Back in April, I started giving English lessons to a girl named Wakako. She lived in the same town, working at city hall, but was from Nagasaki city. I found out from her that teachers aren't the only government workers who get shuffled around like the military--she was in the second year of her four-year island tour-of-duty. She had been accepted to Washington University's social work program, but was trying to transfer to Columbia. To do that, she had to improve her score on the English language test, and that's what I helped her with.
We met once a week over dinner, and spent most of the time just talking in English. We'd spend a good chunk of time doing mock-interviews using her study materials, but conversation took over more and more of the lessons. She didn't do well enough on her test to get into Columbia, but she was fine with that. She left for St. Louis in June, and I made it a point to visit her while I was at home.
I got to St. Louis at 11, and found Wakako's apartment after a few U-turns. She'd rented a car so she could practice before getting her license. She asked for my help getting gas. At first, I thought it was just the use of English that had intimidated her. After thinking about it, though, I realized she'd never actually pumped her own gas before. All of the stations in Tsushima are full-service, and I haven't seen any self-service stations in Nagasaki, either.
Naturally, we picked the one station with the broken pump. After wasting twenty minutes (and probably confusing her even more), we went to another station and had no trouble. We filled up her car, and later she got to practice on my car.
We met her Chinese roommate, Ella, and talked with her and a friend for a bit, before setting out for lunch. During our lessons, I had raved about barbecue, so she wanted to try some. I had no idea where the good barbecue restaurants were in St. Louis, so we stopped at a gas station and asked. It's amazing how differently I was treated with a Japanese girl with me. Most of the people we talked to seemed a little confused and surprised when I spoke English to them.
Anyway, the lady told us how to find a nearby place. We found it easily, and thoroughly amused the girl behind the counter as I explained things to Wakako. She was vaguely aware of cole slaw and potato salad, since those have infiltrated Japan, but she had no idea about baked beans, pulled pork, brisket, and ribs. I've never much cared for brisket, and she doesn't like beef very much, so she got a pulled pork plate, and I got ribs. The pork was so-so--I'm forever spoiled after working at the James River Grill--but the ribs were pretty good. Not quite as good as the Barbecue Shack in Toccoa, but not bad at all. She liked the pork, and loved the ribs. 
Afterwards, we went to Wash U. We walked around campus, looking at all the beautiful buildings and landscaping, and the sight of a huge open quad made me want to throw the frisbee and go to Snelling. We walked around, talking about her classes and life in general. She seems to be adjusting well enough, and she looked relieved when I gave her the tea and seaweed I'd brought her from Japan.
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