- Arriving at the Union 1 minute before Madison’s bus departs for Chicago’s O’Hare airport. [What was I thinking? One badly timed red light and the trip would have been a disaster before it had even started.]
- Hesitating before a Krispy Kreme six-pack at the boarding gate. [This is a new one! Foreign visitors can now take some American carbs, fresh from the vats of boiling grease, back home as a souvenir. For me, the unexpectedness of it caught me off guard. I almost caved in.]
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- Listening to the Air France news in flight. First of all, French news announcers SHOULD NOT be all that stunning to look at. This one in particular, with his oh-so-casual blue window-pane shirts and striking tie – come on, mess it up a little, all that visual perfection is distracting. Secondly, watching clips of GWB against a backdrop of rapid fire French was so incongruous as to be completely disconcerting. Our president doesn’t speak French, he doesn’t like the French, there’s nothing French about Crawford Ranch, it was just too confusing.
o Luckily, there was also an English news wrap-up toward the end so that I could quit thinking that I am on my way to a vacation in France. I am not. Just passing through, on my way to Japan (though even the Air France ticket agent was puzzled: “you are flying to Tokyo through Paris?” she asked. People have no imagination.)
o The presentation of news in English was… thought provoking. I watched a story about Russians celebrating Lenin’s birthday today. The announcer said “ the crowd of mainly communists gather to celebrate Lenin’s birthday..” Now how did he know they were mainly communists? I didn’t see anyone being asked. Assumption, assumptions.
Not done yet, mistakes continue all the way through my 2.5 hour lay over in Paris:
- Having pushed the limits of timeliness in Madison, why should it be different now on this side of the ocean? But what could I do: we’re landing in Paris in perfect sunshine and I see ribbons of dazzling yellow fields below. What are they? Why should I wait at the airport in a stuffy lounge if I can be OUT THERE, frolicking and skipping through those fields?
o It doesn’t work that way. Impulses to board random trains at airports in search of golden fields should not be followed. After a few stations, I disembarked at Sevran Beaudottes, a town that seemed enough far away from the airport as to hold out the hope of golden fields and sweet pastoral bliss, but no, it was not to be: the fields were elusive, the town was bland (but for the spring flowers as seen in the early morning light, here on the left), and I cut it a bit too close.
o A side note: at the town’s train station, I saw this rather prominent ad [in case the low grade photo I’m using doesn’t allow you to decipher it, the words say: “Grace a vos dons, vous seul pouvez permettre une action rapide et impartiale en Irak” which, I believe, means ‘thanks to your donations, you alone can allow for quick and impartial action in Iraq.’ The picture shows a military helmet stuffed with food].
Shortly after take off, I sat back, imagining that I was soon to be flying over intriguing and complicated countries: I could very well be over Iran, perhaps Iraq – they seem on the way. History unfolds, while I am safe in the air, privileged, as usual. So humbling.
- oh no, oh no, we are not headed for Iran, not for any of those places. It seems we are currently flying over POLAND!! What? We’re heading north! Of course! A short-cut! So it’s going to be a Siberian junket. Oh, but right now it’s Poland – how about that!
Now let’s get in the right mind-set already: what better way then to watch Lost in Translation – several times. The flight from Paris to Japan is long (12 hours) so that I come to know by heart the last scenes, where they meet up after lunch, meaningfully connected.
JAPAN (Yes, for real)
TWO SHOCKING MOMENTS UPON ARRIVAL AT NARITA (TOKYO) AIRPORT:
1. The very first greeting from the Japanese is a loudspeaker announcement as I approach the passport gates. A friendly voice tells me: “You are passing by the health center. If you have a fever of diarrhea please stop here.” Do people readily admit to this? An ethical dilemma right then and there: if something is upsetting your digestive system, do you move quickly in the hope that it doesn’t show, or do you fess up, risking who knows what –isolation? Deportation?
2. The train connections to Sapporo (my final destination) for today are BAD: I will need to take four separate trains, and I wont get there for a full 14 hours. Lord, this week-end of travel will never end. [Note things to be grateful for: the sight of cranes standing in wet rice paddies outside. It was a fleeting moment, but a nice one.]
I notice that my computer battery is fading. At one of the ‘change trains here’ stations, I see a electrical socket by the escalator. What would the traveling public think if I took the opportunity to recharge? Stellar computer moment happens: I stand by a hugely crowded passage-way and type a sentence or two as the computer balances on my suitcase and recharges for a few minutes. All this, while smiling candy salesclerks look on. MOMENT OF PANIC:
I am one to say things like ‘I would never ever take the train under the English Channel. I’d FREAK OUT! I am way too claustrophobic!”
So at what moment (today) did I realize that you cannot take a train from Tokyo airport to Sapporo without going through the world’s longest under-water tunnel?
What are you going to do in these circumstances – not go?? However do I get myself into these situations? If I post this tonight, that means I will have survived.
On the train, people are chomping at box meals and flushing it all down with Sapporo beer. Me, I’m still nursing that cup of tea the train hostess brought me. Notice the sign on the cup: it’s in English and yet it makes little sense. The feeling of disconnectedness is starting to take center stage. As for the fancy service –oh yes, there’s that. And the train toilet seat is heated, and if you press a button, thinking it to mean ‘flush,’ you get a nice big burst of warm water right where you, foreigner that you are, least expect it. You can even preset the strength and temperature.
I CAN’T BELIEVE I SLEPT THROUGH THE WHOLE THING!
Tunnel came, tunnel went, I never noticed. Suddenly some kind passenger was tap tap tapping me and telling me the train is about to empty out. Well, I can test my new tunnel capabilities on the return: there’s only one way to leave this place, and that is via that dark, long tunnel.
I am closing off with a note on my final destination, Sapporo, where it is at the moment cold, dark, and completely closed up for the night. Food would be easy to come by if only the hotel telephone operator would quit repeating all that I say to her. We are making no progress. ‘Shrimp curry’ I say. ‘Shrimp curry’ she says, falteringly. ‘Room service?’ I ask. ‘Ahhh, room service’ she answers. And so on. There are always the free nuts that I stuffed mindlessly into my bag during the plane ride. Sound Polish survivalist impulses were guiding me then.
