Suddenly you are awake after a night spent with endless worry and concern. As
you head for the shower you realize those last seconds spent in bed were your
last for a few weeks. With every move the familiar is slowly being traded for
the unfamiliar.
After taking a shower and satisfying other bodily requirements you double check
your bags to make sure you have everything. Passport, camera, clothes, laptop,
travelers checks; yes, you are ready to go.
A few moments spent staring at the doorway and your parents arrive with their
usual tone of concern and happiness, the kind that is only found in places far
away from the disturbing realities of large cities. This early in the morning
facts like these seem to appear from nowhere. Your lack of sleep has effected
your thoughts somewhat.
Their words seem to drip off you. They say some things, you respond. Like a
zombie you load your luggage into the bed of their truck and find your seat.
Soon, you find yourself sharing breakfast with them at Denney’s. Your mind is
already at the airport, navigating security, finding the gate. More words are
exchanged, time seems to slow, you are beginning to wonder if you will ever
make it to the airport. But then time flies by and you find yourself at the
gate, waiting for departure into the unknown.
Alone again. You call this state home, isolation. You feel your blood rush at
the though of what a massive scale journey you are about to embark on. The
prospect of complete independence from everything you’ve ever known makes your
blood rush. A faint smile emerges on your face. You casually gaze out a large
window facing the runway. You watch the airplanes taking off and landing. It
all seems so important, there are people inside those craft, some of them
coming to Dallas for the first time in their lives. Something you consider with
such mundane familiarity they consider with exciting mysteriousness. You
imagine someone staring out an airplane window right back at you, they are away
from home, their realities changed the moment the wheels hit the ground.
You move your gaze to an escalator. It seems out of place until you realize it
is for arrivals from another country. They must send them to a special place
and check their papers to make sure they won’t damage America in some way. You
wonder if Japan has a similar system.
Lost in your thoughts time passes, you begin to think of Japan, the person you
will be living with. Suddenly, these thoughts turn into action. You detach
yourself from your chair, make your way to a small airport store and buy some
postcards for her.
More time passes and eventually it is time to board the plane. As you enter the
metal tube you realize the massiveness of it. Wide isles, plenty of room,
unlike the smaller aircraft you are familiar with. You find your seat and
attach yourself to it. This is your home for the next twelve hours. Too much
time to think, shifting restlessly in the seat, sleeping. More thoughts, fears.
There was never any darkness those twelve hours. The longest day you have ever
experienced.
After an eternity you find yourself on an airplane about to land in Narita,
Japan.
The familiar jolt of landing and engine rumble as reverse thrust slows the
plane, your plane has landed. People burst forth from their seats and file
silently out of the aircraft. You realize something is different as you walk
down steps onto pavement. An unfamiliar scent enters your nose. It is
comforting like incense in contrast to the metallic recycled air of the
aircraft.
For a moment you take in your surroundings. Everything has a reddish tinge to
it, the sun is about to set. Just beyond the runway you see trees, they look
magical as if they are not real. You can’t decide if this is due to the reddish
glow of the sunset or if they would look the same under any light.
Your attention shifts to the bus that has just arrived, people file in, soon
the bus fills to capacity. You attempt to fit in, but it is impossible, you
exit the bus in defeat. Suddenly, another bus arrives and opens its doors, in
elation you enter and find a seat.
You find yourself surrounded by Japanese people. Something is said over the
intercom, but it is in Japanese. You look around for some clue as to what was
said, no one seems to be doing anything special so you decide it wasn’t
important. You suddenly come to the realization that you are separated from the
world around you; a child again, unable to understand the voices of those
around you or perhaps it is a dream with pictures but no understandable sound.
The bus pulls up to a rustic looking set of doors. You follow those in front of
you through an endless set of escalators, hallways and statuesque guards in
uniforms that look almost too professional.
Everything seems like a prison, you are trapped in the airport, waiting in line
at the passport counter for what seems like hours. You begin to wonder if the
world even exists beyond this room as you approach the counter.
Without even looking up the young girl flips to the last page of your passport
and stamps it with something and you are whisked down an escalator into the
baggage claims area of the airport. You find your baggage sitting on the floor,
guarded by three young Japanese women in uniform.
Something seems wrong, the way these bags are here, anyone could just come up
and take any bag. You produce your baggage claim ticket and pretend like you
don’t see your bag, surely these guards want proof that you are not stealing
it. They search fruitlessly for your bag until you grab it. They smile and bow
as you wonder off.
Not sure where to go next you wonder around for a while, the “clack-clack” of
your bag’s wheels across the tiled floor. You watch other people to see where
they go, soon you enter a line and realize it is for customs. They want to make
sure you don’t contaminate their country.
You find yourself standing in front of a 5 foot tall person who couldn’t be
older than 20. You begin to wonder if they speak English when they ask, “What
is in this bag?”. You say clothes. They open it and begin rummaging around.
With a sigh they ask you to close the bag and send you on your way.
You don’t really feel like a person. You feel as if you are in some type of
dream. You struggle to remember where you came from to no avail. You can only
continue moving forward, in the direction of the hotel you reserved a few days
ago. You produce a list you created to help you get to it. Next on the list is
“get yen”.
You step up to a currency exchange counter and place the travelers checks into
a small green tray. Soon there are strange coins and paper in your wallet. You
feel secure now, you at least have money. Money is the universal language.
You find an escalator down to the trains and make your way to the counter. You
simply say, “Shinagawa” to the vendor and produce a 10,000 yen note. Change is
returned. You hand your ticket to the gate guard who passes it through the
ticket machine, the gates open and he nods to you as you pass through.
Looking at the ticket you attempt to understand where your train is. A train
arrives and you wonder onto it. You are encased in a dull blue florescent
light, a couple speaks with neutral tones in their native tongue. They are
probably talking about mundane things like how their day was or what they will
eat for dinner, but the fact that you cannot understand them gives it an exotic
quality.
After a few moments you recall seeing pictures of the train that goes to
Shinagawa , it was red not grey. In slight embarrassment you grab your luggage
and walk back out onto the platform in search of this elusive red train. You
notice a lady working in a small kiosk staring at you, perhaps she noticed you
enter the train and then exit. She must think your lost. For a second you
entertain the thought of walking up and asking for directions, but you decide
against it; the prospect that she might not understand English terrifies you.
You produce your ticket and begin searching for anything that might indicate
where your train is. Eventually, you match the symbols to a marker on the floor
and decide that this is where the train must come. After a few minutes of
waiting a large red train arrives. This must be it. The doors open, you find
your seat and relax.
The sun has set. Outside, the occasional neon sign or vending machine lights up
the darkness. Signs you can’t read, everything is so different. The inside of
the train is silent except for occasional voices over the speakers. There is a
map that indicates where you are and has your station in English, you feel
secure, that you are on the right path.
In the silent rocking of the train your eyes begin to close, suddenly, a
businessman sits next to you. It seems odd, there are so many other seats, why
this one? Why would a computer place you and this man so close to each other
with so much room elsewhere. You produce your ticket and place it on your leg,
maybe you read it wrong. The man looks at the ticket and then sinks back into
his seat. With a slight feeling of apprehension you sink into your seat as
well.
A man in a pink uniform emerges and bows to everyone from the center of the
train. His movements seem over exaggerated, as if he were a dancer on a stage.
He smiles and tips his hat with great precision and agility, he seems to have
genuine pride in whatever his job is.
He begins checking tickets. Beads of sweat roll down your arms in fear, you
have no idea how the legal system works here. You and the businessman produce
your tickets and hand them to the man, he punches holes in them and leaves. You
casually gaze over at the businessman’s ticket, it seems he was scheduled for
the next train, your seat assignments are the same. Either the ticket checker
didn’t read the tickets close enough, or he read it and didn’t care. Either the
businessman didn’t read his ticket close enough, or he read it and didn’t care.
What an odd system.
You pass a few stations. Bright fluorescent lights and countless people, the
stations look more rustic than you expected. They must be very old, in Dallas
the only train stations you saw were modern looking. This must be the primary
form of travel here.
In the darkness you see a railcar, you can see peoples’ bodies pressed up
against the glass. It is not just full, you imagine there is not any room to
move. This looks like something out of a horror movie. Perhaps some sick minded
murderer jammed all these people into this small car and sent it down an
unfinished railway. This must be the primary form of travel indeed.
Soon, the map indicates you are about to arrive at Shinagawa. Remembering how
the train works in Dallas you emerge from your seat and mumble “sumimasen” to
the business man which you remember to mean “excuse me”. He looks down and
moves his legs out of the way as if they were hit with a hammer. You smile as
you recall the people in Dallas trains moving quite sluggishly at the words
“excuse me”. People here seem to be more considerate of others, perhaps to the
point of self-destruction.
You grab your luggage and prepare to de-board. You remember this is your
favorite part of trains. In Dallas you had it down to a science: doors open,
you bolt down 3 steps and move sharply to the left or right so others may pass.
Trains don’t like to wait at stations for very long.
The doors suddenly open and you bolt out, almost running into someone. You are
instantly surrounded by people and become disoriented. You think of plowing
your way through the crowd but think better of it and follow the person in
front of you. They move at a fast pace, you almost have to run to keep up.
Soon you find yourself in a very large space, the main hallway of the station.
A giant highway for people, but people seem to be running in every direction.
You begin walking in what you believe to be the direction of your hotel. You
see a sign with the hotel logo and an arrow, now you know you are in the right
direction.
Many people in business suits run by, you have to make quick evasive movements
in order to avoid them. Its almost 8PM, you wonder why people would still have
work clothing on and then why they are running. Perhaps they all just want to
get home or maybe getting exercise. Either way, their speed seems out of place.
You continue on toward your hotel.
After a series of escalators you can see the dark sky again. There seems to be
less people out here. You have left the station. You come to a brightly lit
street corner, there is a strange white glow of a store, it appears empty but
is brighter than any store you have ever seen. Out of speakers loud jazz music
emerges. It seems to envelop your existence like calm elevator music, the
soundtrack to any movie which involves people returning home after a hard day
of work. Outside the store are sparse groups of young people sitting on a rail,
staring vacantly at their surroundings. It seems out of place in the midst of
all the men in suits and the fact that this is a weeknight.
A large crowd of people gather at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn
green. After a few moments the light turns green accompanied by a strange
rhythmic ping-pong sound. The street is huge, six lanes at least…so many
people.
Across the street you enter into a strange patio lit only by dim blue
fluorescent lights and then enter into a strange mall looking area with palm
trees and white Christmas lights. It seems like it belongs in some strange
shopping center on the beach of a tropical island. You wish things were like
this back in Dallas, you could spend an eternity mindlessly wondering around
instead of stuck in a car. Life here seems designed for those who are traveling
on foot.
Soon you enter your church like hotel and find yourself at the counter. You
wordlessly pass your reservation papers to the receptionist. He responds in
English, asking for your passport, your credit card. After a few moments he
hands you a key. Attached to the key is a six inch blue cylindrical keychain,
its size seems ludicrous, it resembles some strange sexual device.
You wonder into a nearby elevator and are again treated to relaxing jazz music.
Hearing this in a public space gives it a strange quality, it seems to say “its
ok, you can relax out here too”. Back in America relaxing is seldom done in
public, rather it is reserved for private quarters. Japan seems to be ok with
relaxation in public areas. You feel the muscles in your shoulders relax.
The elevator reaches your floor and you exit. Immediately to the right are a
set of vending machines: beer, snacks, drinks. You find your room to be
adjacent to these vending machines. It seems odd to have such convenience. It
doesn’t even require human interaction.
Your room is small but comfortable, almost like a quiet dorm room. You enter
the cubicle bathroom which seems like a room within a room and push various
buttons in an attempt to turn the lights on. You find the switch under the
thermostat.
After an hour discovering the secrets of the toilet and shower you collapse in
a heap on the small, hard bed and drift away into the soundest sleep you have
ever known.
You awake to the sound of cars honking and just enough light to see the outline
of your room. For a split second you panic, you bolt out of bed, you don’t know
where you are and then you remember.
Your stomach is full of nervous hunger. You immediately begin to think of how
you will satisfy this urge. These thoughts bother you more than anything ever
has before. At home you disliked leaving the house, but you could leave anytime
you really needed anything, you had fear but retained the ability to get what
you need. Here you lack this fundamental ability. You cannot successfully
communicate your needs to those around you.
For a moment you entertain the thought of holing up in your hotel room. You
could stay here forever, or just until you die. Maybe death isn’t so bad. Your
stomach rumbles, fuck death, pain is worse.
More random thoughts emerge. Something is trying to keep you in this room. You
begin blocking the thoughts with humor. The thoughts appear, but you just
chuckle to yourself and keep moving. You tie your shoes, put your contacts in
all while chuckling. You find that you can continue action even while your
brain fights against it.
You keep moving, right out the door. Your door closes behind you. Your
unprotected now, suppressing your thoughts you find yourself in a world of
action.
You walk up to the elevator and push the down arrow. As you watch the numbers
count down to your floor you hope that the elevator is empty. You hear
something, it is very sharp but only barely distinct from the silence of the
hallway, like the buzzing of a small insect. It gets louder and louder. For a
second you forget about the elevator in your search for this strange sound.
Then the doors open and familiar soft jazz enters your ears.
The dull yellow elevator is empty. For a few seconds you relax again, almost as
if no one else exists. This elevator is your personal space.
The doors open and your eyes blur in the bright white sunlight. There are many
people moving about, most seem to be dressed in business suits. Everyone seems
to have some important purpose, you have none, you feel out of place.
You slowly walk up to a map and find a restaurant that matches your meal
ticket. You walk down the now familiar entrance of the hotel and a series of
unfamiliar hallways. You are lost again, you try to remember the map, but
can’t. You continue walking and somehow manage to run across the restaurant.
There are three young women near a desk in the restaurant. You slowly walk in
holding your meal ticket in front of you. You hope that someone will see you
and know what you are there for. You feel like you are trapped in the dark, you
don’t know what is in front of you so you simply hold out your hands and hope
you will touch something familiar.
The three young women are talking to each other, they don’t seem to have seen
you yet. You keep moving forward, slowing almost to a stop. You are not sure if
you should stop or keep moving. Suddenly, a young woman’s eyes dart over to
you, in turn all three women now look at you. They bow and yell “Ohayo
gozaimass”, you remember this to mean good morning and nod to them. Then they
say a bunch of things you don’t understand and take your meal ticket. For a
second you freeze, you are not sure what they want you to do.
The three women look away for a second and then one moves closer to you and
says in broken English, “Please help yourself”. You nod again and move to get
some food from the buffet islands. You are happy that you understand where you
are now, but many conversations around you are still a mystery.
You sit down with your food: sausage, bacon and eggs. The food has almost no
flavor, it could easily be wood or perhaps dirt yet you continue eating, hunger
has no need for flavor.
Sitting in your chair you become anxious, there are so many people around you.
It makes you uncomfortable. You pull your chair up and put your face as close
to the plate as humanly possible in an attempt to cut out all the words you
can’t understand and the people you don’t know. This makes you feel a little
better, but you cannot cut out the anxiety brewing in your stomach.
You hastily clear your plate, bolt up and slowly begin walking towards the
exit. The tables and chairs make it hard to move about. You cannot walk in a
straight line, but must make precise turns to the right and left. You feel as
if you are trapped inside a maze you trudged through as a child. You just
wanted to take the crayon and draw a straight line to whatever tempting cartoon
character was waiting for you at the exit. As if somehow by solving the maze
you could become more intimate with this character. The character here is the
comfort of your room.
You bump into a businessman. He keeps walking as if nothing happened, but you
feel the heat of embarrassment on your cheeks. Soon you find yourself leaving
the restaurant. The three young women say something and you keep walking, more
troublesome thoughts emerge. You hope they were not asking you to stop.
More anxiety grips you, you quickly dodge several people and bolt into the
elevator. There are many people inside, there is not much room to move. Aside
from the jazz music there is no other sound. No whispering, no coughing, no
cell phone conversations. So many people, yet silence. For a moment you imagine
yourself somehow connected to these strangers, it almost feels comforting.
The elevator doors open and you find yourself in your room again. You turn on
the TV and stare at it for a while, many images, but you have trouble
understanding the meanings behind them. You can only see them through the eyes
of a foreigner, you can only apply your ideas of what these images mean had you
been in the USA to these strange things. You pretend it makes sense to you, but
feel that there is still something missing.
After a few hours you get the urge to do something, anything. Back in Dallas
you felt so comfortable at home. It was your sanctuary away from the hells of
the outside world. But here, in this small room your mind gets cluttered with
many strange thoughts. You feel trapped.
Ignoring several small complaints from your mind, you head outside, to the
elevator again. Now your spirit is free. Everything feels lighter somehow. The
jazz music relaxes you.
Without much thought you head outside the hotel and wonder around. You cross
several walkways over the roads. From the sidewalk you see what appears to be a
park, but it is raised at least 10 feet in the air by a flat manmade slope. You
circle the block looking for an entrance, but only find a small walkway leading
to another hotel. You figure the park is part of the hotel. You want to see the
park, but don’t want to see the people so you head back to your hotel.
During your journey back you come across a strange glass building. The insides
are not covered at all, you can see everything going on inside almost as if
there were no walls. You see several racks of tourist pamphlets and take one.
Soon you realize people are entering this place and pointing at places in the
pamphlets. You see a sign in English and realize this is a place that provides
tours.
You take an interesting looking pamphlet and walk through the automatic glass
doors. Standing on the doormat you look around, you catch the eye of a 30
something employee, he motions you to his desk and immediately looks away. You
hope you weren’t imagining this as you walk up to the desk and sit down.
Without a word you open the pamphlet and point at a picture. He nods and makes
a few phone calls, after a while he writes some things down and gives you
directions in English. This tour will pick you up from your hotel tomorrow
morning at 7AM. You produce 10,000 yen and he gives you change with both hands
and his head tilted down.
You feel a pang of accomplishment as you take your change and head to the
automatic sliding glass doors. You get closer and closer, yet the doors don’t
open. Your nose is almost touching the glass, but the doors don’t open. You
stand for a second in embarrassment before noticing a button. You push this
button and the doors open. You wonder why doors would be automatic from the
outside and not from the inside as the elevator carries you to your floor.
Still feeling accomplished you grin as you confidently deposit several coins
into a vending machine. You are very thirsty, the hot Tokyo sun has made your
throat dryer than a desert. You see a green can that you can only imagine to be
mountain dew or some derivative of. You push the button and reach for the can.
Suddenly, your hand is scalded. You drop the can and stare at it in confusion.
You try to pick it up and are burned again. With a sigh you pick up the can
with your shirt and fumble with your keys to get inside your room.
With another sigh you turn on the TV and stare blankly at the images.
A some time later you open the can and drink. It is green tea. It is still warm
and does not satisfy your thirst. You leave your room and try another button on
the vending machine. It turns out to be a Gatorade like substance. Satisfied
you sink into the bed and watch more images.
Many hours later the sun has set and your stomach is growling. You walk into a
pizza shop. The words the waiters say are familiar now, you don’t feel so out
of place. Bowing and yelling, transferring money by small green trays, it seems
normal now, but the pizza tastes bland.
Somewhat satisfied you return to your hotel room, take a relaxing bath and sink
into another coma-like sleep.