In early August in Beijing, while Facetime videoing with my daughter, she noticed me flexing my right arm and asked, “What’s wrong with your right arm?”

I said, “I think it got hurt carrying my suitcase up and down many times while I was transferring between train stations from Kyoto to Tokyo’s Narita Airport.”

The discomfort in my right arm has subsided considerably after my cousin treated me to a traditional Chinese medicine hot foment at Xiaotangshan Hospital before I left Beijing, and after my daughter treated me to a Thai massage in San Jose yesterday.

Today is Friday. After dinner, I’m still subconsciously flexing my right arm because it still hurts a bit.

On a happy Friday evening, I am sharing the sad story of my injured right arm, on my last day of Japan after my tour group which started in Tokyo. This injury was a result of when I was in a hurry to get from Kyoto to Tokyo’s Narita Airport. Looking back, it was a pretty exciting moment.

After arrived to Tokyo, I decided to stay in Kyoto one more day to explore this old city, so I had to leave Kyoto early in the morning to catch my flight to Beijing that takes off at Narita Airport at 3:15 PM. My plan for getting from Kyoto to Tokyo’s Narita Airport was to take the Shinkansen to Tokyo, transfer to the JR Yamanote Line (Green Line) to Ueno Station, and then walk to Keisei-Ueno Station to take the Keisei Skyliner to Narita Airport.

Suica, a prepaid, rechargeable electronic smart card in Japan. In Tokyo, I used it for train fares, restaurants, and shopping, but not in Kyoto, because many shops didn’t accept Suica.

As Suica can’t be used to purchase Shinkansen tickets, I bought the earliest and fastest Shinkansen ticket from Kyoto to Tokyo, departing at 9:00 AM on the 28th (arriving at Tokyo Station at 11:15 PM, 17,400 yen), online using my credit card. Suica can pay the ticket from Tokyo Station to the JR Yamanote Line (Green Line) Ueno Station. Strangely enough, Suica only covers the basic fare (the ticket portion) of the Keisei Skyliner, not the seat reservation fee. Following the recommendation, I used my credit card and passport to buy a discounted one-way ticket from Keisei Ueno Station to Narita Airport for 2,310 yen, online.

My flight from Narita Airport to Beijing will take off at 3:15 PM, since international flights require passengers to arrive two hours in advance, I have to arrive at Narita Airport around 1:15 PM. After arriving at Tokyo Station at 11:15 PM via the Shinkansen, I needed to transfer twice to reach Keisei Ueno Station. The Keisei Skyliner to Narita Airport would take almost an hour, as it departs at a fixed time slot. Therefore, I only had one hour to transfer between train stations.

As I knew I easily get lost even with directions, after pre-purchasing my train tickets, I hand-copied and reviewed the detailed instructions for each transfer station using ChatGPT and the internet a few times to ensure a smooth transfer and arrive at Narita Airport on time so that I could catch my 3:15 PM flight to Beijing.

Just after 8:00 AM on the 28th, the weather was already scorching. In the hot and humid morning, I pulled my suitcase and walked more than ten minutes from my hotel to the Kyoto Shinkansen train station, ready to catch the earliest and fastest Shinkansen train from Kyoto to Tokyo, which will arrive Tokyo at 11:15 AM. I checked in using the QR code I downloaded on my phone and carried my suitcase up the stairs to the elevated Shinkansen station. I felt a relief as my suitcase wasn’t heavy, but I didn’t know about the many steps I’d have to carry it up and down later. While standing on the very hot platform waiting for my train, I already felt a bit exhausted.


(The NOZOMI 80 Shinkansen train I took)

I arrived at Tokyo Station at 11:15 AM and discovered that the handwritten guide of using Suica to transfer from the Shinkansen train station to the JR Yamanote Line (Green Line) Ueno Station was incorrect, because I couldn’t use Suica to pay for the ticket and pass the gate. I looked at people rushing passing me, unsure what to ask. I pulled my suitcase to a staff member, showed him my handwritten JR Lines Ueno on the paper, and asked him which way to go. He pointed to a guarded window next to the automatic gate. I pointed at it and looked at him, and he nodded. I pulled my suitcase up to the guard, and she asked in English if I needed any help.

I quickly said, “I want to transfer to the JR Lines to Ueno, but my Suica could not pay for a ticket. What should I do?”

She said, “You need to show me your Shinkansen ticket.”

I said, “I don’t have a ticket. I bought it online.”

She asked, “Do you have a receipt for your online purchase?”

I said, “Yes,” and quickly pulled out the email receipt from my phone and showed it to her.

She said, “You should have an e-ticket too. Can you show it to me?”

I gave her the QR code ticket I had downloaded on my phone. After she checked the ticket and let me through the gate manually, I suddenly realized I was only exiting the train station but not buying a ticket to enter JR train station.

I walked along the green line with my suitcase, swiping my Suica successfully to enter the JR Lines.

The handwritten guide said the train to Ueno was on platforms four and five. I reached the entrance marked Platforms 4 and 5, carrying my suitcase and walked up the stairs to the platform. Being directionally challenged, I cautiously pointed to the name “Ueno” which was written on my handwritten guidebook to a fellow passenger. He peeked over, shook his head, and pointed to the platform across the way. I took a closer look at the names of destinations on the platform wall and realized I had reached the station for the train heading in the opposite direction. I hurriedly carried my suitcase down the stairs and up again to the right platform, catching the subway bound for Ueno.

After getting off at Ueno Station, I realized my handwritten guidebook for the Keisei Skyliner station also wasn’t working. I exited the station and stood under the blazing sun, unsure whether to turn left or right or go forward, as Google map had since given up. After a moment’s hesitation, I pointed to Keisei Ueno Station on my handwritten guidebook and asked a passing mother and daughter for directions. After understanding my question, the mother took out her cell phone, entered Keisei Ueno Station on the map, then pointed to the left said: “You can get there by following the yellow line on the ground.” I thanked the kind mother, pulled my suitcase and walked along the yellow line on the ground for a long time, took a elevator down to the lower ground, crossed a road with traffic lights, and finally arrived at Keisei Ueno Station.

(The yellow line on the ground leads to Keisei-Ueno Station)

(Keisei Ueno Station)

Inside the station, following oral instructions from a staff member, I lined up in front of the ticket counter, took out my passport and pulled out the QR code on my phone, ready to exchange for a one-way ticket to Narita Airport. I was lucky to get the ticket departing at noon, which allowed me to arrive at Narita before 1:00 PM and not miss my flight to Beijing at 3:15 PM.

(Keisei Skyliner train to Narita Airport)

(A scene on the way to Narita Airport: vast fields of rice)

(A corner of Narita Airport)

On July 28th, I left my hotel in Kyoto a little after 8:00 AM and arrived at Narita Airport just before 1:00 PM. After carrying my suitcase up and down many stairs while walking a long distance, in addition coupling with the heat and the stress, my right arm was injured.

After arriving in Beijing, I began to experience a constant pain from my right wrist up to my shoulder, which bothered me a lots.

A month has passed in a flash. After enjoying traditional Chinese hot foment therapy in Beijing and a Thai massage in San Jose, I still feel a slight pain in my right arm. I felt I am aging and time really has taken its toll!

Traveling sometime is about seeking hardship and yet finding joy in it. After planning and implementing a very short trip from Kyoto to Tokyo’s Narita Airport, I’ve learned that planning a tight schedule and a feasible plan requires a highly precise mind. A heartfelt tribute to all the travel experts out there!

Happy Friday!

I joined a tour group which started in Tokyo. To help with jet lag, my daughter planned my trip from SFO to arrive at Tokyo two days earlier than my tour group. As such, I also planned a two-day Tokyo trip for myself: I bought a ticket to see the TeamLab Borderless light show; I am going to buy rare gifts and to catch special Pokémon at the Pokémon Centers in Tokyo； I am going to eat Wagyu beef, to drink sake, and to wander the streets of Tokyo; I am going to visit the Tokyo Iris Garden and many other gardens…

Tokyo’s humid and muggy weather challenged the carefully planned outdoor trips and its complex subway system challenged me more, as I don’t like to ride on subways and easily get lost. Plus, Tokyo’s parks close around 5 p.m., so I didn’t have time to visit many parks in Tokyo. As a result, I only visited Hinocho Park (which I stumbled upon) and the Tokyo Iris Garden.

When I learned about Tokyo’s Iris Garden during the pandemic, I imagined the irises, shaded by trees, along winding paths, and beside flowing little streams, would create a magnificent, layered sea of ​​iris flowers during their blooming season. I was eager to see my imagination come to life, so visiting the Tokyo Iris Garden was on the top of my 2-day Tokyo to-do list.

It turns out the iris garden is inside the Meiji Jingu Inner Garden. Although the iris season had passed, I still bought a ticket to see the narrow, winding garden nestled in a shallow area, lush with iris leaves. Strolling along the edge of the iris garden, which was so different from my imagination, I felt that I teased myself using overactive imagination and I laughed silently. When I saw the unique names of irises: Kamari Nishiki, Satsuki Haru, Wada Tsukai, Sunset Stream, Fukamado Beauty, Monkey Dance, and Okitsu Shiranami, I stopped to take pictures and imagine the shapes and colors of the flowers that matched the names, immersing myself in the virtual game of Flower Delight.

(Names of various irises in the lush, leafy little garden.)

While passing by a large bush of after blooming season kerria in a corner of the Iris Garden, I recalled how I first learned what kerria flowers look like during the pandemic lockdown, and the places I’ve seen them: on the side of the entrance of corridor pavilion in Zigong Park, outside the Brandeis University campus in western Massachusetts, in front of the Wall of Love in the Jehan Rictus garden square in Montmartre, Paris, France, and the lyrics “Clusters of kerria, misty morning, quiet waterwheel huts” in the song of “Spring in the North”. “Flowers delight me like a virtual pen, repainting vividly the previous sightseeing of flowers in my memory and bringing joys back again.” Thinking of the longer adjectives that will be associated with this bush of kerria in front me: the kerria flowers by the Iris Garden, in the Meiji Jingu Inner Garden, in the Meiji Jingu Shrine, Tokyo, Japan, I can’t help but smile. The striking beauty of Kerria is unforgettable for flower lovers, as I still remember the large bush of blooming kerria flowers I saw in Zigong Park in my childhood. As a flower lover with good memory, I felt even in their off-blooming season, flowers can still delight me.

(A bush of kerria flowers, past their blooming season, next to the Iris Garden, in Tokyo July 22, 2025.)

(Kerria flowers blooming in the rain outside the Brandeis University campus in western Massachusetts, April 29, 2021.)

(Single-petaled kerria flowers in full bloom in front of the Wall of Love in Paris. 04-18-2022.)

There is a thatched pavilion high above the Iris Garden. Its thick thatch reminds me of the line “The triple thatch on my roof blew away” from Du Fu’s “Song of the Thatched Cottage Destroyed by the Autumn Wind.” I suspected this pavilion might bear traces of Du Fu, as his poem “The country is broken, but the mountains and rivers remain…” is often found in Japanese junior high school language textbooks.

The Inner Garden has few buildings, but abundant flowers, trees, and mosquitoes. The interplay of cicada and bird calls creates a low-key, natural beauty. I read in the tourist brochure that Emperor Meiji admired this place so much that he wrote a poem praising it which reads: “Deep in the woodland of Yoyogi, the quietude creates an illusion of seclusion from the city.”
(The cover of a brochure of Meiji Jingu Inner Garen: the iris garden in bloom, a thatched pavilion, and lush trees.)

Kiyomasa Well

Because I wasn’t in a hurry, I wondered around the Iris Garden for a long time before heading to Kiyomasa Well which provides a constant source of water year-round for the irises who thrive in a moist environment. While lingering by the well, I bumped into a Japanese family of four: father, mother, and two school-age daughters. I watched the couple kneeling down for a bow, then stood up and gently faned the air from the well onto their faces. Curiously, I asked the mother, “Why are you fanning like that?” She explained that they were absorbing the energy from the well, as the well is famous and has magical, and that by fanning the air towards us we can absorb its energy. I thanked her and imitated her, gently fanning the air from the well onto my face. She was delighted to see this, and we stood by the well and chatted for a while. The two daughters stood quietly next to her, her husband facing her nodding and acknowledging her occasionally. I felt it was a picture of family harmony. Hiromi Oguribayashi, unlike typical Japaneses ladies, is talkative, she wrote her name in Chinese for me and told me that she studied economics at a university in Tokyo, that her family flew here to visit Tokyo Disneyland (she told me where her home was, but I didn’t understand) and will fly back home tomorrow. She also said and that her daughters are 11 and 8. After they left, I stayed by the quiet well, continuing to appreciate its magic. Then a young couple came, and the boy skillfully bowed and gently fanned the air from the well onto his face with his hands. I felt that the sincere look on his young face added energy to Kiyomasa Well.

After leaving Kiyomasa Well, I followed the signs to the exit and sat on a stone bench under the shade of a tree on the top of the Iris Garden. Two girls passed by and asked, “Could we sit here for a while?” I quickly moved to one side of the bench and said, “Of course.” We sat on the same bench and chatted for a while. They were from the United States, third-year college students majoring in accounting. Wendy, who spoke Chinese, was born in the United States, she will stay in Japan for a month; Victoria, a tall Caucasian, will return to the US after a week in Japan. They were planning to leave after resting for a while. I asked if they had visited the Kiyomasa Well. They said no. I repeated Hiromi’s words: “Kiyomasa Well is famous and has magical. We can absorb its energy.” I enthusiastically demonstrated to them how to fan air from the well onto my face to absorb its energy. After hearing my introduction, they stood up and walked towards the well. I was happy to put my newly-acquired knowledge into practice as a tour guide for people who had come from afar. Of course, I knew that Kiyomasa Well might not have magical powers. I remembered what the priest said to Eileen in the movie “Miracle Club” which I had just watch during my flight: “The real purpose of the pilgrimage was to sustain one’s faith even in the absence of miracles.” I felt that what I saw and did at Kiyomasa Well was a reflection of the priest’s words. The Kiyomasa Well may not has magical, but Hiromi’s family, the young boy, and I all felt its magical energy at the well. I also passed this magic on to the two American girls. The magic is human love.

(The isolated and tranquil Kiyomasa Well.)

Visiting Tokyo’s Iris Garden, I once again experienced the feeling of “following my interests, obeying my physical strength, exploring foreign lands, and being enchanted by all the beauty, it’s like a dream come true.” How wonderful!

In late July, I went on a four-day Japanese tour. Our first trip was one-day in Tokyo, and the highlight of my day was eating crepes at our last stop, Takeshita in Tokyo, which came as a surprise to me.

Unexpected encounters on a trip could easily surprise me. And when the surprise is connected to one of my favorite foods that was first tasted at a faraway place, the encounter becomes a story that I will tell repeatedly later. Food preserves beautiful memories which are rich and vivid.

I like crepes because it contains the Sichuan flavor that I am familiar with. Enjoying crepes is always a warm and sweet experience for me, because crepes cross my European, American, and Asian memories.

Our tour group visited Takeshita Street, our last stop of our one-day Tokyo tour, for a free activity. I strolled along the over 300-meter-long short street and looked around randomly without purpose. The small shops along with the crowds on the street reminded me of Chunxi Road in Chengdu in China in the 1980s. While strolling on Chunxi Road in Chengdu, I was a poor college student with a strong desire to buy things. Now strolling on Takeshita in Tokyo, I am a contented 60-year-old without worldly desires. I said to myself: “Time flies quickly and time has refined me nicely!”

Strolling freely amidst the bustling crowd, a small crepes shop caught my eye, because crepes awaken the happy moments I shared with my daughter vividly. I had my first taste of crepes which was bought for me by my daughter, in Wuerzburg, Germany. In 2017, at the Country Inn Cafe in San Jose California, I ordered a fruit crepes, chatted with my daughter while eating, and made a deep connection for crepes. In 2021, at my daughter’s friend’s house in Waltham, Massachusetts, I enjoyed Rachel’s home-made crepes with a variety of savory and sweet fillings alongside my son. I suddenly remembered that when I was studying in Chengdu, I went to Chunxi Road to eat egg-baked cakes, which I defined as Sichuan style crepes.

With these memories in mind, I happily went to the Tokyo shop, stood in line, and bought a basic crepes. I held the crepes as a souvenir to take photos on Takeshita Street joyfully.

(Two entrances of the Takeshita Street, the crepes I enjoyed on Takeshita Street.)

My daughter is always in my memory of crepes. Eating Japanese style crepes on Takeshita Street in Tokyo Japan also has my daughter’s present, as she planned this Japanese trip for me.

There are many stories about our one-day in Tokyo, but enjoying crepes is my favorite story today, which shows I am a high-end foodie.

After enjoying the crepes, I felt that the taste of crepes all over the world are similar: juicy, delicate, and soft. Crepes can be folded, rolled, and paired with various fillings, to easily present the charm of delicious food.

（The set of fruit crepes I ordered in the Country Inn Cafe in San Jose California in 2017.）

（The set of fruit crepes I made for myself in Rachel’s house in Waltham Massachusetts in 2021.）

One day tour in Tokyo

Our Japanese tour group consists of 14 people who are originally from California, Florida, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Washington, all states from the United States. Our tour guide is an Indian with a Japanese green card. He is short, wears earrings, has a shaved head and a goatee beard. Because he wears pants in the sagging style of high school boys in the United States, I had difficulty guessing his real age.

Our one-day tour in Tokyo started at 10am. Under the scorching sun, the tour guide took us for a quick visit of the Imperial Palace East Garden, where the large stone walls were eye-catching. While bypassing the large stone wall, I saw that there were gaps and cracks between the stones, and I felt that the masonry process was very rough and could not be compared to the seamless masonry process of the giant stones in the Inca era Sun Temple in Cusco, Peru. The experience of previous traveling has been awakened during a journey, this is a truly satisfying pleasure for a traveler. I think the ancient people liked to show their strength by playing with giant stones, such as Stonehenge in Britain, Machu Picchu in Peru, Leshan Giant Buddha Scenic Area in China, and the stone wall of the Imperial Palace in Tokyo.

（Our tour group approaching the big stone wall while visiting the Imperial Palace East Garden in Tokyo.）

（The stone chamber in the Inca era Sun Temple in Cusco, Peru, 11-2023.）

Afterwards, we went to Asakusa Temple/Nakami Sei for free activities and individual lunch.

Asakusa Temple is small and crowded with people; Nakamise street is short with small shops along both sides. We went to the temple to pay money to shake bamboo tubes to seek fortune, and went to small shops filled with eye-catching goods for purchase on Nakamise street. The atmosphere here was very harmonious because visitors could easily obtain spiritual and material satisfaction in close proximity to one another.

I went to a small restaurant on the street near Asakusa Temple and asked for Wagyu beef, the waitress recommended the Black Haired Wagyu set meal, which cost over 5000 yen. She brought to me a serving tray with many dishes and bowls, and the Black Haired Beef was even placed with a piece of paper indicating “黑毛和牛” on the top. Each dining table is equipped with an open flame stone pan. The waitress lit up the pan on my table and told me, “If you’re not used to half cooked beef, please use the pan to fully cook it.” She also explained various beef dipping methods to me. At the table next to me sat an elegantly dressed elderly lady, and we studied each other silently using eye contact. I guessed she is a local.

After lunch, our tour group gathered at the Asakusa Temple, then took the subway to Shibuya to experience the Shibuya “Scramble Crossing”, when light is green, people flood the intersection from all directions. I felt this sightseeing is a bit boring, as I was grew up in crowded crowds in China and I don’t understand how a flood with people place became a tourist attraction. While crossing the road in a dense crowd, I saw a pretty lady asking four friends to take photos of her posture in the crowd from different directions. Imagining her “high” appearance from different angles in the photo, I smiled.

Then, we took the subway from Shibuya to Harajuku Takeshita for free activities, which brought me memories of and new stories of crepes, so I was overjoyed.

(Photo collections: Today’s weather in Tokyo, taking the subway, I’m at Asakusa Temple, my black haired Wagyu lunch, strolling around Nakami District, crossing Shibuya Cross Road, and at the entrance of Takeshita Road.)

Our Tour Guide

He has never been to the United States and speaks fluent American English because he attended a bilingual school in English and Japanese since childhood. After graduating from high school, he went to Canada to attend university for a year and missed home. He returned to Japan to attend Tmple University, where students graduated with a bachelor’s degree in four years, but he said it took him six years to graduate. After getting his bachelor degree, he became a tour guide, then the COVID-19 pandemic broke out. He had to switch to a job doing bilingual telephone services. Now, being a tour guide is his side job, and he is 31 years old single without a girlfriend. He has a younger sister who was studying remotely from home during the pandemic when she was in college. She is very good at studying and graduated in four years. She immediately started working in the government and recently switched jobs to a large energy company in Japan because corporate pays higher than the government does. They live with their father, who is an engineer, and their father cooks at home because their mother has passed away. His father has a car. he and his sister use public transportation as they don’t have cars.

Last night, one of my daughter’s coworker S and her husband invited us to their house to have hot pot. S put a cooked cuttlefish ball in each of our bowls. My daughter and Alex didn’t eat it, so I ate three at a time. The cuttlefish ball was a very new thing to me and I liked the chewy texture and the seafood flavor. I looked at the black ping-pong sized cuttlefish balls floating in the boiling hot pot and gradually picked up and ate three more balls during the dinner while drinking a mango-flavored beer for the first time.

While eating hot pot, we were chatting casually about work and pleasure. S asked me how was my trip to Peru. I am happy to share my trip so I quickly said a lot: “This is my first time traveling in a group and I had a great time! Machu Picchu is spectacular and worth a visit! Most of our 30-people tour group were empty-nest couples over 50 years old. I also got to chat with many of them who were from South Africa, Australia, Romania, Greece, Malaysia, and Singapore.” These words refreshed my memory of my trip to Peru last November…

I spent the 2023 Thanksgiving in Cuzco, Peru.

On Thanksgiving, people who continued on the group touring left the hotel at 6 a.m., and rest of us who already completed the 6-day group tour needed to check out of the hotel before 11 a.m.

I went to the hotel cafe for the free breakfast buffet at 8:30 a.m. There were more than ten tables but just a few people dining in the cafe with many Christmas decorations. I poured a glass of fresh papaya juice, sat at an empty table and slowly drank my newly discovered favorite juice as I liked its soft thick fresh taste and its soft bright orange color.

I thought it would be a quiet Thanksgiving breakfast alone, but thanks to like-minded people, I enjoyed a chatty Thanksgiving breakfast with three of my tour group members.

After drinking two glasses of papaya juice, Leann who is from South Africa came over. We exchanged names on the first day of the tour and got to know each other through casual chats over the past few days’ traveling and eating together. She is single, a doctor, a lecturer at a medical school, a great cook who enjoys cooking and entertaining. After saying good morning to each other, she sat next to me on my right side. While I was drinking papaya juice and eating scrambled eggs and baby potatoes, she was tasting her plain coffee. She said to me: “Have you noticed that the coffee here is very strong?” I replied: “Oh, I haven’t had any coffee yet as I only drink fresh papaya juice.”

Then, Mag and Paul, a tall couple from Australia, came. Mag is lean with light brown shoulder-length straight hair and Paul is muscular with a white beard. I haven’t had a chance to chat with them yet, but Leann knew them well and invited them to join us at the same table. When they went to get their food, Leann told me: “Mag runs a wedding ceremony service（not a wedding planner service), and when they travel, they put their house on AirBnb for rent.” Hearing this, I said with admiration: “I can imagine they must be very good at management!”

When Mag and Paul brought their food and drinks sat down on my left, I turned my head and introduced myself: “I am retired and on vacation from taking care of my two young grandchildren. Do you have any grandchildren?” Mag said with a noticeable British accent: “We have five children and four grandchildren and our eldest grandson is 14 years old.” At this time, a familiar song was playing in the cafe and I asked hesitantly: “Is this Adele’s song?” Leann firmly replied: “Yes, it is hers!” Mag said: “It doesn’t sound like Adele is singing.” I also said: “Yes, it is not her voice.” Leann smiled and said: “That’s not surprising, re-singing a famous singer’s songs is common in South America.”

There was no wine for breakfast in the cafe, but the well-known Adele brought us closer together and also made me want to chat. I showed them my grandson and granddaughter, the cover photo of my phone. Mag also showed us photos of her four-year-old granddaughter dressed up on her phone. I looked at Mag’s doll-like granddaughter and said, “Her pink dress is so pretty!” Mag said, “This is the dress I made for her and she also asked me to make a small flower basket of the same color.” I looked carefully in the photo and saw the little girl is holding a pink basket. I said to Mag: “You made pretty dresses and nice flower baskets. Unfortunately, I can only make short skirts.” I found a photo of the three short skirts I made for my daughter a few years ago on my photo and showed it to Mag. Mag looked at the short skirts on the photo and said: “The patterns of the skirts are very unique, especially the one with angel pattern.” I said: “My daughter also likes this angel pattern skirt. But I haven’t touched a sewing machine for a while now as my eyesight is getting worse.” Mag said: “After I had my eye surgery, I have no trouble using a sewing machine and often use it.” She talked about the eye surgery she had done. I smiled and said: “I’m afraid of pain and surgery. Because of this, many years ago, I didn’t get a laser surgery to correct my nearsightedness.” Mag laughed. Leann was not interested in sewing so she and Paul were chatting about our travel experiences.

After chatting about sewing, we all talked about afterthoughts of our six-day group tour. Leann said: “I think the people in our group are very nice and we had a good time together for a few days.” Mag said: “The tour guide also said that our group is a easy one to handle as everyone agrees on the trip schedule.” I said: “This is my first time join a group tour, I had great time chatting with people from many different places.”

At this time, Paul looked in front of him and said, “That lady is about to collapse.” I then turned my head and saw three people sitting around a table on my right. One of them, a young lady was swaying her upper body, seemingly about to lose consciousness. One of her friends fed her something, I guess some medicine, and she quickly stopped swaying. After watching this realistic short drama about altitude sickness, I asked casually: “Have you experienced altitude sickness?” Leann said: “No, because I took medicine in advance.” Mag said: “We didn’t take medicine and didn’t feel much discomfort..” I said: “My altitude sickness is much worse than I expected, so this trip to Machu Picchu is my first and last.” Mag said: “Oh, I wouldn’t mind visiting Machu Picchu again.” She turned to look at Paul and said, “We wouldn’t mind visiting Machu Picchu again, right?” Paul nodded with a sweet smile. Mag said again: “We may not come again. The world is so big and there are so many other places we still want to visit.” I thought for a while and said: “The world is big and I had wanted to visit Machu Picchu for a long time. I brought the photos of my late parents and nanny with me on this trip. After visiting Machu Picchu, one of the seven wonders of the world, I realized that even if they are still alive, they would not be able to visit Machu Picchu in person as they cannot bear the altitude sickness and the bumpy journey.” Mag said: “The tour guide also said that you brought the photos of your late parents with you to visit Machu Picchu. Would you mind showing me the photo?” At this moment, Leann’s phone rang, she said it was her mother calling and left the table to talk on the phone.

I took out the color photo of my late parents and the black-and-white photo of my late nanny from my small satchel and handed them to Mag. She looked at the color photo of my parents and handed it to her husband. She looked at the black-and-white photo of my nanny carefully and asked curiously: “How many years ago did your nanny pass away?” I said: “More than ten years ago. Oh. Recently, my brother went back to our hometown and visited her grave. We found on her tombstone our names were side-by-side with her sons’ names and we were treated as her children on the tombstone.” Mag asked carefully after thinking about it: “Was it your nanny’s idea to put your names on her tombstone?” This was the first time I heard this question. I thought about it and said, “It was probably not her idea as she had Alzheimer’s disease a few years before she passed away. Maybe it was her sons’ idea.” I explained more: “My brother was just half a year old when my nanny came to our house. She lived with us for more than ten years, and she left after my brother and I went to college, so she had taken care of me since I was born.” Mag commented: “You are a family!” Mag asked those questions because she was really interested in my nanny on the photo. I hope my nanny in heaven is satisfied with what I said about her.

On Thanksgiving Day, thanks to bumping into like-minded people in Cuzco, Peru, in South America, a couple from Australia got to know my late nanny from China during our casual conversation at breakfast.

Before saying goodbye, we had a photo at the cafe to remember the happy moment far from our homeland in Cuzco Peru.

Little more

11-16-2023, The story about I had a great time on my first day to Lima Peru.

In early 2019, The story about I made three short skirts for my daughter who just lived in the winter in Massachusetts for the first time.

https://puddleofgold.org/?p=2850

Hi Eileen and Qingzi,

Thanks for arranging the trip for me, I enjoyed my first day in Lima very much! I met five people and had a great experience with them.

The first: the driver who picked me up

The flight was about an hour later than the scheduled time, right after I got out of customs, I saw a lady with a “CostSaveer” sign and she drove me to the hotel, which is about 20 km, which took her more than 40 minutes as the traffic was bad.

While driving, we chatted about her family, COVID, and Peru. She is a freelancer and has two daughters are 12 and 13. They play volleyball at school, which is far from their home, so the girls need to take a public bus to school daily and school time is 7:30 to 2:00. She went to a special language school to learn English and she speaks very good American English. COVID hit Peru badly, one of her relatives, very health, over 80 years old, passed away during the delta wave of COVID. Her family of four all got three doses of Pfizer. Her husband and one of their daughters had fever when they were positive, but she and another daughter had no symptoms. She grew up in a Catholic family, but she doesn’t practice in religion now, both of her daughters have no religion at all. She told me the popular sports in Peru are soccer and volleyball. Peru has more than ten parties, three are strong parties, there is an election every five years. She introduced two local dishes to me, one is potato, another is beef. She said she cooks them at home but not as good as the restaurant.

The second: Edduar, the waiter

The waiter who suggested both the cocktail and the main dish for me. Passion fruit cocktail and Ceviche tradic (raw fish marinated in lemon juice). I liked the cocktail.

The third and the fourth: Barbel and Henry, a couple from Borken

The couple sat on the next table, they asked about my Cevishe tradic, then Barbel suggested I have before and after meal photos, so her husband took the photos for me. After I finished my meal I described to them how I felt about the raw fish: I only felt the tender texture of raw meat without flavor, as the lemon and onion are strong, covering the fish taste, unlike sushi raw fish which is delicious.

As they drank beer, I was having cocktail, and the alcohol made us very chatty. I told them I have two grandchildren and I am on vacation from them (as Eileen taught me). I showed them both Ben and Meimei’s photo. Then Henry showed me photos of their family (30s son, pursuing a master degree, with his girlfriend, 28s daughter, physical therapy like her mother, with her boy friend, 20s daughter, a dog trainer, with her girlfriend and their golden retriever), his late father, his mother in nursery, and his older brother and younger sister,

Both of them came form families with three siblings, each side family in their generations have total eight children. Barbel is part time physical therapist and Henry is a handyman for plumbing. They have been retried for three years, and have traveled to many places.

This is their 18-day private tour trip with a guide for just the two of them.

At the end, we had desserts together, and exchanged email and want to keep in touch happily like children. Then, Henry said that he was a CEO for over a thousand people company; he worked 7 days a week for almost 40 years and never had the time to take care of their children; while working, he never told anyone about his family. I told him that one of my daughter’s professors also said that he started to tell little life stories in the class after he was 70 years old.

I told them I am a blogger, and I worked at eBay during its early stage.

The fifth: Daniel, the taxi driver

The taxi driver who drove me to the Magic Water Circuit. He asked for S40 of the local currency to drive me there, I bargained it down to S35. Then he offered to wait for me there for an hour, but don’t charge me for the hour, then send me back to the hotel.

He doesn’t speak English, so he talk to google translator then I read the English text version to understand him.

One the way back, he talked a lot and passed the English text version to me. It is about the national soccer stadium. I was confused, but he was very insistent on telling me and pointing to a building next to the circuit. Finally I realized he want to me to see the national soccer stadium. I immediately looked back at the the national soccer stadium big building in the dark and said thanks!

For the back trip, I gave him S42, S7 as his tip, and he was very happy. He then told me his name is Daniel.

Little Episodes

1. My lunch time.
Edduar, the waiter:

My left front view at lunch：

My right side view at lunch：

Ceviche recommended by Edduar：

The photo of before the meal (taken by Henry)：

The photo of after meal (taken by Henry)：

Our desserts：

2. Tunnel Fountain of Surprises in the Magic Water Circuit:

3. The traffic jam on my way back to the hotel：

In March 2019, I went back to China and lived with my father for a week to celebrate his 90th birthday, which was his first birthday after my mother passed away. On my way back to Boston, while waiting for the midway transfer in the quiet and empty airport lounge, I drifted off to sleep as I was very tired.

Suddenly, I heard a big noise and opened my eyes to see a group of youngsters coming to the lounge and talking loudly using a language I didn’t understand.

I woke up and looked at them, although they wore different clothes, they all had a green backpack, and I guessed they were a group of college students, as many of the boys had beards on a very young face, pretending to be mature; and all girls were tall and slender, absolutely modern western beauties.

The girl, sitting next to me, was chatting and waving her hands at the same time happily, she looked friendly and I couldn’t help asking: “Where are you from?”

I was surprised when the girls close to me started to speak English fluently and enthusiastically. They told me that they were Spanish high school students who had just finished their two-week American study trip and were now on their way back home to Spain.

I curiously asked, “Did you eat, live and have classes in American schools in the past two weeks?”

They said they had been eating and living in American families in the past two weeks. Three days a week, they attended high school classes to experience the life of American high schoolers; and the other two days they went out with their host families to experience American life.

Their experience sounded very interesting to me, I asked, “After living in the United States for two weeks, what do you like about the United States?”

The girls told me that they like the big shopping malls in the United States, they like the fast food restaurants with drive through, and they like big houses of American families. They also said that in America, high school students were very happy because they can choose easier courses unlike in Spain where high school students cannot choose courses and some courses are very difficult! I also learnt that they applied for a scholarship for this trip to the United States, so their food and accommodation in the United States were free.

In the airport lounge, these short conversations provided me a first time opportunity to be close enough to feel the vivacity spicy tempered Spanish young beauties and to hear their high-pitched voices which were full of emotion. Looking at them, I started to compare the Sichuan girls I am familiar to, as Sichuan is my home province. I felt that the Sichuan girls could easily match the Spanish girls in terms of vivacity spicy and fast high-pitched talking, while the Sichuan girls possess more subtle oriental beauties, in other words, at first glance Sichuan girls usually lack the sculptured facial and body features in comparison with the Spanish girls. It is also apparent that the visual differences from the two races cannot be ignored. I hope many of us are proud of the characteristics of our own race.

Recalling of the couplet of Jingxi Pavilion in Yong’an temple in Beihai Park: “Stillness suits contentment. No need of long journey to grasp (悦性适应静，会心何必遐).” Comprehending heartedly without going far requires a hardened mind. Grasping heartedly in a far place is a harvest.

The marathon is a running race with a distance of 26.2188 miles. The Boston Marathon is one of the most famous marathons in the world.

After dropping TL at Massachusetts Ave in Cambridge, while driving to Heartbreak Hill, I saw that the roads near the end of marathon were closed with a police officer standing at the intersection of some street. Because of the road closure, the GPS lost its navigation function, so I aimlessly circled around before I could find a parking spot on a side street of Blandford Street on the campus of Boston University. After getting out of the car and getting directions from a police officer standing on the roadside, I quickly walked to the marathon “1 Mile To Go” viewing points. Before entering the viewing points, a police officer checked my purse and tied a yellow ribbon on my purse to indicate it passed security inspection, then I went to viewing point 3 where the iron fences separating the runners and the audience were already crowded with people. While approaching the crowd, I looked back and saw two government big trucks parked horizontally behind me. No car could run over the two trucks to crash the audience standing by the iron fence, which made me feel very safe.

At about 12:30 noon, I squeezed into the crowd along the iron fence. On my left was a pretty petite girl with long hair and she shouted and cheered for all runners on the road: “You got it!”. On my right was a middle-aged woman who was holding her mobile phone recording the runners; on her right was a tall young mother with her daughter who was sitting in a children’s scroller. These were my left and right neighbors within a meter at “1 Mile To Go” of Boston Marathon. My left neighbor was very loud and my right neighbors were quiet.

While standing behind the iron fence and cluelessly watching endless runners passing in front of me, I turned my head to left and asked the pretty girl:”Where did the marathon start?” She immediately took out her cell phone and found a map to show me: “The marathon started from Hopkinton Center and it takes about an hour to drive from there to here.” As she sounded like very interested in marathon, I asked, “Do you want to run marathon someday?” She laughed: “I’m planning to start running, but not for the marathon.” Then I joined with her in cheering for all runners on the road. Because I did not know any runner, the things that caught my eyes were the blind runners holding hands with their guides, the disabled runners in their wheelchairs, and the runners coming to greet audience on the other side of the fences. Watching the unmasked crowded audience so close to each other shouting and waving their hands along the side of the street, I thought if Boston’s hospital didn’t become over occupied within a few days, this marathon would be one of the most effective ways to prove COVID-19 has been under control!

Suddenly, I heard the tall young mother on the right shouting: “Brian.” I turned my head to the right and saw a young man in a red shirt running toward us happily and shouting, “Amy.” After making a high five with Amy by clapping their hands together, Brian ran away. Then I heard the middle-aged woman on my right talking to Amy: “My daughter’s name is Amy too. She’s running today. I’m waiting here to take photos of her when she passes by.” I overheard her name is Shire.

After a while, Shire said excitedly: “Amy is here!” Then I heard she said: “Damned, I didn’t get Amy on my phone, a man just ran into the camera and completely blocked Amy.” As I was taking photos too, I looked at my phone and saw a recent photo of a girl in black shirt and short-pants, I showed this photo on my phone to Shire: “Is this your Amy?” Shire said happily as soon as she saw it: “Yes, can I take a picture of this photo?” While Shire was photoing the picture of Amy on my phone using her phone, I asked, “How old is your daughter? Where did you come from?” Shire said, “Amy is 31 years old and we come from Canada.” I asked again: “Could I write a story with Amy’s picture I just showed you?” Shire said: “Sure, do you have any questions for me? I’m leaving now.” I asked: “What does Amy do?” “Amy is a musician.” “What instrument does she play?” “She plays the violin.” After Shire left, I asked the tall Amy: “Is Brian your husband?” Amy smiled: “No, he’s a colleague.”

As I saw a lot of sweet scenes of hugging and kissing between the on-site runners and off-site audience over the iron fences, I wondered why these runners didn’t care about their marathon records and wanted to stop and interact with people off-site. After pondering over it for a while, my guess was that for marathon amateurs, their participation is a proud and valuable opportunity that they want to share with family and friends. With this fresh thought, I immediately text messaged my daughter who was in Baltimore about the mother and daughter of Shire and Amy and added at the end: “If you have a new passion at the age of 31, I will support you, Shire is my role model! ”

After Shire left, a girl came to stand beside me and I asked: “Do you know any runner?” She said, “Yes, my mommy’s friend is running today and she came from Maryland. I was responsible for taking photos of her for my mommy.” I asked: “Did you come from Maryland to take photo for her?” She said: “No, I am a student in Boston University.” “What is your major?” “I study special education.” I asked curiously: “How do you know when your mother’s friend will pass by here?” She said: “My mommy told me her friend’s marathon number. I am using an app tracking her marathon number. She will come here in a few minutes. She is 61 years old.”

During the 26.2-mile marathon, at the viewing point of “1 Mile To Go”, while chatting with my left and right neighbors within 1 meter and watching the interaction between runners on the road and the audience outside the iron fences, I felt a connection with the marathon, as I was deeply touched by the bonding with family and friends at the scene of the Boston Marathon.

Little Episodes

1. At 12:46 PM 10-11-2021， Amy, Brian’s colleague, was shouting：“Brian。” （The little girl in white cloth is Amy’ daughter, next to the little girl is Shire’s hand holding her cell phone recording.）

The street side crowded with unmasked audience and the road has all kinds of runners. Brian who in red shirt was running happily and a runner on the wheelchair.

2. At 12:53 PM 10-11-2021， Amy from Canada was running happily。

Shire， Amy’s mother was taking photos. The yellow ribbon on her shoulder bag indicates her bag passed security inspection.

3. At 1:57 PM, 10-11-2021，a blind runner holding hands with his guide.

At 3:05 PM, 11-11-2021，a pair of lovers hugging each other over the iron fences.

After hugging her lover on one side of the street, the female runner ran to hug a middle-aged woman on another side of the street. In addition, a runner was lying on the ground due to her cramping leg.

4. A group of officers facing the “1 Mile To Go” sign.

5. While chatting about my experience of watching Marathon the first time in Boston, the friend told me：“The incline of Heartbreak Hill is very challenge, it is very hard to break the world record for the Boston Marathon. Some professional runners don’t attend the Boston Marathon now.” I asked：“Where is the place to break world record easily？” “Berlin in Germany。”

Half July, Chinese New Year’s Eve, Qingming Festival and Double Ninth Festival are the four major Chinese traditional festivals for the worship of ancestors.

On August 15, 2019 which was also July 15 of the Lunar calendar, I was alone in Chengdu waiting for my high school reunion to be started on the next day. In the afternoon, while wandering around for street food near the hotel, I accidentally walked into Temple Wenshu, a famous Buddhist temple. I saw many people, old and young, burning paper money and incense sticks, kowtowing and bowing in the courtyard of Temple Wenshu, which was already piled with lots of ashes. An old man with incense sticks on his hands told me, “Today is the Zhongyuan Jie, a day to worship our ancestors.” What I heard and saw in the courtyard confirmed that Half July is really a trinity of festivals for Buddhism, Taoism and secular Chinese culture.

After witnessing the whole-hearted folk worship of ancestors in surprise, I also burned paper money and incense sticks, and knelt and kowtowed to pray for peace. In the land of my home province, after a long separation, I closed my eyes and thought of my ancestors. Under the rich ceremony atmosphere, I remember the remote full of love ceremony given to me by my mother and my nanny in the mid-1990s.

In the mid-1990s, while my parents and my nanny Yeyi were in my hometown Zigong, I did my PhD research at VSL in the department of physics at the Catholic University of America (CUA) in Washington, D.C. In that time, e-mail did not exist and my parents and I exchanged greetings and family affairs through overseas letters every month. After my daughter was born, my mother wrote to me in a letter: “Today, your Yeyi (my nanny) visited us and asked for the childhood clothes of you and your bother. Your Yeyi was going to Mountain Emei soon. She planned to hang the clothes on the JinDing (the top of Mountain Emei) for the Buddha’s blessing for a peaceful life for you and your brother.” My mother’s detailed and emotional description of my Yeyi’s love ritual for us touched me very much and I will remember this love forever.

“There is no boundary between life and death in Half July”. My love reverberated between heaven and earth, spreading sweetness and eternity, and enriching my soul. I suddenly realized that one of the driving forces for the continuation and spread of ancient customs is love and family affection.

Little Episodes

1. August 15, 2019. I burned paper money and incense sticks, knelt and kowtowed in the courtyard of Temple Wenshu, worshipped my ancestors and prayed for peace.

2. My shared moment: While witnessing the rich and deep rooted folk ancestor worshipping ceremony, I also burnt paper money, worshiped my ancestors, knelt down and expressed my feelings of thankful and gratitude. Today is my mother’s second Zhongyuan Jie in heaven. May my late mother and ancestors bless us with safety and auspice（2019-08-15-2019).

I didn’t know that the star magnolia could be such a huge tree, as I had only seen the petite-sized star magnolia in the Filoli Gardens previously.

In Filoli in the Silicon Valley, the small and thin stems of a short star magnolia tree have long Spanish moss hanging on them. The grayish-green colored lichens growing on them indicates the star magnolia tree is an old slow-growing tree. However, the star magnolia flowers are very delicate and beautiful, they are full of life, contrasting with the ancient moss and lichens on the branches. Standing beside the blooming star magnolia tree, short and aged, I felt its quiet and magical immortal spirit.

One afternoon at the end of March in 2021, I visited the Boston Public Garden and there were very few visitors because of COVID-19. I lingered around a very tall star magnolia tree there, as it was very impressive to me. I stood close to look up at the star magnolia blooming under the blue sky, and I walked away to watch the tree from distances and I saw a golden weeping willow, next to the star magnolia tree, dancing in the strong wind. It was such a beautiful sight, the tranquility and beauty of the metropolis.

Looking up at the very tall star magnolia tree with flowers, the ethereal spirit connected with the star magnolia tree in my memory disappeared. On the contrary, I felt an earthly vigorous connection with the star magnolia tree here. The same plants have very different body structures (very short vs. very tall) in different places, I felt the magic of nature is really infinite.

Looking up at the name tag of star magnolia on the trunk, my attention turned to the scars on the trunks, there are decades of footprints of countless vows of love by a few generations. I felt the scars on the tree trunk are mini-sceneries of wishes for lasting love.

Walking around the huge star magnolia tree, I seemed to ride on a memory high-speed train, enjoying magnolia flowers back in my hometown of Zigong, watching the tall yellow-colored magnolia flowers and the short star magnolia flowers in Filoli garden in Silicon Valley, visiting the magnolia liliiflora planted by the cardinal in 1951 in Mystic Seaport.

“Flowers out of the soil, beauty without makeup.”

Flowers easily pleased their lovers.

Little Episodes

1. In the Boston Public Garden on Monday afternoon, the blooming star magnolia, her tall trunk, and a golden weeping willow in front of her.

Spring travel, Boston Common on a Monday afternoon:
Star magnolia, delicate and in full bloom.
Its scarred trunk recorded countless vows of love.
A few people, strong wind, and good scenery.

2. Zigong salt bureau’s white magnolia is in my memory. Filoli’s star magnolia and yellow-colored magnolia are in the picture.

3. In the spring of 2020 pandemic, my daughter and I often took a one-day tour driving on the empty highway. One day we went to Mystic Seaport, a quiet town, and saw a magnolia liliiflora tree planted by a cardinal in 1951. Magnolia is really noble as my mother told to me when I was little.

Chinese Version

Last week, frequent earthquakes in Silicon Valley made me nervous. A report which said “On 15 September 2017, at around 08:20 BST, an explosion occurred on a District line train at Parsons Green Underground station, in London, England.” further scared me. Also my niece who was diagnosed with cancer was seeking help in the USA. I was also worried about my parents and my tired aunt… the little things all piled up, so I felt that life was hard and I needed to treasure it more.

On Happy Friday (“Happy Friday” was a greeting we used often on Fridays at work, because it makes the end of the work week. After getting out of the workplace, I still like to refer to Friday as “Happy Friday.”), I visited the familiar San Jose Municipal Rose Garden to show off my pretty toenails. Today, I continued enjoying Friday’s trip to the garden.

On Friday in the garden, my heart was somewhat heavy with last week’s events. While walking on the soft, moist, and cool grass on bare feet, my red toe nails on green lawn were made prettier under the afternoon sunlight, which somewhat lightened me, as I felt the familiar working class spirits of “Happy Friday”.

While walking on bare feet, I tilted my head down to observe the colors of the roses that were near the ground. I was also looking for roses with colors that matched my toenails. This exercise softened my heart further.

While focusing on the ground, I frequently caught various trophy years on the tags at the front of certain roses. The year indicated when the rose received a medal in the past. I started to read and photograph the tags of the roses, and I also started to find events in my memory which happened on the tagged years.

Mikado 1988

The rose which got the 1988 medal was the Mikado, I remembered my brother got married in Zigong during Chinese New Year in 1988, Before their wedding, my future sister-in-law and I went shopping and bought lots of red silk roses in DengGanPa. The two of us arranged the roses in a basket and hung the basket at the corner of the ceiling in their new room. The red roses brightened the very simple new room and surprisedly filled the room with a festival atmosphere.

The red Mikado rose was like an old friend from a faraway place which brought me happy memories.

I searched online for the Mikado rose: “Bred by Seizo Suzuki (Japan, 1976). Introduced in Japan by Keisei Rose Nurseries Inc. in 1987 as the ‘Mikado’. Introduced in the United States by The Conard-Pyle Co. in 1987 as the ‘Mikado’. It has a mild fragrance. its bloom is full (26-40 petals). The name may refer to the Emperor of Japan.”