by Ioana Lee
The Pacific had a different sound and feel to it than our Black Sea. I’m glad I was able to get on an empty beach to look at it for five minutes… Its sound was much deeper and overwhelming than that of the Black Sea. I also felt its depth. I carried the picture that mom took of me, running on the beach towards the ocean, to the book fares that I’ve attended.
I also remember the way young Japanese men showed their admiration towards us whenever we went out… It was so funny seeing how the Japanese wanted to clearly demarcate the jokes from the more serious moments, especially when they were drinking sake. They seemed to be shy at a national level.
I was also surprised at how preoccupied they were with their health and how they were always looking for the foods with the highest sources of nutrients. That’s probably where the idea of pastries with gold foil came from, which by the way scraped my teeth. I remember how everyone looked ten years younger than their real age and that the children looked adorable. My facial complexion, tortured by the pollution and chaotic diet in Romania, was impeccable there. Too bad that it didn’t last after returning back home.
I also remember how strange looking those fashion girls were… And how they wanted to be exotic by coloring their hair silver and wearing phosphorescent lipstick and mini skirts. Their awry legs, dark foundation and very high heels made them look like elves, or the trolls in the Nordic stories, or even Martians. They completely lacked femininity and often times I even thought of asking them where they had parked their UFOs.
Oh, I have so many other stories and memories… I get goose bumps every time I think of the feeling that I had at Ken’s grandfather ceremonial service. While we were standing there with our eyes closed, I felt an energy go through me, coming from behind and traveling to the front of the room where his portrait was. It’s true. Believe me! I’m not joking!
I also remember that every old tree, lake or cliff had a legend behind it and that often times it had to do with something sacred. I thought it was strange when I found out that the lake in Tokyo was 333 meters deep. Its depth was the exact same as the height of the Tokyo Tower, which can’t be a coincidence. Since I was in Japan, where most people are Buddhists or Shinto, I figured that there must also be a legend about a dragon living on the bottom of the lake… Ken asked me how in the world I knew about that since that was my first time visiting Japan. How funny!
I have really funny memories with the Japanese language and how I started to understand some words and idioms, especially the ones ending in –desuka. I added a Romanian spin to them. I didn’t like any television shows, yet I enjoyed the Japanese cuisine a lot. There were a few exceptions though: the raw horsemeat and the fermented soya beans that had gelatin around them and smelled as bad as they looked. They actually smelled like diarrhea. Remember how dad tried them one morning because he had been told that they were actually very healthy? Remember how he used chopsticks to eat a few and how they were disgustingly dangling?
I can’t forget the expression on his face when he tasted them.
Oh, and how much we all ate. We had seven to eight meals per day, just because we wanted to try things out, not because we were really hungry. The food was light and very healthy. I consider myself lucky for only gaining five pounds during my stay there. I also enjoyed the rain in Japan. It felt like a warm summer shower. I received so many compliments in Japan. I wanted to preserve them all in a jar, to be able to pull some of them out whenever I needed strength to fight against all the disrespect that I’ve lived in Romania.
To this day I laugh when I remember how badly we were all sweating in Sendai because the air conditioner in the house was set on hot instead of cold. We blamed it on the weather, the construction going on around the house or the global warming. How naïve! I was so impressed by how generous, hospitable and good those people were. In order to surprise us, they were giving us presents, asking us to open them in front of them so that they could see the surprise on our faces. I know that I will never see that much generosity ever in my entire life. May God give them a life as wonderful as their hearts. I regret the fact that I wasn’t able to communicate with those extraordinary people in their own language. I regret that I’ll never have the chance to show them my full appreciation and admiration.
I remember how surprised I was when I learned about their approach regarding importing and exporting. The highest quality products were kept for internal consumption, while the extra inventory was exported. That was a totally different approach than the one we had in communist Romania, where the best products were exported and the lowest quality ones were kept for public consumption.
When I feel like laughing a lot I think of how dumb we were with Japanese technology. I also think of that toilet that looked similar to a spaceman’s cabin. The first time I used it
it splashed water on my face. Oh, how embarrassing! I was astonished at the technological progress that the Japanese have made compared to most every other country in the world.
How can I forget my chronic insomnia that adapted itself to the hour change? I had such a hard time because of it. For some reason I must have needed to feel Japan’s vibe at night. Those sleepless nights gave me plenty of time to reflect on some aspects of my life and clean up my thoughts. Had I been able I would have cleaned up your useless thoughts as well, considering that I had all that free time on my hands. I got to see some surprising things that I could never see during the day: Ken’s somnambulistic moments, Kiku’s snivels, your mysterious words in Japanese while you were asleep, which showed me just how Japanese you had become, even at a subconscious level.
Or how could I forget that time when Ken found the cicada that surfaced after six years of being asleep underground. Its only purpose for the trip was to mate. Ken took it into the house and put it on a drape to admire its beauty. I joked suggesting to Ken that since the cicada was six years old, we should send it to school. He didn’t think it was very funny. Unfortunately the cicada rolled onto the rug and accidentally got squashed by Ken’s foot. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. Ken however burst into tears because of it. He was indeed much more sensitive than a man should have been.
Ken’s nieces were so smart and adorable. I remember them always creating something nice, drawing or painting. The oldest one wrote something undecipherable on a piece of paper and then gave it to her uncle to read it back at her. She was delighted listening to the story that he had invented. He pretended to “translate” what she had scrabbled on that paper. The uncle made the story a little bit too long and she stopped him to double check if that was exactly what she had written. That’s how smart she was.
I had so much sympathy for that young man in Tokyo who bought himself a can of juice for 150 yen and then told us “it’s very expensive.” That was the cheapest drink found at a vending machine.
I remember to this day the strange feeling I had during earthquakes and the assurance that nothing bad could happen to me. For some reason I felt like I couldn’t die there in Japan because the earthquakes were for the Japanese, not for tourists like me. Of course there was no certainty yet I always found comfort in my naive thoughts.
And you. You amused me the most, especially when you told us not to bring any toiletries with us and then you started asking us for things that you couldn’t find in your own house. It was funny how you came to use our Romanian products.
I could go on and on with my memories and stories from Japan but I got tired. You must have realized by now that I remember all those moments as well as the wonderful people that I had the chance to meet. We’ll talk some other time face to face about this. In conclusion you must know that I am extremely happy that I had the chance to visit Japan. You should also know that… I could have never lived there.”
Sick… Again!
After my parents left for Romania and after all of our exciting days spent together, in both Tokyo and Sendai, my house felt solitary and my city seemed deserted. I went through my days filled with sadness and melancholy. I
couldn’t think nor smile much and the only image that came to mind was of two old people sitting on top of a hill watching the sun set. It felt like it was the end of something.
I was never hungry and the only time I’d touch food was when it was Romanian. I missed my parents tremendously and couldn’t forget the moments when everyone was cooking together. It was the only time when my kitchen came alive. I never knew before that my kitchen could be that much fun. After they left Ken took their place, making tasty and delicious food whenever we didn’t feel like going out. He was an excellent cook. One time, when he wasn’t at home and couldn’t cook for us, I felt the need to eat something special and different. So I asked my mom to send me a Romanian food recipe, but much more explicit than the recipes that could be found in a cookbook. I never knew how to interpret them, as I never understood what “sprinkle salt over the dish,” “add (ingredient) based on taste” or “leave the dish in the oven until it’s ready to turn” meant.
My dear mom sent me the following letter:
“Ioana Darling,
Dad and I hope that these instructions will help you.
Buy the following ingredients: onions, carrots, potatoes, string beans, parsley… or better yet, ask Ken to help you in case you don’t know how they look. The dill and parsley are those “herbs” you never wanted to taste and were always putting off to the side of your plate. Maybe you’ll change your mind now and be willing to give them a try, and discover how good they are. You must know that they also have a lot of nutritional benefits.
After you had bought these ingredients you go into the kitchen. If you are at the apartment in Tokyo, the kitchen is that room on your left hand side after you enter the apartment. If you’re at the house in Sendai, the kitchen is on the first floor, right next to the living room. In the kitchen cabinets you’ll find utensils and tools like pots, forks, knives, etc. A pot looks like this (she attached a drawing along with the letter). Once you identify the pot, start putting the following ingredients into it…”
My parents’ letter showed me that they set their hearts at ease a long time ago and accepted the obvious fact that I’d never know how to cook.
It snows
and no one is
on the road;
I’m getting lost in sadness
on this road with no clues.
Oshikochi Mitsune
I got a sore throat again. I tried to treat myself with the Japanese herbs and teas I had in the house. Despite trying all those things I continued to feel really bad. I also had a severe cough that wouldn’t go away. I went to see my favorite doctor in Tokyo.
“You have bronchitis,” he told me in a very upset tone. “Why did you come to see me so late?”
He prescribed a bunch of antibiotics and sent me home. He then monitored my sickness over the phone. I went to see him again in a few days. I was coughing really badly and had a nasal hemorrhage. I also had a very high fever. I felt nauseous from all the antibiotics. It was a beautiful evening in Tokyo, yet I was feeling worse and worse. For a drop of comfort I told myself that that was the worst of my sickness and that slowly but surely I’d start to feel better. Whenever I have a high fever I’m very agitated and nervous. Ken was really worried about me. I kept telling him to calm down because that was how I usually felt and acted when I was sick.
Once arrived at the doctor’s clinic I lied down and thought of how good it would feel to be taken care of by my parents and Romanian doctors and nurses… The room was very noisy.
“Ioana-san… Ioana-san!!!” I heard a loud voice say.
Who is this person yelling at me and why is she doing it… I wondered.
“Mono wo miemasu ka? Kikoemasu ka?[xxxii]
Yes, I heard and saw them. I was aware that I was lying on a hospital bed in a clinic. Ken, Mrs. O and the doctor were sitting next to me. The look on their face was solicitous.
I didn’t understand what was happening to me. The next moment I was gone. I remember waking up in an ambulance. Its sirens were really loud. They were driving me to the emergency room. Why was everyone around me so agitated? I got scared. I could hardly breathe. It felt like someone had put weights on my chest. I was perfectly aware of what was happening around me. I moved my arms and legs to make sure I still felt everything that God brought me into this world with. There were too many Japanese around me, the ambulance driver was speeding and the sirens were getting louder and louder. I was wondering if there was another person in the ambulance that was close to dying. I was continuously asked if I could hear and see what my name was. “Who are you?” a nurse kept asking me.
I could see and hear. I even remembered what my name was. As far as answering the nurse’s question who are you? I was still trying to discover the answer. Even though I couldn’t speak and answered by nodding my head, my mind was perfectly clear. My heart was beating too fast and I was constantly trying to catch my breath. My temples were throbbing. All I wanted to do was to go home.
I wondered if I was close to dying and if so, why? I was just 26 years old. I wanted to avoid dying, especially in Japan. I even explained the reason to my Japanese family: “First of all I never plan on dying, but if foolishly I fall into the category of people who die, then I want to do it in Romania.”
After numerous conversations on death they insisted that I HAD to die in Japan because they had to cremate my body. They added that they’d build a monument for me next to the other members of the family. They went to the extreme of even showing me the exact place where my name would be written in stone. How comforting! It was terrifying for me! You must know that the Japanese talk about death as easily as they talk about their lunch. Their light attitude towards death must come from the fact that they believe in reincarnation. I, on the other hand, believed that I only had one precious life that God has given me and that I had to live it to the fullest.
We arrived at the hospital at last. Huge craziness! I saw many people dressed in white hospital robes. They took me to the emergency room, which was filled with many other patients. I caught a glimpse of Ken and Mrs. O. I felt much better knowing that they were there watching over what the doctors were doing to me. I sadly realized that because of my condition I had to spend several days at the hospital. I still couldn’t talk. I hated the idea. It was evening already and Ken wasn’t allowed to stay with me over night. I didn’t know what was going to happen with my health yet I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t going to spend the night by myself, surrounded by people that I had never seen in my life.
A young doctor came to take care of me. He took my blood pressure and monitored my heartbeat. He then told a middle-aged nurse to administer me intravenous treatments on both arms. She came close to me and pricked the needle into my arms several times. She couldn’t find my veins. How ironic! I fall into that category of people who can’t hide their veins, not even if they wanted to. I was very thin and could see them with a clear eye. I leaned towards her and showed her the vein that she should prick. I even offered to put the needle into the vein by myself if that meant that my fever would go down faster. She continued to do it with no success.
I was revolted by her incompetency. I stood up and looked her in the eye. All of a sudden I hated everyone around me. No one was actually helping me to feel better and no one was telling me what in the world was happening to me. I was also upset with Ken, who instead of taking charge and asking for a new, competent nurse was speechless and scared. I got out of bed and yelled at him: “Take me home now! I shouldn’t be here. They are all incompetent. They should be ashamed of how they treat their patients. I’m leaving this place… NOW!”
I couldn’t breathe. I lost my hearing and my sight. I was angry and disgusted. I became hysterical and all I wanted to do was leave. No one was doing anything to make me feel better. They were just fighting with me to get me to lie back down on the bed. Sure enough they put me down; forcefully kept my legs and arms pinned to the bed and put a plastic bag on my nose and mouth. I had no air. I tried to
fight them back to gasp a breath of air but their strong hands wouldn’t let me. It was the first time when I felt like I was seconds away from dying. I was thinking… who were these people trying to suffocate me right there in a hospital. Why? I left this world waiting to wake up in heaven. I had already been in hell.
“Breathe!” I heard Mrs. O’s mellow voice tell me.
“1, 2, 3… breathe when you hear them counting! Do you hear me?! Breathe!!!”
“Hyperventilation syndrome,” said someone around me.
I tried to breathe according to their counting even though I had the plastic bag covering my nose and mouth. I was coming back to life. The young doctor was forcefully pressing the plastic bag on my face, leaving me with slight bruises. He finally eased off. I was relieved when I saw him taking the plastic bag off my face. That was the moment when I finally understood what people were referring to when they said “Asian cruelty.” It was my biggest shock ever and I hoped it would be the last. It was enough to last a lifetime.
I smiled at everyone, pretending to feel much better. I was still breathing heavily. When they all stopped pinning me down and took their hands off of me, I babbled “Thank you.” I couldn’t wait to get out of there to sue them all for the way they were treating me or make a documentary about how bad things were in one of the biggest hospitals in Tokyo. I was very quiet. I was afraid to be treated like I had been just minutes ago. I saw Mrs. O in the room and I waved at her. She came next to me. I begged her, whispering in her ear, to help me get out of the hospital because I didn’t think that I was going to survive overnight. I could hardly pull the words out of my mouth, yet I was calm and decisive. Ken was completely lost, sitting on his chair. He was pale and couldn’t say anything. He wasn’t moving at all. My only salvation was Mrs. O.
