Stepping off the plane the morning of April 15, I felt hungry,
exhausted, and a little strange
– we’d climbed aboard a flight for home at 4pm of the same
afternoon back in Tokyo, Japan.
By Carly Apuzzo Special to the Dispatch
Gilroy – Stepping off the plane the morning of April 15, I felt hungry, exhausted, and a little strange – we’d climbed aboard a flight for home at 4pm of the same afternoon back in Tokyo, Japan.
Everything still felt the same inside San Francisco airport – we’d all grown used to hauling luggage around, leaning on suitcases and making small talk to pass the time; it was when we stepped outside to meet our families that everything suddenly seemed both foreign and familiar. Hugging moms and dads, brothers, sisters, cousins, boyfriends and girlfriends, we encircled our loved ones and tried to keep from crying as we sang Takeda Lullaby together for the last time. Everyone was a little teary-eyed as we finished, and as good as it felt retiring to our separate cars and driving back to our own homes, I couldn’t help but miss everyone on my way back to Gilroy. After spending about 240 hours together, riding on trains and rooming with one another, I’d become accustomed to doing everything as a group.
If nothing else, this trip has brought us closer together than I would have ever thought possible. There isn’t one person in Chamber I don’t consider a friend – in fact, I’d go as far as to say that Chamber feels like a second family to me. As ridiculous as it sounds, there were days in Japan where I’d wake up at my host-home, and miss being around the whole group; days where I’d look forward to four-hour train rides and bus rides through the countryside, because I knew it would give me a chance to talk to everyone.
“The most important thing I got out of this trip was a stronger bond with everyone in Chamber,” fellow reporter Kaitlin Joven said. “This trip is definitely something I’m going to remember for the rest of my life.”
I think that all of us can agree that it’s difficult to come back home and re-transition into the American lifestyle. Using chopsticks instead of forks, eating Japanese food as opposed to In ‘n’ Out Burger or Taco Bell, and yawning a sleepy “ohayo gozaimasu” to Mr. Robb instead of mumbling “hello” seems like second-nature to us now. Reporter William Hoshida said, “It’s hard to think about the experience of Japan … the relationships formed with our host-families, the people and the places we’ve left … knowing that I may never see those things again.”
There’s something that Mr. Robb said many times throughout the trip – at the time I found it a little cliche, but looking back, it’s absolutely true: Music is a bridge between cultures – it can connect us where language fails to do so and familiarity disappears.
Having experienced this trip affirms that statement fully. It’s both comforting and amazing to realize the commonality of music; no matter where we go or what we’re singing, we can communicate through this universal language.
We speak together, with one voice, not to America or Japan, but to anyone and everyone who is willing to listen.
