Living as a Foreigner

Living as a Caucasian in an Oriental country most of my life has been interesting, challenging and quite eventful. And if you can speak the language and understand what's going on, it can be even fun! Like the day two of us heading homeward found ourselves in a fairly empty train car. In other words people were not standing hanging onto straps, but were seated on both sides of the aisle. Suddenly the man next to me, obvously inebriated, began to talk about us! We were carrying on our own conversation and didn't pay any attention to him, but he talked loudly and probably most everyone in the car heard him and were embarrassed. We were nearly at out destination when he said loudly, "They come to our country and they don't even learn our language." I turned to him and said, "We understood you very well!" I felt as though the whole carful of people breathed a sigh and he was shocked! Shocked into sobriety! A man came up to us and asked if he could help us, but I was at my stop, so I told him he could help my friend as she was changing cars. She told me later that our talkative friend squeezed into the same car she did and she heard him moan, "And they understood everything I said!"

Another time I was out on my morning walk and met an older man on a bike and we were at a crossing and in the who-should-go-first mode, so began to talk. He said, "Do you know MacArthur?" I assurred him that I did! At which time he swung his arm over Tokyo and said thankfully, gratefully, "All of this is because of him!"

More recently, the day after 9/11, I was again on my morning walk when a uniformed policeman came up from behind me, riding his bike. When he got to me, without a word, he took off his hat and held it in his hand while continuing to ride for about half a block! I felt it was a heartfelt gesture to my country which was going through the aftermath of the worst terrorist attack to hit my beloved homeland.

And then there was the time when I came upon a bunch of neighborhood kids who yelled, "Hey, there's a foreigner!" One of the group stood out loud and clear as he corrected, "That's not a foreigner! That's Markie's Mom."