dessert, we had a beautiful bowl of Yamanashi’s famous pears and grapes. A home-cooked meal, prepared with such care, was the perfect gift for our rest day.

Just as we were about to eat, I checked my messages—the TV crew wanted us at Big Boy Restaurant at 2 p.m. and told me to save room because they wanted me to order the same dish I had eaten 25 years ago. I chuckled—this felt exactly like my first time in Japan: never quite knowing what was next, always surprised by what unfolded.

Before we knew it, 2 p.m. had arrived. The Ishikawas hurried us back to Yuki’s house where the crew was waiting. They asked us to wear the same clothes as the day before, but since we had just washed them that morning, Yuki helped us get them dried in time.

The filming began with us doing a “fake walk” toward Big Boy from Yuki’s house, chatting casually about dinner plans. Then we hopped in the car, drove closer, and finished the walk while acting surprised that Big Boy was still standing after all these years. Inside, I ordered the same hamburger plate with the all-you-can-eat salad and drink bar. Close-up shots captured Lisa and me carefully analyzing the flavors, just as though it were a Michelin-level tasting. Somehow, despite the huge lunch we’d just eaten, we managed to make it look believable.

Afterward, the crew filmed a final interview near the library before returning us to Yuki’s house. There we met Noriko, one of my former students, and spent some time catching up around the dining room table.

At 6 p.m. the Kawazumi family arrived, and the TV crew stuck around to film our reunion outside. Chizuru greeted us, her energy and bright smile lighting up the whole area brighter than the TV cameras. Tsuyoshi, ever the shy one, stayed back in the car—unwilling to be filmed. Soon after, the filming wrapped up for the day, and Lisa and I left with Tsuyoshi and Chizuru to visit their mother’s home.

We hadn’t seen her in ten years, but she welcomed us like family. At 94 years and one month, she proudly told us that our visit cheered her so much it would add years to her life. She kept telling Lisa how beautiful she was. We posed for photos together, feeling deeply touched by her warmth.

Dinner at Chizuru and Tsuyoshi’s house was another feast: steaming bowls of ramen, fried rice, and no fewer than seven different cakes made by Mari, one of my old students, who now works as a professional baker. It’s hard to explain the feeling of reconnecting with this family, who were my neighbors 25 years ago. Back then, Mari was in ninth grade, Satomi in eighth, and little Yukiko (now going by Yuki) just starting private English lessons with me. Today they are grown women, with families, jobs, and lives of their own—yet being together felt like no time had passed at all.

Satomi now lives in China with her husband and three children. Mari, lighthearted and kind, beams with pride in her work as a baker. Yuki has become a designer, creating building window displays. Tsuyoshi hasn’t changed: the same laugh, the same shy smile, and his subtle humor that sneaks up on you. And Chizuru remains her vibrant, radiant self, full of energy and kindness.

By 9 p.m., after hugs, photos, and goodbyes, it was hard to leave. Back at Yuki’s house, we stayed up another hour chatting, watching Tokyo track-and-field events on TV, and recapping the many funny moments of the day.Baca lagi