Found in Translation
I’ve wanted to visit Japan for forever. And I did, over Christmas, as I told you and it was great. But for Spring Break, we did the Japanese grand tour that I’d really been dreaming of—Tokyo, Kyoto, Hiroshima. Akihabara, Gion, Mt. Fuji. Sushi, Ramen, Yakitori. Leading up to the trip, I crammed, as I do, studying up on Japanese history and literature and music and culture (that’s what I’m calling my bingeing of Japanese reality tv. “Studying”). And when we got back, we kind of summed up the trip when we found Lost in Translation on Netflix. Lost in Translation is a beautiful movie for lots of reasons, and one of my favorites, but it was apt for this because it is set in Tokyo, and the setting is such a presence. It’s not a movie that could have taken place anywhere else in the world, I think. And my favorite, favorite part of the movie is kind of in two parts—the bookends of the movie. Bill Murray is riding in a taxi, at the beginnning of the movie having just arri