Shinkansen is the Japanese word for the bullet train. I and the 4 other Jets departing for Mie prefecture on Friday August 24 had to take a subway to the main train station in Tokyo to catch the bullet train to Nagoya, and then catch a Kintetsu line to Yokkaichi.
A Mie Board of Education representative escorted us the entire trip. As we walked to the subway, in our prefessional best (a lot of grey slacks going on), an Australian in a white dress shirt came up behind us.
"Mind if I attach myself on to your little gaijin bubble for a moment? Jet program I presume. Well, I am on my way to get a tie, need to look my best, so enjoy your stay in Japan." He sneered, then veered off. His voice sounded just this side of 17 whiskey-sodas and 400 Marlboro Reds.
We boarded the subway toward the end of rush hour. Instead of cramming ourselves onto a full car (yes, the cars do get as full as the pictures, though I did not witness any staff actually shoving people on) . "This is the busiest subway station in the world," the BOE rep reminded us. I have heard differen statistics--anywhere from 1 to 3 million people a day use the station. It was impressive in its scale. The station where we picked up the bullet train was literally awing. The mass of bodies forms into an organisim itsef, bulging here, rising and falling there. We became part of a big amoeba, going up and down a series of stairs, and through various tunnels. Reminded me of rock concerts.
We bought a boxed lunch at the station to take on the train with us. Ⅰ chose the vegetarian option. My box was filled with bite-size surprises. A trembly purple square that was slightly opaque. Roots shaved into funny shapes. I recognized eggplant, shelled edamame, and the rice. It was not particulalry good, but I took it as a positive omen that, if nothing else, my culinary ife in Japan would be dotted with surprises.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Tokyo: Looks like the future, smells like chicken
We stayed in Shinjuku, the Manhattan of Tokyo, in a hotel that would make a 1980s soap star feel right at home. I was blinded by the crystal chalendiers. I yearned for pink satin robes and chilled chablis. The theme song to the Young and the Restless (I am not joking) played softly in the background while I gorged myself at the breakfast and lunch buffets. Orientation would be two days long (lots of seminars about culture shock and teaching--probably should have paid better attention).
Between Tokyo's clean streets and thick grey skies, neon-lit skyscrapers rise up like credits on a movie screen. The buildings are so bright with print and televisions ads, and signage in kanji, hiragana, katakana, and English, that one gets the sense that the structures are actually in motion themsleves. Concrete robots squatting on some of the most expensive real estate in the world.
Between the broad boulevards, there are narrow alleyways, with little wood noodle bars and bar-bars. These little alleys smell like chicken and car exhaust and sweat, and look to me like something out of a Graham Greene novel. This mix of the hyper-futuristic and the traditional comes up alot in descriptions of Tokyo. Eating at one of these old-fashioned dining spots (if you have seen Tampopo, you know what I'm talking about, my companions and I contemplated ordering the "crab guts lightly" for dinner.
Between Tokyo's clean streets and thick grey skies, neon-lit skyscrapers rise up like credits on a movie screen. The buildings are so bright with print and televisions ads, and signage in kanji, hiragana, katakana, and English, that one gets the sense that the structures are actually in motion themsleves. Concrete robots squatting on some of the most expensive real estate in the world.
Between the broad boulevards, there are narrow alleyways, with little wood noodle bars and bar-bars. These little alleys smell like chicken and car exhaust and sweat, and look to me like something out of a Graham Greene novel. This mix of the hyper-futuristic and the traditional comes up alot in descriptions of Tokyo. Eating at one of these old-fashioned dining spots (if you have seen Tampopo, you know what I'm talking about, my companions and I contemplated ordering the "crab guts lightly" for dinner.
Don't watch interactive maps on 14 hour plane rides
I began my journey to Tokyo on Monday morning, August 20, and arrived at my final destination at about 6 pm on Wednesday the 22. After boarding my nonstop DC-Tokyo flight with a fellow Jet program teacher named Claudia, we discovered a neat interactive map on the video screens on the seat backs in front of us.
Me: "Oooo, cool! We can watch ourselves fly over half the world!"
Claudia: "Eventually, that map will drive us crazy."
I realized Claudia was right when, 11 hours into the flight, I began giggling softly to myself after I broke the suggested Dramamine dosage limit. The vastness of the Pacific was starting to become both hilarious and frightening. Would a vodka tonic make me feel better? Probaby not, I concurred. I boarded my flight as regular old Danielle Altman, and I did not want to depart it as Liza Minelli.
Me: "Oooo, cool! We can watch ourselves fly over half the world!"
Claudia: "Eventually, that map will drive us crazy."
I realized Claudia was right when, 11 hours into the flight, I began giggling softly to myself after I broke the suggested Dramamine dosage limit. The vastness of the Pacific was starting to become both hilarious and frightening. Would a vodka tonic make me feel better? Probaby not, I concurred. I boarded my flight as regular old Danielle Altman, and I did not want to depart it as Liza Minelli.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
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