Our Japanese home-host was a live-wire! He directed, he commanded, he orchestrated – all with side-splitting humor.
With a quizzical look, he would grab his little pocket dictionary; zip rapidly through it and gleefully shout, A–HA! when he found the right word.
One day we arrived home from a day-hosted tour—hot, tired and sweaty. He assessed us. “Tom, Jean,” he commanded, “go shower!” I glanced at my husband and confided, “Well, I guess we are pretty smelly.” We dutifully showered and garnered about 15 minutes of rest. He roused me. “Come!” O-o-o-kay, I thought (he was full of surprises.)
He led me to a beauty shop where I was coiffed. Next, we were taken to a beautiful private home – with nobody visibly there! We were escorted into separate rooms – and emerged dressed in the most gorgeous kimonos you can possibly imagine. Slowly the hosts and many guests appeared, beautifully dressed in traditional garb and carrying bowls of savory food. This lovely kimono party is among my cherished memories.
The next evening, at home, our host showed up with a huge bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. He ordered, “Taste!”. We obeyed; then, “Same?” We got the point. He wanted to know if Japan was getting the real KFC or a knock-off. We assured him that it was authentic.
One of our gifts to the family was Jelly Bellies…and they were delighted.