Because Japan is a country of railway network, the airport is
conveniently reached by trains but not by cars.  It is claimed that it
will take you 1/3 of the time traveling by train than by car.  Anyway,
riding a bullet train still takes me over two hours to get to downtown
Tokyo.  For the sake of convenience and efficiency, the Japanese had me
traveled by train, they just didn’t realize that I had too many
luggage.  Worse, they didn’t plan to have my luggage stayed at the
airport.  Maybe, they did so just to try out how tough I was.  Who
knows?
So the journey began…
To get to the train, I had to go downstairs.  Luckily, there was an
elevator.  Pushing the cart into the elevator was all right.  Then, at a
checking point to the train station, no cart was allowed.  I had to
carry the luggage two at a time, and then went back to pick up the
rest.  If that was all, it would be fine with me.  Instead, the train
platform was another story below the checking point.  The only way to
get there was through stairs.  Just look at how many steps the stairs
were, I almost fainted because there was no less than 50.  By the time I
got to the platform, my arms and limbs couldn’t even budge.  Still, I
was not in the spot of where I was supposed to be.  I wondered why I
couldn’t board the train where people were waiting to go to the very
place I would be going, why I had to drag myself another ¼ a mile.  When
the train arrived, about one tenth of the seats was occupied.  I was
kind of mad to be assigned a seat, why not let the commuters sit
wherever they wanted?  Until later did I find out.  After a couple of
stops, all seats were occupied.  Wow! The Japanese were so efficient
that everything was controlled by the computer, namely the seating.  The
Japanese seating close by were kind of curious to see my Khene laying
next to me.  Maybe, the were too polite or maybe they didn’t speak
English, they just gazed at my Khene.  I, myself, was so absorbed with
the Japanese scenery: the villages, the fields, the mountains, the
rivers and the city.  Yes, they looked different with clean streets,
people waiting in line to cross the street  even there was not traffic
in sight (they were waiting for the light to turn green).
By the time, I got to the arrival station, I was stunned that time was
flying so fast.  Again at this station, there was no elevator to go
upstairs, it was really a pain to carry stuffs up with so many people
hurriedly walking up and down the stairs.  As usual, I had to carry two
luggage at a time but this time I was worried my other left luggage
which were out of sight because of the crowd.  What would happen if I
came back and didn’t see my luggage? What could I do?  To my relief, all
were fine except one thing, my Khene.  It wasn’t there and I wasn’t sure
whether I left it in the train or at the platform.  At times, I thought
what the heck of it.  Without the Khene, I could manage to go anywhere
without going back and forth.  I could carry both luggage in both hands
with hanging my camera bag onto my shoulder.  Still, the thought of
going home without a Khene troubled me. I remembered reading about
Japanese people that they were honest people and that nobody took what
was not his or hers.  With that in mind, I mentioned this to the person
who came to pick me up at the train station that I might leave my Khene
in the train.  She said that she would contact the train company and see
if they could find it.  As advertised, my Khene was returned to me the
following morning.  What a luck!  So my Khene became my shadow while
dropping by a number of places in Tokyo: first, to the apartment, then
to the hotel and to the Lao restaurant called “LanXang” where they
served Lao beer, Tam Mak Houng, Larb and sticky rice, and finally to the
coffee shop where I met Ai Outhin Bounyavong, a premiere writer of short
stories.  I learned from his wife, Euay DouangDeuane, while visiting
Laos that he had taken a teaching job on the Lao language at Tokyo
University.  As I would drop by Tokyo for a couple of days, I thought I
might be able to see him so I asked for his phone number.  Luckily, he
was free the very last day I was about to leave for the U.S. We met at
the coffee shop.  By that time, I had only a Khene and my camera bag
with me for they already arranged to have my luggage sent to the
airport.  There was one interesting thing to mention about Ai Outhin.
When I first called him, he was not at home.  It was the answering
machine that received my call.  The greeting said;” Sabaydii, Ni Man
Bane Khong Outhin Bounyavong….” Yes, it was in Lao followed by either
Japanese or English greeting I didn’t remember.  Wow! What a way to
present your Laoness to the Japanese and the outside world.  It was the
first time I heard a greeting in Lao from any answering machine outside
Laos.  It was so sweet and so telling of Ai Outhin as a Lao patriot.
Telling the truth, it was only the 2nd time I met him.  The first was
about 17 years ago.  I still remembered his way of beginning a short
story by making the first sentence concise and straight to the point. It
went like: “She sat there motionless.”

(to be continued)

Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie