Daigo Suzuki’s room.

After a short orientation and tour of the Suzuki’s home, I was shown to my room upstairs and allowed to put my things away. Employing the same trick from the genkan, I backed out of my slippers and onto the tatami covered floor and carefully observed the room. The ceilings were lower than what you might find in an American style home, but not so much that you’d bump your head—you do that on the way in. It was a spartan, well kept room belonging to the eldest son, “Daigo”, who was away studying at the prefectural university in neighboring Okayama—a place nerds might know as the prefecture where the pioneering “harem-anime”, Tenchi Muyo, takes place. The room featured two large sliding windows for air (A/C isn’t common in Japan), a sturdy pine desk, and a bookshelf with what appeared to be lots of Japanese academic texts. Being rather minimal myself, I found the setup perfect.

Before going to Japan, our group was advised to buy omiyage (souvenirs) for our hosts to engage in Japan’s deep tradition of gift giving. As a New Orleanian, I felt that the best way to introduce my host family to New Orleans was through our food and culture. I bought them beignets, Zatarain’s jambalaya mix, various Zapps potato chips, Crystal hot sauce in lieu of the internationally known Tabasco, Abita Beer, red beans, as well as nice throwing beads, and a few Jazz CDs from our local artists. Once settled, I returned downstairs with these items and presented them to the family. They beamed and seemed equal parts excited and cautious about the prospect of consuming the goods (perhaps in part because customs did their best to smash the containers). Grandma Setsu, as I took to calling her, began prepare sencha tea as she usually did around dinner and Yutaka shared his evening Asahi Super Dry Black with me. Natsuko took the liberty of opening the “Voodoo” Zapp’s for the family to try. Meanwhile, I waited breathlessly as everyone took their first bites of the Zapp’s, anxious and hopeful that the chips suited their palette. It did! Before long, the kitchen was alive with laughter and spirited conversation as we discussed our cities, our cultures, and our lives. It’d be a family ritual that we’d practice every night over the course of the trip.