It took me a while to get used to the idea that I indeed will be going to Japan. I wasn’t as excited as I was 2 years ago when I was leaving for the similar program in China. Finals stress as well as the lack of novelty of such programs definitely had something to do with it. But as soon as I reached the boarding gate for the flight to Osaka in Frankfurt, I finally got the butterflies. It was because I started hearing Japanese spoken by real natives and recognized some words and grammar patterns that gave me the positive chill. Like I was up to another challenge or so. Half of the crew was Japanese, so I managed to exchange some little expressions, such as “’May I have water” (みずを おねがいします) or “Where is the toilet”(お手洗いは どこですか). Even those were a big success to me, I giggled like a little girl every time my sentences were understood. But I was so nervous not to make a grammar mistake even in these little expressions, that sometimes I retrieved cowardly back to English, on which occasions the stewardess would simply give me a condescending smile. I got to gather a bit more guts next time I speak this crazily difficult language.
On the flight, I got the first taste of Japan: serving tonkatsu and soba noodles was a great idea and for the first time in a very long while I have to say I enjoyed the airplane food. After the landing in Osaka, I proceeded to the take the 4-hour long train ride to Kanazawa. While buying the ticket from the cashier I noticed two things – he was always smiling and handing in the tickets and receiving money/credit cards with both hands, bowing non-stop at every gesture. Oh how I wish the Polish cashiers could be at least half as nice as these Japanese people.
One always makes interesting acquaintances at the airport. Mine this time was a Finnish violinist who came to tour and perform in Japan, while also visiting his Japanese wife in Tokyo. He speaks no Japanese, so they talk to each other in German. And I thought my double-national-identity was rare, but this couple definitely beat me in that.
II. Step 2: Getting tired: the ground journey.
On the train, I had my first ekiben – Japanese obento served on trains. I learned about them in my Japanese classes and I saw great pictures of these boxed lunches (obviously pictures make them look million times better). It looked fabulous. But I had to wait quite a killing while before the lady with a cart brought them in. Before that I was just staring rudely at the family next to me with 3 kids, each of them with their own bento. It was, mildly speaking, annoying to someone like me, who loves to eat, to watch others eat while I myself was unable to enjoy the same thing. I tried to focus on the view outside the train window, but since they were all rice paddies, it made it even more difficult not to think about the food.
The bentou cost ¥1000, which is around $11, and it was quite filling for such a small portions of everything. The ride took way too long – as excited as I was to enjoy the Japanese landscape, I was way too tired from the 12-hour long plane journey to find this additional 4 hours anything but tiresome. You can hence imagine how relieved I was to have reached the hotel.
III. Step 3: Kanazawa first sights – Japanese modern trends.
My first impression of the Kanazawa city was that it was quite nice – not too big and not too loud, but modern and clean enough for my urban preferences. For dinner I went with my temporary roommate to the nearby mall where both of us had noodles – me ramen, her udon. Both extremely salty, still for starved animal like me, it was very refreshing. On the way I couldn’t help noticing, that there are many, many white cars. Apparently, the Japanese love white cars, and they are always the more expensive one. White is the favourite color.
Of course, I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t try to find the manga store in that mall. And to my expectations, I found them easily; rows after rows, shelves after shelves, full of manga. In those pinkish characters that I did not understand on each of the manga, I simply saw “Welcome to paradise” sign. I immediately searched out all the titles that I have been following and it was to my utter happiness to see many volumes I haven’t read (meaning, haven’t been translated by the online English-speaking manga community). Of course, the Japanese are smart enough to bind all their manga in a plastic cover, so leechers like me wouldn’t just sit there all day long reading them for free. Too bad, I thought. So I actually have to buy them, everyone of them ¥400 per volume.
I also stumbled on this very intriguing section of smutty yaoi stories. Yaoi refers to mangas about love between men – so male homosexual love stories. I was surprised to see no plastic covering on these so I immediately grabbed on them. Well it turns out that these were just written stories, not manga. But the covers looked provocative enough for me to take a pic of it.
My roommate was also interested in the magazine section. She went into ecstasy looking at this one Japanese rock star with an already eccentric artistic nickname Gackt. He was listed in a magazine featuring Japanese rock, from which I also first learned what visual kei was – a very visual as the name suggests music genre, characterized by very flamboyantly dressed and made-up musicians. It made me realize that the Japanese culture has this nascent predilection towards femininity. All the guys are presented skinny with very girlish poses. Maybe they tried to make them look ephemeric and god-like? Either way, to me they look just weak. On a sidenote, now I realize how entirely westernized in that sense I am – I prefer sturdy looking, muscular topless, maybe even a bit sweaty-looking models, who seem like they can carry a van anytime. Yeah, I admit, I prefer an American steak-boy than a Japanese veggie-boy. Though I do not deny that the latter one is beautiful, just wondering how he looks like without all the make up and the Photoshop (there’s something scary about that thought…).
The first impression was indeed as I expected – curious and good. There were enough of weird things to keep me amused. I think the best one is the hotel toilet – it had so many buttons I did not know which one was the needed flush button. By the method of trials and failures, I finally found the flush button, after having my butt washed probably 5 times with different water temperatures and pressure that came out of that toilet. And it was also heated all that time, to keep my butt warm. Wonderful are some of these inventions. That one was definitely unforgettable.
Em gai oi, sao khong thay post gi het the :)
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