Good morning, America!

"I was trying to pay using this card,” she showed me a blue IC (integrated circuit) card, “but the lady said something and gave the card back to me? I got it a few days ago – my wallet’s in my room, and my phone–” she let out a lightly frazzled laugh. “I was in the middle of using a translator app, and it ran out of battery.” She suddenly perked up with determination, “SoifyoucouldhelpmeIwouldbesograteful–”

Oi, she’s speaking so fast now! I couldn’t really understand that last part… For the most part, her problem stemmed from her payment card not working–whether due to a balance issue or something wrong with the card, I would need to ask about it from the cashier.

I waved to the woman behind the counter and got her attention. “Excuse me, miss, is there an issue with her IC card?”

She quickly nodded, “Ah, thank you for helping, it appears that her card has insufficient funds for the purchase.” I looked at the counter, noticing a generous spread of snacks, drinks, creams, more snacks…

“No worries, so how much is it?”

“The total is 6,700 yen.” ¥6,700!? T-that’s like a week’s worth of groceries for me. I don't think I even have that much cash on me…

“Oh, but the remaining money on her card, the outstanding balance is 1,600 yen.” Right, ¥1,600…that’s manageable.

I rummaged through my wallet and handed her two ¥1000 notes.“Could you add this to her card, and it should be enough.”

“Of course, one moment please.”

***

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver!!” she beamed, gently swinging her bags back and forth as we headed out of the store. The sun had started to set, casting the terrace in a warm orange glow, the last beams of warmth filtering through before the night steals it away. Looking around, there are not many restaurants or nighttime venues in the immediate vicinity, though the main entertainment districts are only a five-minute train ride away.

We continued walking down the paved path, heading towards the campus buildings. It was a short walk from the store, and at the moment, there was barely anyone around the dormitories. 

“Walking me home, too? How nice of you–” she giggled, which caught me a bit off guard.

“Oh, I also live this way–” I pointed in the general direction of the dormitory buildings. Walking someone home, huh. Sounds straight out of one of those drama shows—

“I see! Hm…you looked about my age, are you also a first-year student?” she asked, with an inquisitive face. I nodded, and she exhaled, seemingly in disbelief. “Both your English and Japanese are great…being bilingual where I’m from is like a superpower, and it’s the norm here? Your English is a million times better than my Japanese,” she shook her head. “American education, am I right?”

“Ah, you’re from the United States?”

“Yep!” she replied, skipping ahead towards her dormitory building, which….

“We live in the same building?” she stopped, quite puzzled. “But if this is the international dorm, and you’re from here–”

“Long story–” I sighed. As I explained to her the short version of what happened, we got in the elevator. The doors closed and we both reached to press our respective floors–until our fingers collided together awkwardly on the ‘7’.

“We’re floormates?! Wow—wait a second–” she lightly tapped her head on her forehead. “Silly me, I didn’t even introduce myself. My name’s Serina Sato, what’s yours?”

Right, westerners do first name, last name… her last name sounds like the common Japanese last name: Satou. Or I should reframe it: the most common Japanese last name, akin to ‘Smith’ in America or ‘Li’ in China.

“Mine is Ryuuto Iwasaki.”

“Ryuuto!” Straight to the first name!? Oh, it must be a norm where she’s from.

“Something the matter?”

“I guess…I’m just not used to people outside my family calling me Ryuuto—”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable! What do your friends usually call you?”

I hesitated for a moment. “Most people would call me Iwasaki-kun.” The elevator stopped, opening the door to the hall. As we exited, she must’ve said something, but I couldn't hear quickly.

She turned around. “I might accidentally call you Ryuuto now and then, but I’ll try my very best, Iwasaki-kun!” She gave a thumbs up with such enthusiasm, or genki.

“This one here’s my room!” She pointed at the door in front of her: Room 702. I stopped walking a few steps behind her, letting this new set of information process in my mind. Room 702… that means…“Hey..Iwasaki-kun, where’s your room? Further down the hall?”

“Actually, it's here–” I pointed at the door adjacent to hers: Room 701.

“We’re neighbors?!” she gasped, before she started laughing. “No way, what a coincidence!’ Coin….what was that? “Wait there!” She opened her door and entered her room, and after about thirty seconds, she came out with a small handbag and a phone charger.

“Here’s your money back, and a little extra,” she said, handing me the ¥2000 and a family-size bag of chips.

“Oh–thank you, Sato-san.” I expressed with gratitude, quite a pleasant surprise. Is this what people considered American hospitality, no wait, I think they called it Southern hospitality, but I don’t think she has a ‘Southern’ accent.

“Have you checked out the common room yet? You said downstairs that you just moved in today,” she tilted her head to the side a bit, probably wondering what I was ruminating about. I shook my head. “Come on, it’s really nice!”

She wasn’t kidding. The common space was quite large, with an abundance of chairs, flat screen televisions, a few bean bags, a study area…even a small dining area. She plopped on one of the chairs and placed several snacks on the table in front, and I took the seat across from her.

“So, Iwasaki-kun, where in Japan are you from?”

“Um…it’s in the south…west part of Japan–Fukuoka.”

“Fukuoka, sounds cool!” she replied. “I’m from Good Morning, America!” Good Morning, America? Maybe she’s trying to translate the name of her town, or there’s really a place called Good Morning.

“Ah…Good Morning, America, where’s that?”

“It’s kinda in the center, but to the right or so–” she looked like she was trying to recreate the map in her mind, pointing at the wall and tracing something.

“So, Good Morning, America….”

“Wait, you know Good Morning America? The TV show?”

“You said you lived there, what TV show?”

“What?”

“Never mind, so just Good Morning…”

“Good Morning?! It’s 7pm, Iwasaki-kun!”

“But you said…Good Morning… that’s Good Morning in English, right?”

She grabbed her purse, pulled out a slip of paper and a mechanical pencil, and wrote the following letters down. O-h-i-o.

“O-hi-o.” That’s literally how you say good morning in Japanese—’ohayo’. Oh.

She burst out laughing…and I realized how dumb the conversation must have sounded for both of us."

It was a strange feeling– normally, I wasn’t used to having such an extensive conversation with others… not in school, especially. But Satou-san was quite a nice and friendly person, easier to talk to than I originally expected. I suppose the original worries I had about living here were an overreaction…though she’s only one person, I can’t be too optimistic.

At least if I am on good terms with her as neighbors, then my goal for a peaceful dorm life is much easier.

I looked back at her, now that her laughing had subsided, and was entranced by which package of snacks to eat first. The indecision showed on her face as her eyes scanned each snack. Suddenly, she glanced up, now noticing that I was watching her. “Something funny?” she pouted.

“The tomato Pretz sticks–” I pointed at the white box on her left. “Those ones are pretty good.”

She grinned, reaching for the box. “Thanks!”