Observations of an American Dropped Into Japan (Part 4)

After we spent the next day recuperating from our long adventure of trying to find our way back from Narita (I mentioned to Adam that night, that things like being totally lost in Tokyo, were what made interesting memories), Megan asked me what I would like to do. I looked at my granddaughter Abigail and mentioned that maybe we could go to the Ueno Zoo. Abigail thought that was a fine idea. She had been looking forward to the Zoo, and this was a perfect opportunity for a beautiful, well behaved three year old to spend time with Mom, Dad and Ojiisan all together. Ojiisan is the japanese word for Grandpa, so I seemed to adopt it fairly well. Abigail would alternate between Grandpa and Ojiisan, which was fine by me, I was happy for the opportunity to spend time with them all. I was eating it up! As we were heading to the parking lot, Abigail grabbed my two smallest fingers and walked with me the rest of the way to the car.

The train staion was a few blocks from the base, and parking is pretty non-existant, so Adam dropped the three of us off and returned to the base. He would walk back to meet us. As Megan, Abigail & I approached the stairs to head to the Fussa Train Station, we met a polite japanese man...actually, all japanese citizens are extremely polite and soft spoken, and the man asked Megan if she would like a magazine for the train. I glanced at the magazine he was holding up, and mentally rolled my eyes. Megan wasn't sure whether to accept the magazine. "J.W." I said quietly to her. "What?" "J.W." the man smiled and happily said "Yes! Jehovah's Witness" in his japanese accent as he continued to hold up the magazine called "Awake". She politely turned down the magazine offer and we proceeded up the stairs. I wish now that I had asked the man if I could take his picture with his magazine. Who would've thought that on my way to the JR Station in Japan I would have encountered a Jehovah's Witness. I am sure that he would have happily obliged me, but it was extremely hot and humid outside, and I still wasn't thinking clearly.

Megan reloaded her Suica card with more money so that she can ride the trains without having to buy a ticket every time, and she bought me a ticket. She later decided that purchasing a Suica card for me made sense and was faster than feeding the tickets into the machine at the turnstile, which then spits it out the other end, so you can use it at the next leg of your trip. The Suica card also is a pretty cool souvenir! Adam met up with us and we passed through the turnstiles, and waited outside for the train. We didn't have to wait long as they come by every few minutes. Music that sounded like a music box would play from the speakers right before the train would arrive, and then play again after the train stopped, and would continue until the doors closed, and the train would depart. It was a very efficient and heavily used system. Just about everyone stands, holding onto the handles hanging from the ceiling of the train or holding onto a grab bar. Everyone is quiet, busily fingering away at their cell phones, or other handheld devices. There are bench seats on the train along the windows, and they are reserved for the elderly, handicapped, mothers with babies or small children and the like. Others could sit there, but if they spotted anyone that fit that description, they would pop up and motion them to take their seat. I brought my cane with me because of the amount of walking that I knew this trip would entail, so I almost always was given someone's seat. They were very insistant. They wouldn't take "no" for an answer! I learned to really appreciate this later on, when I would have really bad mobility issues due to the heat and excessive walking that I would eventually do.

We exited the train a few blocks from Ueno Zoo, home to Ling Ling, the Giant Panda. Well, former home to Ling Ling, as Ling Ling had died, but they still had all of the signs and large stuffed animals to pose with. On the way to the entrance we passe street performers in makeup and costume. I don't know what they were performing, but one young girl was using a long bullwhip, and shredding paper with it between the hands of a poor soul who's job was to hold the paper while she lashed at it. I have no doubt that she nailed him a few times with that whip, and personally, I think I would be looking for a different job.

The Zoo was a fine place with many cool exibits, a park, a shrine, a Pagoda and cool signs that incorrectly still said that Ling Ling was there. There was a round fountain with faucets, so that the public could wash their hands, and unfortunately, restrooms without doors that are basically open for viewing by passersby. The restrooms in Japan were also interesting in that often, there were no true commodes. Just porcelin around a hole in the floor. Fortunately, the nicer Hotels and shopping malls had regular western facilities, occasionally with a Bidet.

At one end of the zoo was an area with large water plants as far as you could see, with massive flowers blooming from these massive leaves. The body of water I discovered later was called "Lotus Pond", so I would assume that these plants were the Lotus Flowers. Beyond this was a monorail to get to the other side of the Zoo. Thank goodness! I was ready for a rest. We got on the monorail (which hung below the rail instead of above like Seattle's does) and it took off. For about thirty seconds. The door opened. We were there. I imagine there was a look of shock and disappointment on my face, but I kept going and didn't complain. We found a luncheonette and ordered what would be our dinner. I'm afraid I don't rermember what all the meals I had were called, and often I didn't know what I was eating to begin with, but it was all a fairly subdued flavor, but good. They always gave you so much food that I would have a tough time eating it all. Occasionally I didn't.

We then made our way back to the train station, and on our arrival back in Fussa, Adam walked back to get the car while Megan, Abigail and I walked around the adjacent grocery store which had a "Mister Donut" shop on the first floor. Megan bought us some donuts, and while Megan speaks a little japanese, the clerk was rattling on a mile a minute. It was obviously a question she was asking, and in a speaking tone that I had heard often in the states. "She is asking if you have a club card so that you can earn free DVD's" I said half joking, not really understanding a word that she had said, but I actually think I was right. I saw a little sign in the display case that was written in Kanji, but did have DVD written in bold text. We went outside as Adam pulled up and went back home. "I think it's time for another rest day" I told them.

Observations of an American Dropped Into Japan (Part 3)

I don't know how long I had slept, sitting on that bench at Narita International Airport in Tokyo, but I was startled awake by the synthesized sounds of Gary Wright's "Intro to the Dreamweaver". What startled me is that Wright's Intro to his song was the ringtone of my phone, and I had no cell service in Japan. Confused and still dazed, I pulled my phone from my breast pocket, and swiped my finger across the screen to answer the call. It was my wife back in the states. "Uh, hello" I said fairly cautiously as I still was unsure why my phone would ring when there was no compatible cell service in Japan. "Have you found Adam, yet?" she asked me, and then I heard my name called over the loudspeaker to go to the information booth. At least it kind of sounded like my name. I advised my wife that I was being paged, and that I would get ahold of her sometime later. I struggled with my large bag, my medium sized carry-on, and my cane to get across the room and over to the nice gal at the Information Desk. I finally got there and told her that I had been paged..."Dad!" Adam was there at the Information Desk and was standing right next to me. I was so out of sorts that I was unaware that he had been standing there when I walked up. We embraced, thanked the gal at the Information Desk and headed towards the other end of the airport where he had been able to park the car. Adam told me all about his adventures that day. From his house on the Airforce Base, it should have taken about an hour and a half or so to get to the airport. Having never driven to the Narita airport before, he relied on his trusty GPS. He had purchased and installed the maps for Japan, and the GPS was right on target. Until he got near Tokyo. Near Tokyo, things went horribly wrong, the directions kept telling him that he was fifty minutes away from Narita irregardless of how much time had passed or how many miles he had driven. He discovered that he was several hundred miles North of Tokyo when he started seeing fields of Rice, and unfamiliar names that he located on a paper map that he had acquired. He had left home four hours early, and showed up at least that late. Now we were attempting to get back to his home in Fussa, Japan. I sat in the passenger seat on the left side of the car and observed what Adam was talking about as the GPS could not make up its' mind about which way we should travel (it turns out that I heard from a few other service people that they had the same experience). As we were trying to make our way back to Fussa, where the Airforce Base was located, I admired all of the beautifully lit buildings, and even a few large Ferris Wheels that were all lit up. Really cool. Lots of Toll Booths though. More Ferris wheels. More Toll Booths. Even more Ferris Wheels. Wait a minute. I think that these have been the same Ferris Wheeels that we have been passing, and probably the same Toll Booths. Over, and over. Hey, look there's the Rainbow Bridge. Hey. There it is again, and again...we have been blindly driving in circles around Tokyo. Hey!  There is Narita! We started there two hours ago! Okay. There is a 7-11. Let's stop there and ask directions. It was pretty much like most 7-11's in the states...no one spoke english...yup. No different. We asked Toll Booth attendants, flaggers, Police Officers for the direction to go. They all just shrugged and vaguely pointed out into space. We finally got a call on Adam's Japanese cell phone from another serviceman who was very familiar with the drive, Adam's wife Megan had called around, realizing that we must be having difficulties finding our way back and asked him to call us. It turns out we had been missing our turn many times. It was small and really easy to miss he said. That was an understatement. Once we made that turn, it was about an hour and a half to get the the Base. Then I had to acquire my day pass until Pass and ID was open the next day, when I could get my month long pass. Not surprisingly, the Guards at the gates were all Japanese as well, since they are local contactors. We finally were at Adam's apartment on Base. I was definately ready to call it a night.

Observations of an American Dropped Into Japan (Part 2)

I was able to catch my breath and get my mind in order on the hour Shuttle Bus ride to the airport to begin my month long adventure in Japan. The trip at this point was routine enough, and the driver let me off at the proper place to enter and check my bag. I checked my bag, got my boarding pass, went through routine inspection by the TSA and located my gate.I expected that I would get on the Jumbo Jet, it would fly to Canada for a quick stop, and then off we would head for Narita. When the boarding agent called for us to load the plane, I wondered why I didn't see a large jet out the window. Then I wondered why we were going down some stairs to the tarmac..."Really? Seriously?" we were going to get on a prop plane to make a 35 minute flight to Canada. Then, we would change planes to get on the Boeing 777 Jumbo Jet. I had only flown a handful of times before, and had never been on a plane with outward propellers before. The plane was fairly small, and the flight attendant was a personable blonde, so I buckled in for the short flight. When we arrived, I knew that I was in a foreign land because there were mainly Japanese folks, and barely any English spoken. I was right. We were in Canada. Undoubtedly this was the area where the Japanese gathered to catch a flight home.
I had a nice flight on the 777. It seems that they must have booked every other seat, because it seemed that everyone had an empty seat next to them The plane was very quiet. Hardly any conversations going on. Folks just keeping to themselves, watching the touchscreen monitors on the seatbacks in front of them, where they had a selection of movies, TV, music, or maps and GPS of the flight for the 9 hours and 20 minutes we would be in th air. I tried to nap during the four or five movies that I put on, but that was only slightly effective. The flight attendants were constantly busy plying us with coffee (Kohi), tea or Coke (Kola as the Japanese called it) and two full meals. It was a wonderfully smooth and uneventful flight, quite unlike the one I took to Vermont the year before, where the plane shook, shuddered and dipped so bad you spent all night wondering if you were really going to make it.
I filled out my customs forms, and asked the flight attendant where I should go after I get off of the plane. She said "Just follow the crowd"...But the crowd moved so fast! I worked hard to keep up for fear of getting lost. There was a beautiful mural just inside the airport after you get off the plane that said "welcome to Japan", that I would have loved to have gotten a picture of, but I didn't dare get seperated from the crowd, so I kept going. Then we were in a large room with a large crowd of people, and a long counter. Everything was written in Kanji, the traditional writing of Japan of course, so I had no idea where to go or what to do. I was the only non japanese person in sight, so I stood there and looked around dumbly, not quite sure what to do. Finally a Japanese guard saw me looking quite lost, and took me by the arm (I was hoping that was a good thing, and not that I looked like a criminal), and removed the barracade tape that kept the crowd in an orderly line, and personally led me in front of the crowd to a line of one other person that was labeled VIP. I am not sure why I got taken to that line, but I got waited on right away. The took my paperwork for customs and had me fill out an immigration form. They had me look through a hole in a board at the counter, which I am assuming was a retinal scan, and okayed me to go beyond the counter and try to find my luggage. I felt very fortunate. The Rolling Stones tried for years to enter Japan. Paul McCartney was refused entrance to Japan. Paris Hilton was just recently refused entrance to Japan. Yet here I was, escorted ahead of everyone else to the front of a VIP line and allowed entrance.

My son was going to meet me at baggage claim. He was nowhere to be found. I looked everywhere. Well...I guess I will just get my bag and see if he shows up. Nope, and once I had my bag, they wanted me to get checked by customs. No problem, but then I had to leave the baggage area. Hmmm. Now I was in the main terminal, like I am about to leave the airport. I wandered from one end to the other. No Adam. I stopped at some of the counters to see if I could use a phone. They were very polite, spoke a little english and told me that they didn't have a phone that I could use. I went to the Information Desk and asked a very fine young lady there the same question. She said "no", but she could page him for me. No Adam. She asked if she should page him again. "Sure, thanks". Nothing. She pointed out the payphones to me as US cell phones don't work in Japan. This was fine, but I didn't have any Japanese currency. I located the money exchange counter, filled out the appropriate forms as best I guessed they should be filled out, handed the gentleman ten US Dollars and recieved some coins. I finally figured out how the japanese coin phones worked and was able to place a call to Adam's japanese cell phone. He was trying to get to the airport, but was still at least an hour and a half away. He advised that I could take the bus or wait for him. This brought images of me being lost somewhere in Tokyo, not knowing where to go, not being able to read the signs or talk to the people to find a resolution for my situation. "I will wait for you" I told him, "you're already out headed this way". The phone then abruptly went dead. Apparently my 100 yen of time was up. I sat on the bench, envisioning spending the night there in a strange place with a strange language and strange writing. At least it was quiet. Not like America, where everything is noisy and all hustle and bustle. I fell asleep sitting on the bench, waiting to see what happens next. "From the Taxi ride till now, what an interesting experience" I was thinking as I was passing out from lack of sleep and exhaustion.

Observations of an American Dropped Into Japan (Part 1)

I had the pleasure recently of spending a full month visiting relatives in Japan. My son is in the US Airforce, and had recently been stationed at Yokota AFB in Fussa, Japan with his wonderful wife and adorable daughter...not that I'm biased or anything...well, maybe I am, but it's true. Adam (that's my son) proffered an invitation to me that if I ever wanted to come visit him that I was welcome. Not being much for travelling, I thought "that's an interesting thought", and that was pretty much where it stopped. Obviously my wife thought that it was a splendid idea, and encouraged me to go. After a week or so of her prodding, I decided that it was an intriguing idea after all. When I spoke to Adam on the phone again, I brought up his invitation to me, and he emphatically said that I was welcome any time. I had given this quite a bit of thought by this time, so I asked him "how long could you put up with me for?" He replied, "as long as you want". "How about a month?" I asked. He never hesitated. "Absolutely".

After all the arrangements were made, flights scheduled, vacation time allotted, clothes packed, I called the cab company the evening before I needed to catch the Shuttle Bus for the airport. They assured me that it would be no problem, just call in the morning. The next morning I called an hour before I needed to catch the bus and was told that it was no problem, he would be there to pick me up in a few minutes. Thirty minutes later I was on the phone again, and was assured he was right around the corner. Ten minutes later I called and they said that the driver was right here. No dice. I waited outside with my luggage. The phone rang. It was the driver of the Shuttle Bus wondering where I was at, as he had to leave in two minutes. Another call to the cab company, and they again said that he was a block away. I told them that if I missed the shuttle bus, maybe the cab driver could take me to the next stop. They said that he could and that he would do it for free. The next thing I see is the cab flying up the street at well over the speed limit. The driver tossed my bags into the trunk and we went speeding off for the shuttle. I have never travelled these small roads so fast in my life. It felt like we were in "Starsky & Hutch" as would would slide around corners. "I don't normally drive like this" he said. "I imagine not". "There was a State Trooper sitting up here earlier". Great. That is all I needed, to be delayed while this driver is issued a ticket for speeding and reckless operation. Mercifully, the Shuttle Bus was still there. He had waited a few extra minutes knowing that I was on the way. They loaded my luggage into the bus, I thanked both the cab driver for getting me there (alive), and the Shuttle driver for being kind enough to wait a few extra minutes. What an exciting way to start this trip, I was thinking as I caught my breath on the way to the airport.