Hello, Japan.

When I first saw Japanese land outside of my plane window, all I could think was "Hello, Japan." and smile to myself. For some reason, it made me so happy to see the perfectly ordered fields, with their right angles and varying shades of green. To see a new place, so full of secrets and surprises. Plus, I'd been on a plane for 13 hours and I was ready to get off. Even it it meant a 5 hour lay-over in Tokyo.

My first flight left LEX at 6:00am this morning, which meant a 3:45 alarm so I could quickly shower, go over my checklist, have some coffee and throw my bags in the car. Mom and Sam took me to the airport, where I was reminded just how easy it is to fly out of LEX. No lines anywhere! I hugged mom and Sam goodbye. He and I had agreed to have a "happy" goodbye, which I managed. (Mom didn't join that pact :)) But as soon as I swept through security and stepped on the escalator, out of sight from him, the floodgates broke.... I sat in a corner at gate 39 and cried until I got onto the plane.

I remember a family friend, who also went overseas to teach when she was young, told me that she cried the whole way there (I don't remember where she went exactly--Germany, I think), but as soon as she got arrived she was so happy. I'm betting on the same evolution of emotion for myself.

I slept for most of the flight to Dallas, though, and had a nice layover there (where I enjoyed what will probably be my last "everything" bagel for a year or so). Read the Obama edition of Rolling Stone (man, he is soooo dreamy). While waiting to board I noticed an intriguing group of Spanish-speaking men, some of whom were carrying nice video cameras. Hoping that I might get to sit next to one of them and break out the old Spanish (the only use it's gotten lately is in dreams), I ended up with a quiet Japanese man as my neighbor. He was plenty nice, but with the language barrier we kept to ourselves unless I needed to go to the bathroom. I guess I slept quite a bit since I don't really recall being awake that much. (I really needed some shut eye--I only slept for about 3 hours last night.) Through some probably inappropriate staring, I eventually realized that the men I'd noticed at the gate were a TV crew for a Chilean television station...... I always kind of have this hope that I'm going to sit next to someone really interesting on a flight--like a Chilean camera man. Or someone who could possibly change my life. (I know a girl who met a man on a flight who offered her a great job in the city where her boyfriend lived.) Or someone who could tell me about their life's travels. But that didn't happen today, at least. Not today, on a day when I really needed some human connection, and when I suddenly remembered the silence that accompanies traveling solo--not talking to anyone for days at a time, other than to ask or answer a basic question.

I love traveling alone. And normally I love that silence. But I was sitting alone, kind of sad, by a stranger on a 13-hour flight to Tokyo thinking "How in the hell did I get here?". And I could have really used a conversation.

Luckily, when I arrived at the airport in Tokyo (where everyone is SO nice), I was able to pay 500 yen (5 dollars) for a day internet pass. Normally I would never pay for wifi at an airport, but I have a long layover here, I've had a long day already, I'm exhausted, and I still have at least 10 hours of total travel time ahead of me. So I decided to buy myself some damn internet access. And to my good fortune, I was able to talk to Sam on Skype. See his face, hear his voice, talk to him about my day. Just what I needed to get me through this last leg of my long journey today.

Well, I also need some food. Sam (who was here in Tokyo at this airport just last week) tells me there are some great noodles at a cafe down the hall. Off I go, then, in search of noodles. And something cold to drink. And a chair in which to prop up my swollen feet.

I'll be in Viet Nam before I know it....and I'm going pass out in my hotel, get a good night's sleep, and start exploring Hanoi tomorrow. What a life.