Well it’s safe to say that the past few days have been some of the most exciting and scariest moments in my life. So much has happened lately, that I really do not know how to start. The best way I guess would be just like most things (except Star Wars)…in the beginning.
It all began in my driveway. I was all packed an excited to finally venture off to a new continent. On the drive down however, fear and anxiety began to churn with the excitement. I looked at the American flags along the road and thought “this is the last time I see so many of them waving for a few months…shit, this is the last time I see my parents for four months”. I wanted to cry at that very moment, but managed to hold it to one tear.
My parents and I arrived at JFK, and checked in. We then ate. I had two snack-wraps from McDonalds—both grilled one barbecue and the other honey mustard— with green tea. As my departure grew near, it was time to say good-bye. Since the car ride over, I imagined how this moment would be and dreaded immensely. I hugged my parents before I got in line for the security check and told both of them I loved them. I got in line, and never looked back, fearing I would just lose it crying.
I went through the TSA scanning process. I set off the metal detector a few times, but they didn’t subject me to the pat-down. But I was specially searched. I was wearing an ACE-bandage, and did some kind of check to ensure I wasn’t carrying a knife or something. I left the TSA scan relieved, but then I did something that I probably haven’t done in about 16 years. I cried at the thought of leaving my mother.
A few deep breaths and shopping helped me get over the separation from my parents. Right before my flight departed, I bought the most recent issue of The Economist. As I read, the feeling of excitement began to overwhelm the anxiety for the first time since the car ride. I boarded Air China 982 bound for Beijing with great excitement. I sat down next to two Chinese women, a mother and her daughter. If there was an MVP for my trip form JFK to Hilton Shinjuku, it was definitely the staff of Air China. Air China exceeded my low expectations immensely. I was treated really well by the stewardesses on the plane received two special low-fat meals on the way to Beijing International and one on the way to Narita International. They even let me roam the plane during moments of turbulence. The last feature may seem un-important, but we encountered a good amount of turbulence (nothing major) and with a 13 hour flight, you need to stand up and walk quite often. I watched Zoolander on my computer, and it died as soon as Mugato’s assistant said “Magnum”.
I arrived in Beijing airport at 7pm local time. By then, the airport was dead; very little incoming and outgoing flights (at least to my knowledge in terminal 3). But Beijing airport is spotless and like a giant shopping mall. They had duty free shops all over. I went inside. The Chinese love cigarettes. They were so popular. And why not? Marlboro was the most expensive brand there at 100 CNY for 10 packs of cigarettes. That’s $15.09 USD. Just goes to show you how much the government charges Americans to light up. O well.
My 15, yes, 15 hours there was quite nice. I ate some chicken skewers and drank a Carlsburg. I did a lot of exploring and window shopping. Unlike cigarettes, luxury items were expensive. Burberry items in China compared to the United States are priced twice as high. The scarf I looked at cost near $500 USD. At 12am, all the stores, except the giant tobacco and alcohol duty-free store closed. I then fell asleep, woke up, slept, woke up and slept again until 6am. At that time, all the stores opened up again. I went through more duty-free shops focusing on souvenirs. In one of the stores, an attendant approached me and said in a heavy Chinese accent, “Excuse me sir, can I help you?”
“No thanks” I replied with a smile.
“Please, I take three” she told me while bowing.
At first, this amused me a little, but then I was like “wait, who I am I? Should she even be trying to speak English to me? I mean in America, we approach all in English. She had the sincerity to at least try some kind of English in front of an obvious American” Plus, it was at this time that I realized that in a way, I would be like this girl during the trip except on a much bigger scale. I would have to approach the Japanese and try their language. Not to mention, I will, for the first time in my life, be a racial minority. I will experience an environment similar to racial minorities in the United States, however, not quite as bad, because the typical Japanese person is much kinder than your typical American.
Anyway, I boarded Air China 925 to Tokyo at 8:55am local time. I arrived at Narita airport at 2pm Tokyo time. Going through customs and immigration was easy. I picked up my bags to discover that the idiots who handled my bags broke a wheel on my green bag. I’ll limit my MVP status to the steward staff. I got a bus ticket to the Hilton Shinjuku. Already my bad Japanese kicked in. “Ichimai kitte Shinjuku Hilton made o kudasai” I told the attendant. She gave me an odd look, and I realized my mistake. I asked for a stamp to the Shijuku hotel. “Sumimasen, ichiban kippu!”
It was a two hour bus ride. I arrived at the hotel around 5pm. There, I first met Arisasan. Arisasan speaks perfect English with no accent despite being native Japanese. We talked a bit as I waited for my host mother Suka Megumi. Megumisan arrived a little after I did with her friend Narita Megumi who was also a host mother of a TUJ student. The other student, Celine, wasn’t expected to arrive until 8pm, so Megumisan and Megumisan showed me around Shinjuku with their children. I saw the Tokyo skyline from an observation tower for the cheap price of nothing. We acquired travel guides for me.
They then took me out to eat. I was curious to what they would choose. We went into Denny’s. At this point, in my head I was like, “Seriously, I just flew a little under 9,000 miles just to eat the same greasy crap they serve in the United States?” I was soon surprised. Denny’s Japan, is the complete opposite of Denny’s America. They had all Japanese food. French fries was the sole exception. I couldn’t read the menu. I felt so overwhelmed. Fortunately, they had pictures of almost everything. I ordered something with chicken in it and I wish I could tell you what it was because it was good. Megumi (my host mother) was surprised because she intended on ordering the same thing.
Megumi lives with her two daughters, Nanami and Kazumi, plus her parents. Megumi graduated from Temple University so she has a rather well understanding of English, thus communication is reachable. She is one of the nicest people I have ever met. I feel totally welcome here. She doesn’t mind that my knowledge of Japanese is limited and seems content to speak Japanglish. Additionally, she has gone out of her way several times to make sure I know where to go, what to do, and help me just do everyday things. Nani and Kazu are 9 and 7 years old respectively. They are rather shy girls. They speak absolutely no English. I hear that they don’t really open up to well from previous students. But I have been making some efforts. I have been showing them a lot of pictures of the United States. Ojiisan and Obaasan (grand pop and grand mum) are also very nice. They also speak no English, so I try to pick up some things they say to me and they try to understand my Japanglish and hand signals.
You may be wonder at this point, “Where’s daddy?” It’s a question I thought about as soon as I found out I would be living with the Sukas. I didn’t plan on asking because I knew there was no possible good outcome. Didn’t expect this one—she willingly told me without me asking that he died about 5 years ago. A drunk driver hit him as he crossed the street. I didn’t know how to feel. I just kept saying sumimasen (I am sorry). She kept replying “daijyoobu” (It’s okay). Her family is so nice, they didn’t deserve something like that happen to them. Hopeful the scum responsible for this is spending a long time in jail.
Closing note, I promise. Here in Japan, almost everybody is Japanese. There are very few foreigners like myself. Foreigners are observed. Every since I have arrived I have been asked so many questions about America. When all eyes are on you, it makes even the simplest Japanese such as self-introduction, hard. I would know, yesterday I blanked out in front of a group of 10 year old Japanese girl scouts, but more about this in my next entry. I am doing well and a great time here. There are so many differences about this culture that I will get into later. As of for now さようなら！
