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A few corrections, now that I’ve been in Japan for a year:
1. This is clearly not a studio apartment.
2. That is not the city of Fukuoka, nor is the white dome the Yahoo! Dome, an error I now find hilarious. It’s a nice gym complex in a suburb of Fukuoka.
3. The laundry machine does, in fact, eat laundry, regardless of having a tumbler.
I don’t have Internet and I’m not sure when I’ll get it. This post is being written on an iPod touch, saved on my WordPress application, and sent when I manage to sneak under an old Japanese guy’s porch.
Most of my time spent off of the Internet has been spent trying to get on it; I even used electrical tape, a tea strainer, a USB cord and a pot lid to build a DIY satelite dish to get better access to my neighbor’s wireless hub in a bid to steal it less obviously. It’s not working.
Bear with me. Japan’s high-tech infrastructure is no match for it’s beaureacracy, but I have faith that I will one day have bedside access to Facebook.
3 Hours In
Somewhere over Saskatchewan I realize that Canada has two provinces north of the ones I knew about. As an educated member of society, I apologize to The Northwest Territories (not actually a “Province”) and Yukon.
Three hours into a 14-hour flight and already going to the bathroom is an event. Boredom-consciousness and dream-consciousness conspire to drive you crazy: An hour-long snooze takes 5 minutes; you dream there are centipedes on your legs; the sun never moves from its place in the sky.
I’m flying in a Continental Airlines 777, (“Nananananana,” as my Japanese flight attendant calls it). It’s 3 rows of 3 seats flying at 512 mph through Canada into Alaska and Russia.
6 Hours In
The in-flight entertainment is an incredibly in-depth pay-per-view system, with movies including a Hebrew translation of three Harry Potter films, “A Streetcar Named Desire,” Bollywood films and Japanese TV shows.
I chose a game show where Japanese TV personalities compete to place X’s or O’s on a checkerboard. It’s hosted by 2 comedians in military uniforms who enter the stage from chairs placed on cranes – you can see the human crane operators – and a woman who looks a bit like Michael Jackson. It’s fun, but it’s a Sunday-afternoon kind of fun, the kind of excitement you get watching drunk people play Twister when you’re sober with a broken leg.
I suspect that is common to television across the planet.
9 Hours In
Somewhere over the Russian sea of Okhotsk, my sun-crazed self is watching “TV Champion: Naughty Puppy Trainers” while listening to The Stone Roses singing “I Wanna Be Adored.”
The in-flight navigation system tells me that the sun has set on my point of origin. It’s nighttime in New England, it’s 10 A.M. in Tokyo. It’s also tomorrow. My body is in all places at once: A secret exhaustion hidden by a sun-powered euphoria, like I’ve been awake all night, sleeping.
10 Hours In
I hallucinate the birds outside my old apartment in Maine, the ones that always woke me up. They wake me up again, not from outside my window but from inside my head.
11 Hours In
We have an hour to go and a disgraceful female American tourist is talking. Every sentence is a correction: “No, no, it’s _______.” Today she’s providing tips to teenagers about how to sleep with Japanese women (The polite version is that she thinks it’s quite easy) and then proceeds to speak Japanese with a terrible Connecticut accent and tell everyone how boring the Tokyo Tower is.
This is a common syndrome of the “Been-to-Japan” people: They all, apparently, are very bored of Japan, and can’t even enjoy “Lost In Translation” because they speak Japanese too well to ever “relate to the characters”, and can’t stand how Japan is all just so damned Japanese. I would recommend these experts either refrain from returning by their own volition, to a small island nation 16 hours away from where they live, or to shut up on airplanes full of Japanese natives making judgments about Americans.
Landing at Narita Airport
The immigration line in Japan is the quietest place I’ve been in years. The entire airport is. I expected the gateway to Asia to present constant strange beeps and bursts of incomprehensible announcements. There are none. The loudspeakers, if they exist, are silent. Instead, Japanese officials wave you through checkpoints and tell you where to get your luggage. Everything’s hushed until a girl from Connecticut gets in line telling everyone around her the wrong way to say “Shinjuku.”
Anyway, I’m in Japan.
It’s 6 a.m. and I’ve been at Logan for a half an hour, my luggage carefully weighed and measured. (A note to fellow travelers: While America’s beefy, Texas-toast style aircraft allow for a 40 lbs carry-on, Japan’s dainty planes allow for only 22 lbs. I’ll ship the difference, at additional cost).
My flight is a 16-hour long marathon from Boston to Newark, NJ (Why not?) and then a straight shot to Narita International Airport in Tokyo, where it will be a 2 hour flight.
If you’re afraid of flying, as I am, the best tactic – that is, the tactic that I have used – is the same tactic I use for fighting the onset of sadness. If a flight – or the time you face away from home – is ever overwhelming, let it be overwhelming when it is overwhelming.
Don’t anticipate fear, or sadness. It will come anyway, and there is no use in worrying in between. And when it does come, let it come, let it wash over you, let it run its course, and then go.
Shot an e-mail to Ben Benjamin, proprietor of Superbad.com, who went to live in Japan 10-ish years ago. I asked him for advice on life in Japan:
Three Tips for Life in Japan
Here are three things that I learned there, found helpful – the first 2 of which are still helpful in my non-Japan life:
1. Say yes to invites. No matter how crazy or awkward-sounding they seem like they’re going to be. Just say yes and go. Saying yes, in general, seems to be a good policy.
2. You are going to mess up socially a lot. The earlier you decide, “oh well,” the better. There will be tons of awkward, “where do I sit?” or “do I actually have any role here?” type moments. My role, I quickly realized, was never questioned by Japanese folks; if I was there, they accepted that – at least in work-type situations. And the ‘where do i sit?’ stuff, japanese people expect you to mess up and mostly can deal with.
3. Go to hot springs and public baths. So fun! Read to learn how to first, though. Foreigners in those places stress Japanese people out because they’re afraid you’re going to bathe then shower and make the water all dirty. Plus, we just stress people out. Also, good way to get over any fears about being naked in public. After Japanese public baths, my “oh no I’m naked in school” stress dreams turned into “oh well, I’m naked at school” non-stress dreams.