A Day With My Japanese Friend
My impression of Japan and its people was one of deep admiration. I found the Japanese people friendly, helpful, polite and wonderfully organised.
Yokawa accompanied me to Akihabara. We visited temples and walked through a traditional Japanese market.
I was fascinated by everything around me—the sights, the sounds, the people and the unfamiliar culture. Everywhere I looked there was something new to discover.
Naturally, I wanted to take a few souvenirs home with me.
Whenever I found something I liked, I opened my wallet to pay.
But Yokawa would not allow me to do it.
She insisted on paying for my purchases.
At first, I thought perhaps it was simply her custom. But I felt embarrassed that she was spending her money on me, so eventually I stopped buying things
Her generosity touched me deeply.
And she was not finished.
A Feast of Friendship
Yokawa took me to one of the best seafood restaurants for lunch.
She ordered a wonderful variety of seafood that was available that day.
I enjoyed the food tremendously—but the meal meant much more to me than simply eating delicious Japanese seafood.
I was sitting there with a woman whose language I could barely understand, yet somehow I felt the warmth of friendship.
There was no need for long conversations.
Her kindness spoke for her.
Her generosity spoke for her.
Her smile spoke for her.
That day with Yokawa became a beautiful memory that has remained with me for years.
When Language Became Unimportant
That experience taught me a lesson that I have carried with me ever since.
Language is not always necessary for friendship.
Yokawa and I could not have a proper conversation in English or Japanese. Yet we understood one another through gestures, smiles, kindness and generosity.
I realised that friendship does not always begin with words.
Sometimes it begins with a simple gesture
Sometimes it begins with a hand reaching out to help.
Sometimes it begins with someone opening a refrigerator and pointing to a piece of fish!
And sometimes, thousands of miles from home, a stranger quietly becomes a friend.
The Kimono I Still Treasure
In the photograph, you can see Yokawa posing with me during that memorable day.
I am wearing a beautiful kimono that Yokawa gave me as a gift.
Whenever I look at that photograph, I do not simply see myself wearing a Japanese kimono.
I see a memory.
I see the woman who welcomed me despite the language barrier.
I see the Japanese market, the temples, the seafood restaurant and the kindness she showed me throughout that unforgettable day.
Most of all, I remember her generosity.
I often wish that Yokawa could speak English so that she could read this story.
I would want her to know that, although many years have passed, I have never forgotten her.
The Little Japanese I Learned
Here are some of the Japanese words and expressions I can still remember:
Ohayō gozaimasu — Good morning
Oyasumi nasai — Good night
Gomen nasai — I am sorry / Excuse me
Hajimemashite — Pleased to meet you
Dō itashimashite — You're welcome
Shikata ga nai — It cannot be helped
Omedetō gozaimasu — Congratulations
Arigatō — Thank you
Koko — Here
Watashi wa Jariya desu — I am Jariya
Anata no namae wa? — What is your name?
Sayonara — Goodbye
These may be only a handful of words, but to me they represent something much bigger—the beginning of my attempt to reach across a language barrier and connect with another human being.
A Memory That Time Could Not Erase
I have travelled to many places and seen many wonderful things. I have visited famous cities, admired beautiful scenery and experienced different cultures.
But as the years pass, I have discovered that the memories that remain strongest are often not the grandest ones.
Sometimes it is a person.
A smile.
A helping hand.
A meal shared together.
A small gift.
For me, that person was Yokawa.
She taught me, without saying it in English, that kindness has no language and generosity needs no translation.
I went to Japan as a traveller.
I left with memorA Stranger Who Became a Precious Memory — My Journey in Japan
Francis Bacon once said, “Reading maketh a man, and writing perfects him.” I would add my own thought:
“Travelling is fun and recreation; it relaxes the mind, opens the heart, and teaches us lessons that no classroom can teach.”
I have always loved travelling. Over the years, I have trotted across a quarter of the world, collecting memories rather than possessions. I thank God for giving me the courage, strength, means and good health to travel and experience the beauty of different countries and cultures.
Among all my journeys, my first visit to Japan remains especially close to my heart.
My First Days in Tokyo
I stayed with my son in his apartment in Tokyo and spent a whole month exploring Tokyo and the surrounding areas.
At that time, I knew practically no Japanese, and my son's landlady, Yokawa, could not speak English.
How, then, could two people who could not speak each other's language possibly become friends?
That is exactly what happened.
On the second day of my arrival in Tokyo, Yokawa came up to my apartment. She began speaking to me in Japanese. I listened, completely lost, as the unfamiliar words sounded like a beautiful but mysterious melody.
Then she tried gestures.
She said something that sounded to me like “sakuna.”
Again and again she repeated it.
I had absolutely no idea what “sakuna” meant.
Then she took me gently by the hand and led me downstairs to her refrigerator. She opened it and pointed to some fish.
Suddenly, everything became clear.
She was asking me whether I eat fish!
I smiled at the discovery. We had communicated without sharing a common language.
But that little incident taught me something I would never forget: when travelling to another country, even a little knowledge of the local language can open a door to friendship.
“Necessity Is the Mother of Invention”
The very next day, I walked into a nearby bookshop and bought some books and CDs to learn what I called “survival Japanese.”
I whispered to myself:
“Necessity is the mother of invention.”
I began learning a few useful words and expressions. I was determined not to remain a helpless foreigner surrounded by words I could not understand.
Soon, I knew enough to accept Yokawa's invitation to spend a day with her.
I had no idea that this simple invitation would become one of my most unforgettable memories of Japan.
A Day With My Japanese Friend
My impression of Japan and its people was one of deep admiration. I found the Japanese people friendly, helpful, polite and wonderfully organised.
Yokawa accompanied me to Akihabara. We visited temples and walked through a traditional Japanese market.
Her generosity touched me deeply.
And she was not finished.
A Feast of Friendship
Yokawa took me to one of the best seafood restaurants for lunch.
She ordered a wonderful variety of seafood that was available that day.
I enjoyed the food tremendously—but the meal meant much more to me than simply eating delicious Japanese seafood.
I was sitting there with a woman whose language I could barely understand, yet somehow I felt the warmth of friendship.
There was no need for long conversations.
Her kindness spoke for her.
Her generosity spoke for her.
Her smile spoke for her.
That day with Yokawa became a beautiful memory that has remained with me for years.
When Language Became Unimportant
That experience taught me a lesson that I have carried with me ever since.
Language is not always necessary for friendship.
Yokawa and I could not have a proper conversation in English or Japanese. Yet we understood one another through gestures, smiles, kindness and generosity.
I realised that friendship does not always begin with words.
Sometimes it begins with a simple gesture.
Sometimes it begins with a hand reaching out to help.
Sometimes it begins with someone opening a refrigerator and pointing to a piece of fish!
And sometimes, thousands of miles from home, a stranger quietly becomes a friend.
The Kimono I Still Treasure
In the photograph, you can see Yokawa posing with me during that memorable day.
I am wearing a beautiful kimono that Yokawa gave me as a gift.
Whenever I look at that photograph, I do not simply see myself wearing a Japanese kimono.
I see a memory.
I see the woman who welcomed me despite the language barrier.
I see the Japanese market, the temples, the seafood restaurant and the kindness she showed me throughout that unforgettable day.
Most of all, I remember her generosity.
I often wish that Yokawa could speak English so that she could read this story.
I would want her to know that, although many years have passed, I have never forgotten her.
The Little Japanese I Learned
Here are some of the Japanese words and expressions I can still remember:
Ohayō gozaimasu — Good morning
Oyasumi nasai — Good night
Gomen nasai — I am sorry / Excuse me
Hajimemashite — Pleased to meet you
Dō itashimashite — You're welcome
Shikata ga nai — It cannot be helped
Omedetō gozaimasu — Congratulations
Arigatō — Thank you
Koko — Here
Watashi wa Jariya desu — I am Jariya
Anata no namae wa? — What is your name?
Sayonara — Goodbye
These may be only a handful of words, but to me they represent something much bigger—the beginning of my attempt to reach across a language barrier and connect with another human being.
Memory That Time Could Not Erase
I have travelled to many places and seen many wonderful things. I have visited famous cities, admired beautiful scenery and experienced different cultures.
But as the years pass, I have discovered that the memories that remain strongest are often not the grandest ones.
Sometimes it is a person.
A smile.
A helping hand.
A meal shared together.
A small gift.
For me, that person was Yokawa.
She taught me, without saying it in English, that kindness has no language and generosity needs no translation.
I went to Japan as a traveller.
I left with memories of a beautiful country.
And that is why my first journey to Japan will always have a very special place in my heart.ies of a beautiful country.
But somewhere along the way, I also gained a friend.
And that is why my first journey to Japan will always have a very special place in my heart.
I was fascinated by everything around me—the sights, the sounds, the people and the unfamiliar culture. Everywhere I looked there was something new to discover.
Naturally, I wanted to take a few souvenirs home with me.
Whenever I found something I liked, I opened my wallet to pay.
But Yokawa would not allow me to do it.
She insisted on paying for my purchases.t first, I thought perhaps it was simply her custom. But I felt embarrassed that she was spending her money on me, so eventually I stopped buying things.
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