Part Deux

The funny thing about air travel is that one-way tickets are ludicrously more expensive than round-trip tickets. Actually, it's not so much funny as annoying. I don't know if it's a conspiracy between immigration and United, or if it just ensures a body in a seat on at least two flights.


There are some perks, however.


For instance, when I left Tano last August, I bought a round-trip ticket. Because escaping rural Japan and staying in your home country can cost you $3,500, or you can come back and irritate your former coworkers with your unintelligible Japanish for almost fifteen hundred less.


"She may not even use the return ticket," my CIR argued on my behalf.


That's what hooked them. My town bought me a round-trip ticket, several sets of chopsticks, and waved good-bye to me at the Kochi airport, world-renowned for having one terminal with one breakfast shop, and seventeen life-size cardboard Ryoma Sakamoto cut-outs. Patted me on the back and said, "Sayonara sucka-san."


But like a bad one yen coin, I'm turning up again.


I worked holiday at a coffee shop, fished around for some permanent work, found that most fish, unlike St. Peter's do NOT have gold in their mouths, and decided to take a holiday. I'm heading back to Tano, (country rooooooooooad, carry me hoooooooooome), back to the land of too much yuzu and not enough cheese.


Back to the place where American coffee is instant coffee that's been watered down to a poor imitation of dirty dishwater.


Back to the town that's only on the map because of some rather crooked and usurious tendencies back in the day.


Back to always having in the back of your mind, "Is it going to be today? Or tonight? That huge wave that's going to wipe this place off the face of the earth?"


Back to fish fresh off the neighbor's boat, fruit straight out of the mayor's orchard, rice you plant and harvest with a bunch of ten-year-olds, and wild-boar caught on my boss's property with a snare and an old spear (true story).


I can't wait.