It begins in an airport, but then again what doesn't?
[Originally posted on Third Floor Hitachi on Wednesday, May 9th 2007 at 6:43 AM]
J57 Wednesday, May 9th 2007
Slowly getting back into the swing of things. Golden Week was last week, a blissful 9 days of no work and holiday, enjoying the laziness of the long Japanese day.
Today was not one of those days. It started off warm, the breeze generated by my bike ride to work barely kept me cook beneath my suit as I zipped down the hill to my school. It got hotter as I climbed the stairs; I could feel the temperature gradient.
Work was OK, though. A little hectic, but what else is new? At lunch I saw my first rude Japanese person. A woman in Lawson's, in front of me in the checkout line. Wearing a grey miniskirt suit that was just a bit too small for her. She yelled, loud, for the cashier to hurry up, for the people in front of her to move it. When she got to the counter she spent a solid 2 minutes looking for exact change, finally settling on an evenly-spread tray full of silver coins. Once the cashier finished getting her change, the woman again yelled, this time demanding her purchase be put into a bag. The cashier, serene as an Aes Sedai, complied.
The rude woman turned on her heel to storm out, making eye contact with me. I looked back, neutral. (I've been told by the Japanese staff that my neutral face is in fact, a terrifying visage of anger and hate to the Japanese eye. I am instructed to smile at all times, lest I frighten students. The preceeding two statements are in no way lies or elaborations on the truth) She glowers at me, but I feel my Gaijin Field deflect the daggers harmlessly. As she stomps her way to the exit she tries to lock eyes again, but I merely direct my attention to the cashier. I have begun to perfect the Japanese detachment trance.
The rest of the day was without incident. A meeting was held after work to discuss some new materials. I'm at home now, writing what will be the first of many posts to this blog. Yay! I like the split format idea; as JD commented earlier it will allow me to catch up while still keeping everyone up to date. In a way, it's like writing a 2.5 month-long flashback. Some of the things you just read probably didn't make sense, but that's okay. All will become clear, gentle reader.
EJ is coming to Japan soon. He'll be flying out in about 36 hours, give or take. I need to get to sleep.
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[Original day written: Thursday, February 22nd 2007 at Unknown Time]
J1.0
I'm ready. I am not ready. I've spent the last two weeks packing and saying goodbye, but I've been preparing for this for a lot longer. I'm in Detroit now, having said goodbye to Ann and EJ and Mom at Hartsfield a little less than 3 hours ago. I miss them already.
The terminal here in Detroit is actually nice. I should have called Sabrina, maybe she could have dropped by. But, then again, she couldn't get in to this part of the airport, and there's no way I'm leaving the terminal just before I get on an international flight. Security would shove dogs into my butt and call it freedom. The tram for this section of terminal runs through the damn thing, with only a solid 20 feet of vertical space separating the tracks from pedestrians; no guard rails or anything. It's a very different sight, almost like something out of a painting.
The tunnel from my exit terminal from Atlanta to my current resting place was this freaky multi-colored mushroom tunnel. Took a few shots, but I don't know how they'll turn out.
Waiting now. Don't want to use any gizmos or anything; must conserve battery power at all costs.
J1.1
This plane is frigging huge. It's a double-decker monster, easily the biggest plane I have ever been on. And there are so many people; it's like that scene in Titanic where everyone gets up to wave goodbye. Ten seats to a row, broken up into three sub-rows (a column 3 seats thick on either side of the plane and a middle column of 4 seats). I'm surrounded by so many ethnicities and ages. I swim in a sea of language and sensation; smells and tastes from a half-dozen cultures pepper the air and children whisper in their mother tongues, equally diverse. I settle down into my seat, next to two Chinese girls. They look to be members of the same school, or athletic team. I can't tell which. After a few minutes they scamper off to sit with the rest of their group, granting me a blissful measure of space next to me. Now all I can do is wait...again.
J1.2
A quarter of the way into the flight I break out my pre-training study materials. I was supposed to read them months ago. Hooray procrastination! Let's see...standard stuff.....oooo.....they want me to be good at grammar. Suck. I know enough as the next guy, maybe a little more, but ask me for a technical explanation and I'm not much use. Still, no worries; I can wing it. I get little waves of panic and homesickness as I read, seeing in black ink on white and blue paper how my life has been mapped out for the next year. I'm not going to be watched at every move, but my company will, essentially, own me. My contract prohibits me from posting the details, but it's rather impressive.
J1.3
They keep us well watered and fed, thank God. My shoulder is killing me. I keep trying to stretch it out, but no use. I try to sleep, manage to nod off for a little while, but I've never had much success sleeping during mass transit rides.
J1.4
Touchdown in Japan! The last leg of the journey seemed to get exponentially longer, but we finally got here. About time. It's raining outside, and there's this....feeling in the air. I'm not in America anymore. I follow the flow of people out through customs, get stamped and processed quickly, and manage to get my luggage. For the record, I'm coming here with:
My NERV duffel bag, full of clothes, electronic accessories (chargers, etc), books, and toiletries
My big honking suitcase, full of suits and clothes and toiletries
My laptop case, filled with my laptop.
A big frigging cardboard box that contains the last of my clothes.
I pile it all onto a cart and make my way past the final security dude into the main body of Tokyo-Narita International Airport. I have truly arrived at Japan. After a few minutes I am flagged down by a staff member of my company, who directs me to a small waiting area where a few of my other trainees are waiting. They've all arrived in the past 6 hours or so. We chat. One is from Hawaii, born in Brooklyn. His accent is awesome. The other is from L.A. and S.F. The third is from Vancouver. The fifth member of our group is already at the training house, having been here for a few months already.
I transfer a few clothes, mostly a complete suit and a few toiletries, to my duffel, as only it and my laptop case will be coming with me. The suitcase and box will be shipped from the airport to my school, who will hold it 'till I get there in about 9 days. I find a few spare seconds to buy a phone card and call home, letting Mom know that I'm alive and okay and getting ready to go to the seminar house. It's the last time I'll talk to anyone from home for nearly 3 weeks.
What follows is a whirlwind of train stations and exchanges. The staffer buys tickets, we all go through the turnstiles (wherein you must grab your ticket, lest you be unable to exit the turnstile of whatever station you get off at) and run for crowded trains. Japan has absorbed us effortlessly, despite our foreign origins. It has placidly opened its mouth and we have leaped in, being swallowed by the sleepless clockwork beast that is Tokyo.
We make our way out, past the suburbs. In a startlingly short amount of time we are surrounded by the countryside of Japan. For those of you who don't know, it is beautiful. Farmer's fields crisscrossed by rough grids of semipaved roads. Flatlands broken by bold, sudden hills and miniature mountains. Houses strapped together with old plywood and bamboo; crumbling edifices next to modern concrete and aluminum siding. No space is wasted, even out here. All things are used to their maximum effect. I marvel at massive windmills that stand at attention, marching across the plain I find myself flying through.
I hardly remember the journey. Talking about our lives back in America and Canada. Asking about what to expect or what to do. I get answers, but I don't quite know how to process them.
"How do I get on the Internet," I ask eagerly.
"Oh, it's easy," our handler says. "Just narfle the garthok."
He says something, something that almost sounds normal. A series of steps, a plan, but they are so convoluted and alien that I cannot make heads or tails. I write them down anyway, my simplified understanding of the true steps almost laughable.
Eventually, we arrive at our destination. Omika. The kanji are the characters for "Big Temple". We pile into taxi cabs (more on those later, I promise) and are whisked away. They take us to the seminar house, a simple 2-story building, white. Looks like it's tiled on the outside at first. They give us a tour. I cannot tell you how exhausted I am. I am beyond tired. My body is beyond ache. I just want to lay down. Even now, as I type this, I feel the phantom pain of cramps and muscles worked beyond their normal means.
Finally, finally, our handler lets us sleep. We've filled out a little paperwork, done some things that even then I couldn't remember. Finally, I deposit my bags in my room, crawl into bed, and let sleep crush the exhaustion from my bones.
J57 Wednesday, May 9th 2007
Slowly getting back into the swing of things. Golden Week was last week, a blissful 9 days of no work and holiday, enjoying the laziness of the long Japanese day.
Today was not one of those days. It started off warm, the breeze generated by my bike ride to work barely kept me cook beneath my suit as I zipped down the hill to my school. It got hotter as I climbed the stairs; I could feel the temperature gradient.
Work was OK, though. A little hectic, but what else is new? At lunch I saw my first rude Japanese person. A woman in Lawson's, in front of me in the checkout line. Wearing a grey miniskirt suit that was just a bit too small for her. She yelled, loud, for the cashier to hurry up, for the people in front of her to move it. When she got to the counter she spent a solid 2 minutes looking for exact change, finally settling on an evenly-spread tray full of silver coins. Once the cashier finished getting her change, the woman again yelled, this time demanding her purchase be put into a bag. The cashier, serene as an Aes Sedai, complied.
The rude woman turned on her heel to storm out, making eye contact with me. I looked back, neutral. (I've been told by the Japanese staff that my neutral face is in fact, a terrifying visage of anger and hate to the Japanese eye. I am instructed to smile at all times, lest I frighten students. The preceeding two statements are in no way lies or elaborations on the truth) She glowers at me, but I feel my Gaijin Field deflect the daggers harmlessly. As she stomps her way to the exit she tries to lock eyes again, but I merely direct my attention to the cashier. I have begun to perfect the Japanese detachment trance.
The rest of the day was without incident. A meeting was held after work to discuss some new materials. I'm at home now, writing what will be the first of many posts to this blog. Yay! I like the split format idea; as JD commented earlier it will allow me to catch up while still keeping everyone up to date. In a way, it's like writing a 2.5 month-long flashback. Some of the things you just read probably didn't make sense, but that's okay. All will become clear, gentle reader.
EJ is coming to Japan soon. He'll be flying out in about 36 hours, give or take. I need to get to sleep.
--------------------------------------------------
[Original day written: Thursday, February 22nd 2007 at Unknown Time]
J1.0
I'm ready. I am not ready. I've spent the last two weeks packing and saying goodbye, but I've been preparing for this for a lot longer. I'm in Detroit now, having said goodbye to Ann and EJ and Mom at Hartsfield a little less than 3 hours ago. I miss them already.
The terminal here in Detroit is actually nice. I should have called Sabrina, maybe she could have dropped by. But, then again, she couldn't get in to this part of the airport, and there's no way I'm leaving the terminal just before I get on an international flight. Security would shove dogs into my butt and call it freedom. The tram for this section of terminal runs through the damn thing, with only a solid 20 feet of vertical space separating the tracks from pedestrians; no guard rails or anything. It's a very different sight, almost like something out of a painting.
The tunnel from my exit terminal from Atlanta to my current resting place was this freaky multi-colored mushroom tunnel. Took a few shots, but I don't know how they'll turn out.
Waiting now. Don't want to use any gizmos or anything; must conserve battery power at all costs.
J1.1
This plane is frigging huge. It's a double-decker monster, easily the biggest plane I have ever been on. And there are so many people; it's like that scene in Titanic where everyone gets up to wave goodbye. Ten seats to a row, broken up into three sub-rows (a column 3 seats thick on either side of the plane and a middle column of 4 seats). I'm surrounded by so many ethnicities and ages. I swim in a sea of language and sensation; smells and tastes from a half-dozen cultures pepper the air and children whisper in their mother tongues, equally diverse. I settle down into my seat, next to two Chinese girls. They look to be members of the same school, or athletic team. I can't tell which. After a few minutes they scamper off to sit with the rest of their group, granting me a blissful measure of space next to me. Now all I can do is wait...again.
J1.2
A quarter of the way into the flight I break out my pre-training study materials. I was supposed to read them months ago. Hooray procrastination! Let's see...standard stuff.....oooo.....they want me to be good at grammar. Suck. I know enough as the next guy, maybe a little more, but ask me for a technical explanation and I'm not much use. Still, no worries; I can wing it. I get little waves of panic and homesickness as I read, seeing in black ink on white and blue paper how my life has been mapped out for the next year. I'm not going to be watched at every move, but my company will, essentially, own me. My contract prohibits me from posting the details, but it's rather impressive.
J1.3
They keep us well watered and fed, thank God. My shoulder is killing me. I keep trying to stretch it out, but no use. I try to sleep, manage to nod off for a little while, but I've never had much success sleeping during mass transit rides.
J1.4
Touchdown in Japan! The last leg of the journey seemed to get exponentially longer, but we finally got here. About time. It's raining outside, and there's this....feeling in the air. I'm not in America anymore. I follow the flow of people out through customs, get stamped and processed quickly, and manage to get my luggage. For the record, I'm coming here with:
My NERV duffel bag, full of clothes, electronic accessories (chargers, etc), books, and toiletries
My big honking suitcase, full of suits and clothes and toiletries
My laptop case, filled with my laptop.
A big frigging cardboard box that contains the last of my clothes.
I pile it all onto a cart and make my way past the final security dude into the main body of Tokyo-Narita International Airport. I have truly arrived at Japan. After a few minutes I am flagged down by a staff member of my company, who directs me to a small waiting area where a few of my other trainees are waiting. They've all arrived in the past 6 hours or so. We chat. One is from Hawaii, born in Brooklyn. His accent is awesome. The other is from L.A. and S.F. The third is from Vancouver. The fifth member of our group is already at the training house, having been here for a few months already.
I transfer a few clothes, mostly a complete suit and a few toiletries, to my duffel, as only it and my laptop case will be coming with me. The suitcase and box will be shipped from the airport to my school, who will hold it 'till I get there in about 9 days. I find a few spare seconds to buy a phone card and call home, letting Mom know that I'm alive and okay and getting ready to go to the seminar house. It's the last time I'll talk to anyone from home for nearly 3 weeks.
What follows is a whirlwind of train stations and exchanges. The staffer buys tickets, we all go through the turnstiles (wherein you must grab your ticket, lest you be unable to exit the turnstile of whatever station you get off at) and run for crowded trains. Japan has absorbed us effortlessly, despite our foreign origins. It has placidly opened its mouth and we have leaped in, being swallowed by the sleepless clockwork beast that is Tokyo.
We make our way out, past the suburbs. In a startlingly short amount of time we are surrounded by the countryside of Japan. For those of you who don't know, it is beautiful. Farmer's fields crisscrossed by rough grids of semipaved roads. Flatlands broken by bold, sudden hills and miniature mountains. Houses strapped together with old plywood and bamboo; crumbling edifices next to modern concrete and aluminum siding. No space is wasted, even out here. All things are used to their maximum effect. I marvel at massive windmills that stand at attention, marching across the plain I find myself flying through.
I hardly remember the journey. Talking about our lives back in America and Canada. Asking about what to expect or what to do. I get answers, but I don't quite know how to process them.
"How do I get on the Internet," I ask eagerly.
"Oh, it's easy," our handler says. "Just narfle the garthok."
He says something, something that almost sounds normal. A series of steps, a plan, but they are so convoluted and alien that I cannot make heads or tails. I write them down anyway, my simplified understanding of the true steps almost laughable.
Eventually, we arrive at our destination. Omika. The kanji are the characters for "Big Temple". We pile into taxi cabs (more on those later, I promise) and are whisked away. They take us to the seminar house, a simple 2-story building, white. Looks like it's tiled on the outside at first. They give us a tour. I cannot tell you how exhausted I am. I am beyond tired. My body is beyond ache. I just want to lay down. Even now, as I type this, I feel the phantom pain of cramps and muscles worked beyond their normal means.
Finally, finally, our handler lets us sleep. We've filled out a little paperwork, done some things that even then I couldn't remember. Finally, I deposit my bags in my room, crawl into bed, and let sleep crush the exhaustion from my bones.