The Ishikawa Project.

WR here, writing to you from warm (comparatively speaking) ole' Japan.  I arrived back two weeks ago, almost exactly, and I've finally shaken the last remnants of jet-lag... just in time to fight the influenza everyone has.  The good news is, for the moment, I'm winning.  (Go-go-gadget-hand-sanitizer-and-vitamin-C-drinks.)

This week's anecdote follows the story of this guy.

Goemon Ishikawa.

Or, more precisely, this guy.

This photo was taken with my fancy new camera (Skweeee!  So cool!) by one of my favorite coworkers.  It's of her Goemon Ishikawa figurine, one of many ridiculously cute things on her desk.  If you can read Japanese, than you know her name.  But for everyone else, she is hereby anonymized in this blog post as: Tansei-sensei.

Tansei-sensei is a sweet, kind, quiet, surprisingly young art teacher, who's been nothing but incredibly welcoming and friendly to me, despite speaking very little English.  She's drawn doodles for me.  She's left sweets for me.  She laughs at my jokes, even when I butcher them (in either language).  She genuinely tears up with me, if I have bad news.  She's been my nearby-desk-mate for a year and a half.  And she, like many of my coworkers, has never left Japan.

We talk sometimes, about the places I'm going.  The places she could go, too.  She gets this almost-distant look, thinking of it, saying, "いいね~?"  But then she sighs, countering that she has no time, no passport, no extra money, no eager traveling companions, etc.  The usual, if reasonable, excuses.

So, recently, as I was packing to go back to America for the holidays, I thought, "I should do something special for her."  I'd gotten dozens of specific omiyage (souvenir) requests from my other friends, but all Tansei-sensei would say is, "You have fun!" or, "I'm looking forward to hearing stories upon your return!"

Then I had a thought.

Tansei-sensei is head of our school's photography club, and she loves taking and looking at pictures almost as much as she loves "Lupin the Third," the show from which Mr. Ishikawa comes from (if you watch that video, you can briefly see him in action).  So, I decided to do a photography project with my new camera, in Tansei-sensei's honor.  If she couldn't come with me to the ole' US of A, than Goemon Ishikawa would.

Here's what Tansei-sensei came to work to, three days later, after I'd left.

The note is taped to Goemon's former pedestal.  It reads,  "Maya-chan, I want to go to America.  I'll be back.  (Hearts)  ~ Ishikawa."

(Confession: This is her favorite figurine, so I told a mutual-friend-teacher to tell Tansei-sensei that I was taking him and that it was for something fun, and that she shouldn't worry... just in case she asked.  I'm not heartless, guys.  Sheesh.)

And so, "The Ishikawa Project" began.  Dan and I took hundreds and hundreds of pictures with Goemon, all throughout our cross-country trek across the United States.  When I returned to Japan, I printed the best (or at least, the most representative) at the ever-convenient Yodobashi Camera, and left the whole shebang on her desk, just like this:

She comes to work a few hours after me, so that's exactly what she found.  No note.  Just Goemon returned, and his photo-book.  Inside the album, were these:

I gotta be honest, I was pretty proud of the complete package.  It turned out so great!  It was fun for us to do, and she was so humbled and appreciative.  In fact, it took several times of me handing the album back to her for her to realize it was her's to keep.  The third time I slid it across her desk, Tansei-sensei's eyes went wide and she said, in simple Japanese, "私の...?　ほんと?” ("Mine?  Really?")  I smiled back and said, "お土産です．”　("It's your souvenir.")

So, the moral of this story?   Be kind.  Give gifts.  This entire thing cost me only about $20.00, but it's something we'll both remember for the rest of our lives.

As always, thanks for reading!  \(^_^)/  And don't forget to feed the fish!
WR