Departing Istanbul

[der meister 3,346]

One of the benefits of my job is learning to pack light. I'm able to pack months worth of necessities into a single backpack, leaving enough space for one small souvenir. When young Ryuji Sakamoto and I learned that we were heading to Istanbul, Turkey, for the continuation of his hockey career, we both knew it would only last a single season. While he hasn't heard from any representatives of the Toronto Legion since earlier in the season, Sakamoto has already been looking at apartments online and has scheduled a couple of showings for when we arrive. I am also pleased to report that I didn't have to assist very much in the process.

 

Watching the Red Wolves season come to a close with a game 7 loss to the Bratislava Watchmen, after being up 3 games to 1, was heartbreaking. Sakamoto, as someone who inevitably puts an inordinate amount of pressure upon himself, performed admirably, finishing his run with 8 points in 7 games, over 5 hits per game, and 4 blocked shots per game. I know that Sakamoto is thinking about shots that he could have blocked more than the ones that he did, though. That's just the way he's wired.

 

"Oh man!" The words of despair ring out from his bedroom. "I might need another suitcase, man!" There's another sound, this of plastic meeting plastic, and I wince.

 

As I mentioned before, I have learned to ration my space, buying only a single souvenir in each city where my job takes me. I tend toward snow globes, for the sake of uniformity. Sakamoto, on the other hand, bought a seemingly unending collection of "stuff", for lack of a better word, ranging from plastic trinkets to a large tapestry advertising a local motorcycle club, Sakamoto's first brush with "real" money has naturally led toward an attitude of magpie-ism. To be fair to the youngster, a number of things in his room are presents for friends back in Tokyo, many of which are being shipped later today before we head to the airport and Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

 

This makes me reflect on the two-week visit Sakamoto's friend, Ren Amamiya. Amamiya, in a lot of ways, was exactly the opposite of what I expected of Ryuji's best friend. The biggest things they had in common were both being male, tall, and extremely thin. Whereas Ryuji's a talkative young man with an expressive blast of bleached blond hair atop his head, Amamiya was silent, dark-haired, and generally as noticeable as a shadow. There must be something more that drew them together, but Sakamoto has thus far avoided any questioning I've made toward discovering their secret. Frankly, I'm just glad that Sakamoto's sulk after the loss was brief, and that he doesn't appear to be putting too much of the blame on himself. Things, as they say, happen. 

 

A few more minutes pass before Sakamoto stumbles out of his bedroom holding three suitcases, with a bag strapped to his back, and a fifth bag being held between his teeth. He makes it two steps into the common area before releasing them all simultaneously with enough racket to raise the dead, or in this case, our hard of hearing but loud of mouth landlord two floors below. "Do we have enough time before the flight to get to the post office?" Sakamoto asks, pivoting on his heel to fetch another load of his belongings.

 

While I'm not looking forward to the 17 hour flight from Istanbul to Toronto, I can say that I am looking forward to getting back to Canada, and perhaps visiting a delightful little vegan Vietnamese place I discovered many years ago. I hope they're still open.

 

The airport awaits...