Tateyama
Tateyama is a small city near the southern tip of the Boso peninsula, which juts into the Pacific east of Tokyo. The community has a sister city relationship with Bellingham that began 47 years ago and is still strong. The parallels between the two cities are evident— fishing communities on pleasant bays 90 minutes from a large city, surrounded by verdant hills.
My visit in 1983 was an amazing experience. The local Lions club members were fabulous hosts to the 12 students in our group, including the Sakai family with whom I stayed. We already had a bit of a connection since their son Shinichi had stayed with my parents the previous summer. They welcomed me into their family and I gained glimpses of understanding of the country and the Japanese people. I spent much time with Mrs. Sakai—Mama-san—talking about the U.S. and Bellingham in rudimentary Japanese. There were many memorable incidents. One night several weeks into my stay I finally convinced them to let me make them dinner, and my Italian cooking skills deserted me: I managed to burn a half-inch layer of spaghetti on to the bottom of the pot. (Luckily the rest of the meal was still edible). We had a good laugh about it but she insisted on cleaning it up.
In the intervening years we had been visited in the U.S. by their daughter, Harue, and her husband Susumu when they lived in Atlanta for several years. But I had not made a return trip until now.
Sakai-san—Papa-san—recognized me instantly despite my now hage head. He has changed little, is still energetic and jovial. Their hotel, now called Sunset Beach hotel, has an ideal location on the central portion of the city beach. They continue to do well, attracting Tokyoites in need of a weekend getaway, plus companies that book their conference rooms for training sessions. It is a true family run business. Shinichi now runs the operation day to day, assisted by his wife Masami, aunt Keiko and the rest of the staff.
After placing our bags in a lovely room—with both western beds and a tatami portion that I couldn’t resist sleeping on—we proceeded to their house for a cup of tea. Shinichi pulled out his photo album from his trip with pictures of my parents and their Bellingham house. We filled each other in on big changes since my previous visit—my career and recent marriage, my father’s death in 2003. Shinichi has been married 16 years and now has two daughters. Mom was thrilled to see him again.
The sad news was that Mrs. Sakai died of cancer last year.They ushered us into the nearby tatami room that holds a small shrine in her honor—the usual practice in Japan. There next to her picture was something I had forgotten about, a small, delicate fan that I had bought for her in Kyoto, upon which I had written in Japanese a note thanking her and her family for their kindness during my stay. Papa-san told me iit was one of her prize possessions. I was very touched and saddened that I had not had the opportunity to see her again. Papa-san later told me that she often wondered when I would return for a visit. I am honored that she valued our friendship and the link between our families so highly. I feel very fortunate that we have been able to sustain this friendship.
The remainder of our visit passed quickly. We had two very memorable meals of traditional Japanese foods. We met the Mayor of Tateyama in his office the next morning and he was kind enough to give both me and my Mom an “International Friendship Citizen Award” certificate. We toured the local castle, some of the local temples, drove around the tip of the peninsula to see the ocean. Watched the sun set over Tokyo Bay with the cone of Mt. Fuji barely visible in the haze. Kumai-san from city hall was kind enough to help translate through much of our stay and fill me in on the state of the city. The area is struggling economically as is much of the rest of the country.
I went on a run the morning of our departure and was amazed to find a four-lane expressway now winding thorugh the heart of the city--with shopping malls and fast-food, too. Apparently such changes are gradually hitting many cities throughout the country.
We bid farewell to the family this time knowing that we would see them again soon—jaa, mata (see you soon) not sayonara. They want to meet my wife Rachel and stepson Nate and I look forward to seeing them again and touring more of the lovely countryside.
Tokyo
Harue and Susumu invited us to stay at their house in the Tokyo suburbs on the way back from Tateyama. We exchanged excited greetings on the platform—I had not seen them for over ten years—and made our way through the vastness of Tokyo Station. We made a quick stop at the grounds around the nearby Imperial Palace, and then shot over to the Shinjuku area to have a cup of coffee at the 45th-floor rooftop bar of the Keio Plaza Hotel. My mother started to take a seat next to the window when she realized how far up we were and quickly edged away. The view east and north is staggering—the city goes on literally as far as the eye can see. We zipped out to their home and enjoyed an all American meal of chips and salsa, followed by beef stew and salad.
Susumu is the rare resident of Tokyo who can walk to work, though that will change in a few months with his reassignment to his organization’s headquarters in downtown Tokyo. The district of Tokyo in which they live, he told me, was still a farming area in his youth 40 years ago, with a U.S. Army base nearby. Since the closure of the base, the area has added a sports stadium, college campus, two police academies and a renowned cardiology hospital.
The next day we did a quick tour of the Asakusa area of Tokyo, known for its famous market and Senso-ji Buddhist temple—see pictures below. My images of the city are of the narrow 4-lane expressways that curve through the city, the densely packed buildings, random architectural notes such as the golden chili pepper on top of a municipal building near Asakusa. And a shockingly young man driving a blue Ferrari (a Testarossa?) in first gear near the Imperial Palace, the car whining noisily from stop light to stop light. Pure conspicuous consumption.
Random Notes
On the shinkansen from Kobe to Tokyo, a girl passed wearing a red t-shirt with the inscription, “Jesus is My Rudeboy,” plus an image more suitable for a pack of cigarette papers.
Our apartment has no English TV stations, so my mother and I occasionally watch the news and baseball in Japanese. Channel surfing you come across many sophisticated cartoons featuring superhumans, animal-machine creatures and gorgeous images of space, flowers, anything you can imagine. Just as I turned the TV on yesterday a small rotund boy in a bright blue uniform filled the screen, helmet on, arms at his side, back to the camera and ready for take off. The two half-moons of his tushie, however, were naked and suddenly emitted a huge bright yellow and orange flame like a Saturn V rocket, and he ascended into space. My mother was speechless. You won’t see that on Saturday morning TV in Olympia.
A few pictures...view from our hotel room; the Sakai family and Mom in front of the hotel and at dinner...sunset from in front of the hotel; the famous Asakusa shopping district, and Harue, Susumu and his step-mother in their garden.






