Nishi-Aizu

Here is a lovely and familiar view of Nishi-Aizu, Japan--the town where I lived from 1993-1995. This was taken from the local Banetsu line that trundles all the way to Niigata. I had forgotten how gorgeous it is up in the north.

I spent so many hours gazing out at this landscape. Through four seasons, through trips back and forth to Tokyo--always with a box of Salad Pretz and a can of green tea. I was either happy to be leaving to a place of anonymity or relieved to be coming back where everyone knew me. Or rushing back thinking I had left my iron on atop my 6 tatami floor. Though rushing is a bit of a stretch, considering there were times that I thought I could run faster than the local train.

This return to Nishi-Aizu was very special since with Cappy by my side. We arrived at the Nozawa stop at 11.45 in the morning. We stepped out onto the familiar station platform and lugged our suitcases up the stairs and across to the other side. I had worried about what we'd do with these heavy monstrosities while walked about the town. Thankfully, the station attendant agreed to store our suitcases and backpack. It was a huge relief.

On this day, the skies were their usual grey, melted snow ran along the side gutters, and the familiar chilly air stung my ears. We walked through the narrow streets. I pointed out the cow that lived down the street from me, my old homestay house, my apartment, the space where I parked my scooter, and my friend Chieko's AC Club. It was the only bar in town with Guinness on draught and real Italian spaghetti. No big deal, except it was one of 3 or 4 restaurants that I went to on a regular basis. Does 7-11 count as a restaurant, though?

The highlight of the day was visiting the nursing home where I used to volunteer. After ten years, I wasn't sure any of the residents that I helped would still be there. Thankfully, I met one of them. When we entered the main dining room, I saw a woman sitting in a wheelchair just in front of the door. "Oh my god, Aiko Suzuki?!" I was amazed-- and the nurse was surprised that I remembered her name. Suzuki-san is now 96 and still had the same caring eyes and bright smile. When asked if she remembered me, she smiled and nodded her head. I used to wheel her out from her room to the dining room. She'd utter questions and tell me stories....I'd just look at her and shake my head--totally not getting what she was saying. She'd just laugh and keep on talking to me.

We made it back to the station in time for the 3.23 train. I knew that the sentiment of this day would be realised and cherished at a later time, but felt the beginning of it as Cappy and I waited on the platform. When asked how I felt about returning, all I could think about was how small it seemed. The town seemed as if I had been looking at it from a bird's eye view. I clearly remember not really being able to see beyond the pine tree borders and mini-mountains back in '93-'95. I guess that is a thing of age and subsequent life experience.

Being in Nishi-Aizu was certainly a nice break from the concrete mega watt land of Tokyo. Although I was deeply satisfied for having re-connected with a few people, I was equally thrilled to be departing. Back when I was 23, I was open to anything. You'll have to do a homestay for one month. OK. Live here. Sure. Work here. Sure. Shop here. OK. Eat lunch in this room today. Sure. Teach a class every Monday night here. OK.

Within minutes of heading down the tracks, my town was already fading away once more. This time, as the train pulled out of Nozawa station, I felt an amazing sense of freedom.