Sawako's visit

Carolyn and I fell in love this week – with Sawako. She’s our two-year old Japanese “granddaughter.” Her mom, Junko, lived with us for a year in 1991-92 in Topsfield as an exchange student, and is very much a part of our family. Our last trip to Japan in 2004 was for her wedding.

This past Sunday evening, Junko, along with her parents, Shunichi and Keiko Nakao, and, of course, little Sawako, came to visit us in Shimoda. They stayed for two nights here in our place with us. It was wonderful to see them all, and to finally meet the adorable Sawako in person. Junko had taught her how to say “grandpa” and “grandma” in English. She’d also given her instructions on giving us kisses when she met us at the train station. It was precious.

The Nakaos are lovely and gracious people. Although we had never met them in person until 2004, we share a bond that is stronger each time we meet. Our visit this time was a little unique in that we were introducing them to a part of Japan they did not really know. It was fun playing host to them in their own country.

Unfortunately, Tomo (Junko’s husband and Sawako’s father) wasn’t able to be with them. He is a busy priest – a Buddhist priest – at a Jodo Shinshu temple in Osaka. Junko’s father told us he felt the reason Junko ever even considered marrying a priest was because of her experience living with us. And it’s amazing how much the lifestyle she describes does indeed sound like our own clergy household, the one big exception being that they live and work alongside Tomo’s father and mother, his father also being a priest. And because it’s passed through families in Japan, the Nakaos wonder if their own granddaughter, Sawako, might also become a priest someday, which is indeed possible for women in the Jodo Shinshu tradition. We had a good laugh when I was cooking one evening and accidentally rang the edge of the metal mixing bowl with a big “gong” sound, and Sawako immediately went into prayer position and started a chant. She’s a very spiritual young girl!

Together, we walked through Shimoda on one of the most perfect cherry blossom days of the season, and we learned a lot from them about the many varieties of cherry blossom – the hanging branch varieties versus the upturned branches, the different colors of pink and white, and the difference, for example, between the yamazakura (“mountain cherry blossoms”) and the hybrids. Yamazakura have little green leaves that come on along with the blossoms, and are seen especially on mountainsides and in the wild, while some trees are bred to have only the blossom before the leaves come on. They each have their own beauty and charm. During the days and weeks leading up to this time of year, the Japanese speak of the state of the cherry blossoms in terms of what percent completely open they are – 50%, 60%, 80%, etc.. We were a good 80-90% in most places during their visit, more in some areas.

One of our more memorable experiences with them was a visit to the very southern tip of the Izu Peninsula, about 15 miles south of where we are living – a place called Irouzaki. We parked the car and walked a stunningly beautiful, steep path, perhaps a half mile or so to one of the more spectacular places I have ever been. The rugged coastline of Japan, and particularly along the Izu Peninsula, is beautiful enough just about anywhere, but this was truly amazing. The pictures barely do it justice, but I have posted some here anyway. At the very end of the walk, out onto a promontory overlooking the Pacific Ocean was a little Shinto shrine, marking it as a place that inspires awe and reverence. It surely does that. Prayers written on wooden plaques or paper are attached to the shrine with people’s wishes for good luck and fortune. Shinto shrines are everywhere in Japan, but I’m not sure I had seen one on a precipice quite so awe-inspiring as this before. It was breathtaking, and worth every step of the rather arduous walk to get there.

Sawako was a cheerful presence throughout our time together. Her little voice, often singing or asking the questions a two-year old always asks (“Haha, nani?” Mommy, what’s that? “Baba, doko?” Where’s grandma?) were a source of constant joy to us all. Five grownups, four of them “grandparents” (two of them gaijin), all doting on one two-year old! It was quite a sight, I’m sure. She will never have to wonder if she is loved.