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One of the 1）prerequisites of the international airline pilot’s trade is the opportunity to explore many of the world’s cities. That is， if one has recovered from the 2）aggregated hours of flight across assorted time zones. True rest is difficult to come by， so most of us inhabit a kind of 3）twilight zone in which we appear to be alive and well but underneath the persevering exterior remains a numbness that clings like paint. In this altered state of awareness we carry on 4）weary conversations that eventually make no sense， snore through a motion picture， fall into our food over dinner， exude loud speech and wilder actions in some sort of 5）compensatory behaviour for knowing we are not one hundred percent， perhaps not even fifty percent. This demeanor is part of us， and always will be until we hang up the hat and finally achieve a decent night’s sleep， over and again， and the business card says “retired”.
But the journey is fun. And that’s what we’re all about. And， this time， it was in 6）Osaka， Japan. I was on my own and decided to wander around an 7）enticing area I’d explored on other trips， anticipating a continued adventure begun on my last visit.
Some lovely hours were spent poking around， first in the antique shops then the model stores. I even added to my unbuilt model airplane kit collection， representing some 300 years of modeling ahead. Then， finding the narrow sidestreet that led to the noodle shop I had discovered previously， I embarked on an almost mystical adventure. The preceding month I had entered this tiny restaurant 8）on a whim， or I thought of it as by chance. A Japanese noodle shop， so called， is fairly typical， and if you have ever been in one you know what I mean. There are a few 9）diminutive tables and chairs but the focus is on a counter behind which the cook administers his trade directly in front of the customers， conjuring such delicacies as gayoza and a number of savory noodle and rice dishes. All this is accomplished against a 10）tapestry of cooking smoke， the crackle of hot oils， and occasionally some resounding vocal accompaniment.
On that particular day business was slow， and the owner/cook started a conversation in somewhat broken but understandable English. Upon hearing that I was an airline pilot， he nodded， smiled and said， “I have friend to meet you. I will call him now. Please talk with him. Maybe find what you both looking for.”
Now that was a bit 11）cryptic， as well as enticing. What WAS I looking for？ How would this man know？ Where would I be led？ Why？ Within a few moments a young fellow entered the restaurant. Pleasant， well in his twenties， so young to me. His English was also flawed but navigable. The restaurant owner said a few things to him in Japanese then left us on our own. “I very pleased to meet you”， he said. There was a great deal of bowing. Yes， it is the Japanese way of showing respect， but this bordered on reverence. Then he saw my big bag of airplane model kits. His eyes lit up and his smile was broad. I took them out for his inspection.
“Yes， 12）MD-11， Douglas Company， now Boeing Company. Scale this model 1/200” Well， he knew his airplanes and his models. “And 13）Lockheed Constellation”， he went on， fondling the other kit. “Most beautiful airplane”. He handed them back with another little bow and told me again， “I very pleased to meet you”. And I thought there were perhaps tears welling up in his eyes. He backed out， bowing again several times， and was gone into the night.
The owner returned， poured more tea and sat beside me. “He always want to be airline pilot. But，” and he patted his chest， “have bad heart. So no can do pilot. In my country， airline captain is man of high honor and position. He very much honor you talk with him.”
I felt a sadness for the young man who wanted to be a pilot， as passion 14）thwarted can lead to major grief and a life of torment. Was that what I saw in his tears？ “You please to come again，” the proprieter said.
Now I had returned， down the narrow sidestreet， back into the restaurant. We shook hands， I asked for the gayoza and noodle soup and a pot of green tea. “I call friend，” he said， more as a question.
“Yes， no problem，” I answered. And as before， the young fellow came along， again noticed my new bag of model kits， bowed， smiled and had green tea with me. And then he asked，“You please to come with me. I show you my home.”
My friend， the chef and man of mysterious ways， said， “Yes， you go！ Is very good thing.” His smile had the hint of an all-knowing wisdom. So we departed down the 15）myriad of narrow streets， turned many corners， then climbed steps to a small apartment-like residence atop some merchants’shops on the street level. As my friend turned on the light， I knew why I was there.
Not only were there airplane photos everywhere， but one entire wall held shelves of model airliners， floor to ceiling. Airplane books covered tables and chairs. And there was a delightfully simple yet effective work table upon which were several 16）airbrushes， model tools， jars of paint， reference material， and model kits.“I make all，” he said， gesturing to the wall of models. There were hundreds of them in this room！ And the quality was professional， contest grade， every single one！ My smile was ear-to-ear and so was his. I too had tears， but of joy. This man’s passion for flight had not been completely negated by a physical problem. Private grief had not led to some 17）pernicious finale. He had taken another path and now almost lived in his special world of flight！
“I have a room much like this，” I said. “We are very much the same.”
“Yes，” he said， bowing， “We same.”
And there amongst all the 18）sum and substance of my life， devotion to flight， we shared a feeling of being something like “universal man”， transcending space， time， geography， and cultural boundaries. He even gave me some extremely helpful tips on model airplane building.
I barely caught the last train back to the hotel and sat alone in the night， pondering this great experience. And I realized that it is the journey that really matters， not the reaching “there”， and I am not sure where “there” really is anyway. The business of an airline pilot has its frustrations and sorrows， but it also offers some unique opportunities. For it allows me walks down narrow streets in Singapore， or Penang， Bangkok， or Shanghai—and a special sidestreet in Osaka.
And in those places to discover that we have a lot of friends whom we simply have yet to meet. And that is truly something special.
身为国际航线飞行员的先决条件之一是有机会去探索这个世界的许多城市。前提是你能从跨越各种时区长达数小时的漫长飞行中恢复过来。飞行之后很难真正地休息，因此我们之中大多数人都生活在某种模糊状态中，看起来生龙活虎的，但在精神奕奕的外表下，如颜料般附着一层麻木。在这种非正常意识状态下，我们继续着最后变得毫无意义的疲倦对话，对着电影打呼噜，晚餐时浑然入睡，用大声说话和举止狂野来达到某种补偿行为，只因知道自己并非百分百清醒，或者甚至不到百分之五十。这种举止成为了我们的一部分，通常会持续直至我们挂起帽子，终于在某一晚能够好好睡上一觉，循环往复，直到名片印上“已退休”。
但旅行很有趣。这也是我们全都趋之若鹜的原因。而这次的目的地是日本的大阪市。我独自前往，并决定去一个迷人的区域走走，在其他多次旅程中我曾经探索过那里，并期待着能够继续上一次的冒险之旅。
我四处闲逛，度过几小时美丽时光，先是在一些古玩店，接着是一些模型店里。我甚至还为自己尚未收集完的模型飞机套装增添了一些新藏品，它们展现了约三百多年前的模型样式。然后我又找到了那条狭窄的小巷，通往我之前发现的那家面店，于是我开始了一场近乎神秘的冒险。上个月我曾一时心血来潮进入过这家小餐馆，或者说我认为是一种运气。这是一家日本面店，据称，店面相当典型，如果你曾经去过某一家的话，你就知道我说的是什么意思。里面有一些小小的桌椅，但店里的焦点却是在一个柜台的后面，厨师直接在顾客面前干活，像魔术师一样变出各种美味佳肴，如饺子和各种可口的面条以及饭食。所有这一切都伴随着阵阵炊烟，沸油噼啪，和时不时响起的阵阵洪亮嗓音。
那天的生意并不繁忙，于是店主兼厨师操着一口有点蹩脚却能够听明白的英语开始跟我聊天。当听说我是一名飞行员时，他点了点头，微笑着说道：“我有朋友要见你。我现在就给他打电话。请跟他聊聊。也许能找到你们彼此都在寻找的东西。”
这可就有点神秘了，还挺诱人的。我在4寻找什么？这个人怎么会知道？我会被带向何方？为什么呢？
不久以后，一个年轻小伙子进入了餐馆。开开心心的，二十岁出头，在我看来真年轻啊。他的英语也是错误百出，但可以交流。餐馆老板用日语跟他说了些什么，然后就留下我俩独处。“我很高兴见到你，”他说，还鞠了不少躬。是的，这是日本人表示尊敬的方式，但这次近乎于崇敬。接着他看到我装有飞机模型套装的大袋子。他的眼睛亮了，脸上展露出大大的笑容。我把它们拿出来让他一一检视。
“是的，MD-11，曾经的道格拉斯公司，如今的波音公司出品。这个模型的比例是1/200。”嗯，他很了解他的飞机和模型。“还有洛克希德星座，”他继续说，摩挲着另一套模型。“最美丽的飞机，”他把模型交还给我时又鞠了一小躬，接着又对我说了一遍：“我很高兴见到你。”我觉得他的眼中似乎泛起了泪光。他转身出门，又鞠了好几次躬，然后就走进了夜色之中。
店主回来了，添了一些茶水，坐在了我身边。“他一直想成为一名飞行员。但是，”他拍着自己的胸脯，“心脏很不好。所以不能当飞行员。在我的国家里，机长是非常受人尊敬的人物和职业。你跟他说话，他感到很荣幸。” 我为这个年轻人感到悲伤，他想成为一名飞行员，而当激情受阻时会产生巨大的悲伤和造成一生的痛苦。那就是我在他的泪光中见到的吗？“请你一定要再来，”店主说。
现在我又来了，在这条窄巷里，回到那家餐馆。我们握了握手，我点了饺子、面条汤和一壶绿茶。“我打电话给朋友，”他说，更像是个问句。
“好的，没问题，”我回答说。就像上次那样，那个年轻小伙子来了，又一次注意到我新买的一袋模型套装，鞠躬，微笑，和我一起喝绿茶。接着，他问道：“请你和我一起来。我让你看看我的家。”
我的朋友一那个老板兼神秘之人说：“是的，你去吧！是件很好的事情。”他的笑容里有着一丝洞悉一切的智慧。于是我们出发走进迷宫般的窄巷，转了许多个弯，然后爬上楼梯来到一间位于街边店铺顶上小公寓似的屋子里。当我的朋友一开灯，我就知道为什么我在那里了。
屋里不仅贴满了飞机的照片，还有一整面墙摆满了几架子的模型飞机，从地板一直到天花板。桌上椅上满是关于飞机的书籍。还有一张相当简单却实用的工作台，上面有一些喷枪、模型工具、颜料罐、参考资料和模型套装。“全都是我做的，”他指着满墙的模型说道。屋里有几百个模型！而且质量专业，全都有比赛成绩，每一架都有！我笑得合不拢嘴，他也是。我的眼里也溢满了泪水，但这是欢乐的泪水。这个人对于飞行的热诚完全没有因身体的问题而磨灭。内心的悲伤并没有导致某种毁灭性的结局。他选择了另一条途径，而如今几乎生活在他特别的飞行世界里！
“我也有一个房间和这个很像，”我说。“我们几乎是同一类人。”
“是的，”他说，鞠着躬，“我们同一类。”
对飞行的热爱是我生命的一切，论及飞行，我俩有一种像是“世界同仁”的感觉，超越空间、时间、地理和文化界限。他甚至给了我一些关于建造模型飞机的有用窍门。
我勉强赶上了返回酒店的末班火车，独坐在夜色里，思索着这次了不起的经历。而我意识到，这便是真正有意义的旅程，并非到达“那里”，况且我也不确定“那里”究竟是哪里。飞行员的职业会有挫败和失意，但也提供了一些独特的机会。这职业让我走进新加坡，或槟城、曼谷，或上海的窄巷里一还有一条位于大阪市的特殊小巷。
在那些地方去发现，我们有着许多朋友，只是我们还没相遇。而那才是真正的特别之处。
But the journey is fun. And that’s what we’re all about. And， this time， it was in 6）Osaka， Japan. I was on my own and decided to wander around an 7）enticing area I’d explored on other trips， anticipating a continued adventure begun on my last visit.
Some lovely hours were spent poking around， first in the antique shops then the model stores. I even added to my unbuilt model airplane kit collection， representing some 300 years of modeling ahead. Then， finding the narrow sidestreet that led to the noodle shop I had discovered previously， I embarked on an almost mystical adventure. The preceding month I had entered this tiny restaurant 8）on a whim， or I thought of it as by chance. A Japanese noodle shop， so called， is fairly typical， and if you have ever been in one you know what I mean. There are a few 9）diminutive tables and chairs but the focus is on a counter behind which the cook administers his trade directly in front of the customers， conjuring such delicacies as gayoza and a number of savory noodle and rice dishes. All this is accomplished against a 10）tapestry of cooking smoke， the crackle of hot oils， and occasionally some resounding vocal accompaniment.
On that particular day business was slow， and the owner/cook started a conversation in somewhat broken but understandable English. Upon hearing that I was an airline pilot， he nodded， smiled and said， “I have friend to meet you. I will call him now. Please talk with him. Maybe find what you both looking for.”
Now that was a bit 11）cryptic， as well as enticing. What WAS I looking for？ How would this man know？ Where would I be led？ Why？ Within a few moments a young fellow entered the restaurant. Pleasant， well in his twenties， so young to me. His English was also flawed but navigable. The restaurant owner said a few things to him in Japanese then left us on our own. “I very pleased to meet you”， he said. There was a great deal of bowing. Yes， it is the Japanese way of showing respect， but this bordered on reverence. Then he saw my big bag of airplane model kits. His eyes lit up and his smile was broad. I took them out for his inspection.
“Yes， 12）MD-11， Douglas Company， now Boeing Company. Scale this model 1/200” Well， he knew his airplanes and his models. “And 13）Lockheed Constellation”， he went on， fondling the other kit. “Most beautiful airplane”. He handed them back with another little bow and told me again， “I very pleased to meet you”. And I thought there were perhaps tears welling up in his eyes. He backed out， bowing again several times， and was gone into the night.
The owner returned， poured more tea and sat beside me. “He always want to be airline pilot. But，” and he patted his chest， “have bad heart. So no can do pilot. In my country， airline captain is man of high honor and position. He very much honor you talk with him.”
I felt a sadness for the young man who wanted to be a pilot， as passion 14）thwarted can lead to major grief and a life of torment. Was that what I saw in his tears？ “You please to come again，” the proprieter said.
Now I had returned， down the narrow sidestreet， back into the restaurant. We shook hands， I asked for the gayoza and noodle soup and a pot of green tea. “I call friend，” he said， more as a question.
“Yes， no problem，” I answered. And as before， the young fellow came along， again noticed my new bag of model kits， bowed， smiled and had green tea with me. And then he asked，“You please to come with me. I show you my home.”
My friend， the chef and man of mysterious ways， said， “Yes， you go！ Is very good thing.” His smile had the hint of an all-knowing wisdom. So we departed down the 15）myriad of narrow streets， turned many corners， then climbed steps to a small apartment-like residence atop some merchants’shops on the street level. As my friend turned on the light， I knew why I was there.
Not only were there airplane photos everywhere， but one entire wall held shelves of model airliners， floor to ceiling. Airplane books covered tables and chairs. And there was a delightfully simple yet effective work table upon which were several 16）airbrushes， model tools， jars of paint， reference material， and model kits.“I make all，” he said， gesturing to the wall of models. There were hundreds of them in this room！ And the quality was professional， contest grade， every single one！ My smile was ear-to-ear and so was his. I too had tears， but of joy. This man’s passion for flight had not been completely negated by a physical problem. Private grief had not led to some 17）pernicious finale. He had taken another path and now almost lived in his special world of flight！
“I have a room much like this，” I said. “We are very much the same.”
“Yes，” he said， bowing， “We same.”
And there amongst all the 18）sum and substance of my life， devotion to flight， we shared a feeling of being something like “universal man”， transcending space， time， geography， and cultural boundaries. He even gave me some extremely helpful tips on model airplane building.
I barely caught the last train back to the hotel and sat alone in the night， pondering this great experience. And I realized that it is the journey that really matters， not the reaching “there”， and I am not sure where “there” really is anyway. The business of an airline pilot has its frustrations and sorrows， but it also offers some unique opportunities. For it allows me walks down narrow streets in Singapore， or Penang， Bangkok， or Shanghai—and a special sidestreet in Osaka.
And in those places to discover that we have a lot of friends whom we simply have yet to meet. And that is truly something special.
身为国际航线飞行员的先决条件之一是有机会去探索这个世界的许多城市。前提是你能从跨越各种时区长达数小时的漫长飞行中恢复过来。飞行之后很难真正地休息，因此我们之中大多数人都生活在某种模糊状态中，看起来生龙活虎的，但在精神奕奕的外表下，如颜料般附着一层麻木。在这种非正常意识状态下，我们继续着最后变得毫无意义的疲倦对话，对着电影打呼噜，晚餐时浑然入睡，用大声说话和举止狂野来达到某种补偿行为，只因知道自己并非百分百清醒，或者甚至不到百分之五十。这种举止成为了我们的一部分，通常会持续直至我们挂起帽子，终于在某一晚能够好好睡上一觉，循环往复，直到名片印上“已退休”。
但旅行很有趣。这也是我们全都趋之若鹜的原因。而这次的目的地是日本的大阪市。我独自前往，并决定去一个迷人的区域走走，在其他多次旅程中我曾经探索过那里，并期待着能够继续上一次的冒险之旅。
我四处闲逛，度过几小时美丽时光，先是在一些古玩店，接着是一些模型店里。我甚至还为自己尚未收集完的模型飞机套装增添了一些新藏品，它们展现了约三百多年前的模型样式。然后我又找到了那条狭窄的小巷，通往我之前发现的那家面店，于是我开始了一场近乎神秘的冒险。上个月我曾一时心血来潮进入过这家小餐馆，或者说我认为是一种运气。这是一家日本面店，据称，店面相当典型，如果你曾经去过某一家的话，你就知道我说的是什么意思。里面有一些小小的桌椅，但店里的焦点却是在一个柜台的后面，厨师直接在顾客面前干活，像魔术师一样变出各种美味佳肴，如饺子和各种可口的面条以及饭食。所有这一切都伴随着阵阵炊烟，沸油噼啪，和时不时响起的阵阵洪亮嗓音。
那天的生意并不繁忙，于是店主兼厨师操着一口有点蹩脚却能够听明白的英语开始跟我聊天。当听说我是一名飞行员时，他点了点头，微笑着说道：“我有朋友要见你。我现在就给他打电话。请跟他聊聊。也许能找到你们彼此都在寻找的东西。”
这可就有点神秘了，还挺诱人的。我在4寻找什么？这个人怎么会知道？我会被带向何方？为什么呢？
不久以后，一个年轻小伙子进入了餐馆。开开心心的，二十岁出头，在我看来真年轻啊。他的英语也是错误百出，但可以交流。餐馆老板用日语跟他说了些什么，然后就留下我俩独处。“我很高兴见到你，”他说，还鞠了不少躬。是的，这是日本人表示尊敬的方式，但这次近乎于崇敬。接着他看到我装有飞机模型套装的大袋子。他的眼睛亮了，脸上展露出大大的笑容。我把它们拿出来让他一一检视。
“是的，MD-11，曾经的道格拉斯公司，如今的波音公司出品。这个模型的比例是1/200。”嗯，他很了解他的飞机和模型。“还有洛克希德星座，”他继续说，摩挲着另一套模型。“最美丽的飞机，”他把模型交还给我时又鞠了一小躬，接着又对我说了一遍：“我很高兴见到你。”我觉得他的眼中似乎泛起了泪光。他转身出门，又鞠了好几次躬，然后就走进了夜色之中。
店主回来了，添了一些茶水，坐在了我身边。“他一直想成为一名飞行员。但是，”他拍着自己的胸脯，“心脏很不好。所以不能当飞行员。在我的国家里，机长是非常受人尊敬的人物和职业。你跟他说话，他感到很荣幸。” 我为这个年轻人感到悲伤，他想成为一名飞行员，而当激情受阻时会产生巨大的悲伤和造成一生的痛苦。那就是我在他的泪光中见到的吗？“请你一定要再来，”店主说。
现在我又来了，在这条窄巷里，回到那家餐馆。我们握了握手，我点了饺子、面条汤和一壶绿茶。“我打电话给朋友，”他说，更像是个问句。
“好的，没问题，”我回答说。就像上次那样，那个年轻小伙子来了，又一次注意到我新买的一袋模型套装，鞠躬，微笑，和我一起喝绿茶。接着，他问道：“请你和我一起来。我让你看看我的家。”
我的朋友一那个老板兼神秘之人说：“是的，你去吧！是件很好的事情。”他的笑容里有着一丝洞悉一切的智慧。于是我们出发走进迷宫般的窄巷，转了许多个弯，然后爬上楼梯来到一间位于街边店铺顶上小公寓似的屋子里。当我的朋友一开灯，我就知道为什么我在那里了。
屋里不仅贴满了飞机的照片，还有一整面墙摆满了几架子的模型飞机，从地板一直到天花板。桌上椅上满是关于飞机的书籍。还有一张相当简单却实用的工作台，上面有一些喷枪、模型工具、颜料罐、参考资料和模型套装。“全都是我做的，”他指着满墙的模型说道。屋里有几百个模型！而且质量专业，全都有比赛成绩，每一架都有！我笑得合不拢嘴，他也是。我的眼里也溢满了泪水，但这是欢乐的泪水。这个人对于飞行的热诚完全没有因身体的问题而磨灭。内心的悲伤并没有导致某种毁灭性的结局。他选择了另一条途径，而如今几乎生活在他特别的飞行世界里！
“我也有一个房间和这个很像，”我说。“我们几乎是同一类人。”
“是的，”他说，鞠着躬，“我们同一类。”
对飞行的热爱是我生命的一切，论及飞行，我俩有一种像是“世界同仁”的感觉，超越空间、时间、地理和文化界限。他甚至给了我一些关于建造模型飞机的有用窍门。
我勉强赶上了返回酒店的末班火车，独坐在夜色里，思索着这次了不起的经历。而我意识到，这便是真正有意义的旅程，并非到达“那里”，况且我也不确定“那里”究竟是哪里。飞行员的职业会有挫败和失意，但也提供了一些独特的机会。这职业让我走进新加坡，或槟城、曼谷，或上海的窄巷里一还有一条位于大阪市的特殊小巷。
在那些地方去发现，我们有着许多朋友，只是我们还没相遇。而那才是真正的特别之处。