またね
CoCo
“So…” I mumbled, mouthful of rice and curry.
“What do you miss most about Japan?”
“Hmm,” he thought. I kept spooning for more curry as he pondered.
“Toro.”
“You miss eating toro?” I replied, my mind wandering off about food. I had just finished watching a video earlier that week about the Tuna King at Tsukiji Market, so the mention of tuna got me excited.
He laughed a bit, taking his fork and gently piercing the crispy pork katsu. He dipped it into the curry roux and bit off a piece. He took a short pause — it looked like he was back home in Tokyo again with time at a standstill.
Nothing but himself and the katsu mattered in that instance.
The air in the room was dense with the aroma of spices and the muffled sounds of chatter surrounded us. It was a little past 9 p.m. on a Sunday, and we’d just finished touring around San Pedro.
“No, Toro is my dog!” he said, laughing with me as we continued with our plates and conversed about Japan and his finite stay in California.
I kept thinking about this feeling of temporary, that someday he’d be on the other side of the world and I wouldn’t see him again. I snapped out of that train of thought and kept enjoying CoCo-Ichi.
Hajimemashite
If you told me in May that I’d end up taking a Japanese course again, I wouldn’t be surprised. I endured seven years of learning and relearning kanji and grammatical structures in middle school and high school, but the passion was lost by the time I reached my senior year of high school. But it’s how I ended up taking the course again that led me to meet Soichiro (壮一郎).
Over the summer, I had a few friends that traveled to Japan, and it got me thinking — ‘Didn’t I want to visit Japan a while ago?’ What happened to that?
Granted, my close friend that traveled to Japan this summer also lost his passion to learn Japanese. We’d taken the same courses together, but we rationalized it was too difficult to continue. Well, that’s what we tell people. Really, we just lost interest and couldn’t handle another GPA drop.
I remember walking past my Sensei’s classroom in senior year and she’d just shake her head in disappointment. “Wasted talent,” she’d say. We ended up skipping her advanced Japanese course and enrolled in a much easier Japanese course, which happened to be so painfully simple that we eventually lost our skills by losing practice of the advanced structures that we learned.
Those words echoed back to me as I was terribly sewing classes together for my Fall semester quilt. I came up with a few designs for my final quilt, but I was always dissatisfied with how patchy it was.
Then, I signed up for the Japanese 100 course, dropped a class, and closed my laptop. Suddenly my quilt became uniform and consistent.
I wasn’t quite confident in my Japanese anymore, so I figured I could start from the beginning again.
‘Fuck it,’ I thought. ‘I’m not going to learn Japanese in my free time, so this is my only chance.’
I pried my eyes open at 6 a.m. on the first day of school to get ready for the 8 a.m. Japanese class. It’s a bit masochistic to take an 8 a.m. language course, but it worked out.
A nice, friendly elderly woman greeted the classroom: ‘Ohayougozaimasu!’ (おはようございます — Good morning!)
She read the roster in Japanese pronunciations to teach the students how their names would be pronounced. Then, she gave a lesson of how to greet someone: Hajimemashite (はじめまして — Nice to meet you!)
I was in hell again. I thought I could get away with taking the beginner course and landing an easy A, but I wasn’t ready to experience the torture of relearning the alphabet and pretending that I didn’t know anything about Japanese.
I walked to the Japanese offices after that class, took the placement test, and landed in the next level — not bad for someone who hasn’t practiced in 3 years! I was still hesitant to take the next level, so I was told to walk to another office to meet my new Sensei and have them dispel my worries.
Someone walks straight into the office as I’m waiting outside. He looked at me before entering the office, wondering why I was just there. After a few minutes I took it as a hint that I can waltz inside, so I did.
I greeted my new Sensei in Japanese and told her that I wasn’t sure if I should take her course because it’s been a few years. Then she spoke to me in Japanese and asked if I understood her. I nodded. Then she pulled out the textbook and asked me if I’ve studied the topics before. I nodded.
“Well, it looks like you’ll do fine. And if you need help, he will help you!” She was referring to the person that walked into the office before me. “You can help him practice his English, and he can help you practice your Japanese!”
The next day, I showed up to her class and he was there. I walked over to him and said, “Do you remember me?”
He smiled and nodded. “Hajimemashite. My name is Soichiro.”
Tomodachi
Over the next few weeks, he would be our T.A. for Japanese 102. The class met Monday through Thursday, but he would show up sporadically on Tuesdays and Thursdays — though not all the time.
We had a broken rhythm of hanging out after Japanese class on Tuesdays and Thursdays for about an hour before our next classes. I had him meet my friends, who then tried to show him what a meme was. We spent most of this time trying to study in the library, but the hours went by as we exchanged stories about our lives.
One day, I got a message from him while procrastinating my Japanese homework:
‘Thai-san! I want to hang out with you tomorrow.’ ‘Got it. I’ll show you San Pedro tomorrow.’
In the car, we talked about random Japanese topics — my interest in Murakami, Japanese clothing brands, and a few Japanese artists that I listen to, like Tatsuro Yamashita.
“Sometimes, I think you are more Japanese than me,” he said.
We roamed around the wealthy expanses of Palos Verdes, and I showed him the coastline along San Pedro. We drove with the windows down and moon-roof open as I played Anri’s Timely album. I drove a bit slowly to let him take in the small, blue waves crashing softly onto the shore. He joined a Sailing club on campus, so I felt that he had a stronger connection to the sea than I did. It was his favorite thing about California so far.
When I took him to the Korean Friendship Bell, he was able to read parts of the signs! He studied a bit of Korean and was enrolled in a class here. That day was full of life — kites were cutting through the air and couples were picnicking along the hillside.
Later that day, we walked through a bent metal fence and trespassed into Sunken City.
“I had no idea San Pedro is so beautiful,” he said.
He kept swiping through the gallery on his phone while I drove him around.
“You need to look out the window,” I grinned. “You’re missing out on the sunset.”
City of Stars
I had Soichiro meet my Japanese-American friend, Shokou, on the second day of Japanese class. We hung out a few times to eat ‘sig-bowls’ (short for signature bowls, as we liked to call it) after classes, and I tried to practice my Japanese on a daily basis.
A week before finals and two weeks before Soichiro would fly to Mexico and then back to Tokyo, he told me he wanted to see more of L.A.
We joked about going to the Griffith Observatory because it’s where Mia and Sebastian went to in La La Land, but we actually did end up going there after we roamed Hollywood.
Hollywood didn’t sound too appealing to Shokou and I since it felt a bit too tourist-y and knew it would be crowded. We put our interests aside and found ourselves parking in a structure near the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Interestingly, we ran into a mini art exhibit hosted by Japan House and almost spent the entire 2-hour validation time looking at the displays before I realized we haven’t even gotten to the sidewalks yet.
Soichiro ended up finding a few souvenir gifts for his friends/family in Japan — a few key-chains and an Oscar trophy with “Best Mom” inscribed on the plaque.
I didn’t realize it before, but Griffith Observatory was a marvel at night — I suppose the magical realism of La La Land was still in the air. They set out expensive telescopes pointed at constellations, with the lights of L.A. and the Hollywood sign visible from atop.
“Ah! You’re from Japan?” An employee overheard a conversation we were having. He took out a military-grade laser pointer from his shirt pocket and shot a green streak of light into the night sky. He circled around a cluster of stars.
“A Japanese car company is named after this constellation,” he said. “Can you guess which one?”
“Nissan?” asked Soichiro. I almost bursted out laughing, but I held back because he said it so innocently.
“It’s Subaru!” I said, with a half-smile on my face. I swear, if he replied with ‘Toyota’ I would have died. Subaru means ‘unite’ in Japanese, which explains the logo with its six stars.
Shokou laughed quietly under his breath, but I caught him doing it. Soon, the three of us erupted in laughter. “I thought it was Honda!” teased Shokou.
We took a quick lap around the Observatory before going inside. He wanted to watch the Planetarium show, and Shokou and I exchanged glances as our wallets ached.
After the show, we took more photos on the edges of the Observatory.
“Are there any places in Tokyo where you can see a view like this?” I asked.
There were long pauses as we stared out into the distant city lights. We tried looking for the same Hollywood streets that we’d walked on earlier. If you stared long enough, you can see the cars zipping along Sunset Blvd.
If you stared too long, you’d think about the paths you’ve taken in life that led you to where you are now — that every mistake or every instinctual action directed you to that balcony at 11 p.m., talking to a person that will disappear in a few days.
“Perhaps Tokyo Tower,” he said. “But this is different.”
Arigatou
Soichiro posted a few stories on Instagram a while ago of the memories he’s enjoyed in California. On one of the photos, a caption spread across the screen saying,
“Never a goodbye, just a ‘see you later’ :)”
I took that to heart and never really said goodbye to him.
The last time I actually saw him was during finals week, and he was walking towards the library. I had a strong feeling that it would be the last time I’d physically see him, and I was right. But he had to study, so I let him go about his business.
I didn’t expect to have such a surreal experience going into this Fall semester. Hell, I didn’t really intend on taking Japanese at all in college, but it was a thought that always lingered in the back of my mind.
He posted a story at the airport, and I wished him a safe trip. A few minutes later, a notification popped onto my screen saying,
“I’ll wait for you in Tokyo.”
I posted a few stories of photos we took together a little after he boarded the plane. I knew he wouldn’t see them until he landed, so it was a surprise for him.
I woke up to two messages:
“These stories made me cry”
“Thank you Thaiさん”