we speed past miles of urban sprawl I recognize signs of familiar things:Coca-
Cola, Canon, Fuji, Nikon — commercial products all. Before long, we arrive at a
gigantic train station. My driver stops at a portal, gives me my baggage, takes my
money, and points to a door. Inside, I am reminded of Victoria Station in London.
This place is big. I see a kiosk and approach with my little piece of paper. Inside,
two uniformed train employees inspect the paper, confer, sell me a ticket and show
me where to wait. They too think I’m a dangerous revolutionary. I’ll ditch the hat.

Before too long a train pulls up and stops. I get in, find a seat along with
hundreds of others, and wait for a conductor. Doors close and the train begins its
journey. Soon a conductor comes along to punch everyone’s ticket. I show him
mine, along with my piece of paper with Randy’s address. The conductor indicates
he will tell me when it’s time to get off. We make our way through Tokyo and out
into the Japanese countryside, stopping periodically along the way. It will soon be
suppertime, and I wonder how far I’ll have to go. I’m getting tired. After
travelling for a couple of hours, the conductor comes along to tell me I am to get
off at the next stop. I do.

There at the station, I find another taxi. It’s as nice as those in Tokyo,
perhaps not quite as shiny. The driver wears gloves. When I show him my piece
of paper, his eyebrows raise in understanding, and we’re off. Before long, he stops
outside a small two story concrete apartment with an outside walkway providing
access to the second floor units. He gives me my knapsack; I give him his money;
he points to a door on the second floor and is gone. The sun has just set.

I walk up the stairs, down the walkway, and knock on the door. It opens.

“Morley-san!! What are YOU doing here?”

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Japanby Morley Evans

November 21, 2000