I suppose if superstitions are to be believed, one shouldn't plan a grand travel adventure on Friday the 13th. Not being especially superstitious, I paid the ridiculous fare to take the Azusa express train from Matsumoto to Shinjuku which should have taken 3 hours. From Shinjuku to Chiba less than an hour, and voila--I'd be all cozy in bed by 10 p.m. and ready for my 7 a.m. English camp meeting time.
Ah, the best laid plans... someone decided to hop the tracks near Kofu, delaying my train by 2 and a half hours. I arrived in Shinjuku at 11:30 p.m. and immediately descended into a world of chaos.
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| Not bollocks after all |
I've seen stories on TV about how crowded Tokyo is, and how people get shoved onto over-filled trains, etc. etc. Even now, many people in America have that vision of Japan because that's what they often see on the news. Until now, I'd never seen that side of Tokyo and thought it a complete load of crap.
It's not crap at 11:30 p.m. on a Friday night. I got off the train and was literally swept away in a wall to wall mass of drunk, smelly, loud bodies. Frantically needing the toilet, I fought my way across the corridor (acquiring several punches and shoves to various parts of my body) only to find the queue literally 50 people long. Abandoning my hopes of release, I allowed myself to be swept back into the swarm like the sidemost fish in a giant school, attempting to see over the heads of those ahead of me to get my bearings. I finally found a pocket of space just big enough for me to look around and see what tracks were near me. My train times were completely messed up due to being so late, so I had to make my best guess of which train to take. I made my move and swam upstream against the tide of people to make it to the platform just in time.
Inadvertently, I'd taken the regular local train, rather than the rapid local train. I think if I'd taken the rapid train, things might have worked out better. As it was, I had my first experience (of many that night) of people literally running at the people in the car and shoving them in like they were shoving a car or other heavy object. I stood with my suitcase on my feet and my purse in teeth with red-eyed men blatantly staring down the front of my dress and sleeping on my shoulder. This process was repeated at every station, with the front-most people exiting briefly to allow those needing to leave the train the opportunity to fight their way out, and then cheerily shoving their way back in. I'm not sure why Japanese people don't play American football... my train mates for the evening would have made a great defensive line. As an extra bonus, being unwilling to wait for the loo, I thought I might pee my pants every time people shoved their way back in. And, I have to admit, I seriously considered just going on some of the more offensive men's shoes.
This continued for an hour. When the train finally stopped at Chiba, the crowd had died down somewhat and I was able to exit in peace. It was 1 a.m. and everything was closed and dark. I made my way to a conbini and asked directions to my hotel as well as pick up some dinner as I hadn't eaten yet. The way took me to a dark, deserted neighborhood punctuated only by the flickering red lights of love hotels, and I began to worry I'd booked myself in at a truly seedy place. However, I finally got a stroke of luck and found my hotel's sign peeking out from a block of completely dark buildings of unknown purpose. Sleepily making my way up to my room, I showered, ate and crawled into bed for the 4 hours of sleep I was allotted.
At the meeting spot for camp, the "park" at which we met was littered with large piles of garbage. Bottles, plastics, paper, and god knows what else littered every nook and cranny. When I returned on Sunday, this garbage was STILL there. Nothing had changed. Returning to Chiba station, I had forgotten to write down the kanji for the stations I needed, so I was unable to determine my fare. I went to the green window to try and get help and was sorely disappointed.
I've heard from foreigners who have lived in other prefectures, as well as Japanese people who are not from Nagano that Nagano people are especially reserved and difficult to get to know. I would have to agree I have found this to be true. However, if you ask them for help, they always unfailingly go above and beyond whatever you might have asked of them. Getting help in Chiba was like trying to make the most reluctant English student speak English in front of the class.
My conversation with the lady at the green window went something like this:
(important note: I was the ONLY person there throughout this conversation.)
Me: Um, I'm very sorry to bother, but I forgot to write down the kanji for the stations I need. Do you know the kanji for Kinshicho?
Lady: Blank stare.
Me: You don't happen to know how much it is from here to Kinshicho?
Lady: 550 Y.
Me: Is that for the rapid service or the regular service?Lady: Rapid or regular.
Me: Can I buy tickets for the Azusa trains here?
Lady: Fill out that form over there.
I've been spoiled by the ridiculously gracious people here in Nagano, who whenever I go to do something like train tickets or bus tickets always try to do TOO much to the point that things sometimes get more complicated than they need to be. They always ask personal questions and generally give the appearance of being fairly happy with their job and that they LIKE helping idiot foreigners. I would have expected more from someplace like Chiba where I would expect they run into foreigners with a lot worse Japanese than mine who are a lot less polite.
For example, today I went to the post office to wire money to my U.S. account and pay a bill. After I left, one of the post office ladies rang my doorbell and said she'd forgotten to copy my resident's card, and gave me a box of tissues in apology. I offered to return with her to the post office, but she insisted that I stay put and she would do it and be right back. Feeling guilty, I gave her some of the take that an old man had given us that morning to share with the other post office staff. Returning about 10 minutes later with my card, she also handed me a bag full of juices as thanks for the take, instructing me it would be best for me to drink them after I run. With this kind of relationship with the people in various businesses, I think I've been spoiled for life.:)
On the subway home from Chiba, I looked out the window at the large neon signs flashing by and tried to conjure up an image of Tokyo from Lost in Translation. When you live some place, rather than just tour some place, it's a lot harder to step outside the familiar and see what strangers see. But remembering Lost in Translation and how glamorous Tokyo appears in that film reminded me that everything can seem romantic and new if you just change your perspective.
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| If all fails, photo shop. |
I wouldn't change places with anyone in Japan, and I want to appreciate the opportunity I have to be here in the first place. Most people don't or can't make the choice to live abroad as we have, and it's easy to take for granted because everyone else here is currently doing the exact same thing. But to those left in America, our life here seems grand and adventurous, whereas to us it's just the humdrum of daily life. I want to appreciate the grandness and live the adventure... even if it's just in enjoying the song of the frogs in the rice fields as I take out the trash.:)
