It's (not) a small world, after all

An eloquent and well-composed post died a quick death when the pay computer disconnected with no warning, so this is what you'll get.

Fukuoka seems to have a bit of an inferiority complex, undeserved in my opinion. It's a very livable city, all the amenities with none of the tour buses. I've seen some great shrines and temples, and the transportation system can't be beat. After three days, Hakata Station seems like an old friend. The train and bus routes are cheap and easily navigable. Coming from your ever-lost source, that's saying a lot.

The people I've met have been unfailingly kind, even to a gaijin with practically non-existent Japanese. NO ONE here speaks English, but I've been escorted to my destination, given a subway ticket, and this afternoon an elderly woman forced an umbrella on me, with exhortations that could only translate as "You'll catch your death out in this rain."

Still, it's a very Japanese city. In three days, in a population of 1.4 million, I've seen less than a dozen Westerners, only two of them female. Had lunch today with Nick Szasz, Canadian publisher of Fukuoka Now, the local international monthly. He's been here 16 years and gave me some good tips, but the best thing he did was to speak English with me while we slurped down soba.

Nick was on his way out of town, which spared me from begging him and his girlfriend to adopt me for a few hours. Afterwards, I headed to the local convention center to see the annual ceramics fair. Kyushu is famed for its ceramics, and now I see why. If my bag wasn't already bulging, I'd have loaded up.

One unpleasant surprise: I came here expecting to feel statuesque only to discover that the Japanese aren't SHORT any more. It's pretty humbling when the only people I'm reliably towering over are stooped grandmothers. Damn those vitamins! Still just another short girl in the crowd.

In a huge and crowded convention center, I spied the only other gaijin. We both gave each other the momentary look of longing when Westerners see each other: a flash of puppy dog loneliness before it's replaced with the mantel of insouciance that's de rigeur for strangers in a strange land.

As it happened, I did need to ask an English speaker a question or two about the ceramics fair. Lucky me, the potter (Luc) was French ... which is kind of like English. Artists from the entire country are exhibiting, but his studio is in Fukuoka. He offered me his card and a tour. "Lucyfer@..." Cute, but maybe not a good idea.

Now, after 3 buses in the rain, I should be out sampling street food and gathering more information for my famously well-researched pieces. Instead, I'm here at the Hyatt, headed up to my room to drink an Asahi and nibble on the pumpkin seeds I've carried across three continents. I'll be out there again tomorrow.