For Kindness' Sake

Fresh snow and empty slopes…

Hello from a snow globe! I’m in Japan**, where it’s been snowing straight so far for 48 hours, almost 6 feet, and showing no signs of stopping. I have to follow up my train station story from last time with a new train station story from a few days ago.

Having successfully transferred by train from the Narita airport to the Tokyo station and picked up my tickets from a machine covered in Japanese writing, I cockily paraded my ski bag and rolling duffel through the station with 20 minutes to spare before my must-make 2 hour bullet train to my final destination. I was jet-lagged, but I felt like a solo travel boss.

Then, I tried to find my platform by matching my tickets to any signs or destination reader boards: nothing. The workers in the ticket booth dismissed me with a wave and said, “19.” But nineteen didn’t say my destination. I wandered around, my cockiness eclipsed by confusion, as I narrowly missed rolling over everyone’s fashionable Tokyo toes with my ski bag. I desperately wished I could say “Excuse me” in Japanese.

Every morning, the chef would prepare elaborate fruit plates for our table (he loved Chris, who had been there for two weeks at this point).

As I stood there bewildered, a woman appeared in front of me, smiling, and motioned to see my tickets. She was maybe in her 60s, Japanese, well-dressed, with an open face and kind eyes. She told me where to go and I assured her I was good, thanking her and waving with double thumbs up. Except I second-guessed her and got lost, again wandering the plaza, again questioning the info booth (same answer), again trying in vain to google where I needed to be. Just as I begin to panic and sweat (my train was leaving in ten!) the woman popped right up in front of me again, out of nowhere! Like she knew that I actually didn’t have it and she needed to watch me to make sure!

Len, sending it towards the Sea of Japan during a rare semi-clear moment of the week.

This time she walked me to my train, got on the train with me, yanked my ski bag through the closing doors, and rode with me to the spot where I had to TRANSFER to another train, the piece of the puzzle that I hadn’t yet figured out. She escorted me to my new platform and then scurried off after several bows, her smiling face seared into my memory as I sank into my seat on the bullet train in utter relief.

Our Japanese friend Tatsuya, making it look easy as always.

At dinner the next night I was telling the story of this absolute angel of a woman when my friend said the same exact thing had happened to him a year ago, with a woman at the same station giving him info then when he had messed it up and gotten lost, she had popped up again out of nowhere to make sure he knew. We couldn’t believe it! Was it the same woman? Did she just wander around the station to help hapless foreign tourists like some sort of Japanese travel goddess?

Typical Japanese dinner, served alongside a hotpot.

Our Japanese friend explained gently to us that this is very common, actually. People here have no problem going out of their way to help tourists with directions; it’s part of their culture. He told us that since Japanese know people have traveled a long way to arrive, it is part of their custom to ensure that everyone feels welcome and respected.

photo by Chris Davenport, two days in to a week-long storm

We had a great week, tons of snow (literally, nearly 4 meters by the time we left!), and I will always remember that woman’s kindness, going out of her way to make sure I safely got to where I was going.

**Note: I started working on this last week in Japan—and didn’t have time between coaching, skiing, and karaoke to finish it until now that I’m home. Hope you’re having a great week!

A few links:

A documentary on Snow Monkeys, which you can watch through PBS Passport, or Prime Video Free Trial of PBS

A 6 minute video from the last time I was in Japan, ten (!!) years ago, when I got to travel to Rishiri Island and climb and ski the volcano there.

Pounding mochi with the fastest mochi maker in Japan—an amazing process for a delicious result. I thought mochi was the ice cream balls wrapped in glutinous rice cake—but it turns out that’s called daifuku. Mochi just refers to the rice cake part.

Snow monkey family, getting ready for the incoming storm.

Thanks for reading!

Ingrid