*** WARNING: EPICLY LONG POST AHEAD ***
Here I was thinking that yesterday was as good as it could get. Today was an absolutely packed first day in Japan. Where do I even begin? I suppose that there is but one place to begin, and that place is the beginning.
Today had me waking up one minute before the alarm clock went off, at 7:45 A.M. I was still a bit groggy from yesterday, but definitely more refreshed. Jet lag seemed to have worn off. I popped up out of bed and got online for a bit to say hello to some friends and my girlfriend Zoe, for whom it was about six in the evening. I had to be punctual, though, since I had to be downstairs to at 8:45 to meet with Suwa-sensei, the contact that Hirosaki University sent me an email about a week ago. Downstairs I went and then I checked out. I decided to head outside to wait. The door proved to be a bit of a challenge, though. I assumed that it would be automatic on the way out like it was on the way in. But I was wrong. I stood in front of the first set of doors for about five seconds, rocking around, trying to coax the door open. It was at this point that one of the desk clerks (again, all female) said, “ah, push!” Interestingly enough, there were a pair of black bars in the middle of the door. I gave them a firm tap and the doors parted. I thanked the desk clerks and made my way out, pondering the nature of doors that open going in but not going out.
Directly across from the Toyoko Inn is the Hirosaki eki, or train station. I was directly next to the central transportation hub for the city. And a city it most definitely is. The ride to the hotel at night disguised the true scope of the my new home away from home. Hirosaki is a fairly substantial city, with several large, high rise-esque buildings directly around me, albeit all hotels. As the home to 100,000+ people, I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised. But even this town, which is small by Japanese standards, is easily twice as large as the largest city in Maine.
When I got outside, it was about 8:30. I stood next to the door to the hotel, drinking in the view. People were coming and going from the train station and what I assumed to be some kind of department store next to said station. Cars came and went, occasionally stopping. When they did this, I took notice to see if Suwa-sensei had arrived. Unfortunately, I didn’t meet Suwa-sensei outside the hotel. It was getting on 9:00 and I was getting a little anxious. Figuring that he was late or had forgotten, I made my way back inside. I tried my best to explain the situation to the desk clerks.
“Sumimasen, watashi wa daigakusei desu. Koko, sensei o aimasu. Demo, late, 8:45.”
My speech broke down a bit as I reached the threshold of my ability to explain the situation in Japanese. I was able to say that I was a college student and that I was meeting a professor there, but fortunately for me one of the clerks was somewhat proficient with English. She asked me if I wanted her to call for me about the late sensei. I happily agreed and thanked her profusely. Into my backpack I went and pulled out the documents that I had received from Hirosaki University. On one of the pages was the telephone number, which I handed to her. After a short conversation, peppered with many arigatou gozaimasus and yoroshiku onegaishimasus, she informed me that they were running late and would be along shortly. I peppered her with many arigatou gozaimasus myself, and made my way over to the dining area just past the desk.
I took a seat at the first table closest to the door and set my luggage beside me. There was an older woman behind what appeared to be a table with a Japanese-style continental breakfast for the having. Having not eaten all morning, I went over and took a look at the offerings.
“Ohayo gozaimasu!”
I returned the polite morning greeting and began to make my way down to what looked like a crock of soup. “Miso, ehh, Japanese suupu,” I was informed. Having eaten miso many times before (it is very good), I took a bowl and was served a ladleful of the soy-based soup. To the right was little triangular rice cakes with different seeds and seasoning sprinkled on them. I knew these to be onigiri. I opened the little case they were in and began to reach for one when I was quickly gestured towards a pair of tongs sitting in a bowl of water. I nodded my understanding, picked up the tongs and grabbed an onigiri. Next step would be to find a drink. “O-cha, kohi,” the woman said as he gestured towards two different drink dispensing machines. I decided to go with the coffee over tea this morning. After pouring myself a cup, I thanked the woman and made my way back to my seat. My first experience with ordering Japanese food had not gone too bad at all.
I tucked right in. The miso was just as I expected, hot and soy-y. The onigiri, however, was something I had never tried. I took a bite and was delighted to find it tasted of crunchy sesame seeds. It was very delicious. I ate it all down quickly. Looking around the room, I saw a poster for the Hirosaki sakura matsuri, or cherry blossom festival. The dates on the poster indicated April 23 through May 5th, if I remember correctly. I made a mental note. I was pleased to find that I had arrived well in advance of the sakura, which were already blooming in Tokyo.
I had been sitting down a scant few minutes after finishing eating when I heard a cry from the lobby. A young looking woman in a black suit ran towards me, with a young looking man in tow. She made some greetings in Japanese and then switched to English.
“Hello, I am Torigata-senesi. This is Suwa-sensei, we are from Hirosaki University. You are Joseph, right?”
I told her that I was. Torigata-senesi apologized profusely for being late, to which I replied it was OK. Suwa-sensei told me a bit of the International House, where I would be staying. He gave me a small manila envelope containing a pair of keys, marked with what I assumed to be a room number. The woman from the breakfast table came over and took my dishes away. Torigata-senesi, Suwa-sensei and I were out the door to a waiting taxi-van looking vehicle. My things were loaded into the car and we were off.
I got my first good look at Hirosaki during the day. It was as I had seen in pictures - narrow roads and alleys, shops and houses snuggled right up against the road with low walls surrounding some of them. But seeing it in person was a different experience altogether. It is difficult for me to describe just how continually amazed with the efficiency of the Japanese. Roads were no wider than they needed to be. A house had a small garden next to the front door, reminiscent of the Japanese zen gardens so often mentioned in popular culture. Colorful signs and sidewalks adorned the city. In the distance, I saw a massive mountain, covered in snow. It was a breathtaking site, dominating the city it stood next to. I asked Suwa-sensei about the mountain.
“It is Iwaki-san. You can climb it in the summer. It is very beautiful.”
I agreed.
Soon, we pulled up to a stoic building along a narrow one-way street. It was the Hirosaki University International House, the place were I would be staying for the next five months. We got out of the car, grabbed my stuff from the trunk and made our way through the front doors. There was a little common area, with bench-like seats and ceiling-to-floor windows on two sides. Suwa-sensei took a moment to consult a map on where my room was, then led me down the hall and to the left. Smack dab in front of me was a door with my name written on it in magic marker. First floor is always nice. :)
I used the key and turned the knob. I could see to the other side of the room covered with privacy blinds. There was a futon at the end of the room, with a desk and table beside it. I saw the kitchenette near the door. I didn’t have much time to admire it since we needed to keep going and make our way to the university proper. I dropped my luggage at the small space in front of the door for shoes and we went outside again.
Another student got into the car, who looked to be of Asian descent. I couldn’t discern what country at the time, but I later learned that she was from South Korea. She spoke very good Japanese, chatting in the car with Torigata-senesi. I kept drinking in the sights. Soon, my eyes beheld a drive way with low brick walls adorning either side. “Hirosaki University,” a sign on them pronounced.
We drove a short way through campus and stopped in front of a building with an awning over the entryway. This building, I would later come to find, held the office of international programs. We went through the door and up the stairs to an office on the third floor. There were computers along the walls for by international students. There were a few gaijin along with a few Japanese. One girl was from New Zealand, originally from South Africa. She spoke very good Japanese with the girl next who her, with whom she was discussing their keitai denwa, or mobile phones. Their phones were a bit larger than the average flip-style phone you’d find in America, but I knew that the technology inside was far ahead of anything used by the public in my home country.
Next, we all gathered at a table in the middle of the room. I was introduced at this point to one Nahoko-san, who was to be my “tutor,” a student who would help me get acclimated to Japan. I greeted her in kind and we took our seats. The meeting was about a pair of packets of information we had received, led by Torigata-senesi. We went over a packet on things that I had to do soon, including registering at city hall for an Alien Registration Card, which would be necessary for me to open an post office account and buy a keitai. Nahoko spoke English fairly well. She helped me through the packet, explaining things for me that I might have missed. She wasn’t perfect, however, so we spoke a mixture of Japanese and English. The meeting went on for about an hour like this. I was growing increasingly overwhelmed by the amount of dates coming up and things that needed to be done.
“Taihen!” I exclaimed to Nahoko, communicating the troublesome nature of remembering everything, to which she and Torigata-senesi replied with an encouraging “ganbatte kudasai.”
“Ganbarimasu.” I returned. I did intend to do my best.
Nahoko and I made a plan of attack for the day, using a map from one of the information packets. I figured it would be best to get my alien registration done as soon as possible since I wanted to not be restricted in what I could buy. Nahoko informed me, however, that city hall was a long walk from the school and asked me if I had a jitensha, or bicycle. I informed her I did not, but told her that I did want to buy one soon. She pointed out a nearby place on the map where I could buy said bicycle. Our day was shaping up well. After the meeting ended, we made our way downstairs. Before our day would begin, we headed to the cafeteria with the other students at the meeting for some hirugohan, since it was about 11:30 or so.
We walked through the front doors of the cafeteria, which was conveniently across a small street from the international programs office. Inside, the place was very similar to the commons back at UMaine, but here everything was a la carte. I asked Nahoko what was her favorite thing for lunch. She pointed to a plastic sample of a meal, with the words chikken katsu, which was a Japanese adaptation of the words “chicken cutlet.” It appeared to be deep fried with a small side salad. Sounded good to me. I bought that along with a bowl of rice and sat down with the rest of the students at a table near the window. The chicken, I was surprised to find, was served slightly chilled. It was very delicious, tasting like a refined fried chicken patty you might get from a fast food place in America. The salad had a tasty, light sesame dressing. Nahoko and I discussed school clubs,where we got on the topic of sports. I told her about American football, which I enjoy watching very much (Go Pats! I still love you even though you lost the Super Bowl). I also told her about snowboarding. She told me that she was a member of the volleyball club. There are many different sports clubs on campus, and of course clubs that are not sports related as well.
Soon enough, lunch was done and we headed outside. Nahoko and I said our goodbyes to the group and we headed out to into town. First stop was to be the bicycle. I inquired about the cost of one, and Nahoko said they were around 10,000円, or $110 or so. The day was brisk and sunny, a balmy 50 degrees Fahrenheit or so. We found the bike shop just a few blocks down. Outside the small shop (which was so littered with bikes the only way to navigate the shop was from the outside) there was a collection of what appeared to be cheap street bikes. The price tag declared 11,000円. Not bad. I ended up buying a silver one with a little basket in the front. The bike had a different style of kickstand than I was used to, which Nahoko demonstrated for me. There is a little lever you operate with your foot on the back wheel, which pushes the kickstand up and down. The kickstand itself was not so much a little metal bar to lean on, but a full bracket that wrapped around the back wheel, which keeps the bike perpendicular to the ground when parked. There was also a built-in lock with a key. The lock worked by extending a retracting a metal ring that would go between the spokes of the back wheel, making the bike unusable. With bike in tow, the two of us made our way back to campus.
At this point, Nahoko received a meiru, or email, on her cell phone from one Soga-sensei. He was to be my academic adviser for the semester. Nahoko told me that he wanted to meet me at his office soon. Since we were on our way back there anyway, we decided to visit right then and there. I parked my bike somewhat awkwardly, since I was still getting used to the kickstand and lock. We went in the side door to a building near the road and headed up to the second story. At the end of a dimly lit hallway was Soga-sensei’s office. Nahoko knocked on the door, and “hai, douzo” came from inside. She opened the door and I met Soga-sensei, a man of slim build in his late thirties, with short, combed-back hair and glasses. We said our greetings and he asked me in Japanese if I could speak it. I responded with, “chotto,” meaning “a little bit.” We discussed the nature of the school schedule and picking classes. The way classes work at Hirosaki is a bit different from UMaine. Instead of a class being several times a week, a class is once a week only, for about an hour and a half. Because of this set up, Soga-sensei recommended that I select at least seven classes. I would spend the first week of classes popping in and out of different ones, sitting in and deciding if I like them or not. I could attend the classes for exchange students or for Japanese students, or both. Upon deciding that I wanted to take a class, I would get registration documentation from the professor giving the class, which I would then give to Soga-sensei. It seems like a pretty good way to make sure a class is what you want to take.
Shortly thereafter, we left Soga-sensei’s office and headed over across campus to get Nahoko’s bike. From there, we took the trip to city hall, with Nahoko leading the way. I hadn’t ridden at bike in many years, and I was admittedly a bit wobbly at first, especially considering that I had a heavy backpack on my back. But the bike ride was just wonderful. The streets were smooth and well painted. The weather was nice and warm and traffic light. I kept thinking to myself, “am I really riding a bike through the streets of a Japanese city? How can I be so lucky?” But I didn’t have long to ponder, since I needed to devote my attention to not crashing the bike. We went down several streets and made several turns, which eventually lead to a small hill. After climbing that and going a bit further, we arrived at city hall. I was a bit tired, but overall not too bad.
We parked our bikes and headed inside. The inside was packed with people, and by that I mean not citizens applying for this and that. The majority of the people in the place were behind the long stretch of counter before us, with several signs demarcating the various things that could be done here or there. The bureaucracy in Japan is apparently immense. People were manning the counters or sitting at desks in the back, pouring over paperwork. The one sign I saw which had any English at all stated, “Alien Registration.” We headed over.
Nahoko told the woman behind the counter that I needed to register for my gaijin card. I was presented with a form, where I filled out my name, address, phone number, and passport number. They also took two of the small photos of myself that I had done while back in the states. The whole process took less than five minutes. After paying 300円, I was given two pieces of paper. One told me when I could come pick up my finished card. The other was a sort of temporary gaijin card, which I could use to buy a keitai and open a post office account. I was good to go.
Nahoko and I went out the door. Directly across from city hall was Hirosaki kohen, or park. Rows and rows of cherry trees could be seen, their small buds just waiting to open up in a dazzling floral display. Since we had a bit of time, Nahoko offered to give me a tour. I happily accepted.
We entered in under a beautiful Japanese-style gate, with its large doors swung back. The park was a series of paths and fields, but there were cherry trees absolutely everywhere. It was nearly a cherry tree forest. Nahoko explained that Hirosaki kohen is the most popular place in all of Japan for cherry blossom viewing, with about 1,000,000 people coming every year. I found that number to be absolutely flabbergasting. Especially considering that the Hirosaki cherry blossom festival coincided with Golden Week (a week of government holidays, everyone has the week off from work and school), I anticipated that it would soon be cho isogashii, or super busy.
We walked a bit further until we came to the centerpiece of the park, the place that I had seen many, many times in pictures online. We came to Hirosaki jyo, Hirosaki Castle, seated high up on a stone embankment across from a red wood bridge and a moat that passed both. The scene was already breathtaking, and the cherry blossoms hadn’t even come in yet. I very much look forward to the festival and the coming of the blossoms. I will be sure to take many pictures and video for all you out there of what is sure to be an absolutely beautiful place
With the day winding down, Nahoko and I went back to our bikes and pedaled back to the International House. At 4:00 we were to meet with Ohta-san, the proprietor of the International House to rent bed linen and kitchen utensils. We had about an hour to kill, so the two of us made our way back to my room. I finally got a good look at it. In the days to come, I will be posting a video tour of the building and my room, so you can all see what my place here in Japan looks like. Nahoko explained some of the uniquely Japanese functions of the room, especially the water heater, which must manually be turned on in order to have hot water in the shower. It resembles a breaker box with a few buttons on the face of it, located right next to the door. I also got a chance to head out the sliding back door of the room, which lead to a balcony. Although it was at ground level, I got a great view of the street and the road leading to the nearby elementary school. The room, I decided was more than satisfactory.
Nahoko and I spent the next hour or so on my MacBook, showing her photos of my family and home. She got a real kick out of the videos I had, too, which included video of Gillette stadium from the time my brothers, father and I went to a Patriots football game, and video from Christmas day. She seemed fascinated, and offered thanks for sharing with her. The time passed easily - it was 4:00 before we even knew it.
We went out into the hall, and a short time later found Ohta-san on the second floor in a large empty apartment with many other Japanese and foreign students there. She immediately upon entering gestured for me to come over, where she gave me sheets, a comforter and a pillow for my bed. I also got a little tea pot for boiling water on my gas stove and a simple ceramic cup. In Japanese, she explained to me that the items were free. Nahoko embellished this by saying it was included in the cost of the deposit, which is 30,000円, or about $350. I thanked Ohta-san profusely, after which Nahoko and I headed downstairs to make my bed. At this point, Nahoko told me that she needed to get going back to school, since she had a prior arraignment. But that was not before calling NTT for me, a Japanese telecom, about having an Internet connection installed in my room. With Ohta-san nearby, the two of them managed to work something out. My internet connection will be installed next week, costing about 3600円 a month. I’m just writing this post in a word processor at the moment, so by the time you read this it will probably be much later.
As if you thought that was an action packed enough of a day, I asked Nahoko if she could tell me which way it was to the nearest suupaa, or supermarket. At this, Nahoko actually went outside with me, got on her bike and lead me all the way to the place, called “Maruesu.” My first impressions of a Japanese supermarket were that it was very much like an American one, just significantly scaled down. Again, the efficiency of the Japanese was on full display here. There were no shopping carts, only baskets, which lead me to find that the Japanese shop for food on a much more frequent basis than Americans, buying only small amounts of food at a time. I grabbed a basket and headed in. I told Nahoko that I wanted some snack-type foods and some drinks. She lead me to an aisle in the middle of the store, which was covered in cup noodles, chips and other assorted foods. I ended up buying three bowls of instant ramen, a box of Pocky and a bag of chicken soup flavored chips recommended by Nahoko. Next were drinks. A few aisles over, I got a bottle of cold green tea (which I’m sipping on now) and then went to the biiru section. That means beer, by the way. They had several different kinds and brands, but I was adamant about buying Asahi Super Dry, a beer I had heard mentioned on more than one occasion here and there. On the other side of the cooler I found a six pack, costing about 1,000円. Pricey beer, but I hoped that its reputation held up. Nahoko and I made our way to the front, where I purchased all my items for a bout 1,800円.
It was at this point I said bye to Nahoko outside the supermarket and thanked her profusely for being so helpful throughout the day. We made plans to meet the following day at 10 in the morning to get some more things done, including opening a post office account and buying a pre-paid keitai. Off Nahoko went, and I was left to pedal back to the International House by myself. I remembered the way just fine, savoring the peaceful streets and quaint homes. After parking my bike, I went inside and started preparing a bowl of ramen, miso flavored. I cracked open one of the Super Drys and took my first sip. It’s an incredibly smooth beer with a fairly mild flavor. It actually reminded me of an American light lager. Even in beers, the Japanese reputation for having sensitive palates held up. I downed my bowl of ramen and finally got hit by tiredness. Into bed I went around 7:00 in the evening, exhausted by the long but exciting day.
Nahoko gets here in about an hour, so I better wrap this up. Please forgive me if there are any glaring grammar issues with this post, since it is really long and I wrote it over the course of three hours. I can’t promise to do a post this long every time, but I certainly hope you enjoyed it. Well, until next time!
