Into the Rising Sun 1

  ‘If only you and I could go far, far away, 
                         to the other side of the sky...’ 
                                             Inariya Fusanosuke

Hanne is a dear old friend. She and her husband used to be part of our wine club. Freddy was a Dutch Jew that had barely escaped Auschwitz, and Hanne was the young German fräulein that fell for him, and his fast convertible. Freddy has been gone for several years now, but Hanne is still here. She drove us to the ferry that would take us to the airport, as fast as Freddy had left the other Germans, and the other Germans had entered Poland.
“How long will you be in Japan?” She asked, careening back and forth across both lanes.
“Two weeks.” Robyn said.
“Should I pick you up?” She asked, pulling into the terminal drop-off lane.
“It’s OK, Hanne.” I said. We air kissed her auf wiedersehen, and hoisted the two small powder blue Osprey packs. I had bought them especially for this trip, despite the protests of my loving wife.
“Why do we need them?’ She asked.
“No check-in luggage.” I said. “And light for hiking.”
“Where are we hiking in Japan?” She asked, unaware of the plan.
“Samurai Road.” I said.
“Where’s that?” She asked.
“Don’t know yet.” I said. We boarded the Coastal Inspiration that would sail us over the Georgia Strait to our ANA Inspiration of Japan flight at YVR. Past the vending machines and the California rolls for seven bucks, we sat in a sunny window and practiced our Japanese.
“Ohayou Gozaimasu.” I said.
“What’s that?” Robyn asked.
“Good morning.” I said.
“Jeezuz.” She said. I looked up into a familiar face. It was Sadie, an ICU nurse I had worked with in our Critical Care unit. She was dressed in motorcycle leather chaps, heading to Mexico on a road trip.
“You should come to JR’s party in July.” She said. We made a note of it. She asked us where we headed.
“Japan.” I said. The look in her eyes fell somewhere between wonder and ‘I wonder.’ She asked me about my dog-eared book.
“Hagakure.” I said. “The Book of the Samurai. It was written in 1716 from the oral memoirs of a samurai that had renounced the world, and retired to a hermitage in the mountains.”
“Sounds a bit like you.” She said. “You were different than the new docs.” Sadie went off to Mexico, and I went back to my book. It is a wretched thing that the young men of today are so contriving and so proud of their material possessions. Men with contriving hearts are lacking in duty, Lacking in duty they will have no self-respect.