Mountains

Leaving for Japan for two years! The plane was delayed taking off from Dulles because they didn't have a captain. He was being flown into National for some reason and then he was on his way by limo. One hour late. Informed us that he hadn't overslept. I bought a first class upgrade for not really cheap. I had decided to carry my mini and new 20" screen in my luggage. Guess what? Luggage overweight ten pounds. I pulled out books and three pint bottles of shampoo etc. and stuffed illegally into my carry-on. Made my connection in O'Hare only to sit on the plane for 1.5 hours sans air conditioning till all ordered to get off. New plane. At gate one mile away. Got there. Gate changed again. Plane leaves in 2.5 hours. Finally! My seat the last (42H) row in back of plane. Spent most of the time in the galley shooting the breeze with German-origin steward and twentysomething American kid businessmann from Tokyo. German from Stuttgart area; I'd been stationed in the Army there. War stories.

The glory of the trip: thousands of miles of mountain ranges, one after another, going on forever, starting in British Columbia, and stretching across southern Alaska, rivers of glaciers flowing between them. Not a speck of civilization. A wonderful, wonderful, wonderful sight.

Upon arrival at Narita, kids, all headed for a year living with a Japanese family: "That one steward (the German)? Boy was he mean!" "He was mean to me too." I had thought him ironic. Sample comment to me (I'm sitting near Germans and Japanese): "Johanys, you're sitting in the Axis section!" I replied, "It's all one world now."

While waiting in O'Hare, talking to a young Japanese woman, returning home after visiting her American boyfriend in Ohio. From Osaka. Later I said o-SA-ka. She looked at me without understanding. I said it again twice. Same look. Then dawn of understanding. Ah, she said, OH-sa-ka. Accent on first syllable. Much more beautiful.