Bit of a nip in the air
Apr. 4th, 2006 09:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringThe policeman was tiny, but his authority was immense. He wore a dark blue uniform with badges and buttons, a peaked cap and a small but deadly selection of weapons.
"No holiday for you!" he shouted at me, "We deport you to Korea on next flight from Kansai, lock you in cage and feed you wasabi and chips, or send you to live on river bank in blue plastic shack."
I gazed numbly at the immigration form in front of me. "Address while staying in Japan" was the heading and there was a generous box for me to write in an address, as well as a phone number. I didn't know Cari's address and I'd stupidly forgotten to print out an email with her phone number. I was sunk. Assuming I got through immigration.
If I did, then it didn't matter. My cell phone was telling me "No service". In Hong Kong earlier that day, I'd been welcomed with text messages, offered instructions for help lines to Telstra back home, and reassured that my phone would work. So my options would be to squueze myself and my baggage into a phone booth or an Internet cafe. Assuming I could find one. And I had the right change. Which I didn't, my Japanese currency being zero. So I'd have to find an ATM. If they had them in Japan.
Was there ever anybody more helpless and trusting in the marvels of the modern age than me arriving in Japan? I knew that Cari wasn't meeting my flight and that I had to take the train to ummm, something-Osaka. More challenge there, but how hard could it be to catch a train?
At least I could look on the positives. Hong Kong Airport may be immense, but it's also immensely efficient, and although running late, seduced by the sight of huge airliners taking to the air in front of a dramatic backdrop of soaring mountains and towering residential blocks, and a German tourist who wanted to be photographed in front of above but whose camera didn't appear to work despite any amount of button-pushing and increasingly forced smiles, I found that the sign leading to "Gates 33-80" didn't do anything of the kind, instead taking me two floors down to an empty subway platform, where in a matter of seconds i was whisked to my gate by a driverless train.
I'd been shown to my seat, strapped in and fed tea and juice, delicious snacks and a wonderful meal, and allowed to watch "Memoirs of a Geisha" while the rugged Japanese coastline appeared out of my window and passed by for my inspection. Wasabi wasn't that bad, so long as you didn't eat half the ball in one go. The noodles were excellent and the beef could have been sucked up with a straw. Top Marks Cathay Pacific!
Th sight of Japan from the air is a testament to the dangers of 24/7 work. The Japanese began with nothing after the war. Every piece of infrastructure had been bombed flat. And yet everywhere I looked, there were grand sweeping curves of freeways and railways, Golden Gate-sized suspension bridges with tides swirling dramatically beneath, container ships steaming in straight lines. Golf course of majestic proportions sprawled over the land, and industrial facilities were everywhere.
Literally, as my plane descended over Kobe and Osaka. I've seen San Francisco Bay and Los Angeles from the air, but let me tell you that neither is a patch on the Osaka area. The industry went on and on and on. Skyscrapers by the cityload, container ports, more bridges, factories, docks, whole airports moored out in the sea...
OK, I was impressed. These folk obviously hadn't stopped building stuff in the last sixty years. They were like kids with a neverending Lego set.
All beautifully, efficiently, superbly designed. Kansai International was a huge rectangle of man-made island, a terminal a kilometre long, maybe three, and heavy construction vehicles making the whole lot bigger and better. and shinier.
I smiled at the stewardess, power-walked down the jetway, and was first into the toilets, maybe a couple of hundred metres down the line, where I efficiently disposed of four hours of juice, tea, coffee, mineral water, serving with a smile by above stewardess. Who could resist her?
And then another train, a monorail this time. My sidetrip had allowed most of the flight's passengers to pass me by, save for those who were now queued up for the facilities, and when I got to the immigration hall, there was most of a packed Boeing 777 ahead of me. They call it a 777 because of the number of seats inside - little snippet of technical detail there from a plane nut like me.
The Japanese side of the hall vanished - a wave of the passport and they were gone, while my "Foreigners" moved slowly but steadily forwards, me with my incomplete entry form, taking up the tail position.
At last it was my turn, and a keen young officer took my passport and form, looked at me once, stamped my passport and waved me through.
"I've got some chocolate biscuits, cookies, sweets, candies", I informed the Customs cove, neglecting to mention that this comprised about half my baggage weight, and I was waved through with barely a glance from the sniffer dog.
Here I really began sweating. My luggage was heavy and bulky, but that wasn't it. All around me was bustle, colour, activity and turmoil, 99% of it in Japanese, and I can't read the characters. There's one that looks like a stick figure, another that's a tic-tac-toe board, and all the rest are exactly the same: a squiggle and a scrawl and a mesh.
But there were enough English signs for me to find the information desk and get all the information I could hold. Except for Cari's address or phone number. Buyt I was directed to an ATM, where I got out 5 000 yen, not knowing if this large amount would drain my bank account or be woefully inadequate. Then to a kiosk where I began the task of buying exotic candy with something called "justintime" which appeared to be a breath freshener, and gave me a stock of 100 yen coins to work the internet terminals.
The logon screen, once I dropped a coin in the slot, was all in Japanes, save for a tiny button down the bottom corner, labelled "English". This had no effect on error messages or dialogue boxes, but at least it made me feel better the more times I pressed it. But I'm a cluey fellow where computers are concerned, even if I arrive in an alien land without a clue, and soon I was browsing my old email messages for an address, a phone number, anything.
My mail archives were back home in Canberra, but in the mail stored on my ISP's server, I found a recent post from Cari - she'd meet the 1540 train, being on platform 11 of Shin-Osaka station at 1630.
Right. I was set. Mind you, if I didn't hit that point in time and space I was sunk deeper than the Titanic, but I had something to aim at, and if there is one thing the Japanese are good at above everything else, it's trains. More of that Lego mentality, you see.
Hmmm. Two different banks of ticket vending machines, one for each railway line out, all in incomprehensible.
Cripes. I had to find the correct line, the correct train, the correct fare.
But I puzzled it out, fed in notes and coins, and then the machine spat out two tickets. printed in Incomprehensible.
But a helpful chap looked at my tickets, held up three fingers several times over to indicate the correct platform "Tree!" with a smile, and I wedged myself and my baggage into the elevator and found myself on the platfiorm.
Turned out it was platform four, but that was the right one, I was assured.
Despite the trains leaving from platform three at regular intervals and the utter lack of any movement on platform four apart from the steady input of more passengers and more baggage, I stuck to my post. well, I changed my post a number of times when I realised that the numbers on the far wall corresponded to the expected positions of the carriages, and I was going to be in a non-reserved seating carriage, and then again when I noticed that the other passsengers for my carriage were lining up between two white strips on the loor, presumably where the door would be.
1530 rolled around. No train. No screen to tell me about the next arrival, neither. Just a lot of "railway station" announcements. In Incomprehensible.
1600. No train.
1615. No train.
Hmmmm.
Everyone in Japan is helpful and knows a few words of English, but I was beginning to doubt the reassurances I was given by my fellow passengers - all short, black-haired locals. The only thing that kept me from flinging myself into the path of one of the regular departures from platform three was the fact that the crowd of potential travellers was steadily increasing. Obviously they were expecting a train, and I was assured, after inspection of my two tickets - two tickets for one trip, way to reassure nervous travellers, Japan Railways! - that this would be my train.
Eventually, finally, ultimately and (hehehehe) terminally, the train arrived and the crowd surged forward. Like hell it did. The doors opened, the arriving passengers alighted and the crowd stayed where it was, apart from rearranging itself to somehow place me at the tail of the queue.
Maintecs with brooms and rubbish bags worked the carriages over, pressed buttons and made the seats rotate so they faced the other way. Then they stood in the doorways, held up their hands, and when all were showing ready,a whistle blew and then the crowd surged forward.
Somehow I managed to stow all my gear and find a non-reserved seat.
Once the train was off the artificial airport island, I discovered that while the Japanes might be able to plan, build and run infrastructure efficiently, when it comes to town planning, they are like kids with a Lego set. Each house, each apartment block, each warehouse and shopping mall might be elegantly designed, but the overall effect is of one vast sea of ugliness. Most of it in grey concrete.
This went on for miles. Fascinating to look at the details, and here and there were pocket-sized parks - with cherry blossoms! - and even ricefields. Every now and then there would be a note on the display at the end of the carriage as to the name of the next station, and occasionally this would be in English. I tortured myself, as I got closer, with the thought that Cari would have given up and gone home, or still be at home awaiting a phone call.
And here we were, pulling into Shin Osaka. big platform, crowded, all the other passengers moving. How would I ever find Cari? If she was there at all.
The doors opened, and there she was, smiling in front of me. Angel Cari!
Rarely have I been more pleased to see someone! When the crowd and my baggage had settled down, I gave her a heartfelt hug.
And now, after a night snoring on her couch and a bowl of muesli, she's about toi guide me down to Hiroshima.
"No holiday for you!" he shouted at me, "We deport you to Korea on next flight from Kansai, lock you in cage and feed you wasabi and chips, or send you to live on river bank in blue plastic shack."
I gazed numbly at the immigration form in front of me. "Address while staying in Japan" was the heading and there was a generous box for me to write in an address, as well as a phone number. I didn't know Cari's address and I'd stupidly forgotten to print out an email with her phone number. I was sunk. Assuming I got through immigration.
If I did, then it didn't matter. My cell phone was telling me "No service". In Hong Kong earlier that day, I'd been welcomed with text messages, offered instructions for help lines to Telstra back home, and reassured that my phone would work. So my options would be to squueze myself and my baggage into a phone booth or an Internet cafe. Assuming I could find one. And I had the right change. Which I didn't, my Japanese currency being zero. So I'd have to find an ATM. If they had them in Japan.
Was there ever anybody more helpless and trusting in the marvels of the modern age than me arriving in Japan? I knew that Cari wasn't meeting my flight and that I had to take the train to ummm, something-Osaka. More challenge there, but how hard could it be to catch a train?
At least I could look on the positives. Hong Kong Airport may be immense, but it's also immensely efficient, and although running late, seduced by the sight of huge airliners taking to the air in front of a dramatic backdrop of soaring mountains and towering residential blocks, and a German tourist who wanted to be photographed in front of above but whose camera didn't appear to work despite any amount of button-pushing and increasingly forced smiles, I found that the sign leading to "Gates 33-80" didn't do anything of the kind, instead taking me two floors down to an empty subway platform, where in a matter of seconds i was whisked to my gate by a driverless train.
I'd been shown to my seat, strapped in and fed tea and juice, delicious snacks and a wonderful meal, and allowed to watch "Memoirs of a Geisha" while the rugged Japanese coastline appeared out of my window and passed by for my inspection. Wasabi wasn't that bad, so long as you didn't eat half the ball in one go. The noodles were excellent and the beef could have been sucked up with a straw. Top Marks Cathay Pacific!
Th sight of Japan from the air is a testament to the dangers of 24/7 work. The Japanese began with nothing after the war. Every piece of infrastructure had been bombed flat. And yet everywhere I looked, there were grand sweeping curves of freeways and railways, Golden Gate-sized suspension bridges with tides swirling dramatically beneath, container ships steaming in straight lines. Golf course of majestic proportions sprawled over the land, and industrial facilities were everywhere.
Literally, as my plane descended over Kobe and Osaka. I've seen San Francisco Bay and Los Angeles from the air, but let me tell you that neither is a patch on the Osaka area. The industry went on and on and on. Skyscrapers by the cityload, container ports, more bridges, factories, docks, whole airports moored out in the sea...
OK, I was impressed. These folk obviously hadn't stopped building stuff in the last sixty years. They were like kids with a neverending Lego set.
All beautifully, efficiently, superbly designed. Kansai International was a huge rectangle of man-made island, a terminal a kilometre long, maybe three, and heavy construction vehicles making the whole lot bigger and better. and shinier.
I smiled at the stewardess, power-walked down the jetway, and was first into the toilets, maybe a couple of hundred metres down the line, where I efficiently disposed of four hours of juice, tea, coffee, mineral water, serving with a smile by above stewardess. Who could resist her?
And then another train, a monorail this time. My sidetrip had allowed most of the flight's passengers to pass me by, save for those who were now queued up for the facilities, and when I got to the immigration hall, there was most of a packed Boeing 777 ahead of me. They call it a 777 because of the number of seats inside - little snippet of technical detail there from a plane nut like me.
The Japanese side of the hall vanished - a wave of the passport and they were gone, while my "Foreigners" moved slowly but steadily forwards, me with my incomplete entry form, taking up the tail position.
At last it was my turn, and a keen young officer took my passport and form, looked at me once, stamped my passport and waved me through.
"I've got some chocolate biscuits, cookies, sweets, candies", I informed the Customs cove, neglecting to mention that this comprised about half my baggage weight, and I was waved through with barely a glance from the sniffer dog.
Here I really began sweating. My luggage was heavy and bulky, but that wasn't it. All around me was bustle, colour, activity and turmoil, 99% of it in Japanese, and I can't read the characters. There's one that looks like a stick figure, another that's a tic-tac-toe board, and all the rest are exactly the same: a squiggle and a scrawl and a mesh.
But there were enough English signs for me to find the information desk and get all the information I could hold. Except for Cari's address or phone number. Buyt I was directed to an ATM, where I got out 5 000 yen, not knowing if this large amount would drain my bank account or be woefully inadequate. Then to a kiosk where I began the task of buying exotic candy with something called "justintime" which appeared to be a breath freshener, and gave me a stock of 100 yen coins to work the internet terminals.
The logon screen, once I dropped a coin in the slot, was all in Japanes, save for a tiny button down the bottom corner, labelled "English". This had no effect on error messages or dialogue boxes, but at least it made me feel better the more times I pressed it. But I'm a cluey fellow where computers are concerned, even if I arrive in an alien land without a clue, and soon I was browsing my old email messages for an address, a phone number, anything.
My mail archives were back home in Canberra, but in the mail stored on my ISP's server, I found a recent post from Cari - she'd meet the 1540 train, being on platform 11 of Shin-Osaka station at 1630.
Right. I was set. Mind you, if I didn't hit that point in time and space I was sunk deeper than the Titanic, but I had something to aim at, and if there is one thing the Japanese are good at above everything else, it's trains. More of that Lego mentality, you see.
Hmmm. Two different banks of ticket vending machines, one for each railway line out, all in incomprehensible.
Cripes. I had to find the correct line, the correct train, the correct fare.
But I puzzled it out, fed in notes and coins, and then the machine spat out two tickets. printed in Incomprehensible.
But a helpful chap looked at my tickets, held up three fingers several times over to indicate the correct platform "Tree!" with a smile, and I wedged myself and my baggage into the elevator and found myself on the platfiorm.
Turned out it was platform four, but that was the right one, I was assured.
Despite the trains leaving from platform three at regular intervals and the utter lack of any movement on platform four apart from the steady input of more passengers and more baggage, I stuck to my post. well, I changed my post a number of times when I realised that the numbers on the far wall corresponded to the expected positions of the carriages, and I was going to be in a non-reserved seating carriage, and then again when I noticed that the other passsengers for my carriage were lining up between two white strips on the loor, presumably where the door would be.
1530 rolled around. No train. No screen to tell me about the next arrival, neither. Just a lot of "railway station" announcements. In Incomprehensible.
1600. No train.
1615. No train.
Hmmmm.
Everyone in Japan is helpful and knows a few words of English, but I was beginning to doubt the reassurances I was given by my fellow passengers - all short, black-haired locals. The only thing that kept me from flinging myself into the path of one of the regular departures from platform three was the fact that the crowd of potential travellers was steadily increasing. Obviously they were expecting a train, and I was assured, after inspection of my two tickets - two tickets for one trip, way to reassure nervous travellers, Japan Railways! - that this would be my train.
Eventually, finally, ultimately and (hehehehe) terminally, the train arrived and the crowd surged forward. Like hell it did. The doors opened, the arriving passengers alighted and the crowd stayed where it was, apart from rearranging itself to somehow place me at the tail of the queue.
Maintecs with brooms and rubbish bags worked the carriages over, pressed buttons and made the seats rotate so they faced the other way. Then they stood in the doorways, held up their hands, and when all were showing ready,a whistle blew and then the crowd surged forward.
Somehow I managed to stow all my gear and find a non-reserved seat.
Once the train was off the artificial airport island, I discovered that while the Japanes might be able to plan, build and run infrastructure efficiently, when it comes to town planning, they are like kids with a Lego set. Each house, each apartment block, each warehouse and shopping mall might be elegantly designed, but the overall effect is of one vast sea of ugliness. Most of it in grey concrete.
This went on for miles. Fascinating to look at the details, and here and there were pocket-sized parks - with cherry blossoms! - and even ricefields. Every now and then there would be a note on the display at the end of the carriage as to the name of the next station, and occasionally this would be in English. I tortured myself, as I got closer, with the thought that Cari would have given up and gone home, or still be at home awaiting a phone call.
And here we were, pulling into Shin Osaka. big platform, crowded, all the other passengers moving. How would I ever find Cari? If she was there at all.
The doors opened, and there she was, smiling in front of me. Angel Cari!
Rarely have I been more pleased to see someone! When the crowd and my baggage had settled down, I gave her a heartfelt hug.
And now, after a night snoring on her couch and a bowl of muesli, she's about toi guide me down to Hiroshima.
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*waves*
Date: 2006-04-03 11:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 12:03 am (UTC)I just realised how much I'm going to miss you at the Booking on Monday (((hugs))) I hope you're having a wonderful time!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 11:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 01:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 12:24 am (UTC)I bet you were very glad to see a friendly face.
All that Incomprehensible!!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 01:25 am (UTC)I'll be interested to find out if Japan has blocked my LJ too. LOL! ;D
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 10:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 11:01 am (UTC)I really notice Kiwi accents hear now too, I met a mum at school today and really noticed her accent when I hadn't really realised she was from New Zealand before!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 08:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 11:18 am (UTC)Looking forward to seeing you next Tuesday!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 10:09 am (UTC)Keep on enjoying yourself, Pete, and posting here so we can share the pleasure.
((((((((((skyring))))))))))
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 12:41 am (UTC)