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Shoeless, the moving men wrapped every piece of furniture in cardboard, bound the packages with twine, and brought everything to the ground floor, lowering the larger items from the apartment balcony via a rope and pulley system.

 

Japanese apartments were small, with narrow staircases and short doors. Sofas, chairs, and, in my sister’s case, mattresses, were too big to fit through the narrow passageways.

 

Despite my interest in these activities, I knew I was missing out on the things I really wanted to see. Hiroshima, the city where the United States had dropped an atom bomb in the wake of World War II, was just a five hour train ride away; a five hour train ride that would have to wait. I wouldn’t have time for it on this trip.

 

I wouldn’t have time to get to the driving range either--the multi-tiered athletic centers where hundreds at a time smacked golf balls onto a caged field of astroturf.

 

Stuck at my sister’s apartment, I surfed the internet as her furniture disappeared piece by piece, eventually leaving me on the bare wood floors, pillow-less and blanket-less. On the CNN website, reports of North Korea’s space launch drew top headlines. The American military had sent its Pacific Fleet to observe the activity. The Japanese government had launched its missile defense system, fearing the North Korean rocket would leave an array of shrapnel raining down on Japan.

 

World political leaders were worrying that the Koreans were testing their nuclear capabilities. The US embassy was asking citizens in Japan to register with them in case something bad was to happen. Kim Jong Il, North Korea’s dictator, was warning the world to stay away from their space launch. He threatened a military response toward anyone who tried to interfere.

 

Reading the reports on the Fox News website, it was easy to believe that the Koreans were trying to hold the world hostage. It was hard to know what to believe.

 

On the flight to Japan I had sat next to a South Korean couple, their baby asleep next to me. They were on their way home and, when I asked them, they had told me that the North Koreans were nothing to fear.

 

“My husband plays golf there,” the woman had told me. “It’s nothing like they show you on the news.”

 

World politics were confusing as ever. It was hard to tell what was real and what was a publicity stunt. All that was real to me was the lack of furniture after the movers had left. They had taken all the blankets, all the pillows, all the furniture... everything except the light bulbs in the overhead sockets.

 

We would be sleeping on the hardwood floor tonight -- my mother, my sister, my two baby nieces, and me. We had just two more nights in Japan, one last slumber in my sister’s apartment, then a night stay in Tokyo hotel before heading to the airport for our US bound plane.

 

I had about 48 hours left abroad. I’d have to cram as much in as possible.