As we sit on our 70 min trip from Ueno Station to Narita on the Keisei Line, our entire Japan experience flashes before my eyes, as if a part of me is dying. The images run chronologically: The delirium combined with enthusiasm at our first Japanese baseball game immediately after arriving in Tokyo, the awe inspiring lights of Shibuyu and Shinjuku, the entrance ceremony of the world's best sumo wrestlers, the harmonica-esque shape of Kichijoji 's outdoor food proprietorships, our first Japanese meal with not one word exchanged, our overnight bus rides, the teen dance and singing expo at Kyoto Station, starting a circle pit at the Osaka Rancid show, Casey's free personalized bowling ball - a gift from our karaoke joint, the glass eyed Kanazawa sushi chef, Kanazawa's unassuming Oyama Shrine, being dumb-struck by the atomic bomb museum, the quite walk through Miyajima, the view of the Kita Alps from our ladders in the Nakamura Orchard, exchanging words, looks and laughs with grandmother Nakamura, our first snow of the year-at 2600 meters-atop Jiigatake. I'd say we've seen more of Japan in this one month than many Japanese have seen of their own country. Doesn't it always end up like that?

But what are we really taking away? So many things, but, a just a couple boil up at this moment.

First, is something that I'm going to steal, from a fellow wwoofer we met on the Nakamura farm, Paulo Whitehouse. It goes something like this: "I love the countryside and I love metropolises, but I hate everything in between." I identified with that line immediately. And although on the surface it appears to be a total contradiction, it doesn't have to be right? It really boils down to character. Character of a neighborhood, a street, its people, its food, the community - what's it's really able to deliver and give to others. It's also about how you feel in those places. Suburbia is not my thing - regardless of how big of a house I can buy there and how "accessible" it is to whatever city. Exceptions, always, but as a rule... I'm a city guy, or a country guy.

Secondly, is about communicating on different levels. Annie and I entered Japan knowing one word of Japanese, Konnichiwa ... although we had no idea that you used it for Hello AND the greeting in the afternoon (morning, evening and night have their own). We left Japan knowing only a dozen or so additional words, but we made it. We made it because of the obvious ability to "get by" with hand gestures and nodding, but that's about it. And it's amazing how much you can understand just by facial expressions and the reactions of others. I laugh really does say a thousand words. On the Nakamura farm we did our best to get to know our hosts, it was difficult with only the mother of the house knowing a few bits of english and Annie and I knowing less Japanese. But even with that standing in our way, we learned a ton. Not only Japanese traditions such as at the table it goes rice bowl closest to you THEN miso soup bowl, you use the opposite end of your chopsticks to serve yourself from a common dish, and the proper way to pick up chopsticks, but also a couple lessons from Keiichiro-san, the father of the family said plainly and translated even more plainly that make you know these are good people and make you long to get to know them better.

1) You don't need money to raise a happy and healthy family, the environment that you create for your children and family is the most important thing you can do
2) Divorce is the single most disruptive thing that can impact a family, it's devastating

Those to anecdotes, plus the way he explain how to wrap the cellophane around the lilies, the smile he gets as he looks at the October foliage of the Alps, and the way he plays with his grandchildren, makes me know he appreciates life, the finer, most important points, and it makes me want to appreciate those as well.

So there you go, Japan... I'm sure there will be references, even further posts about this amazing country, but for now, we bid you adieu and move on in this incredible journey.