Ravi's Culinary Adventures In Tokyo

Just like Ravi, I'm not accustomed to being in a big city like Tokyo; I've spent the past two years in rural Japan in a village of 10,000 people. Here, I feel as though we are constantly moving from a train to a subway to a light rail, with only brief glimpses of towering skyscrapers before being shuttled along underground.

Kristin, Ravi, and I struggle to keep pace with our fleet-footed fellow travelers, who barely seem to notice their surroundings as they plow on ahead, their thoughts focused entirely on their destination, their phones, or a much needed nap.

Our days have been long so far.  We returned to Kristin's Aunt's house around midnight last night. As we walked from the nearest train station to a place where we could finally kick our heels up, Ravi said, "You know, they have all of these trains and subways to make things so convenient, but you still have to walk so much!"

On Sunday, we visited a Lutheran church in downtown Tokyo. By a direct train, it would take less than 40 minutes to get there, but with all the walking between stations and connections, we were lucky when we arrived after an hour and a half.

The priest, Pastor Eric, was kind enough to ask Ravi to give a brief speech about his work on behalf of the Dalit people and his organization, ARV.  Afterward, one member named Yukiko offered her advice on whom Ravi might be able to speak with during his two week tour.

As we headed for home, we made a brief stop in the fashion district called Harajuku, to visit the Meiji Shrine. It's nestled in a wooded copse, a relic from a past era, when Japan's doors had just recently been forced open by black steam ships from America. Protected from the hustle and bustle of modern day Tokyo by rings of trees, the only people who seemed to be there were tourists... probably just like us: trying to take a break and slow down.

Ravi particularly enjoyed the cleansing water that visitors are asked to wash themselves in before entering the shrine. "This water is delicious!" he exclaimed. We went back for seconds and thirds.

All three of us were exhausted on our ride back to Kristin's Aunt's amidst the jostling crowd of fellow travelers. None of us had been prepared for the speed of life here. But when we got back to the house, there was a surprise for us! Kristin's Auntie Reiko had prepared us a feast of a dinner. And as we relaxed over dinner, we got to laugh at Ravi's first taste of raw fish and the family's foray into Indian pickles.

On the outside, metropolitan Tokyo seemed hard, unfeeling, and unnervingly fast. But the welcome we've had inside, with the families and the people, reminds me a lot of my time in rural India alongside the villagers. It transcends words; it's all about a mutual feeling of respect and love.