Leaving on a JET Plane...
Well, so, what’s up… Thus far, it’s been roughly three weeks since I departed SFO bound for Narita in Tokyo, and to use a cliché of a cliché, what a long strange trip it’s been, in a Jerome Garcia type of way. The plane flight was, luckily, uneventful. I didn’t really sleep much at all; the cumulative last few days hectic-ness of the SFC, combined with the anticipation of touching down in a completely different locale which I, for all intents and purposes, might make my home for at least a year if not more, must have pumped me full of adrenaline. Fighting the urge for fight or flight, while in mid-flight, if you will. And if you won’t, that’s just too bad since it’s already done been put out there.
Our group consisted of about 250 heads who claimed the SF Bay area to be their home; not necessarily living in the 415, 510, 650, 925, or 408, but close enough to have SFO as the departure point and the SF Japanese Consulate as that nearest. In the days/daze leading up to our departure, we had a few last minute orientations hosted by the Japan Information Center. More role-calls (Sha-buya, sha-sha-shabuya, ROLE CALL!!!) than anything else if you ask me, though it was fairly obvious that many of those soon departing had never really traveled overseas, given the questions asked. Although of that, I’m not sure; perhaps it was the prospect of having such a finite amount of luggage for a year commitment? Either way, there were some pretty random questions asked. Well of that, onwards and upwards.
As I said before, our flight had no hang ups, obviously, or I might not be here writing this. We left SFO on Saturday the 5th at about 1:45 PM, and our flight was scheduled to be 10 hours long, but due to good weather and a decent tailwind, we got to Narita about 4:45 PM on Sunday, the 6th Tokyo time (12:45 AM SF time). Narita isn’t really in Tokyo, but rather in a suburb of Tokyo. At the airport, after clearing customs, we were corralled like cattle around the terminal by the JET volunteers; ALT’s (assistant language teachers), CIR’s (coordinators of international relations), and SEA’s (sports exchange advisors) who had re-contracted for 2nd, 3rd, 4th, or 5th years. After an hour or so of shuffling about the airport, we boarded charter buses bound for what would be home for us transients for the next few days; the Keio Plaza Hotel in Shinjuku. Narita airport is about an hour and twenty minutes outside of Downtown Tokyo if the traffic gods are good to you. I was pretty happy with that, since I had heard horror stories about the trip from the airport to downtown taking upwards of 4 hours in a taxi; and we were in slow buses. So we had that going for us, which was nice.
Once we got to the hotel, we were put through more cattle prodding. We were led about the hotel for registration and subsequently collected what must be about twenty pounds of handouts; no bullshitting. Wasn’t there some sort of environmental treaty signed in, and titled the Kyoto Accords? Anyhow, from our illustrious government, we received books that were titled “Outline of US History,” “Outline of US Government,” “Outline of the US Economy,” and “Outline of American Geography,” what confidence our government has in it’s own educational system!!! These books contain what must be the most PC, steam-sanitized versions of the subjects they purport to cover. The main purpose of the JET programme, is for the internationalization of Japanese youth, as well as the Japanese community. So here I am wondering what message our government wants to give out other than lies veiled in the guise of truth. But I guess that’s apropos; what better way to teach about American governmental policies than to lie. Hopefully these kids will have already learned about irony. Here I am, thinking I should assist in the dissemination things such as proper grammar, little did I know I misheard that; what I’m here to do is spread propaganda.
But, I digress. So we settled into our digs. My roommates were two heads from California who I had not met either in any of our prior orientations or on the flight over. There was Kousaku; a graduate of Davis from Sacramento, and Davis; a SF State grad from Hercules. (No joke, one went to Davis, one is named Davis). Our first night had nothing planned so I met up with some of my friends who now live in Tokyo to hang out, catch up, and try to share some time before orientation begins. I took the chikatetsu (subway) from the Shinjuku station to meet up with Maki (he’s from Richmond), Hisashi, Kimiko, and Arianna (who had been visiting from SF), at the Shibuya station (role call!...ahem, yeah, anyway). Rail lines in Japan are mainly privately owned; a lot of keiretsu (what we’d call conglomerates stateside) will subsidize a line, and the line will be called the name of, say, a department store. Kinda weird.
Shibuya’s pretty bustling, even on a Sunday night. Well, every district in Tokyo that I bore witness to has somewhat of a vibe/feel all it’s own. Shibuya’s where a lot of “clubs” are that cater to young Tokyoites who still live at Ma and Pa’s (most do until they’re married, actually), who have a lot of disposable income, and like to listen to “hippu hoppu” (and reggaeton). We hit up an underground izakaya (bar and grill) that served up some pretty tasty eats. Apologies to the vegetarian set; I think you’d be shit outta luck in Japan, for the most part - everything’s got fish in it at the very least. (I actually saw whale on the menu; so I’m not sure if you vegetarians call that fish…) Caught up with the folks; good times.
Several things struck me whilst meandering about Tokyo/Shibuya; how vast the city is area-wise, how many freakin people there are there, and how little diversity there is for a city so large. (And the damn humidity! My god man, it was like walking through a sauna!!!) Almost everyone in Shibuya was Japanese, and pretty much no one I spoke to could speak any English, and was fairly shocked when they found out I speak little to no Japanese. Hisashi got a kick out of a new phrase Maki had him practicing: “I don’t have tentacles, but I have two testicles.” Oh, the internationalization. We caught the last train out of Shibuya (12:30 AM), and headed our separate ways.
For the following few days, we had orientation at the hotel. I got little out of the info sessions, really. Most of what we heard was information we had gotten before, rehashed and fed to us by different people. The most valuable thing taken from the orientation was the networking. We had a chance to meet and interact with folks in the same prefecture/who were heading to the same region. That was good, though I had already kicked it with some folks from SF who were heading to Nagasaki prefecture (the “state” I’m in), as well as other prefectures in Kyushu (the Southern Island I’m on), in addition to quite a few heads who were going to be spread out amongst the main island of Honshu. Somewhat of a support system for us if and when culture shock hits (purportedly about the 8th month in), as well as crash pads when we travel about the country.
The last night of orientation, I met up with another friend living in Tokyo; Chieko, to hit up another izakaya. This one wasn’t underground, but it was also really tasty. Drank copious amounts of sake, ate a gangload of food, and had good company. Ended the night early since she had work the next day, and I had to leave on a JET plane.
Oh, some funny shit, while at orientation, I made the acquaintance of a Brit of Jamaican descent from London, Mark. Since he’s a Jamaican Londoner, he’s obviously not Japanese, nor is he Caucasian. Anyhow, we got ushered in to eat lunch one day, and our backs were facing the door. After a while he turns around and looks towards the door, then turns to me and says, “eh ahppears I’ve goh a bituva fan club.” I turned around to see what the hell he was marble-mumbling about. Standing at the door were about 4 Japanese high school girls (they attended the orientation to answer questions about pop culture, and to assist in skits) who were giggling and standing about. Mark calls out to them “well hello girls,” and waves. They take that as a cue to bum rush him. They didn’t run into him but might have well have. They were giggling, whispering to each other, (“ehhhhhh!!! kakkoii, chou kawaii ne!!! Maikahru Johhdan!!!” he’s cool, and so cute isn’t he!), and one of them was hyperventilating so hard I thought she was about to pass out. I shit you not; the scene reminded me of stock footage I’d seen of Beatles fans, or Elvis fans. I mean, Mark’s a good-looking guy, but even he was finding it a bit uncomfortable. Sorta reflects the homogeneity of Japanese society and how rare it is for them to see a “foreigner” in the flesh. Hella comedy.
When orientation was over, we all headed our separate ways, by either shinkansen (bullet train), air, or ferry. At the time about three typhoons were circling around Kyushu; some prefectures were opting to have their ALT’s take the bullet train instead of airplane, while our prefecture didn’t seem to mention shit. That was somewhat unsettling… But I figured, what the hell. I just wanted to get to my house so I could change out of my monkey suit. Everything worked out fine, save for a bit of turbulence. The flight from Haneda Airport to Nagasaki Airport (in Omura city) was about an hour and a half. Along with two other ALTS’, Katie from Leeds in the UK, and Connie from Cincinnati, I was picked up by Suga (a worker from our board of education), Eric (a second year ALT from Michigan), and Joel (Connie’s husband). From there we headed into even more moist humidity, and to the Minamishimabara Board of Education office.
Thus the arrival into the Shimabara Hanto finished…