At least one passenger on the plane was stunned by what he saw. But the show at the gate apron was not yet over. Because when the ground crew straightened up after its bow, the men performed one more ceremonial act.
They waved.
Despite the wind, the rain, and the cold, all of the men smiled broadly and waved goodbye, like friendly uncles bidding farewell to[16] a planeload of nieces and nephews. That they did not know the passengers and likely never would did not matter. We had been guests in their homeland, and they wanted us to know that we had been welcome.
You could read a shelf full of books about Japan and still not be granted so transparent a window onto the soul of that astonishing country.[17] There on the airport apron I had seen firsthand the character of the Japanese, as played out by a half-dozen hardworking fellows for whom responsibility, respect, loyalty, self-discipline, honor, tradition, and a degree of stoicism to rival that of the Spartans were all normal components of daily life.[18]
It was a moment so revelatory and so touching that even a seasoned, cynical old traveler could find himself doing something that he typically would not do.[19]
I waved back.
Vocabulary
1. 在东京这恶劣的天气下,从公交站走到汽车站是段乏味的跋涉之旅:华氏40度的低温(相当于摄氏4.4度左右)、冰冷的雨水,还有穿透我身上层层衣服的强风。
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