The Hazards of Being Technologically Impaired

Two days ago, I bought my first iPhone. Being slightly resistant to gadgets I don't know how to work, I didn't come by it voluntarily. No. I got it about two months after I left the charger for the old phone in Saugatuck, Michigan during a visit there. Since my "old" phone was so old they don't even make that charger anymore, I limped along using only the car charger until I finally decided enough was enough and bought the iPhone.

Getting it wasn't easy, either. First, I went to the AT & T store, who had none available. My son said to go to the source; the Apple store. There, after waiting in line for some time, I found out they also had none. Everyone who works there has a slight air of superiority, as if the rest of us just weren't quite up to speed on the latest technology (in my case, they're right). When I did speak to a salesperson, she told me about all the cool iPhone cases, crystal covers to protect the glass front and back, Mobile Me, etc. that one can get to make a cool phone even cooler. None of these items are available in the store, however. In fact, it seemed to me that very little was actually available in the store besides demo products. They just wanted the hoi polloi to know they existed.

Apple store employees also, apparently, have no idea when their products will be arriving. There's no day of the week when deliveries come; it's just something you have to call in the morning (early!) to find out. And if by fortunate chance a shipment has come in, you need to hightail it over there immediately to pick yours up. If instead you are sluggish like some of us, and wait until evening, the inventory has been depleted and you are relegated to calling the store the next day to see if another shipment has come in.

It looks like a great gig to me. They're mysterious, hard to get, and a treasure any fool would be lucky to get their hands on. So the buyers come flocking in, hoping for the chance to pay two hundred bucks for a cell phone. There doesn't seem to be any recession going on at the Apple store.

Nevertheless, after my second wasted trip, I decided just to go online and order it myself. (And by "I," I mean my son.) He ordered it, ported my existing number over, and lo and behold, 4 days later, my shiny new iPhone had arrived and was left sitting on my neighbor's porch. (They delivered it to the wrong address.) Still, it was a lot closer than I'd gotten for the last two weeks.

After all this excitement, it was time for my next big move: Figuring out how to turn it on, and use it. My son, in a hopeless attempt to get me to "figure things out for myself" told me to take it to the AT & T store after the phone had sat connected to my computer, allegedly transferring some application for two days. So off I went, and the accommodating staff quickly helped me complete the process of porting my number.

What a thrill! At last, now I can be checking my emails and furiously texting messages in court, as I have seen so many other lawyers do. As I walked out of the store, I decided to call my son just to let him know that I was all set, on my own. Then I noticed that all my "Contacts" were email addresses...no phone numbers. (That must have been the transfer that was taking place on my computer for those 2 days.)

Well, no matter. I'll just type the number in myself. I hit "Contacts," typed in Alex's name, and number. Then I sat in the parking lot, trying to figure out where the "Call" button was. Couldn't find it anywhere.

Being the highly educated professional that I am, I did what I always do when faced with such technological challenges. I got frustrated, and immediately blew my top at what kind of an idiotic device this (expletives deleted) iPhone was, anyway. After angry words and cursing didn't work, I resorted to using my old phone, which was sitting patiently in the car with about 30 seconds of power left. I called my son, asking him how in the heck I was supposed to use this stupid phone that had no call button. He patiently explained that I needed to press the line of text that listed his mobile phone number.

Oh.

Okay, so that went well. I called him back triumphantly...and found that he sounded like he was a million miles away, using a tin can. I turned the volume up to its highest level, told him to speak up; and still, nothing. Again, I was instantly frustrated and mad. By then I was back home, where I could prove to him that it wasn't me, it was this stupid, defective phone. He asked if I had asked them about it at the AT & T store. Of course not, I said. I left there the minute they got my phone working.

He couldn't figure it out, and I felt cheated, for having received such a faulty phone. Still, at his urging I went back to the store and told the clerk my problem. She said, "Take off the plastic." What?? No way could that fix this obvious defect. To humor her, I took it off. Much to my amazement, the volume was fine. After two days of waiting, I could now make a phone call!

To all you show-offs out there who are laughing at me for being in the Dark Ages of phones, I say just wait! Another month or so, and I'll have figured out how to use the calendar. (Okay, it's not quite that bad, but close.) And frankly, I haven't even tried to check my email.

I've heard it said that crossword puzzles, and trying new things, are great ways to keep your mind sharp. Well I don't like crossword puzzles, but it looks to me like I've got a year's worth of opportunities to try new things with my new iPhone alone. And luckily for me, I've got two smart kids for backup, that seem to know all about them.

Look Out, World. Michigan's Coming Back!!

Dateline 4 August 2010: In a Yahoo! real estate article discussing which housing markets will be the strongest by 2014, Michigan came in third behind top-contender Washington State, and second-place Oregon. Okay, maybe it's not time to open the champagne yet, but according to the article, by the year 2014, housing prices are expected to jump 33.1% in the Detroit-Livonia-Dearborn area.

It's true that, since reaching a peak in 2006, housing prices have plummeted 60.5 percent, so we're really only regaining half of that former value. But who cares? If "no bad news" is the new "good news," then a 30% increase has got to be considered fantastic! All the more reason to revel in our beautiful state.

Remember to Chill

OK, I will admit it if you will: I have forgotten the names of people while I was talking to them! I have lost my car keys, misplaced my glasses and forgotten why I walked into a room.

How about you? Does it seem like your memory is playing tricks on you as you age? Well, there are reasons for that and very few of these reasons are related to diseases such as dementia and Alzheimer’s.

As a straight-A student back in college, I would pore over my study notes until they were etched into my brain, just before a test. It was almost like cheating. I would study right up until a few hours before the exam, then go in and take the test. The notes were so clear in my head that I could literally go through the pages and find the correct answer. I took that ability for granted, until the end of last year.

In December 2009, I began noticing that I had trouble remembering things. This caused me some alarm, and I began a quest to improve my short term memory. Where else but Google, of course! I found nuritional supplements that allegedly increased oxygen to the brain; a major cause of memory loss, and also discovered a site which proclaimed it was a "Virtual Mental Gymnasium" - My Brain Trainer (http://www.mybraintrainer.com/).

Both were helpful, especially My Brain Trainer. The site offers free exercises that test your brain's age, among other things. I became a huge fan, and would start each day doing the "brain age" exercise until my brain tested at a mere 21 years old. I also took the nutritional supplements religiously.

Nevertheless, there were times when I played the Memory Game on My Brain Trainer and felt despair. The Memory Game has 3 different levels; beginner, intermediate, and advanced. The beginner level, for example, has 16 pictures of animals (8 matches), which it displays for a short period of time. The pictures then disappear, and the goal is to remember where the matches are. Time after time, I was frustrated at the number of tries it took me to get them all. As the pictures disappeared, so did my memory of where they were!

Then at the end of March, I went to visit my friends in Japan. Such wonderful friends they are! They had everything planned for me, and took care of all the arrangements. The only things on my "to do" list were showing up on time for a tour, or deciding where I wanted to shop that day.

But the best thing of all was how loving and accepting my friends were of me! Never mind that Americans are quite a different lot than Japanese, in so many ways. They loved being with me, and I loved being with them. Although in general I lead a very pleasant life, I can remember going to bed at night in Japan, and just feeling pure happiness.

One night in Hong Kong, I played the Memory Game on my laptop, just for the heck of it. To my astonishment, my memory had vastly improved! And that's when I learned the real cause of memory loss - stress.

Stress kills your memory. The stress system is designed to ensure survival. It helps us fight off an attacking dog or flee from a snarling bear. As important as that is, however, we humans do more each day than merely survive. Stress releases cortisol in the brain, and that can lead to a myriad of different problems for us. If we want to have a good, healthy memory, we need to do all we can to reduce the need for fight or flight stress responses.

Not easy in this modern world of increasing challenges, but essential. Interestingly, when I first returned from Japan my memory quiz scores had improved by 30%. But as time marched on and I got caught up in the ups and downs of Life, I saw my scores return to their former levels. I noticed that if I am in the middle of a quiz and hear a distracting noise, my scores drop even further.

We're all in this world together, so I imagine I am not alone in this problem. And unfortunately, we are not always surrounded by loving friends who appreciate us. Instead we often feel surrounded by nothing but problems.

But there are things we can do to chill out in the midst of the maelstrom. Taking a nap in the afternoon while listening to soft music, if you can do it, is a great way to shift gears and leave the tension behind. Watching a comedy is another. So is petting a dog or cat (unconditional love is good for the soul).

The most effective way of all, however, is to remember to stay present. To be in the moment, not regretting the past or worrying about the future, is the best way to eliminate stress. The next time you feel stressed, remember to ask yourself, "What is lacking in this moment?"

Usually, nothing. It's just that our minds have run away with us. Sometimes we are so caught up in our minds that we don't even realize where we are.

As one person, we can't change the world. But we can change the world within. And when we do, we can begin to remember what it feels like to be at peace. We can begin to remember.

Is Less Really More?

" In 1845, Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) quit work at his Dad's pencil factory in Concord, Massachusetts and moved to Walden Pond, where he remained for two and a half years, building a small cabin in deep woods and undertaking an experiment in solitary living..." Thoreau's cabin cost him under $30 to build, (today's cost: about $700)

In 1854, he published "Walden," a famous work, considered by some to be practical philosophy, a "how-to" for alternative living, an atheistical guide for the perplexed, or just natural history. Although virtually unnoticed for 60 years, it came in time to be judged the finest example of writing in America, not only at home, but in Europe where it is even more highly regarded.

To some of us, myself included, this seems like a quaint but unrealistic way to live. Yet, as more and more of us are living longer and longer, the trend is clearly toward simplicity. So what's wrong with living simply and not having to buy the latest bling?

Nothing, according to an article, "The Leap to Cheap," I just read in the July/August AARP (yes, that's right. AARP. They have a great magazine.) Written by self-proclaimed cheapskate, Jeff Yeager, the author rode his 30-year-old bicycle across the country to interview people who are living "alternative" lifestyles.

By "alternative," he means, making due with less, anti-consumerism types who wash their own dishes instead of using a dishwasher (to save water and energy), whose children delight in finding their prom dress for $12.50 at the thrift store, and who love to go out shopping...so they can laugh at the foolish things other people spend their money on. In short, people whom I spent most of my life thinking of as weird.

For example, I remember a friend of mine, who loved to go shopping at a place she called "Valu Valage" (i.e., value village). A former judge whose father was a doctor, it wasn't for lack of cash that she bought on the cheap. But I didn't understand that at the time. I went with her once, and cringed as she pored over pre-worn outfits, looking for her daughter's homecoming dress. I was so shocked I ended up giving her a gold-sequinned Oleg Casini dress I'd worn just once, for her daughter to have. Just so she wouldn't buy resale.

But that's the old way of thinking. Now, buying resale is where it's at. To me, such things reminded me of my lower-middle class upbringing, of poverty. Saving pennies, doing without and such, not me! Interestingly, though, when the 2008 stock market crash wreaked havoc on a stalled economy, many of us began to downsize and in the process re-discovered our lives. That is, our family and friends.

In the AARP article, the author interviewed a family of former high rollers, who now revel in the wealth of their family connections. The husband, formerly a high-level executive, quit his corporate job a decade ago and started a home inspection business with his wife. They typically earn $80,000 a year and a few years back moved from their 8,000 square foot house to a home one/third that size.

"Moving made us realize how much we owned that wasn't being used and wasn't necssary," says the wife. When they considered how much most of us Americans have compared to the rest of the world, they were embarassed.

After reading this article, I began to understand and appreciate the trend toward down-sizing and simplicity. It makes a lot of sense. We are all (hopefully!) living longer, healthier lives. If we are going to be around a long time, we need to start living smarter. I mean, simpler, and enjoy the dailly blessings we are surrounded with every day.

American Airlines - Customer Service At Its Worst

5/4/2010: I’m sitting here on the bed at the Comfort Inn near the Dallas/Fort Worth airport. It’s an okay room, but the problem is that I am supposed to be in Michigan and instead I’m sitting here on the bed at the Comfort Inn in Dallas. No suitcase, no change of clothes, no vitamins, etc. The man at the desk was kind enough to give me contact lens solution and a toothbrush, because I didn’t even have that.

I’ll be getting up at 4 a.m., and riding back to the airport, hopefully to get a “stand by” ticket on the earliest AA flight out. According to American Airlines, I’m lucky I don’t have to pay for the ticket (although I do have to pay for the hotel). I’m here because of a mistake by their employee; however, they don’t care.

This is a pretty lousy ending to what was a very nice trip with friends to Miami. We rented a condo at the Fontainebleau, and had a great long weekend. I was supposed to fly home tonight, and get back to work in the morning. Unlike my trip here, first class and non-stop, this trip was economy, and two flights.

From Miami, I flew to Dallas/Fort Worth, where I was supposed to catch AA Flight 2500 at 7:45 p.m. to Detroit. I landed here at 7:00 p.m. (Florida and Michigan time). I thought that meant I’d be leaving 15 minutes after landing, which was perfect for me.

I went to the appointed gate; D28, and asked one of the two employees standing behind the desk if this was the right gate for the flight to Detroit. “Oh yes,” the man answered, “But you are not boarding in 15 minutes. It’s only 5 o’clock here; we’re on central time.” I said, “You mean I have over two hours to wait?” “Yes,” he said.

I was disappointed. I was wearing heels, carrying a heavy laptop bag, and I was ready to go home. He told me there was a lounge I could sit in upstairs and watch TV. So I did. I went up and sat in the comfortable chairs, watched TV, read my book, had a glass of wine, and then went down to the Pro Shop and got a shirt for a family member.

At 9:00 p.m. on my watch (which meant 7:00 p.m. in Dallas, according to the American Airlines employee), I went back to the gate and sat down. It was pretty quiet, and I wondered why there was no notice about the flight on the sign at the gate.

Finally, at 9:15 p.m. my time, I went to an American Airlines employee at D30 (since there was no one at D28). She said the flight had left an hour earlier, and since it was so late, I’d have to pay for another ticket! I told her I’d been informed by an American Airlines employee that there was a 2 hour time difference between here and Miami, and asked for a supervisor, thinking they would help me out.

The supervisor wasn’t much better. She asked me what the employee looked like, and when I described him, told me she didn’t have any employees like that. She said it was probably someone who came over to push someone in a wheel chair.

What??? I told her there was no one around to push; the gate area was empty. She said, “Yeah, but sometimes they hang around.” I told her he was behind the American Airlines desk at the very gate I was to leave from, and he confirmed that the Detroit flight was scheduled to leave from that gate. Moreover, there was a female employee standing right next to him when he told me that it was only 5 p.m. (when I thought it was 7 p.m.), and she had said nothing when he told me there was a 2 hour time difference from Miami.

“Maybe she wasn’t listening,” she said. “So,” I asked, “You are saying that because I believed an employee behind your desk who wrongly told me there was a 2 hour time difference, and although the woman employee right next to him did not correct him, and therefore I missed my flight, that I am stuck here with no flights out until the morning??”

Yup. That’s what she was telling me. In fact, at first, since my ticket was purchased with rewards points (apparently American Airlines also penalizes you for spending thousands of dollars and thereby earning enough points for a plane ticket), I couldn’t even get the earliest flight out. No, I was stuck there until about noon, thereby killing another day.

On top of that, I had to pay for the hotel room! But not to worry! I would get their “special rate.” (Not to mention that I hadn’t had any dinner, which they also were not going to cover.) I told her I needed to get back to work and asked about the 6 a.m. flight. “Well,” she said disinterestedly, “If you want to come early and try to fly stand-by I guess you can do it.” (Turns out there were 20 empty seats on that earlier flight. But far be it from American Airlines to be accommodating.)

So without my luggage, or any necessary toiletries, I took the shuttle to the Comfort Inn. There, I called American Airlines to see if maybe there was someone at the Airline who did give a care about their customers. Sadly, there wasn’t.

Instead I was transferred to another, equally accommodaating supervisor who told me I could send AA an email if I wanted to, or try to find someone to talk to at the airport in the morning. Thanks a lot.

The bottom line to this story is that I am stuck in Dallas in a hotel I don't want to be in, hoping to “squeeze in” stand-by on a flight with 20 empty seats in the morning. And what does American Airlines propose to do to compensate me for the inconvenience, the aggravation, the wasted time, and additional cost?

Absolutely nothing. They could care less if I ever get out of Dallas. Be forewarned if you ever make the mistake of flying American Airlines. If there are any glitches, whether yours or theirs, you are simply out of luck. They don’t care about you.

Usually I like to write about positive, upbeat things that happen in my life. There are other airlines I've flown who have been absolutely wonderful in their customer service.

For example, once on a United Airllines flight, we were grounded in Chicago for several hours due to high winds at our destination(clearly not their fault). Nevertheless, they gave us all a voucher to compensate us for the inconvenience. We didn’t even have to ask!

And I just returned from a wonderful trip to Japan on Delta, and to Hong Kong on ANA (Asian National Airways). I was served excellent meals, free wine, and was treated with the utmost courtesy in every way. Not to mention, the flights went smoothly and they offered a variety of free movies. This, although they had to communicate every message in at least three different languages! They were up to the challenge, and the airline employees’ communication skills at both airlines reflected excellent training in customer service.

In sharp contrast, American Airlines treated me shabbily, showed me no consideration despite the fact that it was due to the incompetence of their employees that I missed my flight. In fact, when I told the supervisor that I have a fairly popular legal website and I was going to warn the readers of my blog about the bad service I experienced at American, she responded, “You can go ahead and write on your blog if you like.” Nice.

But I’ve learned my lesson, and I hope my experience will save you the trouble of flying the unfriendly skies of American Airlines. At a time when most are still struggling to recover from the global recession, it seems that American Airlines is doing so well they don’t need my business, and therefore don’t have to treat me with courtesy or respect. They don't have to worry. They won't be getting any more business from me.

A Note of Thanks to Some Very Special People

April 24th: I waited until I had finished all my travel posts to write this letter of thanks to my "host family" in Japan. I wanted to be sure I remembered every wonderful day, while it was still fresh in mind. Thank you letters always seem inadequate to express one's true feelings of appreciation, especially when there is so much for which to say "thank you." Nevertheless, I am going to try.

Mr. and Mrs. Chiba: (Yoshimasa-san and Fumi-san): Ten years ago when Kentaro returned home from staying with my family in the United States, you wrote and told me, "Just get your ticket to come over here and we will take care of the rest." Year after year at Christmas, Fumi-san would send me a beautiful card and gently remind me that you hoped to see me soon. Some years, I would write back and say, "Yes, I"ll be coming this year!" Then Life moved along, time passed, and I didn't come.

As you know, it wasn't until Kentaro wrote me this year and told me it had been ten years since his visit and "high time" I came to Japan, that I decided to just get my ticket and figure the rest out later. I certainly had no expectation that you would do anything, other than be glad to see me. You owed me nothing. Now that I've come, though, I am sorry I waited so long to reconnect with you and your wonderful family.

To my surprise and eternal gratitude, you planned my whole trip based upon your excellent recall of the things I loved about Japanese culture, and your guess of what I might like as a tourist. You made a special effort to get permission for me to see the incredible Imperial Villa at Katsura, and the Imperial Palace. You scheduled me for tours that gave me a good understanding of Japan's culture and history. And you chose a spectrum of hotels for me to stay at, that gave me a glimpse of the modern and ancient Japan. Yoshimasa-san, you even remembered that I was a Bruce Lee fan and suggested I visit Hong Kong while I was there. What a great idea that was.

Every place that you picked for me was perfect! From the Da-Ichi when I first arrived (I had so much fun pressing buttons to control everything in my room from the drapes to the alarm clock, once I figured out how to use them), to Hiiragiya Bekkan (where I awoke throughout the night to pinch myself and realize I was in such a gorgeous, authentic Japanese setting), to the Tokyo Bay Hotel Tokyu, where Kentaro and I watched the Disney fireworks from the Juan Sky Lounge on my last night in Japan, as well as every hotel in between. Perfect.

Had I been given the chance to choose anyone in the whole, wide world to be my hosts for my first visit to Japan, I could not have chosen better hosts, or friends, than you. It is easy to see why your children are such outstanding individuals. They get it from you.

Yoshimasa-san, thank you so much for your kindness and generosity. You have much depth within you, a true intellectual, expressed to me through your various acts of thoughtfulness and courtesy. Thank you for welcoming me with books on how to communicate in Japanese, in both Tokyo and Kyoto. (You knew I would need them!) Thank you for allowing me to share in your birthday celebration, and for accepting me, as a gregarious American who knew very little about Japanese culture, and probably made a million faux paux. Not to mention putting up with my loud yet enthusiastic singing during our family karaoke night, and even making a DVD of it for me! It was such a fun night, and one I will never forget.

As a special surprise the first night I came to the Chiba home for dinner, you showed me a DVD of Fumi-san demonstrating the tea ceremony at my house, ten years ago. Although you made me a copy of that DVD I am sad to say I have not been able to find it in my luggage. Nevertheless, I appreciate your making it for me. I keep hoping I will discover it tucked away in a side pocket.

Fumi-san, there is nobody in this whole world who could meet you and not love you. Your countless thoughtful acts (like that umbrella you gave me for Hong Kong, and making sure my slightest whim was satisfied for shopping, food, or activities) while I was with you, your patience, and obvious good humor created an atmosphere of happiness for all, wherever we went. You are so much fun! Thanks for your energy and your seemingly effortless ability to take in a situation and make sure things go smoothly for everyone. Thank you for caring for me when I felt under the weather, for putting up with my dumb jokes about bugs at the Imperial Palace (obviously I was delusional), and for trying to fill me in on some aspects of Japanese culture (like Geiko and Maiko) that I "might" not have known. Thanks for putting up with my incessant desire for cappuccino, and for allowing me to join your family in celebration of Yoshimasa-san's birthday. Thank you for the wonderful "Bon Voyage" lunch on the day I left, and for waiting to wave goodbye, after I finally got through the metal detector. Thank you for making me feel so loved and at home, halfway across the world from where I live.

I waited to unwrap the parting gifts you gave me until I got home. I love them! Thank you for the green tea (and the special green tea for the tea ceremony), the special wiping papers, the lovely Echizen Urushi box, and the delicate and beautiful chopsticks holder set. The Kyoyki company, who made the chopsticks holders, included a paper that said:

"Kiyomizuyaki is a traditional distinguished handicraft pottery of Japan. It is completely hand-done by the most outstanding artist who works extremely skillful and artistic. It shows their fertilized one thousand years of generation to generation-history and beauty of the dramatic four seasons of Japan. We hope you would love it as one of your treasures with special appreciation." I will love it as a special treasure, Fumi-san. Thank you.

Mari: If Jake Shimabukuro ever got to know you, I am afraid his fiance would be out of luck. He would definitely fall for you! Thanks so much for being there to welcome me the minute I set foot on Japanese soil, and for patiently try to explain your way through my ignorance of the Japanese language. Thanks for your beautiful smile, and bringing your "boyfriend" along, so that I got a chance to hear you play and sing with your sweet voice. I hope that one day I will come back to see you giving a performance. Thanks for laughing at my goofy jokes, and being so kind to me. You are lively and fun, like your Mom. Thanks for the saki (that I never got to try, thanks to the metal detectors), and for making my time in Japan so absolutely wonderful. Thank you for the beautiful scarf, that I wear almost every day. I love it!

(P.S. I looked up to see if it is appropriate to refer to you and Kentaro as "san," or not. It seems like it is okay, but if it is not please forgive me. I mean no offense, and I do have the highest respect for you both. I just think of you "Mari." Must be your Hawaiian roots, lol.)

Kentaro: It was a bright day when Christina Wardell called me up to tell me about my new exchange student (you!). I felt close to you when you were here, and when I saw you ten years later in Japan, it was like I'd just seen you yesterday. Although you said your English was not so good, you talk like a natural! You are a young man, and I know hanging around with your "host Mom" is probably not the coolest thing on your list of ways to have fun. But you made me feel like it was. Thank you for that.

Thank you for picking me up at the airport, where I suddenly realized I was in a country where I didn't know the language, and for taking care of everything. Thanks for taking me to see Dr. Emoto's office, and spending the cold day tramping through the rain and sleet with me. Thanks for showing me Uniqlo, and Evisu, and other cool places you knew I would like, once I opened my mind to them. Thanks for the jokes about the kcals. Thanks for remembering your brother and sis in America, and worrying that Alex would be concerned if I didn't call. Thanks for taking off work to spend time with me. Thank you for your thoughtful parting gifts; the CD's, the Hard Rock Tokyo shirt to add to my collection, the lovely scarf that you and Mari bought me. You know I love you like a son, Kentaro, and you are always welcome here. You are truly the best. Thanks for being so cool.

Tristan: Although we didn't get to spend a lot of time together, I really appreciated your thoughtfulness in worrying that I was sick and sending me medicine, and coming along on the last day to carry my huge suitcase in Kentaro's absence. Thanks for sharing some of your family's illustrious history with me, and your Uncle's book. You were Kentaro's best friend ten years ago and you still are today; it's easy to see why. Thanks for giving me the goodbye gifts, for me and my family, just as I was leaving to catch my plane. The kids really loved them! Alex wanted the sumo wrestler, and Alexis wanted both of the ninja guys (although she super liked the "black ninja"). You are smart and kind and I know you will go far in Life. Just don't go too far! I want to see you again. Peace.

I love you all, and I will never forget the incredible time I spent with you in Japan!

Back to Japan

April 8th: At 4:30 a.m., I get up to ensure that everything is ready to go for the limousine bus coming at 6:30 a.m. to take me to the airport. I'm headed back to Japan on an ANA (Asian National Airways) flight, and then tomorrow, back home.

By now it seems that I have become one of those people who drone on endlessly about their trips. I don't care. First of all, I've only gotten 3 comments on my travel posts (i.e., every post for the month of April), and all of them came from Asian porn sites. So there's no one to be offended. Second of all, I'm really writing these posts as a record, for me, of the best trip I've ever taken. Also, there are some people I love in Japan who might be reading this, and I want them to know how I experienced the trip they so beautifully planned for me.

On the flight back, I again watch "It's Complicated." It's funny, it's in my age group, and I love Meryl Streep's character. Also, I want to check out the clothes she's wearing so that I can emulate some of the styles. (A bit more laid back than my own.)

When I get off the flight, I spend 45 minutes in the immigration line with my backpack suitcase which is filled to the brim with my clothes, souvenirs, and a "ton" of jade stuff. I'm guessing it weighed 50 pounds, and it was a long wait in line due to the number of people entering the country. This was my first, and last, experience with a backpack. I immediately gave it to my son, Alex, when I got home. My kids grew up with backpacks. They're used to it.

Once I finally emerge from customs and immigration, I survey the crowd, looking for Kentaro. Unfortunately, there is a misunderstanding on my part. I forgot that Kentaro gave me the information about my last hotel, and told me he had to work today and couldn't be at the airport. So I get a chance to discover just how challenging it is to navigate in Japan on my own, without my friends' thoughtful assistance. After repeated requests for help one of the ANA staff members comes and shows me how to use the pay phone (the instructions are all in Japanese, and I don't have the right coins), then lets me use the company phone to call Fumi-san and find out the name of my hotel: Tokyo Bay Hotel Tokyu.

When Kentaro and Mari picked me up on March 28th, he told me that he had booked my last hotel near the Narita Airport, and also that it was near Disney Tokyo. When I tried to find a cab or bus to get to the hotel, a man in a suit with a luggage carrier asked if I needed a cab. I said yes, and he told me the cost to my hotel would be US$170. It seemed a lot for a hotel close by, but by that time I was stressed out and tired from lugging the backpack, so I let him escort me to the ATM, where I took out 20,000 yen. He then took my luggage out to his van and gestured for me to step inside.

We drove for a long time, about an hour. I was just wondering if I'd made a mistake, hopping into an unmarked van with a stranger, when we pulled up to the Tokyo Bay Hotel Tokyu in the Chiba prefecture. Given the distance, I understood why the trip cost so much. Although there were plenty of hotels right next to the airport, Kentaro later told me he felt they weren't good enough, and he didn't want my last night to be in a bad hotel. How thoughtful is that?

The hotel he picked was indeed beautiful. Inside, it looked like a fairyland, with a large structure in the middle resembling a carousel and ponds with stepping stones and other magical edifices inside, all in the Disney theme. I didn't have a camera and have searched on Google unsuccessfully to find pictures of the massive lobby. All I could find is the picture above.

Kentaro soon called my room shortly after I arrived, apologized for the misunderstanding at the airport (which was all my fault), and asked if I felt like having any company tonight. He works in nearby Roppongi. Wikipedia says Roppongi is a district of Minato, Tokyo, famous as home to the rich Roopongi Hills area area and an active night club scene. I remember one of my tour guides mentioning that it costs one million yen per month to rent a home in Roppongi.

Anyway, I told Ken sure I would be happy to see him. He was going to stop in after work at about 7:30 -8:00 p.m. My plane had landed at 3 p.m., and I got to the hotel around 6. I was beat. I had a meal in one of the hotel restaurants, took a quick bath, and was about to grab a nap when I got another call. Ken was there. It's worth missing a nap to see Ken, so I quickly got dressed and met him at the door.

I really appreciated Kentaro coming to see me after working all day. Ken is a salaried employee, which means that he is paid as if working from 9 to 6, regardless of how long he works. If his boss gives him an assignment at 5:30, he works until it's finished, even if that is 9 p.m. There really seems to be an incredible work ethic in Japan.

Ken told me there was a sky lounge in the hotel, and I asked Ken if he wanted to go up there for some champagne. We did, and shared a few splits of Moet while enjoying the view of Disney Tokyo and watching the buses with mouse-shaped windows drive by. At one point, there was an incredible fireworks display, and we had a perfect seat, right by the window.

Although there was a large stage in the Juan sky lounge, the place was empty when we were there. Every picture I've found on Google only shows people on the stage and not, as I had hoped, the lounge itself. We share three splits in total, and then our server came and gave us two gold plastic balls with "Moet" on them. They opened to reveal a little charm that said "Moet" and hooked on your glass. Although, as Ken remarked, the "jewel" on the charm was the "same quality as you could get at Claire's," (the American discount jewelry place for teens), still it was a nice little souvenir of my last evening in Japan.

Kentaro had to work the next day, so I wouldn't get to see him. Before he left, he gave me many gifts from him, Mari, and Fumi-san. Some I opened while he was there, and one of them was a beautiful scarf that he and Mari bought for me. I love it, and have worn it almost every day since coming home.

April 9th: I have my last breakfast in Japan, reading The Japan Times. Soon, Fumi-san, Mari, and Kentaro's friend Tristan come to travel with me to the airport. Again, as is always the case when my friends are around, I cannot so much as pick up a tiny bag. They insist on doing it for me (once the porter has released them to us). It's interesting that, at the Tokyo Bay Hotel Tokyu the porters are all girls, and small ones at that. I can tell you, the young lady who came to retrieve my luggage from the room and take it to the transport bus had her hands full, trying to get that massive blue suitcase on cart! After that, Tristan was the lucky one who got to carry it.

At the airport, we check in and get rid of the heaviest bag. The backpack was tucked safely inside it, awaiting its new owner. Fumi-san, clearly an expert at arranging enjoyable gatherings, surveys the restaurant options and explains the descriptions to me. There are pictures, but all the words are Japanese. We select a beautiful restaurant in the traditional Japanese style (yes! even at the airport), and enjoy a glass of tea while we await our food. As it happens, Fumi-san selected a fresh vegetables salad and delicious sesame soup. After trying it, I add a bowl of soup to my own meal.

Kentaro was texting Mari to ask what we were talking about, etc. Mari gave me two "juice boxes" of a brand of saki she said was very good, and Tristan gave me 3 keychains for myself and my kids. (Which they loved!)

We were all laughing and having a great time at lunch. Suddenly, we looked up and it was time to go! Kentaro called Mari and she put me on the phone just as I was gathering my things up. As soon as I heard Kentaro's voice, it dawned on me that I was leaving these wonderful people and I got choked up with emotion and started crying!

Then, I had to go as the boarding was very soon. Tristan, whose family lives in the Phillipines and calls Narita Airport his "second home," advised me that my gate was very near the metal detectors I was passing through. So I shouldn't have any trouble getting there in time.

At the metal detectors, my two juice boxes of saki and a tube of self-tanning lotion was disallowed, and so I had to leave them behind. This took awhile, to get everything else crammed in my bag, and now time was really running out. Finally, I was released and began hurrying down the hallway, looking for my gate.

I heard a lot of knocking on the glass wall above me, and finally looked up to see Fumi-san, Mari, and Tristan furiously waving at me. I furiously waved back, tried to tell Mari they'd taken my saki, then blew them a kiss and ran to my gate, just in time.

Then I found my aisle seat on the plane and made myself comfortable for the smooth and uneventful 13 hour flight home.