Muroran, Japan

Last day in Japan for these two Americans lamenting our exit from Asia.  Japan may be our favorite country we have visited but then my favorites list is fluid, with my most recent experience gaining more influence.  We greatly admire the respect people have for each other here and the many other attributes I have written in previous blogs, along with the pure beauty of this land of the rising sun.

Curry ramen originated here in Muroran and this dish nourished and warmed us at lunch on our first cold day in months.  We opted to take the shuttle to town again today rather than an excursion.  We passed two giant steel mills still in operation even though this city reminded us of the old steel towns in Ohio where the mills have been closed and torn down.

We have been careful to make certain the small restaurants where we eat local food take credit cards--- 

until today where this ramen cafe did not take credit cards.  At the end of our meal, we produced our credit card to two people shaking their heads no.  So we ask, U.S dollars? and they no understand.  We show U.S. dollars to two heads shaking no again and both saying "only yen".  I answer by shaking my head and saying, "no yen".  While we're processing this interaction, a couple from the ship seated behind us are repeating the exact same scenario in Portuguese.  The owner announces, "Get yen from machine at train terminal".  So, Mrs Portuguese and I schlep to the train station while Ruth Ann and Mr Portuguese are held hostage.  We finally find an ATM inside a 7/11- they are everywhere in Japan (7/11).  We each input our credit cards with the same result- credit card not valid.  We're wondering what to do with her broken English and my non-Portuguese.  In the meantime, a Japanese lady moseys up to the machine, inserts her credit card, scoops up yen, spins on her heals and leaves while smiling at us.  We look at each other, shrug our shoulders and shuffle back over to the machine.  She tries first, I try second and still no yen.  We decide to go back to the restaurant to plead mercy for our spouses when on the way, the restaurant owner is leading them to the ATM.  He motions for us to wait in the terminal while he runs back and forth between the ATM and a private office in the train station.  When there seems to be no solution, I show him on my I Phone that 2280 yen= $15.62 and offer $20.  He motions us to follow him back to the restaurant.  His restaurant remains full of Japanese customers with pockets full of yen and once again, I show him the currency conversion and offer my only 1000 yen note in addition to my 20 dollar bill.  He accepts it and Mrs Portuguese quickly places $20 in his hand.  All four of us scram out the door and don't look back.  None of us saw a sign reading cash only but then, neither us nor the Portuguese can read Japanese.

When we walked through town earlier, I noticed a a park a few blocks away from the central business district.  I commented that I wanted to walk in the park before we returned to the ship.  After our lunch debacle, I felt the park beckon to me and insisted we go for a walk in the park.  About ten minutes into the park, we heard the roar of spectators at a sporting event.  We soon encountered a small baseball stadium and entered a beautiful but old baseball stadium with a youth baseball game in progress.  We strolled through the crowd of parents and families and found a seat for ourselves.  We noticed a few strange "what are you doing here" looks that instantly changed to acceptance.  This was a serendipitous encounter for me as I spent many of my best years as a youth baseball manager.  I managed softball teams for our daughter, Marji, from ages 6-13.  Marji, Ruth Ann and I also played whiffle ball in our front yard in Cleveland on many a summer night with neighbor children frequently joining us,  I managed Little League Baseball teams for our son, Justin, along with umpiring, from ages 6-16.   I played baseball as a child and in high school and have been a lifelong baseball fan.  Many of my fondest memories are from teaching, guiding and developing children and teenagers in the sport, art and life lessons of baseball.  We arrived in time to witness the last inning of this game between what seemed to be ten-year-old players.  Another example of Japanese respect was exhibited at the end of this game.  The players lined up with the teams facing each other as they bowed to each other.  Then each team followed the other team to their dugout and fans while the opposing team bowed to the other team’s  fans.  At the end, each team bowed to their own family and friends.  My emotions were flooded with memories and gratitude for the one inning of Japanese youth baseball we stumbled upon.  As our friends, Bill and Debra, would ask, "Coincidence?"

Ruth Ann snapped this photo because our son, Justin, wore number 7 when he played baseball.

We are now steaming away from Asia toward North America with six days at sea.  Sea days will be a time of reflection for all we have experienced.  I hope my reflections will be worthy of reading.

Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues has written much of the soundtrack of our lives.  In Living For Love, he wrote;

We lay there all the break of day
Lovers me and you
I had to give my heart away
What else could I do?

Love for us was living
Dreams that we were dreaming
Life was just beginning
Love that we were living

I know that we're the lucky ones
Like angels we can fly
In days of future symphonies
The golden years went by

The splendour of the ancient times
Once was bourne to me
But we were so in love back then
We simply couldn't see

That love for us was living
Dreams that we were dreaming
Life was just beginning
Love that we were living

Justin described this song; "I'm one of a generation that as teenagers, if we were lucky, wer'e living just for love," he said. "With the most wonderful music, freedom and optimism. We didn't really understand at the time but I have to celebrate those days now, while we are still here, and we remember."