Heading home…final thoughts and such.

Well, not really true.  I have a few in the works posts about this trip that I’ll finish up when I get home.  I’m sitting in the Tokyo Airport trying to summarize in my head the past few weeks.  I don’t know what I was looking for when I left Boston.  Probably some of what I always look for, adventure, something new, a different slice of the world.

The trip started off wobbly – I mean, who likes spending the night at an airport? But a taste of what was to come was shown.  The precision of providing us with food, water and blankets was something I’ve never seen (and I’ve spent my fair share of nights on airport floors!). 

I’ve heard and read a fair amount of criticism for and about Japan for not having owned its history.  While the statement is true and fair, I think of all the nations who that can be said of: yes, Japan never formally apologized for WWII.  Our own history is filled with a lack of apologies.  We skip teaching about the Japanese interment camps of WWII, the relocations of the Native Americans, slavery and the list goes on and on. 

History is complicated.  War sucks.  I find myself arching my eyebrows one group of people says another group should do this about its history.  We all should know the good and the bad of where we are from – it is only then that we can truly understand how small this world really is.

But the people of Japan were gracious hosts to a mongolot American who wandered into their slice of the world.

Adventures from the dazed and confused

So, I finally had bad weather. Nothing big. Just an all day cold rain – the type that leaves you soaked and chilled to the bone. I’m in the foothills of the “Japanese alps” (by where the Nagano games were held in Takayama which weather.com says doesn’t exist … it’s about 80,000 people). The town is known for it’s folk art and a spring and fall festival which has a set of floats that puts Mardi Gras to shame (put it this way … each float is valued at roughly 2 million to start) but i’m jumping ahead of myself. My day started fairly normally – I went downstairs to get breakfast. There is a mild earthquake. I was in the elevator. Ok. I’ve never been in an earthquake that I could actually (a) feel or (b) remember. I already do not like small closed in spaces. This does not help matters. Apparently this is common enough that I’m the only person concerned. The other occupants say “earthquake” and get off and go eat. I’m hugging the door jam, convinced it will be my demise. After realizing that I am both starving and uncaffinated, I decide that food wins out. I can’t find my meal voucher. After a good 5 minutes of searching, I remember I put it in a logical place, my wallet. Note: why anybody would trust me with paper is beyond me. Now, I am in a region of Japan known for its beef. I have chosen to come here to get away from fish. The first thing I see? Little tiny fish with eyeballs staring at me. On a platter. Ok, I’ve eaten a pigs ear, a fish eyeball and a few other things in my wanderings. But this morning? I found my fruit, bread and rice. The eggplant, miso soup and other sundries were for another day or better yet, later in the day.

I went to leave the hotel and noticed it was raining. Sigh. I pulled out my trusty rain coat and the front desk insisted I take an umbrella. Despite awnings that shielded most of the downtown, I still managed to get drenched. A friends kindergartner asked about the cars in Japan. So, looking like a tourist, I took a ton of pictures for the blog site (I’m sure people were like ???). I walked thru the markets and found more grilling of fish and keg beer (ok, it is 9:30 on a Saturday but they don’t play football here!) and desperately tried to find the float museum in now a driving rainstorm. I took shelter in a coffee house where I was the only customer. I had a fascinating time watching the proprietor make dumplings. She didn’t speak English, and I don’t speak Japanese. We understood each other. I won’t order any: they were a chewy dumpling but very interesting to watch being made with a red bean paste dipping sauce (that I’ll take). I finally found the floats. They were fascinating (Hilda’s blog has pics!)  and the best/funniest part? The tradition started when “obama was lord”. Ok, that part had me laughing so hard I had to turn off the free audio tape because well, just because.

After I saw 4 of the 23 floats (that is all they have on display … they rotate them and the others are in various parts of the town behind locked doors), I was standing under some part of some temple and realized I was done. Just done. I wanted to be in bed. Not at the hotel. But in my bed. With my monsters. I don’t think I’ve eaten right in 2 weeks. It isn’t a matter of money, it’s a matter of allergies. I can’t find what I can eat. I’ve given up trying to be a vegetarian on this trip. The freezing cold pouring rain didn’t help at all. My way of snapping out of it? Shopping and a pedicure.

Lost in translation had just begun. First, I decided that my sister’s classroom needed something. So I found for her students mini-rice scoops because the proper way to serve rice is with the scoops. I had told her I would pick up something for her students. The junky stuff was the same price as the real wooden scoops. So, here I am, this drenched to the bone, 5 10 American, standing in this tiny business purchasing 22 tiny wooden scoops. The guy looks at me like I’m crazy. You can tell he wants an explanation but doesn’t know how to ask or is too polite to ask. So, I have no way of saying “My sister is a kindergarten teacher” in Japanese. I have one option. I point to me and say “teacher” right next to a huge Buddhist temple made when Obama was lord in Japan. Why do I have a hunch this isn’t going to end well? He bows. And gives me a discount. Great. I’ve lied. And been rewarded.

Little did I know. I find what I think is a pedicure place. Now, on reflection, I should have realized that I have seen zero polished hands or feet on Japanese women. There is a sign on this door that says “we make you have happy, beautiful feet”. OK. I walk in. I say for feet? Oh yes. They have me sit down, and I’m told to put my feet in this large cylindrical contraption. Now, I have size 11.5-12 feet, guess what didn’t fit? well, they were crammed in there. This thing is on rollers and my socks are still on. For massage first. Hmmm. Ok. Nothing happens except my feet start cramping.

Now, my hair is soaked. The woman gets out a blow dryer and starts to dry my hair. Odd. Then my neck is massaged. Ok. I thought about making a run for it but my feet are in this cylinder on rollers, cramping and I wouldn’t get very far. My thought was, never lie in the shadow of a temple. Next I’m told to lie on this bed. Face up. Face up I can handle. It is like a pedicure massage chair but on a mat. Sigh. But it gets more interesting. She starts to take off my socks. And cracks my toe knuckles! I’m told I have “good feet”. Um, ok? I then stand up. And am given what I think is a Buddhist blessing (maybe she knew about the lie?). Luckily, this adventure was only $20. And no toes were broken.

By this point I am truly starving. I decide that I really, really need food. To hell with cows being cute, this is the beef area of Japan. I go into this place called Davinci Rice. I’m asked where I am from. I said the US. The owners put their hands over their hearts and start humming The Star Spangled Banner. We love America! USA is #1! I turn bright red. (never lie in the shadow of a temple.) I was their first American customer. I’m now in a picture on their wall. (never, ever lie in the shadow of a temple.). OMG. I don’t know what to say. Except that a group of kindergartners had better appreciate these rice scoops.

Temples, Tourism and Religion

This is one of those “they didn’t offer this or even mention it in seminary” moments: is it ok to charge for candles, incense, wood at houses of worship?  I’ve often thought about this as I’ve travelled.  It isn’t a thought just for Japan: I’ve wondered it in Europe as well.

As many of the temples in Kyoto are UNESCO sites (well, at least the ones that attract the tourists), I don’t have a problem with the 500 or so yen (roughly $5) charge to enter the expansive grounds that are very well kept, signed and of historical importance both in a religious and political sense (since, let’s face it, the 2 are very intertwined!). 

Where I found myself musing and almost questioning – and I *hate* doing that to another’s tradition – is the idea that $10 USD for a candle, $30 USD for prayer beads, $5 USD for a safe driving token from a shrine.  I know, in part, it is the strong protestant in me.  I also know in part that Buddhism doesn’t have the “weekly worship services with donation for upkeep” (lol) like Christianity does.

What really got me going on this train was visiting a stone garden and temple complex that had Buddhist bells with hidden Christian symbols from the period when Japan was a closed nation.  There tourist information said you could take a tour (not interested) for $30.  It turns out that was the only way in: I don’t mind paying to see a unique part of my heritage or how it withstood a period of time where it was essentially banned.  I *do* mind it being “for profit”.  I wasn’t interested in the Zen Meditation, green tea or the architecture.  I wanted to see the bell: I didn’t mind paying $5.  But $30? For 30 minutes?  No thank you.  I’ll find a postcard.

Kyoto

I can’t believe it’s been a week since I left home.  I haven’t had a conversation with another person since the taxi line in Tokyo.  It’s been surreal in many aspects.  I actually have sunburned lips!  I’ve had a fabulous time so far ( aside from the insane dehydration, motion sickness mess).  I completely scored with my hotel in Kyoto – right next to a UNESCO temple and less than a kilometer from another.

Weather wise, it’s about 5 degrees celcius cooler here than in Nagasaki and Hiroshima but about 20 points less humidty.  Kyoto and Boston are celbrating this weekend 50 years of friendship.  Ok, I laughed when I saw that.  I have on my Red Sox hat and had zero clue!  I wonder if anybody at home knows?

It’s been interesting to see the gender roles in Japan.  They are still very present.  Normally when I travel, I tend to try to blend in – obviously, it is much harder here for blatant reasons.  I wish my back would tolerate a stay in a Roykan.  I can’t risk that.  I had a total lost in translation breakfast on Saturday: a hotdog and iced cafe mocha.  I laughed.  I am happy it wasn’t shellfish.  My breakfast was “free” today at the hotel: french toast has never been so wonderful for this shellfish allergic person! 

OCD Observations and such!

I’ll be the first to admit it … when I’m traveling, I tend to go on over drive with my already on overdrive observations.  Today, I was tossing my recycling at the train station (hey, what a CONCEPT) and I noticed one for PET bottles.  Ok.  PET is a brand of bottled water in Japan.  It is also the classification system for all plastic bottles in Japan.  I’m standing there, looking confused as all get out because the signs say “PET bottles only”, “cans” ,”newspaper” ,”other paper” ,”other waste”.   Luckily for me, I was rescued by an Aussie who explained it to me …

Atlanta to Hiroshima…

I really must give Delta airlines credit.  They called me 9 times while in Atlanta to tell me that my flight was delayed: 3 times when the forward boarding door was closed.  We were 7 hours late arriving in Tokyo.  There was a delay for tornadoes, typhoons and something mechanical.  I’m trying VERY had not to be judgemental: but during the tornado/typhoon delay, don’t you think that they couldn’t have fixed the plane?

I took a seat, flipped on the vent and cold water came gushing down.  Luckily there were tons of empty seats so I was able to move – not to first class but into another empty row.  We hit massive headwinds: put it this way, we saw the “Welcome to the United States” video and the first movie.  I was sorta clueless as I dozed which made for a very interesting movie.  I tend to wake up during beverage service to grab and oj and a water.

I filled out the customs forms and noticed that “certain” medications were not allowed.  Well, I take a few of them for my back.  So I’m holding the meds, going thru the line declaring them.  I’m convinced that I’m on the next plane back, banned from Japan.  Instead, customs looks at them thanks me for filling out correctly (I think) hands me back my meds and gives me a piece of paper that I’m told says I can have them.

Arrived at Tokyo airport to discover the shuttle to the hotel ended at 8 pm.  I arrived at 11:30?  Stood in the taxi line.  There were no more taxis.  No more airport limos.  In my wild youth, I looked at camping out in airports as “fun”.  My body now thinks that it evil.  However, in pure efficiency, the Japanese government distributed 2 bottles of water, a roll of Ritz crackers and SLEEPING bags to all of us wayward passengers.  Then, they had 1-2 police standing over each area so we could sleep.  This must be a common occurrence as it was handled in automatic precision and nobody was complaining (aside from my back!).  I must say, that aside from being livid with the Hilton (who ends shuttle services at 8? when they ask for your arrival information?), I was very impressed.

I then managed to make it to Hiroshima.  My original train was cancelled from Osaka to Hiroshima.  I would have expected to find this out in Osaka.  No.  10 minutes before departure, the reservation agent comes tearing up to me (ok, I’m easy to spot.  2 backpacks, exhausted, in purple and well, Western!).  He explains to me in sign language and apologies that my train has changed and hands me NEW reservation slips.  Um, ok?  I’m floored.  Once again, going out of the way to make a traveller happy.

The signage is funny.  I did use a public rest room and the sign said “flush”.  So I pressed it.  It made the SOUND of flushing.  How did you flush it? By pressing on the handle.  Rolls eyes.

I don’t get along with the bullet trains: it does my motion sickness in!  At 180 or so MPH, combined with jet lag, my thought was “please don’t let me hurl on this train.” 

I’m in Hiroshima.  Found a hotel by the station.  Had a total scare when I was told it was $1 US = 70 yen but my bank is posting 1US = 93.  (Again, that’s fine – most people don’t know what the USD trades at so, why should I expect anybody to know?).  Lonely Planet is failing me – TI listed in the wrong place.

Going to catch some zzz’s and then head to the Peace Memorial tomorrow.  Yes, I’m setting up a flicker account!  Dad, that means you can see pictures.

Logan Adventures…of course.

Walked over to Logan from the napping facility.  I had to reprint my boarding passes because my printer wasn’t working correctly – it wouldn’t print the city information, just the bar code.  I had a hunch the TSA wouldn’t like it very much! 

I stood in line (OK, note: 4:30 am lines?) and noticed these two people just being total, well, to liberate a phrase, asshats!  They had seven carry on items for two people.   Now, I am the first to toss a fit over people bringing everything with you on a trip.  I’m leaving for 21 days with a carry on backpack and a normal laptop   (a daypack).  We are talking about: a guitar, 2 large above the size wise containers carry ones, 2 smaller carry ons and a computer bag plus a purse.  Really? are you going to use all of that on the plane with you?  The guy is stated he was going to write down the name of every person with a stroller. 

Of course they are on my flight.  However, they came on with 4 items.    Oh yes.  And it was a kid free flight.  I laughed.  In my head.

I wrote an incorrect haiku about screening.  A friend fixed it.  Here is the correct version.

Walking to Logan.

Security pat down ugh.

The joys of fake hips.

Backpackers blues

So, I realize that I leave in roughly 6 weeks.  I should be excited.  I mean, 6 weeks!  What have I done to prepare for this exotic adventure of a life time? Nothing.  No cat sitter.  Not a single reservation.  Not a rail pass to be had.  I can’t get into this trip.  I can’t figure out why.  I’ve travelled jobless before.  It hasn’t bothered me – usually it is the one time I don’t feel guilty about packing things in my bag and just jetting off.

I’m indifferent.  HELLO.  I’m leaving in something like 42 days for 21 days in Japan.  I know nothing about Japan except it is an archipelago like New Zealand and probably not freezing cold like New England.  I do know it’s roughly a 24 hour flight from Atlanta and that I need to have a sign that says “I’m horrifically allergic to shellfish.”  I don’t know.  I’m toying with cancelling the trip.  I know that is somewhat crazy.  I know once I get there I’ll be excited but at the same time, I am so neutral.  I don’t know.  I’ve never been, I really want to go.  It’s very odd.

I wish I could put my finger on what is causing it.  It is so weird for me.  Usually by now, I have a must see list that I’m paring down.  Any suggestions?

How I wound up in an argument over travel….again

Ireland 2009

As I mused to a casual friend how I was going to figure out how to fill out this form on medications for import into Japan (I mean, I’ve never seen on: not into the Middle East, South Africa, China) and she said “I wish I had your money.”  Um? Without missing a beat, she continued “You are always traveling.  I don’t have that type of money.” 

Ok, Japan is my attempt to help the world economy with consumer debt.  However, I was stunned/offended.  The basic one was over the assumption of how I travelled.  Mostly I stay in hostels which are pretty uncommon in the states but plentiful in other parts of the world.  You met people that way.  And they are a hell of a lot cheaper.  Second, I don’t go to movies ($10 week) or out to eat much ($20 – 150 week) all of that adds up quickly to a plane ticket.  I don’t hang out at the beach every other weekend or so in the summer.

I travel because how can we be expected to be a global economy if it’s only the talking heads that do the moving about?  When the car industry was screaming “we have to have a manufacturing base in the US”, I pointed out – we do.  It has moved location – to the south.  And we are making cars: just not ones by US companies. 

There is something about understanding a profession (almost any profession) better through travel.   It’s knowing the cultural differences first hand.  Business casual is unheard of  in Ireland. Collaboration is key in China, Japan.  Very few people “get down to business” like Americans, and very few are as socially reclusive. It really is an interesting world.