Paul-san and I had the briefest of pre-Japanese class conversations on the matter of whether we’d be signing up for semester 3 in the Spring. We wondered jointly about why--of all things--we’re studying Japanese. He does not figure that he, at roughly 70, will do much traveling to the Orient. (I don’t know why not--we didn’t get into that,) but he supposed that I was young enough that I might indeed have such a future. Again, we didn’t get into it, but I merely demured that I can’t see it. And I can’t. I would not choose Japan as the user-uber-friendly kind of excursion I’m willing to take Jeff on.
I think there are plenty of good relatively low-stress options, and I’m looking forward to trying a few, but surely a place where they have special subway people whose job is to push on commuters so they’re more compacted (so as to get the car door shut,) is not our number one choice. Small towns of New England? Maybe.
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