My second night back in the States and where do I end up? A karaoke bar. I fucking hate karaoke. This is some sort of punishment…
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Leaving Japan
I’m at Narita airport, waiting for my plane to take me back to Seattle. Somehow, one year of my life has passed by in the blink of an eye.
I can’t remember how long I’ve just assumed I’d live in Japan one day. It seems like something I’ve always planned on doing. This country has been in my conscious since a very early age, when I’d hear stories from my grandparents of their lives here in the early 20th century. I grew up having scraps of Japanese culture, language and cuisine weaving a cord between me and an exotic country across the sea.
My first visit to Japan was in 1981, when I was 13 years old. Nortoriously unadventurous at that time when it came to food, I suvived on rice, seaweed and two trips to McDonalds. Despite my lack of culinary adventure, the trip left a huge impression on me and I’ve wanted to return every since.
And now here I am at the end of a year of my life lived in Japan. Despite being excited about returning to the States to see family and friends, I have mixed feelings about leaving after only one year. It seems too short a time, really, to come to any fair conclusions as to what type of place Japan really is.
And as I write this, I’m having trouble coming up with anything like a neat summary of my time and of my experiences here. My mind is kind of mush now after three weeks of being uprooted — traveling, as well as leaving one life behind and returning to another I haven’t occupied for a year.
So, no deep thoughts at this point. Only a mention that I know I’ll be back one day.
Okinawa
Today is our final day in Okinawa. The visit has been all about beaches — not much cultural touring. Three nights of camping, two on a beautiful stretch of beach with no other campers. The north part of the main island is beautiful, once you get away from the ugly sprawl of Naha and Okinawa City. Unfortunately, the architecture here is even uglier than in the rest of Japan — everything is built to look like a concrete bunker. The American military presence is impossible to miss, even on the more remote beaches as military planes and helicopters fly overhead at regular intervals. But it is still possible to find more secluded beach areas on the main island. Wish we’d had more time to get to some of the more remote islands. I could easily spend another week or two here.
Back to Tokyo this afternoon.
Visiting The DMZ
My visit today to one of the world’s most militarized zones included a Disneyland-like ride down into the earth, a luncheon in a touristy restaurant with a view of miles of barbed wire fencing and a soundtrack featuring Janet Jackson singing Nasty, and a little Korean boy whose aunties thought nothing of letting him bring — and incessantly use — a toy space gun that made loud machine gun sounds as we drove through checkpoint after checkpoint of armed guards.
The demilitarized zone (DMZ) separating North and South Korea is both a chilling reminder of the region’s tensions and a somewhat chintzy tourist attraction.
Missed The Earthquake, There Will Be No Invasion This Week, And There Is No SARS in Korea
I missed the earthquake by just a few hours. For the past couple weeks, I’ve been imagining I feel low-level earthquakes, though as far as I could tell there were never actual quakes. This happened several times, and has had me expecting a good shake before I left Japan. But my flight left too early.
I’m in Seoul now. On the agenda for tomorrow is a visit to the border with North Korea, including a tour of one of the underground tunnels built by the North for use in an invasion of the South.
One more thing, for those who might worry — there are no SARS cases in South Korea (I can’t count the number of times I had to explain this to Japanese friends when I told them of my travel plans).
Three Weeks Of Travel
Monday morning I hit the road. I’ll be traveling for three weeks, mostly in Japan with a quick trip over to South Korea.
05/26 — 05/30 : in Seoul, South Korea
05/30 — 05/30 : Arai, Japan, to see the Kodo drummers
05/31 — 06/02 : back to Sado Island
06/03 — 06/07 : in Okinawa, beach vacation!
06/08 — 06/12 : in Tokyo and surrounding areas
Antipixel Captures The Radish Dance
Jeremy’s coverage of the giant radish dance is a must-see.
Boom
There’s nothing like riding your bike on a hot day with a backpack crammed full of explosives.
Picked up enough fireworks earlier today for plenty of fun by the riverside tonight. I have no idea what I bought, but the two big bags look like they’re made for Pyro Barbie.
Streets Of Danger
I wrote this entry a while back, but never posted it because I’ve tried to stay away from making sweeping generalizations about people and culture during my stay in Japan.
But then during a bike ride through town today, my feelings on this issue were only further confirmed. So, here it is…
I realized the other day that I’ve become accustomed to the near-miss while riding my bicycle. The frequent brushes with death no longer faze me while trying to get from point A to point B on the streets — it’s all just part of the trip. It’s like riding through a giant video game, with mad cars and crazy bikers popping out with dizzying regularity.
During my first few months in Japan, I wasn’t so at ease with the game. I was slightly appalled at the erratic and dangerous driving I’d often see here in Nagano. Pedestrians, bicyclists and cars often seemed just a hair away from catastrophe.
Many drivers in Japan seem to drive with an air of confusion and surprise, as if they’re constantly taken aback when they encounter anything out of the ordinary. This leads to cars roaring out of alleys with no thought that pedestrians or bikes might suddenly cross their path, drivers who seem confused to find pedestrians in crosswalks, maneuvers that make no sense at all, and agonizingly-long disentanglements when two cars find themselves facing each other in a street big enough for only one car.
But the most amazing thing is that I’ve never seen an actual accident. Just more close calls than I can ever begin to recount.
Let me step out on a limb and make some generalizations, comparing road experiences here and in the U.S. It’s not that drivers in the U.S. are particularly skilled or safe. I’d say that drivers in the U.S. are intentionally unsafe. There’s anger, rage and aggression behind the wheel in America. Here in Japan, my take is that many drivers are unintentionally dangerous.
Which is worse? I can’t quite say.
Revenue Stamp For Re-Entry Permit
I went to the local immigration office this morning to get my re-entry permit, required with my visa if I leave the country and plan to return.
The office was staffed by your run-of-the-mill, grumpy, low-level bureaucrats. No additional information is given unless specifically asked for, including the fact that you have to pay for the permit with a special revenue stamp (seen above) that must be purchased at a building across the street — a major thoroughfare with no convenient crosswalks, meaning a game of live Frogger is necessary.
It was refreshing to see some diversity at the immigration office. There was a huge family from China, some Brazilians, and assorted other foreigners, creating a buzz of languages other than Japanese. Although Tokyo has a decent mix of people, finding ethnic diversity in the outlying areas of Japan is largely limited to the handful of Thai, Filipino and Russian bar hostesses and to the western English teachers. A melting pot it’s not. I’m looking forward to getting back to a more multi-cultural society. And I’m so looking forward to a break from the sticking-out-like-a-sore-thumb syndrome.