nickelass

I have no real idea how my trip to Japan started. Was it an idea in my head? An idea in another person’s head that I latched onto? With so much unexpected change in 2007 perhaps this was the space and experience I needed to welcome 2008 into my life. For whatever reason I knew that I need a few things to make it sometime to remember. So after exchanging my laptop and car for Leila’s camera I was armed with everything I needed;

• Passports
• Tickets
• 1 billion Yen (about 2 Australian dollars)
• Camera
• Moleskine & Bic pen
• Absolutely NO expectations
• The promise to write it all down and stick it on the internets

So here we are then.

I love international air travel for many reasons (and after doing it a bit in my life, I hate it for many reasons also), not the least of which, the way flying the international carrier of your destination can subtly commence your transfer to another culture by the very nature of the vessel and people you travel with. As I attempting to locate my cattle class seat I see a man sitting in the emergency seat row with a surgical mask reading the New York Times. The two vacant seats both side of him and little ‘table reserved’ style messages plark in Japanese and then is smaller writing English stating “This seat is unavailable”. I make a mental note to fake a cold to reserve premium exit row seatage on the way home. The Japanese goes to extreme lengths to ensure that there is no confusion when it comes to processing and organising people.

The rush of jets and we punch a hole in cloudy Sydney. I feel like I am on my way to the sun, so much so I’m genuinely disappointed when the plane levels out as I feel like we could have really made it. Have you ever considered that on those rainy days when you maybe feeling down because you have not seen the sun in weeks (rather like Sydney. don’t worry kids I’m told this weather is only going to last till June), all you have to do is strap into your plane and in 5 minutes be above it all, working on your tan? I look around the plane and realise that there is a significant bogan population; little did I know.

A night time arrival at Tokyo Narita Airport beings my induction to Japanese over-engineering. As we land in Terminal two I have the lovely experience of taking the monorail to terminal 1 to do security checks and baggage collection. So your probably thinking it must be a long distance between these terminals, like Sydney domestic to Sydney international right?




Well. As shown in the video and photo I tool above, no. It could be done with a um… let me think… I don’t know… walkway with a travelator!!! Having the overactive imagination that I do (nice way of saying hypersensitive and full of sh$t), my theory is that the real purpose of this monorail is to introduce silly gaijin to the people packing that you will experience on the subway. I’m almost disappointed that I wasn’t groped in the 40-second journey from terminal 2 to terminal 1.

Passport control introduces me to the fact that anyone has a job in Japan because everyone has only one task they do in their job, but cuodos to them because they all take it seriously and do it damn well. What is with Asian counties and the ability to have one person whose sole job is to do task X? I can now fully understand why your average Japanese tourist struggles in Australia because in Japan no matter where you go there is always one person who will help you stand in the right area, another to tell you which counter to go to and another to wipe your behind (actually the talking toilets do that). The Japanese love having people in Authority to help them work out daily life.

After being guided by a series of 60-year-old men to my passport counter the most awesome passport stampage in the world commences. It really annoys me that after 5 years of using 2 passports to travel I had amassed a grand total of 1 stamp from The Czech Republic and that was only because I asked for a stamp from some passport control guy who looked like an ex-Russian killer soldier who himself looked at me like, “I’m doing this but if there wasn’t cameras in this building your spin would be broken in 4 places right now”. So in Japan you get stamped, a form stapled in your passport, fingerprinted and photographed. As it turns out, if you're Mike from work, who flew out from Australia to Osaka on a later flight, you also get searched for drugs and rubber gloved. That’s what you get for being the dodgiest looking person in the world. Ok ok so I'm sure in America they also do something similar and really it is pretty scary that my photo id and finger prints will be owned by some country for every and where I have no legal rights, but the photo and fingerprint machine have cute little smile icons and Pokemon style graphics. So it is like having your privacy and rights taken away by talking unicorns that giggle. Disturbingly fun.

I locate my ‘limo bus’ to get my ticket from Narita International to Haneda Domestic because from there I can get a free shuttle bus to my hotel for the night. I locate my bus stop and follow everyone else's lead by standing in an orderly queue as 30 attendants look after the whole process. Narida airport is not actually located within Tokyo prefecture which is very very very lame. Imagine locating Sydney new airport in Mittagong. It is seriously about the same. After freezing for a few minutes the bus arrives and next thing I’m settling into my seat hearing some lovely announcements in Japanese and then in English confirming the next fact about Japan. We are asked in English to ‘Please turn off all mobile devices as they disturb the neighbours’. The fact is that the Japanese do, on the whole, really care about the group and about other peoples feelings. As the bus pulls out of the bay and I look around and notice the bus is filled with a significant number of Australians and sure enough two of them are talking loudly on the phones and the rest are arguing loudly about cricket, much to the quite disgust of the Japanese around them. Most Australians that go to Japan during winter go for snow and that is it, they catch the next plane they can from Tokyo to the snow. In the meantime they just generally ignore all cultural norms of the place. So this leads me a new grand truth (stuff post-modernism).

We are the new American traveller.

With this in mind I slip on my headphones to cancel out the Australia nasal and squawking sounds and hit the shuffle button the pod of i. I’m greeted with non-other then Japanese beat maestro DJ Krush. As we slip along the highway with the God’s of shuffle serving up a cinematic score like no other, I acknowledge not only do I have a new appreciation for the works of DJ Krush but also in fact ALL your music will sound cooler in Japan. Believe it kids.

I arrive at Tokyo Haneda airport and being my aimless journey around looking for, as it turns out, the most poorly signed (as it no signs at all) pickup spot for the JAL Tokyo City hotel. I ended up in a poorly lit bus parking area with another older Japanese lady who on approach actually physically backs away from me. As experienced in my later rural setting, many older Japanese are genuinely scarred of white people. It is at it core at times a sexist and racist country. I attempt to show her the name of my hotel and the map to the pickup location all the while acting humble and lost. She finally smiles and indicates though some hand gestures ‘me too’. I love how much can be expressed without language. We become two lost people. Sure enough 5 minutes later a young lost Japanese couple turns up in the bus parking area looking for the same hotel pickup location. Now that we had a rolling posse, literally, everyone has rolling bags, it was time to acknowledge yet another fact about Japan. Getting lost and being uncertain about what to do and where to go is a national sport. Hence all the helpers. As I was later to experience it is fully acceptable to stop in the middle of a road or walkway and think about what you want to do, go ahead… no maybe go down that street. Nah, lets just turn around… whilst 300 vehicles or people wait patiently behind you. No honking, no shouting, just the shared knowledge that we have all been there before.

Anyway out of nowhere our bus rolls into this unsigned bus area and we all pile on becoming strangers once again as our mission objective has been archived. I arrive at my hotel and check-in. As shown in the photos yes the lovely Japan-English is ever-present.
Most hotels will provide you with my PJ’s but they all end up looking like a momo a la Homer Simpson. The bathroom have very deep baths that I couldn't fit into, even if I fetal positioned it.
Any yes the toilet seats are heated and those graphics on those buttons are accurate (insert higher pitched voice towards the end of that sentence). Hello… like you won’t have tried!


When I arrive at a new unknown territory in the world I make a point of exploring my surroundings immediately. No mater it’s -9 and 10:30pm, I hadn’t eaten dinner since I landed around 7:00pm and whilst Haneda is a bit industrial even a short walk wasn’t going to hurt.



After about 5 minutes I feel alive and brave enough to try to order some food. I see a Maccas and vow not to circum to eating in that once whilst in Japan. Strolling around the corner I spy a little Japanese food looking place, I duck under the entrance awnings they all seem to have and slide the door open.

Just the usual seen of a lone business man eating and drinking, two other guy who seem to know each other drinking beer and eating + what appears to be a husband chef and wife helping out. It turns out no one speaks English but with some help from the other customers I order something. It is fairly obvious that I become the butt of a few jokes and there seems to be some genuine shock that I use chopsticks. After just being humble and respecting the food (I even manage to try point at the food I’m given and saying oishi) the chef gives me a mandarin and teaches me the word for it in Japanese. I teach him some English. Suddenly, once they realise I’m a nice guy, we are having a beer and making jokes. I decide to leave on a high and pay up. Hint: Never leave a tip, they will chase you down the street to give you your 14 cents back.

I find my way back to the hotel and crash out for the night in my as is turns out, standard sized room.




The next day I wake up, have some hotel breakfast food and begin my journey south to Kagoshima via Osaka. As I leave Tokyo Haneda airport to Osaka, I notice less white people then my previous flight and hotel. I change planes at Osaka and board a little DC Douglas for the final leg. As I get on the plane I see one of the airline hostess point to me and say something to her college who nodes very seriously. Suddenly the announcements being made go from just Japanese to Japanese and then English. For the first time in my life I listen with full attention to the safe demonstration giving full eye contact to the speaker and demonstrator. It’s like I’ve been guilted into giving a sh!t as the only white person on the plane. After completing the safety demonstration both stewardess bow to the general customers as per usual and then they actually turn in my direction and bow directly at me. Without even thinking suddenly I’m bowing back! As I bow I’m like “NICO why are you bowing… is this normal?” As I raise my (slightly red) face up I’m greeting with an even deeper bow from both ladies. Crap… am I in some type of domestic aircraft on board bow-off competition. I totally back down by grabbing the safety booklet out of my seat pocket and shoving it up in my face as I’m sure to lose something if I continue this charade with two smokingly hot airline hostess (hey and for the record this is coming from someone without yellow fever ok!). As first drinks are served I mention to the flight attendant serving that I’m very impressed with the English announcements, that they are very good at speaking English. My test works as more bowing continues. For the rest of my flight I’m given the most attentive service I’ve ever had in my life. I drink so much coke and have so many packets of mixed nuts I think I’m going to be sick.

Apart from being filled with nuts and coke (no homo), by the time I get off the plane at Kagoshima airport, seeing white people becomes exciting due to their rare nature. They are also excited to see you but more in the ‘nod’ how’s it going way. Nicola greats me and we grab some lunch before the long journey back to her place.

The highways are great but REALLY expensive. The speed limit is 80Km/h but everyone does between 100-140. Generally speaking no one really does the speed limit on any road really because the limits are ridiculously low. I like to think it is because everyone is addicted to Pokey as I am. It is the crack cocaine of chocolate traveling goodness.



Off the major highways there is a new phenomena to be had. The random vending machine. Vending machines are very common is Japan. Like, more vending machines then people kind of common. But what is totally amazing is they ALWAYS work, are never vandalised and are put in the most random places. Nicola explained the rural roadside vending machine thing to me by stating, ‘anywhere there is a power pole is, according to the Japanese, a good place to put a vending machine’. And she is;

I was absolutely sure that these were wastes of space because with this many machine in the middle of nowhere rural Japan, surely they wouldn’t be used. So I went on a mission to take of photo of someone actually using one

Upon arrival in Mizukami we chillaxed and caught up for a while then out to a local restaurant for dinner.

Good time and drinking was had and then I crashed in Nicola’s living room, complete with sliding Japanese paper doors! + some smash your head-room in the morning between kitchen and where I was sleeping.