|image credit: chenected.aiche.org|
|image credit: gogobot.com|
While we sat eating our ice cream, my older brother, who is the adventurer of the family, leaned over to me and asked if the three people sitting at the corner table were Japanese. I told him they were. He asked how I knew. I shared that one of them was holding a book with the title written in Japanese.
He told me to go over and talk to them. I refused. He couldn't understand why I wouldn't do it. I explained that, first of all, my ability to speak Japanese is more than rusty; it's actually almost non-existent (sad, huh?) and that, in the past, when I've done similar things, it's seemed like my speaking Japanese to them was like a slap in the face--basically saying that I don't think they can speak English when, in reality, they spend every year from at least middle school on up learning English.
He didn't even hesitate but got up and walked over to their table. Before I knew it, these three beautiful Japanese faces (my brother described them as doll-like) were sitting across from me at the table and we were talking--in English mostly. They were a young couple who had just been married and the wife's sister. The wife and her sister would return to Japan and then the wife will return to be with her husband in about half a year from now.
I just heard from the wife tonight via email. She's back in Japan. When she moves back, I hope to be able to get together with her. We talked about helping each other with Japanese and English. Should be fun!
On our way home from Tillamook was when the crash happened that was mentioned by my daughter on Facebook. I will share more on that, like I promised on Facebook, in my next post.