Anna Matsushita

  "Just let the tourists gorge themselves on those overpriced Cotswold afternoon teas!"   This scornful remark came from acquaintances of mine who spent mere few years of their youth living in England some thirty years ago. Having also lived in America for much of their early life, they were no stranger to long-term stays abroad. Still, it struck me as peculiar that someone with only a passing connection to tourism could voice such a seemingly authoritative opinion on the subject.   There’s a curious phenomenon among some who have lived overseas for an extended period, especially in their early childhood. A sense of distinction begins to grow—an invisible line separating themselves from mere tourists. For these individuals, their time abroad elevates them in their own eyes to residents or locals, entirely distinct from transient visitors.   Indeed, the longer the stay, the stronger this mentality tends to become. It’s as though time alone confers an unspo...

  It was about 30 years ago. I was waiting for my plane at the Heathrow airport.   I was on the way back to Japan after studying at a university in UK for a year. The final exam date was not out until last minutes, and it was difficult to fix the day I leave the country.   I booked the seat only 3 days before the flight. As soon as the exams are over, I sent out my text books and belongings from my college room, said goodbye to my friends, and headed for London.   It was slightly late in the afternoon when I arrived at Euston station. I went straight to a youth hostel in city centre, whic had a good access to Piccadilly line which has direct connection to the Heathrow airport.   I slept soundly, and got up early to catch the underground bound for the airport.   After check in, I sat at one of bench in airport lobby, waiting for boarding announcement.   Then, there came a group of soldiers. They were walking in a line, wearing kh...