(7) First encounter with Japan

February 19, 1926 from Miyazaki
To the Superior General, Father Rinaldi Filippo

My sweet daddy

Arriving at the place of our hopes, our work and our sacrifices, we could not help but shout, "Praise God! Thank you God!" At last, we have come to Miyazaki. There is much I want to talk about, but I will try to tell you everything in order.

February 6

After saying goodbye to the members in Shanghai, I set off on my journey again.

February 7

Today is the last day of our trip and we are busy preparing to disembark and reminiscing about the wonderful days we have spent together.

Uehara-sensei wrote down the most important words and helped us memorize them so we could answer the questions. He even kindly changed his plans to get off at Kobe and disembarked with us at Moji, offering to show us to the station.

February 8th, 8am 　(landing at Moji Port)

We finally entered Moji Port. A thick fog momentarily blocks the magnificent view illuminated by the sun, but it soon clears, and the beautiful, sparkling land comes into view as we gaze into the distance. It's better to imagine it than to describe it in words. The snow-capped mountains shining in the sunlight, the islands surrounded by lush trees, and ahead, the industrially rich city of Moji facing the wide bay, as well as numerous chimneys and rows of houses stretching down to the foot of the mountains - a magnificent sight appears before us. Thank God! Long live Japan!
But suddenly, I was overcome with anxiety. "What will happen next? What if no one comes to greet us and help us?"

But believe me, Father Rinaldi, I have never been more simple-minded than I was on this journey, entrusting myself to the arms of God. Providence even performed great miracles to help us. And when I think about this, I cannot help but say: "Yes, Lord, you are pampering me too much. Jesus, have your way."

In fact, our fears were fleeting. As soon as we saw a bearded priest, smiling and waving from afar, he was the first to board the ship and embraced us. He was Father Martin of the Paris Mission, sent by the Bishop of Nagasaki. With his help, it took until noon for us to complete the immigration formalities on the Fulda. There was nothing that the Japanese people here could not see. As I watched the passengers' belongings being thoroughly inspected at customs, I remembered the 40 trunks and 20 bags we were carrying. However, the inspector only had us open each bag. Seeing our honest and cheerful attitude and the way we exposed our meager personal belongings, he realized that we had nothing to hide, and after examining the inside of one trunk that had been opened during the journey, everything was fine. We headed to the church in joy.

Here, for the first time, I entered a Japanese home. I had to learn Japanese customs, so first I had to take off my European shoes and put on slippers at the entrance, a big task. The priest was watching with a smile. The helpers were also watching with curiosity. Then, I was led to a pretty altar, where I sang the "Te Deum" and kissed the Japanese land that had welcomed me with gratitude. After reciting the Divine Office and having a pleasant conversation, I decided to have dinner at the station restaurant in order to catch the 11:30pm train to Nagasaki. The food was Japanese in content, but European in manner. It was very delicious. Father Martin was kind enough to bring me lots of bread. The service was very polite, as per Japanese customs. We had to have sake made from rice, which was served hot and I thought was very delicious. It was quite strong in alcohol.
Since our luggage could not arrive in Miyazaki immediately, we all decided to go to Nagasaki to please the Bishop.

[On the train to Nagasaki]

After saying goodbye to everyone, we boarded the train to Nagasaki. The third class car was quite convenient, heated, and full. It felt rather cramped for us. These lovely Japanese people like to take off their shoes and sit on the seats. After finishing their meal, they drop the leftovers on the floor, and an attendant comes round every now and then to clean them up. They use paper handkerchiefs to blow their noses, and then sleep comfortably.

Although the train was an express train, it moved slowly, stopping at stations frequently. Everyone slept soundly, except for Father Tanguy, who was not feeling well. I woke up at dawn and looked at the surrounding scenery with interest. Even in winter, the Land of the Rising Sun is captivating. Between the green hills and mountains, there are a series of small valleys, quiet and watered by rivers large and small. Everywhere is covered with lush trees of all kinds, including pines, cedars, camellias, and plum trees that are about to bloom. The flat land that can be seen here and there is all well cultivated and aesthetically neat. On the small plains, rice, wheat, vegetables, etc. are grown, and everywhere there is a neatness and cleanliness that is restful to the eye.

Here and there, houses and small villages are scattered among the green trees, and temples and ancestral graves can be seen among the thick brush. The farmhouses are all one-storey wooden buildings with thatched roofs. The wealthier houses are two-storey and have specially made roofing tiles. Cement buildings (except for factories) are very rare.

The smoke-pluming train ascends the steep, forested slopes of volcanic mountains, descends into pleasant valleys, and runs along a coast of ever-changing splendor, with islands, rocks, coves and bays, along whose shores there are successive settlements, villages and towns, bathed in the rays of the rising sun.

Oh Japan, sanctified by the apostolic work of St. Francis Xavier and many missionaries, and nourished by the blood of so many martyrs! With what wondrous beauty God has clothed you!