I forced myself out of bed at 4:00 a.m. this morning in order to finish up a presentation for my Japanese culture course. The topic was "Alcohol in Japan," and as the group leader I was charged with ensuring everything was in order. Never mind that I only just returned form Korea; never mind that my mother will fly into Japan later in the afternoon; and never mind that I have dozens of other obligations that also need attending; somebody has to do it.

I emailed out a final copy of the group's work by 9:00 a.m., and then hurried to campus to meet with my professor before the 10:40 start time. The presentation went off without a hitch, and a length 20 minute debate ensued as I led a debate over the merits of Japan's so-called "drinking society." I have been over this many times, but the main idea is important and thus worth repeating: drinking alcohol in a social environment, regardless of the stress that may exist in one's life, is an integral part of being accepted in Japan. Make no mistake about one thing: if you are not accepted in Japan you have little chance of succeeding because Japanese culture is group-oriented. Carrying this argument one step further implies that drinking alcohol is not for one's own benefit, but rather to demonstrate to peers that you are putting your own interests aside by often drinking far more than you would like.

By 11:40 a.m. I was hustling to Ookayama station, and by 1:30 p.m. I reached Narita Airport. I endured a slight roundabout when my mom called me using a payphone and assured me she was at Terminal 2, despite knowing she was in fact landing at Terminal 1. ("No, no, it says Terminal 1 here!")... Right, mother...

After such a long flight, she was understandably tired, so I taught her survival Japanese over a cup of coffee before returning to Shinagawa Station. I spent the train ride teaching her survival Japanese, laughing all the while because I remember when I was in her very shoes.

Back at the house, I showed her into her room on the ground floor and then gave a tour of the house. Predictably, my mother was impressed by the beautiful flowers (mini-jungles, in reality) on both the second floor and rooftop; it was with great pleasure when I explained that I have been taking care of these plants for the past ten months.

Maki-san returned home early from work, arriving at around 7:30 p.m. Reflecting back, this is honestly the earliest I have ever seen her come home from work, so I was somewhat jealous that my mother received such preferential treatment. Fortunately, I was also to benefit in the evening as we caught a taxi to Sakura Sakura, a terrific restaurant that took us 10 minutes to find even with the map. Japanese restaurants, at least the "good ones," are often like this: they are meant to be found only by people who mean to find them. The dinner consisted of enough variety for me to forget what it was we ate, but I do remember fresh beer, tender SASHIMI, hot and cold SOBA, a sampling of TEMPURA, various vegetables, MISO SHIRO, and all the other goodies that are associated with Japanese cuisine (GOHAN, pickled vegetables, etc).