“There are no foreign lands.
It is the traveler
only who is foreign.”
Robert Louis Stevenson

Twenty-five years ago today, I found myself a stranger in a strange land. With a small group of my students, I visited Nagasaki, Japan — the first of fourteen visits to Japan between 1998 and 2014. We were there for a ten-day “homestay” adventure with students from Junshin Girls’ Junior & Senior High School. To say that the experience was life-changing for me would be an understatement.

I admit that, at first, I wasn’t overly-excited about the opportunity to visit Japan. I didn’t speak the language, I was unfamiliar with Japanese food and customs, and the thought of flying over that much water to get there just didn’t sit well with me. Still, encouraged by Kathy to go and enjoy the adventure, I got my passport, packed my bag, and boarded a flight to The Land of the Rising Sun.

We arrived in Nagasaki on Sunday night, November 15, 1998. We were greeted by our host families and immediately swept-off to our respective host family’s home. My host for the homestay visit was a 16-year-old Junshin student by the name of Saori Komoda. Her family lived in a cozy hillside home in the small community of Sotome, a coastal town overlooking the East China Sea. I quickly learned that Saori’s parents did not speak English. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized that Saori was quite fluent in English, though she didn’t have the confidence at that time to speak it with conviction.

For the duration of my visit, Saori was my lifeline. We took the local bus together from Sotome to her school each morning, then home again in the early evening. Saori taught me how to pay my fare at the end of each bus ride. In fact, she provided exact change for my fare. I appreciated her kindness. 

Once on campus, my students and I were treated like celebrities. My students shadowed their host students throughout each day. I’d been told by one of my colleagues, who had escorted a group to Nagasaki the year before, that once I’d checked-in with my students each morning, the rest of the day would be mine to do as I pleased. I chose to spend the first day on campus, just getting familiar with the lay of the land. One of the English teachers asked if I would be willing to visit her English class to offer her students the opportunity to converse with someone who speaks English as their first language. Of course, I accepted. I had a wonderful visit to the class, and word got out to the other English teachers that I was willing to visit classes. For the remainder of our visit, as well as on subsequent visits to Nagasaki, I spent a fair amount of time each day in various English classes. It was a wonderful way for me to get to know the students and their teachers.

One of the English teachers asked me on that first day, “Would it be okay of our students called you Kevin-sensei instead of Mr. Carroll? They have difficulty pronouncing their R’s and L’s.” Of course, I said that would be fine. I grew to love the sound of the Junshin students greeting me enthusiastically by that title in the hallways, in the schoolyard, and even when they would see me at the local mall. 

Staying with Saori’s family in Sotome turned out to be an absolute blessing. Her parents were wonderful. Her mother, who prepared meals at a local nursing home, prepared some amazing meals for us to share. Any fears I had about the possibility of not liking Japanese food quickly dissipated. Even though Saori’s parents didn’t speak English, we had some delightful conversations, thanks to Saori serving as our interpreter. They definitely made me feel like part of their family.

As our homestay experience came to an end, I found myself overwhelmed with appreciation for the kindness and hospitality provided by Saori, her parents, and the entire Junshin school community who had so graciously welcomed us into their lives. On the morning of our departure, I didn’t want to leave. The special brand of hospitality I had experienced, known in Japan as omotenashi, had touched my heart and soul. I felt at home in Nagasaki. I felt at home with Saori’s family. I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

As our flight ascended into the evening sky, I felt a tremendous sense of loss. Little did I know that I would return to Nagasaki the next year, and many more times after that. Now, twenty-five years after that first visit, Saori and I continue to nurture an excellent friendship. And why not? She’s family! 

American novelist Sharon Shinn wrote, “Every journey makes its own map across your heart.” Yes, it most certainly does.