(049) The girl and the typhoon + thinking about the future.
Today is the day I'm heading back to Iowa! Two semesters left - of course, hopefully. It's frustrating right now because my credits from my time in Japan haven't been transferred over yet, so I'm not exactly sure of the level of panic I should be exhibiting right now. In any case, just a bit would be what I call a 'healthy amount;' I'm a double major with one major almost finished and the other I'm about up-heave up on its pale belly (flop like a beached fish, International Studies!), I have only two semesters left to pull this off, and there's something suspiciously akin to a thesis (oh wait, it is a thesis) lurking in the unexplored waters. But eh, why sweat it? I'm going back to the school I love and I think I've finally figured out - if only just a little bit more - where my interests lie.
But of course, nothing of this has happened yet. I haven't even stepped on the plane.
Edit: I'm already in Iowa and almost finished with my first week (which will be another post!), but this is how long I've sat on this post. After sitting on writing it since July.
Instead, let's have some storytelling. This is the story of July 19.
Disclaimer: This story is completely true, re: testimony of the girl. If it sounds pathetic in some spots, that is because it is.
Cast:
The girl (me)
The typhoon (nickname: The Devil)
Two giant suitcases each roughly 23kg/50lb+ (Left) and (Right)
Many kind strangers
Noro family
A bus a train and finally a car
Um, okay, I'm being tongue-in-cheek about this, but the reason I haven't written about this yet (despite getting back from Japan ages ago!) is that, in all honesty, it was sort of traumatising. A very fitting subtitle to this story is, "The girl's very, very bad day." A second subtitle would be, "The girl feels very macho now, feels like she can handle any crisis, and to any obstacle, BRING IT ON." But let's continue.
My original set date for heading home was July 19. To be honest, by the end of everything I was kind of ready to go home, despite several fears I'd been chewing on for a while. The atmosphere in my dorm had gotten very... uncomfortable in the last stretch, and I just wanted peace and quiet. Which I have in my apartment here at school, actually. In any case, things had gotten immensely stressful and I was mentally set on getting on that damn plane and flying home.
Of course I knew there was inclement weather on its way - it had already been raining heavily, but not so badly in the city where my school was that I thought, from the beginning, that I wouldn't be able to fly. I probably should've checked, I really should've checked; I didn't, because I was mentally worn down by that point and so, so ready to go.
Going to the airport was heading into the heart of the storm.
Chubu Centrair Airport (for the region that's smack-dab in the center of Japan) is a man-made island. Like all islands, it does not do well in storms, especially not in typhoons. When I arrived there, the rain was sheeting, trees were bending almost sideways under the force of the wind and flights were, of course, getting cancelled left and right. I went to the counter, pushing about 100+ pounds of baggage in front of me. More or less... my weight.
I asked Korean Air if there was any chance I'd be able to fly out that day. They said no. I asked when I could flight. They told me the earliest day would be July 22nd, four days later. I thanked them politely, after confirming there was nothing else they could do (and looking out at the storm outside, that was the truth) and walked away to compose myself, upon which I promptly burst into tears.
I was stuck in the airport, my flight had been rescheduled for four days later, I had giant suitcases that it had taken me all my strength to simply cart through the airport, with very little Japanese cash left on me and no working cell phone, because I had cancelled my contract the day before. I was feeling very sorry for myself.
I went to the pay phone and called my boyfriend. He was in a situation where he couldn't pick up the phone. Luckily, the contacts in my phone hadn't been erased. If they had been, I would've been shit out of luck. Then I called the dorm, upon which the caretaker there told me that once I'd left, I couldn't come back there (which was later proven false, but by that time I was already on my way to Gifu). Feeling even worse, I spent a large amount of coins to make an international call to my mom. It barely lasted three minutes, but it cut off after I'd told her my situation and that I was 'trying to do something,' which probably wasn't much of a comfort. I then went through my contacts, and called Yayoi. Yayoi Noro was the resident assistant who lived with us in the dorm my fall semester.
She is crazy, adorable, and an excellent person. Trying to keep the tears out of my voice I explained my situation, wondering if I could stay there a night so I could work out a situation with a hotel or something, upon which she told me to shut up and that I could stay all four days, no problem, come to Gifu, my mom will pick you up. At this point, my coins were pretty much gone, and after a bit of fast-talking I dragged everything after me again and trudged towards the train.
Except, due to the typhoon, rail service from the airport had been cancelled. There was no way to go straight to Gifu Station. The airport had provided a bus service for everyone to get to a different station, from which people could travel to wherever. I had no phone, no way to contact Yayoi and tell her that the time to expect me had changed dramatically. So I gathered my loins and asked someone if I could borrow their phone, which is a weird request to a Japanese person (everyone and their grandma has a cell phone) and probably even stranger coming from a foreigner. Many, many kind people allowed me to use their cellphones over my journey to Gifu.
Looking back, I think it's very fortunately that I can speak Japanese well enough that I had the ability to explain myself in such situations.
After waiting in line for a bus (of course, half the airport was trying to get on JR service), I finally made it to the front and where a new bus had been waiting. Unfortunately, this meant going outside.
I heard shrieks from both behind and in front of me as we were exposed to the brunt of the typhoon. My heart was pounding in my chest as the wind buffeted all of us, forcing light people sideways. The cart my 23kg/50lb luggage bags was on escaped from my hands and was pushed away by the wind. We were all soaked instantly. People helped me get my bags back and on the bus, because there was absolutely no way I could lift them myself. It was crowded on the bus, wet and cold, filled with desolate people.
I have to confess I felt worse. I had no working cell phone, very little Japanese money left on hand, still had two hours ahead of me of wrestling with my heavy luggage, was about to impose on my friend, and literally thought I had no place to go back to in this country (since I'd been erroneously told that I couldn't go back to the dorm).
The bus swayed back and forth as we drove down the wet, windy highway. It was perhaps half an hour or so, until we finally got to a station that was on the opposite end of the line from Gifu. Steeling myself I handed over what was practically the last of my Japanese cash, and got on the train still, of course, dragging my two suitcases. It was a long, long ride of maybe one and a half hours, maybe two. I honestly don't remember much beyond the fact that I was soaked through, freezing, and trying to not burst into tears all over again.
When I finally made it to Gifu Station, Yayoi's mother was there to pick me up. I felt horrible about imposing and was very quiet on the car ride to their house, probably not giving off the best first impression.
Upon which I took a hot shower and the pain finally came into my arms, talked to everyone on Skype, and spent the next three days intermittently apologising to both Yayoi and her mother, having a lot of fun, and learning Gifu-ben. I am so grateful to them for their generosity. They fed me, treated me to food, and allowed me to stay almost half a week. When I finally left Japan I felt it was a place I could return to, a real place, and I didn't have the association of 'Japan ending' with my study abroad ending as well. Perhaps I was able to let go the heavy feelings I'd be holding on to due to the shitty situation in my dorm, even at the very end.
It wasn't a situation where my life was in danger. But it was a situation where I felt powerless, where I couldn't rely on technology, when things didn't go my way and I had to rely on other people. I live a fortunate life due to the hard work of my parents (who I love all the more fiercely for my time spent away from them), and this was a first for me. It made me think about a lot of things.
Unfortunately, while I used to love storms, they fill me with anxiety now. It was a shitty day and perhaps that association will stick with me. There's a hurricane coming to the East Coast and while being worried for my family, I'm glad I'm not there.
I guess in the end this story is only another example of how I have the worst luck with traveling.
But of course, nothing of this has happened yet. I haven't even stepped on the plane.
Edit: I'm already in Iowa and almost finished with my first week (which will be another post!), but this is how long I've sat on this post. After sitting on writing it since July.
Instead, let's have some storytelling. This is the story of July 19.
Disclaimer: This story is completely true, re: testimony of the girl. If it sounds pathetic in some spots, that is because it is.
Cast:
The girl (me)
The typhoon (nickname: The Devil)
Two giant suitcases each roughly 23kg/50lb+ (Left) and (Right)
Many kind strangers
Noro family
A bus a train and finally a car
Um, okay, I'm being tongue-in-cheek about this, but the reason I haven't written about this yet (despite getting back from Japan ages ago!) is that, in all honesty, it was sort of traumatising. A very fitting subtitle to this story is, "The girl's very, very bad day." A second subtitle would be, "The girl feels very macho now, feels like she can handle any crisis, and to any obstacle, BRING IT ON." But let's continue.
My original set date for heading home was July 19. To be honest, by the end of everything I was kind of ready to go home, despite several fears I'd been chewing on for a while. The atmosphere in my dorm had gotten very... uncomfortable in the last stretch, and I just wanted peace and quiet. Which I have in my apartment here at school, actually. In any case, things had gotten immensely stressful and I was mentally set on getting on that damn plane and flying home.
Of course I knew there was inclement weather on its way - it had already been raining heavily, but not so badly in the city where my school was that I thought, from the beginning, that I wouldn't be able to fly. I probably should've checked, I really should've checked; I didn't, because I was mentally worn down by that point and so, so ready to go.
Going to the airport was heading into the heart of the storm.
Chubu Centrair Airport (for the region that's smack-dab in the center of Japan) is a man-made island. Like all islands, it does not do well in storms, especially not in typhoons. When I arrived there, the rain was sheeting, trees were bending almost sideways under the force of the wind and flights were, of course, getting cancelled left and right. I went to the counter, pushing about 100+ pounds of baggage in front of me. More or less... my weight.
I asked Korean Air if there was any chance I'd be able to fly out that day. They said no. I asked when I could flight. They told me the earliest day would be July 22nd, four days later. I thanked them politely, after confirming there was nothing else they could do (and looking out at the storm outside, that was the truth) and walked away to compose myself, upon which I promptly burst into tears.
I was stuck in the airport, my flight had been rescheduled for four days later, I had giant suitcases that it had taken me all my strength to simply cart through the airport, with very little Japanese cash left on me and no working cell phone, because I had cancelled my contract the day before. I was feeling very sorry for myself.
I went to the pay phone and called my boyfriend. He was in a situation where he couldn't pick up the phone. Luckily, the contacts in my phone hadn't been erased. If they had been, I would've been shit out of luck. Then I called the dorm, upon which the caretaker there told me that once I'd left, I couldn't come back there (which was later proven false, but by that time I was already on my way to Gifu). Feeling even worse, I spent a large amount of coins to make an international call to my mom. It barely lasted three minutes, but it cut off after I'd told her my situation and that I was 'trying to do something,' which probably wasn't much of a comfort. I then went through my contacts, and called Yayoi. Yayoi Noro was the resident assistant who lived with us in the dorm my fall semester.
She is crazy, adorable, and an excellent person. Trying to keep the tears out of my voice I explained my situation, wondering if I could stay there a night so I could work out a situation with a hotel or something, upon which she told me to shut up and that I could stay all four days, no problem, come to Gifu, my mom will pick you up. At this point, my coins were pretty much gone, and after a bit of fast-talking I dragged everything after me again and trudged towards the train.
Except, due to the typhoon, rail service from the airport had been cancelled. There was no way to go straight to Gifu Station. The airport had provided a bus service for everyone to get to a different station, from which people could travel to wherever. I had no phone, no way to contact Yayoi and tell her that the time to expect me had changed dramatically. So I gathered my loins and asked someone if I could borrow their phone, which is a weird request to a Japanese person (everyone and their grandma has a cell phone) and probably even stranger coming from a foreigner. Many, many kind people allowed me to use their cellphones over my journey to Gifu.
Looking back, I think it's very fortunately that I can speak Japanese well enough that I had the ability to explain myself in such situations.
After waiting in line for a bus (of course, half the airport was trying to get on JR service), I finally made it to the front and where a new bus had been waiting. Unfortunately, this meant going outside.
I heard shrieks from both behind and in front of me as we were exposed to the brunt of the typhoon. My heart was pounding in my chest as the wind buffeted all of us, forcing light people sideways. The cart my 23kg/50lb luggage bags was on escaped from my hands and was pushed away by the wind. We were all soaked instantly. People helped me get my bags back and on the bus, because there was absolutely no way I could lift them myself. It was crowded on the bus, wet and cold, filled with desolate people.
I have to confess I felt worse. I had no working cell phone, very little Japanese money left on hand, still had two hours ahead of me of wrestling with my heavy luggage, was about to impose on my friend, and literally thought I had no place to go back to in this country (since I'd been erroneously told that I couldn't go back to the dorm).
The bus swayed back and forth as we drove down the wet, windy highway. It was perhaps half an hour or so, until we finally got to a station that was on the opposite end of the line from Gifu. Steeling myself I handed over what was practically the last of my Japanese cash, and got on the train still, of course, dragging my two suitcases. It was a long, long ride of maybe one and a half hours, maybe two. I honestly don't remember much beyond the fact that I was soaked through, freezing, and trying to not burst into tears all over again.
When I finally made it to Gifu Station, Yayoi's mother was there to pick me up. I felt horrible about imposing and was very quiet on the car ride to their house, probably not giving off the best first impression.
Upon which I took a hot shower and the pain finally came into my arms, talked to everyone on Skype, and spent the next three days intermittently apologising to both Yayoi and her mother, having a lot of fun, and learning Gifu-ben. I am so grateful to them for their generosity. They fed me, treated me to food, and allowed me to stay almost half a week. When I finally left Japan I felt it was a place I could return to, a real place, and I didn't have the association of 'Japan ending' with my study abroad ending as well. Perhaps I was able to let go the heavy feelings I'd be holding on to due to the shitty situation in my dorm, even at the very end.
It wasn't a situation where my life was in danger. But it was a situation where I felt powerless, where I couldn't rely on technology, when things didn't go my way and I had to rely on other people. I live a fortunate life due to the hard work of my parents (who I love all the more fiercely for my time spent away from them), and this was a first for me. It made me think about a lot of things.
Unfortunately, while I used to love storms, they fill me with anxiety now. It was a shitty day and perhaps that association will stick with me. There's a hurricane coming to the East Coast and while being worried for my family, I'm glad I'm not there.
I guess in the end this story is only another example of how I have the worst luck with traveling.