I left America on the 21st of August with a grand sendoff at the airport from a whole crowd of people. Thank you guys for making the trip. They thought they had seen me safely through to the next step of my voyage, but no. If anti-terrorism measures can be measured in inconvenience, then security at SeaTac proved its worth that day. The other person I was travelling with held up the entire line for about 5-10 minutes as her bag was too big to fit through the x-ray machine. The skilled and well-trained Transit Authority workers tried to solve the problem by pushing the bag from one side with another bag, which proved fruitless until the culprit, a stray strap, was found. Probably because of this, the security team overlooked my set of shaving razors. (Also, I found out later that the people in front of us tried to bring a hammer and ice pick on the plane; I guess the threat of my razor just didn't frighten anyone after that).
On the plane, I sat next to a Japanese woman who had been living in Georgia. She kindly corrected my Japanese at every turn. Everything I said was apparently wrong, but she pointed me in the right semantic direction. I must have made a good impression on her, though, because she told me that I would be fine in Japan because I wasn't pushy or loud. Also, at the end of the flight she gave me her email address and told me that if I wanted to complain about work or anything to her, she would be glad to hear from me. Also, because her husband worked at a big company with ties to the northwest, she mentioned something about there always being positions for bilingual people. That, as my old art teacher Zaixin Hong would say, "is an auspicious beginning."
The other Seattle JET turned out to be an exemplary travel companion. She had never left the states before (except for trips to Niagara Falls), and Narita airport in Tokyo pretty much overwhelmed her. She had a good attitude, though, and a good sense of humor. I pretty much tried to stick with her because the rest of the JETs were hit-or-miss. Not bad, necessarily, but not those you would want to get stuck next to at a cocktail party. Coincidentally, on the last day of orientation, there was a cocktail party. I tried to skip out, but none of my Tokyo contacts were available. Luckily there was beer to help smooth things out.
After a day of orientation, we all left for our host prefectures (think of them like states, Japan has something like 47 prefectures). Five of us left for Kyoto together with three representatives from the prefectural government. The eight of us walked from the hotel to Shinjuku station (the busiest station in the world) in the sweltering humidity. In suits. With luggage. After making to Shinjuku we took off to Tokyo station where we bought lunch boxes, and then got on the bullet train (a nozomi, the fastest), to Kyoto. The train ride was relaxing and air-conditioned, the rest of the day was not.
Because it was Friday, I had to get a head start on my Alien Registration Card. For that I needed a picture. My supervisor, about whom I have only nice things to say, decided that a regular passport picture, which I had brought, was not sufficient for my Alien Registration Card. (There is a difference in the required size of the face in the picture; a few millimeters or so.) We had to hurry because government offices in Japan close early. We ended up going to the nearest place, which was a professional photo place. My ID photo looks better than my high school graduation photos.
Then we rushed into a taxi to go apply for my registration card, or so I thought. We went to the prefectural government building, but it turns out we were actually picking up my luggage and meeting the whole office. I was completely unprepared as I received my letter of employment in front of all my future co-workers and gave a stammering and inadequate self-introduction while they stood and applauded. If that wasn't enough, I then went to the next floor up and did the same thing to another group of people, this time people I would probably never work with. After that I met the leader of the whole office. He talked to me about everything: school, my major, Seattle, and my future plans. After I told him I was thinking about a career in international economics (the first thing to pop into my head), he lectured me for about ten minutes on America's sub-prime interest problem and how it related to the world economy. I understood about 10%, but nodded along to 100%. He told me told study Japanese and work hard; I probably will never see this man again.
My luggage had been delivered to the office, so the plan was to take it to the place where we would apply for my registration card before taking it to my apartment. Everyone was shocked about how much stuff I had brought. Apparently two suitcases and one carry-on is excessive. They actually wouldn't stop talking about it. I tried to tell them that they were carrying just about all my possessions (that is, those not being graciously stored by my family), and one joked that I had brought my washer and dryer along. I felt bad for my supervisor because I couldn't carry the bags by myself, but she is only probably five foot three and a 110 pounds. She was also wearing heels. We taxied to the building, submitted my paperwork, then went to my apartment.
My supervisor stayed with me as the apartment manager explained everything to me. I do mean she explained everything. How to separate my garbage, why we separate the garbage, how to use my keys, how to use the intercom, how to open my mailbox, where to park bicycles and cars, the copy machine, the coin laundry, the coin showers (luckily I don't have to use these), ad infinitum. The whole while she was talking, though, she was looking at my supervisor, who nodded along as if she were the one living there. I spectated, trying to keep up with the breakneck Japanese.
I thought everything was over, but it turned out my supervisor was also responsible for taking me shopping for the things I needed. We walked fifteen minutes to the store, bought sheets and toiletries, and came back. I thought this last part was a bit unnecessary, but I guess she is my mother now as well as my supervisor. After this ordeal, I was jet-lagged and exhausted. (I was in suit and tie for this entire episode). And hot. It's like mid-nineties with full humidity here, which wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have to hurry everywhere. She was about to pass out after the day was done. But still, she very politely asked her leave of me before she finally went home. I took a cold shower to cool off and bought dinner and a beer at the convenience store. One beer later I was passed out on my newly bought sheets.
Today I spent something like three hours walking around looking for a store that sold a LAN cable so I could access the internet. I couldn't tell you exactly how long it was because I declined to bring a watch with me to Japan. I woke up this morning thinking it was 1030 or so. It turned out to be 8. I woke up to the sound of children doing calisthenics in the adjacent schoolyard. Here's a picture taken from the veranda.
My apartment is pretty small. I estimate about 150 square feet. I took some pictures of it, but it's hard to get a good idea of the size of place from the.
It doesn't feel like home yet, but it will.
I haven't spent any time working at the office yet, but that will start on Monday. It is going to be a busy week. I have to go to four training seminars. One for new JETs, two for JETs who are going to be teaching English (I am their advisor so I need to understand their job), and one in Tokyo regarding my job as Prefectural Advisor. It might be awhile until my next report.
