Sunday, June 28, Late Afternoon with Perry

Today is our last day in Nagasaki.

After visiting Sachiko-san, Etsuko-san insisted on a visit to her house. This was my first time in a Japanese home. It was small. It made our house look like a mansion. There was little to no property, aside from the driveway.

We entered and she laid out slippers in front of us. She even had slippers that fit Perry's feet, a "feet" in and of itself if you will. I cannot believe I just typed that.

We sat down in her dining room and she fed us Japanese cherries and a snack that is popular someplace east of Nagasaki.

She talked about the plants covering her windows. It was a soft vine of some sort. She explained that it was a plant that the Japanese use because it absorbed the heat during summer, keeping buildings cooler and thus conserving energy. She said she didn't have an air conditioner in her home, but it was a comfortable temperature inside.

She showed us little shot glass sized bottles of American liquor, explaining the significance of each one. And then began pulling out other very small things that held so much meaning to her. 

She wanted to take us out to dinner so much, but we already made plans to meet Kaho later. I started to catch on that Etsuko-san was attempting to thank us for some reason. I had a nice gift for her as gratitude for taking the time to meet with us for almost an entire day. But I hesitated giving it to her at that point. I didn't want to make her feel obligated to reciprocate even more.

Gift-giving can be really tricky in Japan. A small gift costing a couple dollars at most is expected for those who help. But, give too much of a gift, the obligation to reciprocate could throw two people into a unending gifting trap.

Finally, I decided to give her a small gift instead. It was a small log cabin incense burner that smelled of the trees in northern Minnesota. I'm not a fan, but I thought it would be a good gift for people who don't frequent Minnesota. It has the smell and included the history of settlers in the state. This was one of my tiny gifts I brought for people who helped us. I had several in my suitcase and had to battle the smell off my clothes.

But they were worth the smelly clothes. Etsuko-san loved it. She tore off the tape and sat it on her small buffet. Then she wanted to know how to get more. She even made Fumiko-san use her tablet to look up the website from where we ordered them.

Then, she decided to thank us even though we inconvenienced her. Etsuko-san ran to another room. I started to panic. I messed up. I shouldn't have given her anything. I asked her if I gave too much, but Fumiko-san said that it was fine, that she wanted to do it. I should accept her gifts. She seemed to suggest this is just how Etsuko-san is.

She came back with an antique necklace with a magnifying glass. I felt uncomfortable. Again Fumiko-san waved it off. But Etsuko-san left again only to come back with more.

They were two tiny stuffed bunnies with long ears, wearing a kimono. Etsuko-san explained that the kimono fabric was originally a human one from the Edo period (1603 - 1868). Meaning that the fabric was possibly as old as a Shakespeare play and maybe as new as the US Civil War.

I said that was amazing, but did not make a move to touch them. She pushed them across the table towards Perry and I, "Please take."

There was a melt down in my head at that moment. It was way too much. I couldn't give her another gift because then she'd want to give more, but it would be terribly rude to decline.

I looked at Fumiko-san hoping she would intervene. Without looking up from the tablet, she said, "Such a great gift to remember this day!" Maybe she noticed the sweat running down my face. She finally looked up and added, "She wants you to remember her and her sister."

It was then that I finally got it; I misunderstood the entire afternoon. This would have happened regardless of the incense cabin. It wasn't that she was thankful for that. It was that this day meant  so much to her. I realized that she was happy that I wanted to meet Sachiko-san and present the cranes from my students. In her eyes, I already provided a gift.

I still did not want to accept those bunnies. I didn't deserve that much.

....we ended up leaving with them anyway, mostly because Fumiko-san forced us to.

As we left, I thought about Etsuko-san's house. It was small. But because it was small, it made the things inside her home much more meaningful. The things she kept in her home had to be the most important things in her life.

What things in my house are most important to me? What do I keep as memories of my life? If I only had so much space, what are the most valuable things I would keep to remember my friends and family?