On the first day of our last trip taking my grandmother back to her home village outside of Kyoto, some of her luggage was left behind on the train, and while Lost and Found managed to pull it off at a later stop, it had gotten a pretty far distance from where we were heading.

I navigated to the small station on the lower platform where the attendants held her luggage and gave them her name. The younger one asked where my grandmother was and then gave me a regretful look when I said she was disabled and wouldn't be able to travel this far, because they could only release the bag to its owner.

An older attendant pulled him aside then stepped up and asked me what my name was. "I'm her grandson, Washadjeffmad. I reported the missing luggage.", I explained and held out my passport. Without looking at it, he sighed and stepped off again. When he reappeared, he asked me again where she was, and I told him- on her way to Kyoto. He closed his eyes, said something I didn't catch, and then asked "Are you sure she's not here?" Clearly she wasn't. It'd been a decade, but was my Japanese really so bad?

Another man emerged from the back to observe his two obviously frustrated coworkers, then pulled them back to talk. When they reappeared this time, the older man asked, "Are you Washadjeffmad's grandmother?" And it finally clicked.

"Yes. That's me."

And they immediately handed over my bag.

Japan is a funny place.