Arriving in Japan

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Japan, Osaka to be precise, welcomed me with bright sunshine. The airport, for which an artificial island had to be created in the bay of Osaka, I quickly walked through to the luggage conveyor belt, which was soon set in motion. The short waiting time in the apron was also made entertaining by two young officials, each with dog. Again and again, they trained the dogs, as it seemed, and walked with them through the passengers standing behind a marked line. In spite of a serious and frightening tone of voice, which made one fear the worst, their laughing faces spoke a different language, both the officers and the dogs seemed to have a lot of fun. I didn’t have to wait long, when the black rubberized snake started to move and as one of the first cases my turquoise 28 kg trundled in and wanted to be moved. It is not really an art to push 28 kg on rolls through a well tiled airport, it rolls almost by itself. But in a toilet you can get along a little bit worse, but that worked out great, too.

 

t is no secret that visiting a toilet in Japan can be a challenge. Heated toilet seats, water fountains and a variety of well inscribed buttons and levers in Japanese. But hey, I managed to do that too without causing any damage to my suitcase, my body or the highly technical equipment. The comfortable space was explained when I left the cell and  I saw that it was a disabled toilet. But since that is somehow what you are when you travel with such a heavy suitcase – especially mentally – I wanted to make a note of this possibility.

 

The next thing I had to do, which was not easy either, was to find an elevator that would take me to the bridge that leads to the station. I walked there and walked here. There were more staircases, but escalators and elevators – no way. But I had to go there and there the next task would wait for me. To find the Japan Rail counter to exchange a Japan Rail Pass with the voucher I bought from home months ago. I hoped the stamp in the passport was the right one. The voucher for the passport had cost me over 500 Euro for 14 days and that, as I learned from many travel guides, was much cheaper than if I would buy single tickets in Japan. Since I had to bridge large distances, I had gotten involved, even if the explanations on the page of the JR-Rail Pass often seemed very complicated to me.

 

It was lucky that I met Inge in the Japanese course at the VHS. She, who has been in  Japan several times with her nephew, a Lufthansa steward, had already been able to tell me how easy everything was. She also established contact with Carsten in advance, from whom I had actually learned a lot about flying and train travel in Japan.

And so it was easy to find the JR switch once I arrived at the upper floor, as described. I took out my neatly stowed away documents, consisting of voucher and passport, so that I didn’t have to search at the counter in my backpack, which was also full.

 

The queue of waiting people was manageable. I had the opportunity to listen and notice that one of the employees spoke a well understandable English, while most of the others sounded more like 4 memorized sentences. When it was my turn, I had, how could it be any different, to go to another one. She answered in the negative with a ponderous no to the question whether she spoke English. She recognized the voucher and knew what to do. She wanted my passport. But when I rushed to get it out, it was not there. Where was it, I searched the rucksack and the jacket pockets twice. She slipped around impatiently and with a stern expression on her chair. “Sumimasen, Sumimasen”, I apologized, panic level five – from 1-10. Where could he be. Out of the ticket office again, two more searches through backpack and bags. Panic level 6. Where had I seen him last. At the money exchange counter in the arrivals hall? Didn’t the lady give it back to me? I could’ve sworn I just handed it in with the voucher. My distraught look fell over the suitcase.

 

I didn’t think I could see properly, he was on top of it, or rather he was next to the transport bars. I must have put everything on the suitcase at once in the queue. That’s probably where it had slipped there. Now I found my heart that had slipped into my pants again and went, the whole thing from the front, into the next round. Hossa, the snake had now grown to the exit. What the heck, I thought, if I had planned something, then it was time. Enough time. So, once again from the beginning and lo and behold, – lucky thing -, I ended up with the lovely girl with the almost fluent English. And how she could help me. She explained where I would find the train to the city centre, to Osaka Station and booked me the reservation for my trip to Hiroshima in 2 days. Very satisfied I walked towards the platform.

 

The officer at the counter waved me through with a friendly smile and nodding. With the Rail Pass one could not go through the barriers at the ticket machine, but always had to pass the JR employee. But this should prove to be an advantage many times, because they saw, if one had a reservation, if one was on the wrong way, also one could always ask them with hands and feet for the right way, if there was no other way.

 

I had made it, I was on the train to Osaka Station. Japan. I was in Japan. Somehow, especially since it had never been on one of my wish lists, everything seemed a little unreal. But it wasn’t, everything around me sounded beautifully Japanese. I couldn’t understand anything anymore. Another unmistakable sign was this. I could not read anything more either. Satisfied I leaned back in my seat and looked at the Japanese sea. The train had left the airport island with incredible speed.

 

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