End of the road

After barbecue, we went adventuring in St. Louis. I wanted to show her what little I knew of the area, so we parked downtown and walked to the Arch. On the way, we passed the new Busch Stadium, and walked up as close as you can get to it without paying. As it turns out, Heather was there with Megan and her family, watching the Cardinals beat the snot out of the Braves.

I'd only been to the Arch once before--with Kristi, almost exactly three years before--but I remembered it well enough to show Wakako. We went up into the Arch and gawked at the view of the city. The Mississippi was smaller than she had been expecting, though she did admit she hadn't pictured it from 630 feet up.

She was also amazed at the near-total lack of hills anywhere near St. Louis. I sort of felt the same way: having been in Japan for so long, I'm used to always being able to see mountains. Apart from huge urban areas, just about everywhere in Japan has mountains visible on the horizon.

We sat on the steps facing the Mississippi and talked for a couple of hours. Wakako had some random questions about college life in America, like how to politely enter a professor's office and the differences between mm-hm/uh-huh and mm-mm/uh-uh. I kept her entertained with questions about Nagasaki's dialect and some of the choicer words my students have taught me.

For supper, we headed back toward her apartment, and she showed me a nice district that reminded me of downtown Athens: lots of restaurants, bars, and sidewalks, and very little parking. We found an Italian restaurant she had heard of, got a table outside, and had pepperoni pizza and lasagna. (The pizza was easily the best I've ever had from a place not named Pizza Hut.) Whenever we wanted to talk about something that people around us might have been offended by, we just switched to Japanese. It was awesome.

We left at about 9, and noticed there wasn't anybody else out on the road. We got back in the car, talking about something in Japanese, and it wasn't until I saw an oncoming car that I realized I was driving on the wrong side. Thankfully, that car wasn't a cop, because I doubt the officer would've found it as funny as Wakako and I did. On top of that, we got lost on the way back. (It looks different at night!)

We finally got back to her place at about 10 and said goodbye. The trip back for me was easy, at least after I found the stupid interstate. I got back to Springfield at 2 a.m., four days, 1,700 miles, six states, five aunts and uncles, four cousins, three Mountain Dews, two barbecue restaurants, and one Hungry Howie's after I left.