There I was, standing at a baggage carousel in New York¡¯s LaGuardia Airport, thinking the world had gone mad. I¡¯d spent the previous 16 months living in the city of Oita in northern Kyushu.
Compared to what was around me, Oita had been a cocoon of safety. Residents apologized for apologizing, and bowed their way out of giving directions. Once, a Lawson employee ran two blocks simply to hand me the rice ball I¡¯d forgotten on the counter. Elementary school children, eager to practice their English, had walked behind me giggling, saying ¡°Hello!¡± as I headed to work.
But New York? Well ...
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