Arrival in Japan

Finally we descend into Tokyo. After a 14 hour flight it ironically seems to end too fast. Passengers race walk down the corridors, as briskly as they can without seeming rude, to get to Immigration and Customs ahead of as many people as possible Looking for the right Immigration line, I didn't notice a double-decker wheeled piece of luggage arc in front of me; I instinctively called out “God!” as I fell; the Japanese man pulling it made a conciliatory gesture --- I made a note to be more aware, even if slower.
Despite all the airports I have arrived at alone, I could not stifle a longing to be met, a scanning of people waiting. but then I was off to Information, Money Exchange and the Keisei train to Narita station, grateful my luggage is not any heavier as I sweated up stairs and escalators and over overpasses. Hesitating, then I go to the ticket booth to find which is the east exit; up over the overpass where there are big planters of colorful flowers. Narita's Comfort Inn is a very ordinary Western-style hotel, ours a small twin room but it's the Hilton compared to wandering the narrow streets looking for the ryokans that didn't return my inquiry or .... over an hour being hot and sweaty on a train into Tokyo.
After a very welcome shower, shedding sweaty clothes, and sorting my belongings, I ventured out walking the outdoor mezzanine back to the station, out the other side to a busy urban environment – yet one so human-sized that it seems minature to someone accustomed to the oversize selling-boxes of North American big box stores. The one lane street has about 2 feet wide pedestrian lanes marked on each side, lanes shared with bikes and parked cars. Small shops sell an array of beautifully presented edibles, sweets to take as hospitality gifts, fabrics for kimonos, simple and elegant salons, gaudy souvenirs, I noticed tall stylish young women with slender, pant-clad legs and leather boots. It's a town living its Japanese life in which I floated down the curved street to its temple.
Especially after the compact shops, the huge complex of enormous Buddhist temple buildings blew me away. Steeply climbing up the rocky hillside, were the imposing gate, array of temple buildings, multi-storied pagoda, hanging red lanterns, fierce guardian deities which all spoke to me as powerfully as the soaring cathedrals of Europe. The falling rain and dimming evening added a sombre dignity. I saw no foreigners, no cameras, but young couples together and older people bringing plastic bags to make offerings to the statues of Boddhisatvas at the smaller temples. Two lighted pavilions that looked like food shops, turned out to be places to buy inscribed papers and wood. I felt myself in the presence of the Divine and gave thanks for being here.
At the upper reaches of the temple, where it extends into the greeness of garden and park, I suddenly felt the nausea of too long without sleep. Descending slowly, I stopped under the eaves as rain fell and as the gong began a solemn conversation with the deep temple bell. I glimpsed, peering between temple buildings, the man on a distant temple balcony, striking the large gong. Walking back, I saw hanging red lanterns, Some older women, with the bent over backs from inadequate nutrition during childhood, were working with husbands to close up the shops. Passing a small supermarket, I strolled in, past shelves of unrecognizable packaged foodstuffs, but also fruit including persimmons, that I recall first encountering here in Japan in the 1970s. I hadn't expected to buy anything, but stryfoam cups of soup noodles caught my eye and I left with them and a Kirin beer so Mary and I would not have to go out again in the rain.
Back at our small white nest of a room, when I heard the expected knock at the door and opened it to the wide smile and rain-soaked hair of my sister Mary, I felt the joyous miracle – each of us had come from different places, traveled separately half way round the world and found each other at the appointed time in this 4th storey niche.

Mary in Halloween gloves, eating ramen from styrofoam cup, Oct 31

Flopped on armchair and bed, we poured each other the beer, in Japanese custom of serving each other, and shared high and low points of our flights. I had boiled water in the electric heater so we ate the soup noodles using disposable chopsticks that the shop girl had thoughfully offered. I brought out the cheese, crackers, pecans and dried cranberries that were my emergency rations for the plane, since I didn't expect the two dinners and a snack. Eventually so tired that I would lose the thread of a conversation, I fell asleep almost as soon as we decided it was legitimately bedtime (by Japanese time) and turned out the light.

Narita, Japan