🇯🇵😢Day 36 (B)😢🇯🇵

Day 36 (Part B):

さようなら (sayōnara – goodbye),

Oh, how hard it is to leave Kushigata (櫛形). To say goodbye to Yuki and Masa feels like leaving family. We came here as long time friends, but we leave as family, with hearts heavy and full all at once.

There’s something about this place tucked in the shadow of the 南アルプス (Minami Arupusu – Southern Alps), with 富士山 (Fujisan – Mount Fuji) peeking shyly from the distance, that makes time slow down just enough to feel what really matters. The fruit trees glowing in the afternoon sun, the laughter around a shared table, the gentle rhythm of people who live with kindness at their core—it’s all a reminder that the world can still be kind.

It’s impossible not to compare it with home. Back in the U.S., it sometimes feels like the air is filled with noise, political BS, anger, and division. So often now it seems driven by dishonesty, disharmony, and lying. A constant drumbeat of conflict that feels so far from what we believe in—compassion, nonviolence, honesty, the spirit of enlightenment, and the acceptance of diversity.

None of this beautiful journey would have happened if more than 25 years ago people hadn’t been willing to open their hearts, minds, and homes to other cultures. When I lived here in Yamanashi back then, there was a sense of hope, of connection, of learning from each other. Programs like sister cities and sister states encouraged people to cross borders of geography and understanding. They built friendships, empathy, and respect. That openness is what made this return possible, what made friendships like ours with Yuki and Masa even imaginable.

Now, looking at the U.S. and the world, it sometimes feels like that spirit has been buried under fear, suspicion, and lies. Too many people seem to have forgotten the value of curiosity and kindness, the joy that comes from sharing a meal or laughing with someone from another part of the world. And yet, being here reminds us that it’s still possible—that the goodness in people hasn’t disappeared, it’s just waiting to be nurtured again.

But here, there’s a quiet dignity. People bow instead of bark. They listen. They care. It’s a place that feels like it’s still embracing and growing toward harmony rather than away from it.

Should we move here? Could we really? It’s a question that keeps echoing as we roll away from these quiet mountains, hearts tugged between gratitude and longing. There’s a beauty in Japan that’s more than scenic—it’s human. It’s in Yuki’s easy smile, Masa’s calm laughter, and the way kindness seems to flow as naturally as the rivers that run through these valleys.

いつかまた会いましょう (itsuka mata aimashou – let’s meet again someday). When will we share another meal, a cold beer, or a glass of 日本酒 (nihonshu – sake) together? When will we laugh again under these same skies? 心から感謝します (kokoro kara kansha shimasu – thank you from the bottom of our hearts), our friends.

For now, it’s not goodbye, just またね (matane – see you later). Because a place like Kushigata doesn’t let go easily. It holds a piece of your heart and promises to keep it safe until you return.Read more