My Dinner with Etsuko

It's probably not a huge surprise that I consider the two years I spent living in Japan as one of the most exciting adventures of my life. After all, that experience encompasses so many aspects of the conventional definition of adventure: foreign travel, language struggles, a job I'd never done before, crazy characters... But one of my favourite stories from back then involves a rather mundane activity—going out to dinner with a friend.

Etsuko was the wife of my boss at the board of education. She was ten years older than me, and our lives couldn't have been more different, but we connected immediately. Whereas most of the Japanese women I met were too shy to do more than exchange the basic pleasantries with me, Etsuko asked me all sorts of questions about my life and talked to me about aspects of hers that she would never have shared with her Japanese friends. (The fact that this was all being done despite neither of us speaking each other's language, leaving me to try to navigate our talks via my trusty Japanese-English pocket dictionary, probably strengthened the bond between us.)

Because her husband was so fond of me, Etsuko was able to participate in some activities that otherwise would not have been options for her. For example, our office would occasionally go out to the local karoake pub to belt a few down and belt a few out. This was a very common practice in Japan and was usually attended by all of the men, but only the young, single “office ladies”—and never the wives! However, because my boss knew it would make me happy, every once in a while he'd call up Etsuko to come join us.

Well. You should have heard the chatter at whichever next local women's event I would attend. “Oh, Etsuko is so lucky. Her husband is so wonderful. I can't imagine it!” And while this kind of talk would always make me bristle a little, I was also thrilled to see the huge grin on Etsuko's face (she worked hard to contain it, but it slipped through nonetheless), knowing that I had a little something to do with it.

But it really hit home for me what impact I actually had on my friend's life when I suggested to her that the two of us go out to dinner one night in a nearby town. She checked with hubby and he agreed, so, off we went.

I don't remember anything about the restaurant itself, what we ate or drank, or very much of what we talked about—except for one thing. That evening, Etsuko told me that this was the first time, in her 17 years of marriage, that she had EVER eaten in a restaurant without her family. And then she thanked me.

I've said this many times before in this blog, that adventure comes in all shapes and sizes. To me, this story illustrates that concept perfectly. No, the mere act of going out to dinner with a friend would never qualify as an “adventure” in my life, or the lives of the vast majority of women I know. But it was absolutely a huge one for Etsuko. Being able to give that to her, and then to share in her joy, was one of the great privileges of my life, and an experience I'll never forget.

Comments

[Toni]

Nosy - uh, inquisitive minds want to know: are you still in touch with her? Not sure if that would be possible given the language barrier. And it's jaw-droppingly amazing how different their culture is to ours.

[Elizabeth Kricfalusi]

We exchanged Christmas cards for quite a while and last year we actually managed to connect by e-mail, but my declining Japanese skills really put a dent in our ability to communicate. I'd like to go back for a visit but, every time I think about it, I end up wanting to go somewhere I haven't been yet. But I will go back again because I do miss her and, even with my Japanese almost totally gone, it's amazing how much you can get across when you really want to.