She jiggled in blue-striped pajamas before the bathroom mirror. She looked a fright, a witch, a hag. Her eyes were packed in red, her hair a ratted ball, and her face sallow and lifeless and above all old! She stuck out her tongue. Of course, it was caked! She put a cold hand to her throat and said, “La, la, la…” The sounds croaked out. Oh she was sick! How could she possibly, possibly sing?

"If there's one thing I've learned from life in Japan," I tell my wife over a pot of black coffee, "it's how to worry."

For many Japanese, one word sums up their entire lives: "busy."

I have put down roots, dropped my anchor, pitched my tent, hitched my pony, cooled my jets and shelved my thesaurus. After 25 nomadic years,