For months, I have been meaning to post this e-mail. My husband sent it to me and some of his family members earlier this year while on a business trip to Japan. I enjoyed his observations of Japan and decided this would make a great “guest post.” I’m sure he was a sight to see in Japan—a thin, 6-foot-3-inch American.
MARCH 2, 2006—It’s hard to sum up two weeks of Japanese culture in one e-mail, but I’ll do the best I can. Despite speaking only about two words of the native language and having to eat with two sticks that can’t be used to skewer anything (it’s considered rude), I’ve been getting along just fine.
The Japanese are a great people whose dedication to doing things well is amazing. But more on that later. Here’s a recap of the past couple of weeks.
After my 14 ½-hour plane ride from Atlanta, I arrived in Tokyo surprisingly energetic and ready to catch my first glimpse of Japan. The ride over itself had been pretty exciting; we flew over the northern coast of Alaska, getting a great view of the Arctic Sea. We also passed over eastern Russia (Siberia maybe?)—lots of snow and ice, looked just like something off the Discovery Channel. I felt a little like Indiana Jones, Jacque Cousteau and Crocodile Hunter all rolled into one. I figure anyone who travels over 7,000 miles in one day over an arctic wasteland can call themselves an explorer, even if it was from a comfortable seat on a Boeing 777.
Tokyo’s Narita airport was busy. It was about 3 p.m. local time on Sunday when we landed. I had no trouble getting my bags, and friendly Japanese who spoke some English hustled me right through customs.
Apparently there’s no height restriction for entering the country, lucky me. I could certainly see things around me easily; I was a head taller than everyone else. These folks are short!
I had no trouble finding the shuttle bus terminal to buy my ticket for Haneda. To get to Misawa, my final destination, I had to switch airports. Once again, courteous, friendly Japanese hustled me through the line where I purchased my ticket, my first purchase using Japanese Yen. Then right outside to wait on my bus.
At this point you may have noticed I emphasize how friendly, courteous and efficient the Japanese are. That’s no exaggeration. There’s no tipping in Japan. But you would think these people were doing everything they could for you to earn a tip. I watched at bus stops along the sidewalk, each manned by two persons with bright LED signs showing the next bus arrival time and destination, were run with near military precision. People were lined up with their bags, buses zoomed in precisely on schedule and were promptly loaded by Japanese while the tickets were taken. Load your own bag on the bus? Heavens no, that would be rude. Before you could even think such a thing someone was there, taking your bags from you, tagging them, and loading them on the bus. These folks can hustle!
Finally on the 90 minute ride to Haneda, I caught a little nap on the bus. Tokyo was great and all, but I was tired.
I awoke not too long before we arrived at our hotel. I stepped off the bus and headed toward it, which was conveniently built right into the airport, a model of Japanese efficiency. As I walked into the lobby, a young Japanese woman took my bags, and I was greeted by a man in a suit before being herded to the front desk. A lady there took my information, pulled up my reservations and I paid with my card. I turned around to find the Japanese lady, not much bigger than my large suitcase, had loaded my bags and was ready to show me to my room. The man in the suit, possibly the manager, flashed me a big smile and tipped me a sharp bow as I walked past. This was service! Plus, only $80 a night.
Not having much of a layover, I grabbed something quick to eat and got some sleep before my early flight the next morning. I awoke feeling very refreshed, not at all jet lagged, lucky me, I guess. I did have some time to check out Japanese television, nothing too notable, although I did get to watch some of the Olympics in Japanese, which was pretty interesting. Much like us, they cover all the athletes during an event, but tend to focus on their country’s athletes a little more. I couldn’t understand anything, but it was still nice to see the Olympics. I guess that’s one thing all countries have in common.
I had a small commuter flight up to Misawa, and fortunately it was a fairly clear day, so I got some good pictures of Tokyo and a good look at the city.
The Japanese countryside was amazing, everything snow covered and icy. It looked like Torino from the air. I don’t think I’d find any Italian food down there though.
Landing in Misawa, the reality of my final destination began to sink in. I sat next to a nice Japanese man from Macon, Ga., on the flight from Atlanta. He spoke OK English, and he had told me Misawa was very “rural.” I took his word for it, figuring anybody from Macon could certainly define rural. He wasn’t exaggerating. For those of you hailing from South Carolina, think Moncks Corner. If you’re from Arkansas, think Alma, and if you’re from sunny San Angelo, think any town within 100 miles.
I don’t know what the Japanese equivalent of a redneck is, but you certainly might be one if you’re from Misawa. I thought to myself, “Oh well, from the big city to the little rural town, you wanted to see Japan, here you go.” Besides, if I guy from Arkansas was going to have any chance of surviving in a strange country like this, he might as well be in a place that’s pretty similar to home.
It was similar with the exception of two things. Obviously language being the first one, the other being snow! I’m not talking about one of those little dustings we get in Arkansas, or even some of those heavier snows I’ve experienced in Ohio at Christmas. I’m talking serious snow, piled higher than the cars on the sides of roads. Very cool for me. I’m sure if the locals could read my mind they’d think I’m crazy.
It was at the little airport, much like the one back home in Ft. Smith, that I ran into my first snag of the trip. Up until this point, I’d found navigating around Japan as easy if not easier than my best trip in the states. But despite forwarding my travel plans to the folks at the base well in advance and confirming before I left that someone would be there to pick me up, I found no one there waiting on me. I had to remind myself these were Navy guys I was visiting, not Air Force, so you could expect this kind of stuff, even if they are stationed on an Air Force Base. But for the moment, how in the world was I going to get over to the base? I figured a taxi, provided the natives had such a thing out here. I just hoped it was covered and not horse drawn. OK, I’m exaggerating, but it is rural Japan. I suddenly noticed a large sign in English saying wireless Internet was free in the airport. Of course, in Japan, even the rural areas would be wired. After all, isn’t this the land of technology? So I whipped out my laptop, donned my headset, and gave Holly a call on my voice over IP phone. Better add James Bond to that list above.
Despite being on the other side of the world, the call went through clear as a bell with no problems. We’re 14 hours ahead on this side of the world, so it was about 8 p.m. when I called. Holly was surprised of course, especially when I told her were I was calling from. After chatting with her, I did some quick e-mail and started looking for transportation to the base. Of course, this being an Air Force town, there was a nice Air Force bulletin board at the airport with local information, including the taxi company to call to get transportation to the base. Five minutes later there was a cab driver there to pick me up and whisk me over to the base. Once again, good old Japanese service.
Since arriving, I’ve managed to get into town several times for local cuisine. Not a lot to choose from, but there are some good places to get some Sushi or Ramen. I had Sashemi the first night, that’s Sushi without the rice (raw seafood for you non-sushi eaters). It was good, although, I’m sure it’s hard to screw up raw fish. Chopsticks haven’t been much of a problem, although eating rice with them is interesting. (Gotta get the bowl close to your face, it’s not rude here to do that.)
Later in the week we went to a Ramen house and had huge bowls of steaming hot Ramen. Very good! We also went to a noodle place that’s like a fast food restaurant, which was pretty tasty.
It was there I had one of my more humorous moments. They were playing music from a local radio station, lots of Japanese singing American songs in English. There I was, face buried in my bowl, when I hear “Come on Irene, Too Ra Ta Too Ra Ra.” I’m familiar with the song, but I thinks it’s “Eileen,” not “Irene.” Wait, Asian accent, L’s are R’s. Too funny! I’d love to see what they’d make of George Strait. “Amarillo by Morning” could be a challenge.
Anyway, so far my favorite restaurant has been the Viking. It’s a place with small grills in the tables. It’s buffet style, so you pick up meats that have been marinated and cook them on the grill. They also had sushi and soups. I had five plates, which elicited some dirty looks from the proprietors. Incidentally, I’m very happy to report no one has pointed at me and yelled “Godzilla!” yet. I must not me that tall after all.
I have an all day ski trip planned on Saturday. My first ever, should be interesting. Going by myself, the folks here on site with me now are old and crotchety and don’t want to leave the base. The first week here, a guy from my company named Matt was here so he and I went into town every night. Since he’s left it’s been considerably less exciting. Saturday’s trip should be fun though, if nothing else I’ll get to see more of the country.
All in all I’d have to say it’s been a great experience, despite there not being much to see here. The Japanese people never cease to amaze me. I haven’t seen one fat Japanese yet, nor have I had any kind of bad service. I think either would be a terrible embarrassment to them.
They are a people full of great pride and a friendly spirit. No wonder they always look so young and healthy. I think we could learn a lot from them.
–Clint
