I spent four years living in the city. I battled freeway traffic every Dodger and Laker game. Forget that, I battled freeway traffic every day. I fell asleep to wailing sirens every night. I grabbed Starbucks coffee every morning because 1) Corporate America brainwashed me and 2) there was one on every corner. I ate out more than I ate in my apartment because, well, I could. I locked the door when I left the apartment and when I came home. I locked my car as soon as I got in and as soon as I got out. No one ever stole my entire bike, just the wheels (one more than occasion).
But now I’ve spent 10 months in the countryside. I battle hay trucks down the one-lane, winding mountain roads. I fall asleep to rain dancing on my roof. I breathe fresh air every single morning (except when it’s windy and it smells like cow). I lock the door when I leave and when I come home, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worth it since I have to put my shoes on every time I need to open my door for someone. I lock my car when I run into the store to grab dinner, but the people next to me often leave their keys in the ignition and engine running. I’ve been given more food, more rides, more vegetables than I can imagine.
Last Friday (6/10), I made the 6-hour journey after work to head to the city. 2 trains and a subway ride later, I stood in my friends’ apartment filled with English and laughter. It’s a long trip, an expensive trip, but the smiles, the laughter, the Mexican food (really legit Mexican food), the late nights talking, the breakfast conversations, and friends make it totally worth it.
I hopped on the usual 2:20 train to come home on Sunday afternoon. In Japan, everything is on time. I get there at 2:15, and my train isn’t on the board. They keep making some announcement but I can’t understand it. I go through the gate, head up to the platform where my train should be, and there’s no train. No one is there. I walk over to an attendant who starts talking to me really quickly and then starts running. Run down the stairs, through the station, to the other side of the station, and up the stairs to an incredibly crowded platform of unhappy people. It’s 2:25 and a train comes. It’s not my train but everyone seems to be getting on. I ask another attendant. Take it to another station and wait there for your train. Too bad the train was made for reserved ticket holders and not us. We waited in between seats, in between aisles, in between cars, swaying back and forth with all our stuff for a good 30 minutes. Finally I get to the new station. I get off. I wait.
“English teacher.”
I turn around. Someone old man is pointing at me.
“You’re the Shibecha English teacher, right?”
It was a little creepy he knew that. He asked why I was in the city and how I was getting back to the village from town. I told him the train. He said since our long train would be late to town that I’d probably miss the train to the village. I didn’t think about that. He said if the train to the village wasn’t there, he would drive me home. He also knew I was Pegleg’s neighbor. I still had no clue who he was. So I got a ride home from town from a semi-stranger. Only in Japan is it semi-okay to get a ride home from a semi-stranger.
I found out at work he was the old superintendent…and I had met him before.
Too funny! I'm glad we got to spend last weekend in Sapporo together.
ReplyDeleteIt is definitely strange moving from the city (even a smaller one than LA) to the country. :)