I thought that it would be good to have some record of my time (however long it may be) here in Japan (and from there who knows?), but I’m not very good with diaries. I am, however, reasonable at writing letters. So why not kill two birds with one.. laptop (well, something hard and mobile anyway). I’m still trying to find a name for this ‘publication’ so any ideas would be appreciated. I’ve come up with ‘What I Did On My Holidays’ (for all the Pratchett fans out there), and ‘Insights into the Japanese Mind’ (da, da, da, duh! ) along with the more mundane ‘Nihon no Insho’ and ‘Nihon no Keiken’ (Impressions and Experiences of Japan respectively).
Before I get down to the real Japanese stuff, I have to rub this business class thing in a little more. For those that heard me raving about the business class flight on Singapore airlines I took recently – that was nothin’. I checked in with an hour to spare. That gave me a leisurely hour to spend in the Qantas lounge having a second breakfast (I decided that 10am wasn’t a good time for an ouzo or a B52) and by the time I walked on to the plane, all the ‘cattle’ had been loaded. I don’t know why the girl at the check-in counter bothered asking me whether I preferred a window seat or an aisle seat – they gave me one that was both. There were only five seats across the plane in the business class section – two, two and one. I got the single seat option on the landward side. The seat went down so far that even when it was ‘upright’, it was at 45 degrees. I just wish they’d design an adjustable foot rest for these chairs though. I always end up with the thing pressing into my calves, and if I try to go to sleep like that, I can’t stand up when I need to go to the bathroom. I mean, really.. What am I paying all this money for?
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I mean, what is the company paying all this money for??
As for the legroom, I couldn’t kick the chair in front if I took a run off! Quite surprising then, that the person behind me managed to push into the back of my chair every time he stretched. Actually, what was more surprising was that while the bumpy ride I got from the guy behind stretching started to piss me off; the exact same (though potentially much more dangerous) bumpiness created by turbulence lulled me to sleep.
When we landed, 15 minutes late, I was second off the plane without having to rush. I was through immigration in 3 minutes and through customs in 10. My bag was one of the first on the carousel, having been marked ‘priority’, as opposed to being last on the Singapore trip. I was on a roll! So I went outside to the buses, all ready to get on the bus that would, in true Japanese style, be nicely timed for my arrival only to find that it didn’t leave for 55 minutes (and wasn’t due to arrive for 50). The previous one of course, left just 5 minutes ago. I think I’d rather have stood in queues throughout the evening – at least then I’d have felt I was doing something, and I could talk to those lovely people in customs . I don’t know whether to blame the pilot (typical Aussies) for being late or the Japanese transport system for being so customer focused that they scheduled the bus to leave after everyone had a chance to get through customs. So much for the great service in business class.
So I sat in the airport and got jostled for an hour, trying to stay awake so I didn’t miss the next bus – it was the $15 bus or the $200 taxi. Then I sat in the bus for an hour, trying to watch all the lights go past. Through my red eyes that’s all it really was – streaking red lights; but that’s the price you pay for watching too much ‘choose your own movies’.
Finally, at 11pm Sydney time – way past my bedtime, even if I didn’t have ‘choose your own movie’ eyes – I arrived at the hotel. One of the things I hate most about 5 star hotels (is this rubbing it in enough?) is that there are always people trying to carry my bags or open doors for me etc. And I can never remember in which countries they expect a tip! This one is no exception – in fact, there was no WAY they were going to let me – the customer – carry my own bag. So the very helpful bellboy went away with his suspicion that all Aussies are ‘ketchi’ (cheap) confirmed. And I tried to get some sleep, knowing that I was back in my beloved Japan and tomorrow I’d be able to experience it again. Do you think I slept at all?
Stay tuned tomorrow (or whenever I get the chance) for ‘Japanese Hospitals’, ‘Queuing for Trains’, ‘Trying not to Speak Japanese’, and ‘I Love Japanese Hotels!’