Japan - Day 2, Part 2: Yokohama

When I was just a few months old, my parents moved from California to Japan.  We lived in Yokohama.  We lived in a normal Japanese neighborhood - not one of the neighborhoods where foreigners live together.  It was in Yokohama that as a toddler I learned to walk and talk.  While my dad was at work during the day, my mom adapted to the Japanese lifestyle - tatami floors, futon beds, washing machines & clothes lines, tiny refrigerator that made daily trips to the local market a necessity, and she became friends with the local merchants and neighbors.

I actually don't remember any of this.  But we have old pictures that I've looked back at all my life trying to remember something about living in Japan, and I've heard stories my whole life about what life was like.  My best friend, so my mother told me, was Misako Enomoto.  We were the same age.  Our mothers took us to play with each other almost every day.  Apparently, I was too young to say "Misako" so I called her "Sha-sha".  That is actually one fact I remember on my own - what my friend's name was.   Our mothers were dear friends, too.

When I knew this Japan trip was final, my mom & I went through old pictures and old Christmas cards trying to find names & addresses of our old neighbors and our old address.  I sent letters to the few we could find, and I got one response - luckily from the Enomoto family!  We arranged to meet up on Day 2 of our trip.

Unfortunately we were very late after touring my dad's old garden that morning, but finally made it to Yokohama in the afternoon.  Misako and her younger sister Akiko met us at the train station.  We were so excited to finally meet!

(Disclaimer for all the following photos: judging by my hair, I had not seen a mirror all day long. Yikes. I post these to remember what everyone and everything else looked like.) 

Misako, Janet & Akiko walking from the train station to the Enomoto's home.

Misako can speak basic English and Akiko had lived in Canada and travelled to the US often so she spoke excellent English.  Both Misako & Akiko took the day off of work to meet us, and for Akiko to translate for everyone.  Early in our conversation we both discovered neither of us remembered being 2-years old nor remembered playing with each other, but both of our mothers told us many stories and showed us many pictures of each other.  We also discovered that Misako's daughter and my son are the same age.

The Enomoto family lives in the same place they did 30 years ago, now remodeled.  When we arrived at their home, their parents warmly welcomed us as old friends.  It was immediately evident what a deep friendship their mother and mine had.  I was so glad Akiko was there to translate for us.  But even so, it felt like there was so much more that could have been said.

After showing everyone pictures of my family, we started talking about how I have pictures of being in their home during Hinamatsuri with their display of an imperial court.  Their dad quietly left the room and came back with duplicates of the same pictures .

2-yr-old versions of Misako and me (I'm on the left in both pictures of the two of us)

My mom on the left looks slightly pregnant so my guess is that this is from 1984.

 He quietly left the room again, and came back with some of the dolls.  Such a sweet gesture!

This is the same ornamental fan that I am holding in the old pictures.

Mrs. Enomoto then offered to take us on a tour of the neighborhood so we all headed out.

This is the walking path, not accessible to cars, that my mom mentioned we walked on every day. 

I kept hoping that instinct would take over and I'd know where to turn or that I'd recognize something.  No such luck.  But Mrs. Enomoto was wonderful at pointing out everything that still looked the same.  "Your mother will recognize this," she kept saying.  So we kept taking pictures (thank you, Blake!).

This co-op replaced the market where my mother would come everyday. 

This was the site of my family's old apartment.  The units have been completely rebuilt, but Mrs. Enomoto still walked me through the gate and around the corner to show me how we used to walk into our apartment. 

This is one of the market ladies.  My mom always said how they would talk-talk-talk so fast with huge smiles, say I was so cute and give me candy.  Mrs. Enomoto knocked on the door. This lady came out all smiles.  In my limited Japanese language skills I hear the explanation, "....Gaijin (non-Japanese)...apartment.... Karen (my mom's name)...America...Janet..."  The market lady responsed with surprise and excitement.  She said a bunch of things to me very fast which I did not understand, to which I politely smile back.  She then runs into the house and comes back with a gift box of crackers for my mother, told me they were for her, and told us to all take care.

At this door, much of the same introduction took place.  This couple used to have a korokke (croquette) shop but now the man solely operates a cigarette window.  My mom told me she used to sit and watch him make these over and over in all varieties, trying to memorize what to do.  (We ate these occasionally throughout my childhood in the US and still.)  Once he and I figured out who each other were he opened his door to show us the old shop.  It's still there behind that grey gate - counter and tables all unused for years.  Still, I was happy to see a piece of the past.

This was another neighborhood vendor that we were introduced to with the same explanation.  This neighbor ran into her house and brought back letters and pictures of her son who also lives in the San Francisco area.  Blake and I both wish we could understand everything that everyone was telling us!

A great sense of community was certainly alive & well here!

Misako and Janet, 28 years later

I was actually sad to leave this family.  We had only spent a couple hours together due to my late arrival and the impending dinner-hour and our need to find our hotel in Tokyo.  I wanted to stay longer with this family that were strangers on the one hand, but were so warm and natural on the other hand.  I really hope to stay in contact with all of them.  28 years between friends is too long!

I was also impressed by the fond memories everyone had of my mother.  What a tribute to her! What a great example to me of starting over in a new country, raising a young family, adopting new habits, and embracing where you are and the people you are with.



Day 2, Part 3: 
We made it back to Tokyo and started making our way to our hotel, but we got lost.  Taxi drivers didn't recognize the name or address of the hotel, and we just tried to walk from the station with the limited maps we had on hand.  (We later figured out how to explain the whereabouts to taxi drivers, but this was a frustrating night.)  Lost in the middle of the city a young woman saw our confusion and in English offered to help.  Turns out she was headed in the same general direction and said she would walk us most of the way.  Thank you, kind stranger!  During our walk we explained the purpose of our vacation - a celebration but also a reconnection to my roots.  We found out she was full Japanese but actually raised in Brazil, 3rd generation.  She had come to live in Japan because she knew that ethnically she was Japanese but didn't really know what that meant - and wanted to experience it for herself.  She had felt what I was feeling and was happy to help us out.  During our walk she told us she was meeting her friend at "Love".  It finally made sense when we saw the statue.  She was also proud that she could help us find Love in Tokyo.  ;)  She then literally walked us to a point where we recognized that we were only a few blocks from our hotel, she met up with a friend and we separated.  We made it to the hotel.