Postcards Ch. 02

Outside we stood at the taxi stand. Hotakasan offered the first cab to us, but Kikusan declined for us. I found it interesting the he was doing all the talking. That was the subordinate's role. In spite of the difference in rank, Hotakasan deferred to his elder.

When the cab departed, Kiku almost exploded, "I thought they would never leave. Come on."

Sheila:

I understand Christine in many ways, but her exhibitionism eludes me. I was shocked and a bit appalled that we had people listening at the door. That said, I felt proud that Sean's virility was demonstrated. Admiring looks were everywhere, from both sexes. I was happy to give him all the credit. I just wanted the dividend. I was not checking an ovulation tester, but the timing was about right.

That thought, added to my post coital glow, wafted me into a nice nap. When I rejoined the flight, most of first class was asleep. It seemed like a perfect time to examine my new computer and the CAD package Sean gave me.

Design always intrigued me. Certain things were right, while other things were not. In architectural design, I was often distressed with how the functional interacted with the esthetic. The saying is that form follows function, but often the form inhibits the function, or it services only one function. For example, my old apartment wasted about 30 square feet on unneeded hallway. Converting that space to storage would make the apartment much more livable.

That apartment was history, though we might keep it to have a place in town. However, Sean had given me a whole floor in the old house to play with. To learn the controls, I tried recreating Siobhan's room from memory. I was getting close to having the windows right when the lights came up in the cabin. I reached over and nudged Sean.

Landing was a drawn out process. Had I realize how long it would take, I would have let Sean sleep another fifteen minutes. Had I known what was coming, I would have found a way to hide. In succession we were approached by Kiku, which I did not mind, and the two businessmen, which I did. We were quickly sucked into a reenactment of the date in Philadelphia. If anything, the restaurant was a step down, though just as pretentious.

Part of it was easy. I wanted them to do all the talking, so I asked about their families. As expected, the older one, Kenjisan, came from lesser family. Though he was older and more accomplished, he deferred in many ways to Hotakasan. All I had to do was keep my eyes on my food and let Hotakasan's mouth pass the time. It gave me an opportunity to study Kikusan's mannerisms.

Kikusan was about my age, i.e. late 20s. I quickly found her giving me nonverbal cues, much like dealing with Christine. Following her hands, rather than her voice, I found the meal very instructive. I almost lost it when I realized she considered Hotakasan a bigger bore than I did.

The dark spot was when he started talking about going to Hollywood. Sony owns Columbia Pictures. We may not have been eating with Aaron Aldermann's boss, but I would not be surprised if they knew each other. Fortunately, the moment passed quickly. Hotakasan wanted to talk about Sony's next age, not yet released electronics. If he was not such an ass, I might have been interested.

Not soon enough, I declined an offer of warm sake. That was followed by the rituals of departure. In this Kikusan was invaluable. Mirroring her, I bowed to Kenjisan and Hotakasan. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I detected subtle approval in Kenjisan's answering bow. Him, I could do business with. Hotakasan needed to be slapped a few times by reality.

Kikusan summoned cabs and Sean insisted they take the first one. When the cab finally pulled away, Kiku relaxed and invited us along in her cab. Sean asked where she was taking us. It was almost 9:00 PM and we had an 8:20 AM flight. Kiku promised to get us some rest and to the flight on time.

She did not promise to get us to our hotel, because she was taking us home, for some definitions of home. A group of flight attendants leased a large flat close to the night clubs. They had a place to shower, secure storage, quiet beds and a kitchen. Socializing was done elsewhere. We saw the flat long enough to drop our things. In the next building was something very like a campus coffeehouse. Kiku led us into sudden quiet.

The reason was obvious. We were dressed like American tourists. Half the people in the bar were in airline uniforms of some kind. Kiku simply used the silence to introduce us—in Japanese and something else, Philippine maybe, or Korean. Then she said, in English, the merry-go-round wedding. Sean blushed, which was a first.

It appeared no other introduction was needed. Justin had released several still photos and clips of the ceremony, our ride on the carrousel and the dance. Entertainment Tonight had picked it up for the Francine angle. I gathered there were already YouTube videos. Needless to say, we were the hit of the evening.

We stayed three very educational hours. Sean found a dozen people—mostly men, though there was a French woman pilot—to talk business with. I was mobbed by the female population. We talked esthetics, mostly. My wedding dress was a central topic. When I mentioned the corset, talk moved to figure control. Flight attendants have to stay thin.

Somewhere along the way, Kiku asked where I had studied etiquette. Somewhat confused, I told her I only studied dance. This brought several nods. When I asked what they were nodding about, Kiku said that I moved too well to be untrained. Picking up how I had followed her mannerisms, she told me that I had bowed correctly for a person of her station, but not my own.

Fifteen confusing minutes followed, after which I called time. Kiku then showed me four basic bows that would suit most situations. They all said I did remarkably well for an American. I opened the door again by asking when to use each one. It suffices to say that Japanese courtesy is complicated.

The owner of the bar, simply called Mamasan, decided to offer us tea. I recognized this as an honor, but also as a teaching moment. With apologies for the unsuitable setting, our hostess had a young girl, called Murisan, serve us formal tea. Kiku coached me quietly at each step, while Murisan carefully placed the cups, measured the leaves, poured, stirred and served. Each action had several distinct elements, but the point was to do all of them in a single fluid motion.

The entire process took several minutes. Long before it was complete, I noticed that all the talking had stopped. Only Kiku's quiet voice broke the silence. When all was completed, Murisan lowered her hands and her eyes. That had to be my cue. Using one of the four bows Kiku had shown me, I said, "Domo Murisan. Arigato."

Murisan looked up and flashed a toothy grin. Mamasan shooed her off to bed, since it was a school night. After Murisan had gone, Mamasan turned to Kiku and asked her to thank me for her daughter's education. It was not often a great lady would come to call, much less one so gracious and polite.

Great lady?

Sean:

Kiku took us to a flat, where we dropped our bags. Next door was Teahouse/Sake Bar that also served Starbucks. Francine would love it. To that end I stuffed a menu in my pocket. In short order Sheila was dragged off for girl talk. I was not left alone. News of Sheila's commode top performance had spread, though I was getting the credit. Knowing I was not that good made it very easy to be humble.

Still, one thing led to another and I started talking shop with a Hawaiian clothing importer. Trade restrictions, import duties and officious inspectors are the same the world over. Imports turned to general business. Guam has two main industries—US military and Japanese tourism. Some call it Japan's Hawaii, though it is more like their Puerto Rico. Hawaii is the Japanese Hawaii.

Talking shop lasted a while. Several people came and went. The Air France pilot was quite interesting. My bad French was the first she had heard in weeks. She knew of our wedding, but did not want to brave Sheila's circle of admirers. It was a good thing she was paying attention to Sheila, otherwise I would have missed the start of the formal tea.

It would be easy to say this was not really a formal tea, because many things were off or simply wrong. Like Sheila's dance with Francine, which was not really ballet, that would belie the seriousness of the young girl and Sheila's focus on her. Quickly the talk through the whole house died as we watched the dance of hands and utensils that is a Tea Ceremony. Sheila's rapt attention is one of my enduring memories of the trip.

When it was done, everyone congratulated the girl, who grinned widely. One of the others had a video camera out. With some translation help, I was able to get a copy of the video on a thumb drive. By the time that was finished, Sheila and I needed to go. Kiku led us back to the flat, where we took a quick shower and crashed on a futon.

Much too soon, we needed to get back on an airplane.

Sheila:

After Murisan's performance, it was time to go. Sean was talking business, through multiple intermediaries. A thumb drive was produced and handed to Sean for some cash. My interest spiked. Sean handed more money to someone and waved at the room. That's my Teddybear, buying a round he would not drink.

Kiku led us back to the flat, where we enjoyed a shower and fell asleep on a futon, covered only by a sheet. We had missed our hotel reservations, but that was nothing. I would not trade the Tea Ceremony for all the money I owned. I also slept like a rock.

Kiku woke us while it was still dark. She brought in a tray with tea, rice grilled fish and a London Times. On the front of the Entertainment section was a picture of me dancing with Francine. At least it was under the fold.

We ate our simple breakfast. Before we finished, Kiku returned bearing gifts—lots of gifts. The Tea House had joined together to give us souvenirs. There were pictures, hand crafts, jewelry, shells, all of the things people buy to take home. Though we were on Guam only fourteen hours, we have as much memorabilia as the rest of the trip combined. One item that touched Sean was a folder from the WW II memorials, in both English and Japanese. I was at a loss what to say. Sean used that. He told Kiku that I was speechless, which was the highest praise he knew. Kiku looked to me for confirmation, but I could only blush.

There was so much, I wondered what to do with it all. Kiku had thought that through. She brought out a battered Army footlocker, which held everything with room to spare. Into the spare space went my flower dress, the little black dress, assorted shoes and Sean's suit. Kiku had connections which would get the locker to Schofield Barracks, Hawaii.

If that was not enough, Kiku had personal gift for me. It was a locally made sarong, to wear on the plane. Words were so inadequate and there was no chance to do anything more. At airport security, I hugged Kiku with feeling. Sean extended a business card. Kiku looked uncertain, til she saw my wide eyed stare. Trust my Teddybear to find the right gesture. Sure enough, I would see Kiku again when we returned to Hawaii. Right then, we had a plane to board. This flight did not offer First Class.

I could use a vacation from all the travel.

Sean:

The evening at the Teahouse merged into a short night at the flight attendant's flat. Our rest was brief. It had been more than ten years since I had a sergeant kicking me out of bed at zero dark thirty, but I had a flashback. Kiku got us up, washed and fed with just as much efficiency was that Master Sergeant. Even that did not prepare me for the gifts.

There was a large box full of touristy stuff. Nothing valuable, but there was a broad selection of things from the island, from a nice conch shell to pictures and handcrafts. One thing I would I would have liked to see was the WW II memorial. In the box was a bilingual brochure showing what we missed. Kiku even had a mailable locker for us to store it in and means to get it to Hawaii.

I was more than touched, I was impressed. I told Kiku that Sheila was the most verbally gifted person I knew. For her to be speechless was the highest praise I could imagine. Still, I had to try. I offered Kiku one of my business cards. Of course, she was confused, but Kitten explained it to her. I had a feeling they would be in touch for years to come.

Then it was time to fly. It had been many years since I had seen Kwajalein Atoll, but it had made a lasting impression on a green Second Lieutenant. I hoped Sheila could grasp what I had seen there.