When I left Japan in July of 2003, I told Koichi that I would come back to visit. On the second week of May, I took a shinkansen (bullet train) from Tokyo to Kitakyushu and fulfilled that promise.

May was a month in Japan, and I made the most of it: I visited Sendai, Tokyo, Nagoya, Aichi, Kyoto, Kitakyushu, Oita and probably a few other tiny spots that I can't recall. It was a time to visit my friends who were on their last (or extended) terms on the JET program as well as a chance to say hi to all of my friends native to Japan.

I took many pictures, took many drinks and found new inspiration. I also began shooting my next video.

Japan is always very special to me and that's very difficult to articulate to friends who don't quite understand. I was finally able to explain to them why just a few months ago, but I find it best to keep that revelation to myself and those close to me.

The first night I arrived in Kitakyushu, I left my bags at Dion's and we went in the evening to visit Yakyuudori, the old yakitoriya (yakitori shop/establishment) that I frequented all too often. Koichi and Kondo saw me, surprised and elated. Some regulars dropped their jaw - apparently they remembered me too. It was great to be back.

The first night I believe I drank almost an entire container of Umeshu - plum wine. The following day was met, naturally, with a hangover. If you tell a local "futsukayoida" the next day, they will laugh at you. It translates to "hangover".

For one week I was in Kitakyushu, at Yakyuudori almost every night. It was time travel, a return to moments in the past that were very meaningful to me.

As I was eating and drinking he told me to look at the ceiling in a corner of the shop. I could see a box and a book. It was an illustrated history of baseball book that I sent him when I was living in Encinitas a few years back, along with the original Priority Mail box that I sent it in. Safe to say I was grinning when I saw it there.

I should send Koichi some photos that I took in May. It's nice to know that some of my memories have other homes.