Some years ago, I was walking in Meiji Jingu with some friends and a Indian man came to us and ask “where he could find God” in Japan, since in that shrine there was no god. We told him maybe Kamakura (there’s a huge Buddha there, who knows is god hidden inside?) could be a good idea and as he thank us, he looked me in the eye and said: “You are Japanese” But, no, I am definitely Spanish, I replied… “No, you are Japanese, you were killed in the war, by American soldiers. And now you are back. So welcome home” he said very serious, and he walked away.

A couple of years later someone completely different, in the Amsterdam suburbs, told me exactly the same thing. This time he added I was killed at the beach and how I damned the Emperor as I fell into the sand, since he had me killed instead of letting me be at home enjoying my wife and my child…

Ever since, when I end up in the Aoyama Cemetery in my Tokyo walks, I somehow have a nice, homey feeling. As if I was supposed to be there. And can’t help but wondering where the grave of that soldier could be located.