There’s nothing like a roadtrip. Something about loud tunes, crappy roadhouse food and travelling at 100km/hr really gets my blood pumping. Despite being a dedicated non-driver, I’ve been doing it for years; ever since I was a kid trapped in the back seat of my parents’ car, fighting with my brother and seeing the Australian country-side whiz by. The experience of seeing the countryside as you zoom past it on the motorway holds so much more romance for me than the stale, cold, low-humidity experience of air travel. And now I’m about to experience it Japanese style, taking in 3 cities on a 3-day whistlestop tour. I feel like a rockstar already… and have the sunnies to prove it!
This mission was to take us on a round trip from Toyama, south-east (ish) to a city called Shizuoka, before looping back on day 2 to Nagoya and then back to Toyama via a place called Gifu. In all, a fairly decent snapshot of Japan encompassing both the tranquility of the countryside and the sheer madness of the huge cities. But we weren’t going anywhere until we effectively squeezed everything into Satomi’s little four-wheel drive.
Sure, we were only going away for 3 days and 2 nights, but you could have been forgiven for thinking we were setting off on a 3-month pilgrimage to Mecca. Japanese custom dictates that when visiting people, you must present them with a gift (they call it omiyage). And since we were visiting a few sets of friends and an uncle, the car resembled a Santa’s sleigh packed to the rafters with boxed confectionary and farm treats. Our personal belongings were crushed meekly underneath our humble offerings.
With the yellow-tinged morning light rapidly giving way to the midday glare, we loaded up the six-stacker CD player with the finest selection from the Albion Music Hall, and gunned it for the highway. Before long we were staring down the barrel of an almost empty expressway, and the first of a long series of the tunnels the Japanese highway system is famous for. The tunnels were one thing, but the great expanse of dense greenery greeting us upon exiting them was something I was not at all prepared for. It’s hard to describe, to paint the word picture befitting the deepness and density of the colour of the Japanese landscape. A uniformity of texture and light provides one with a sense of the impenetrability of this land, and gives one an almost instantaneous respect and admiration for those tasked with overcoming it in order to build the roadways that have come to be the great icons of modernity here. The Japanese are proud of their transportation networks, and so they should be. The smooth, pot-holeless tarmac, pristine roadsides and regular rest stop opportunities are unparalleled in Australia. Before long, however, I was to find out the reason why they were so perfect: tolls.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay on the interconnected expressway system, and had to deviate on to the old highway to make sure we weren’t back-tracking too much. The exits ramps from the expressway are all fairly similar: a long, looping, spiraling roadway, punctuated at the end by a manned toll booth. I had been told some pretty horrific figures about the cost of using the expressways by Steve-O, but didn’t quite believe him. Until now. This relatively short trip (I think about 70-80kms) cost us 2200 yen… about $20! Being used to having a completely free highway system in Australia, I was absolutely appalled and disgusted at the money-grabbing road-building sharks at work in Japan. Until, I guess, Satomi showed me the alternative – the old highway system.
If the expressway is the David Jones or Myer of the Japanese roadway system, then the old highways would definitely be the Crazy Clark’s. Tiny, bumpy, twisty, grotty and generally unkempt, the old highway was a battle – even for me, the non-driver. The tunnels appeared to have not been touched since before the war, and the constant warnings of rock-falls were re-enforced by the appearance of recent landslides across the valley (possibly caused by the recent earthquake). The scenery, though, was quite a spectacle as we skirted around a huge lake and river system which served as the centre piece for a hydro-electricity plant. But sheesh, the bumps and sharp turns had me begging for mercy. Satomi relayed a story about how trips from Toyama to Nagoya (about the same distance from Brisbane to Coffs Harbour) back when she was a kid would be a 2-day affair, with an overnight rest stop mandatory in order for the driver not to go insane and drop the car over a cliff. My bravado and scorn about road trips in Japan being easy due to the pitifully short distances were taken back, as I began to search eagerly for the nearest sign of us re-entering the expressway system. Heck, after just half an hour on this highway, I was prepared to mail a deed of ownership to my first-born child to the “money-grabbing road-building sharks” if only they could ensure the entirety of Japan was covered in their fantastic odes to road transportation.
Thankfully, we were back on the expressway soon enough and rocketing on our way to Shizuoka. A couple of rest stops up the road and we were faced with a very frustrating nose-to-tail traffic jam around the outskirts of Nagoya. The mysterious slowing of traffic cleared as mysteriously as it started, and we were back up to full steam - which in Japan is sign-posted as between 70 and 80 km/hr, even on the expressways (although a distinct lack of highway police – we only saw one cop on the entire trip – meant that the cruising speed jumped to up to 120 at times… but shhh, don’t tell anyone!). As our destination loomed, Satomi chickened out and decided not to attempt the final 20kms or so with low fuel warning light flashing, and so a quick detour for petrol had to be made. A couple of phone calls and text messages made sure Satomi knew where she was going and we paid the remainder of the tolls (turning out to be around $75 for the 400-or-so kilometers) and we delved into the inner-city traffic of Shizuoka. And, for the first time in my life, I was able to say that I had traveled from one side of the country to other! Small milestone, yes, but when you come from Australia and say that you’ve traveled across it, you are granted a respectful awe… it’s a notch that I haven’t as yet been able to put in my belt.
About 180km south-west (ish) of Tokyo, Shizuoka is far removed from what I imagine the zaniness of the huge capital to be. Nestled on the Pacific Ocean, it is regarded as the geographic centre of Japan and home to its most famous natural wonder – Mt Fuji. Excited at the prospect of witnessing the snow-capped wonder, I was more than disappointed with the hazy, overcast conditions on both days we spent there. The haze was so much of a pea-souper that not even the faintest outline of Fuji could be seen. Oh well. Just another reason to come back, I guess. But we did get to witness Shizuoka’s other claim to fame, as being the home of Green Tea. The hillsides surrounding the city are dotted with steep fields teeming with tea leaves and giving it an almost sub-continental feel (I guess mixed with the humidity, one could be forgiven for thinking that we’d actually driven to Sri Lanka).
We weren’t here to check out the scenery, though, we were here to visit some old dear friends of Satomi’s from her college days. The three day trip was killing two birds with the one stone – an introduction for me, and a good bye from Satomi. Our first port of call was to Satomi’s good friend from college Kazuko and her family. As she had recently given birth to her third beautiful child, it was wise of us not to impose too much on the happy little campers – and so we were invited to bunker down for the night with Kazuko’s Mum and Dad, who had become like surrogate parents to Satomi during her college years. We make a quick pit stop at Kazuko’s Mum’s house to dump our belongings and freshen up, before making the quick trek across to town to stop in with the happy family. The fleeting visit was more of a catch up for Satomi, as well as a chance for us to become all clucky as a result of the gorgeous little baby. The visit was punctuated by a brief introduction to Kazuko’s older two girls who, despite being eager to meet a westerner, turned completely shy the minute they stepped from the car and refused to even come near me. I don’t really blame them!
After the first visit out of the way, we wanted to catch some ‘culcha’ and so high tailed it over to the city centre to catch an exhibition by famous Japanese doll-maker Atae Yuki. The dolls were exquisite, made out of a Hessian type material and clad in traditional Japanese clothes in the style of the 1950s. The clothes themselves, mostly kimonos, were hand-made stitch by stitch, and only used fabric from the era depicted. The display was beautiful, showing mostly children set in mischievous poses, but also included an astounding display of a traditional wedding kimono which caught the glint of Satomi’s eye. Pity they are so expensive!
After sumptuous Thai feast that had me missing home (well, missing Thaiways next door), we hit the bed and readied ourselves for the assault of the Nagoya city centre planned for the next day. After the relatively short trip, we arrived in Nagoya proper and set about the next friend meeting of the trip - Tomoko and her two cute little boys. Both boys had been learning English, and so both took the opportunity to practice their skills on me. It was all very cute and cuddly… for about 5 minutes when the boys went back to ‘normal mode’ – which basically entailed the younger one slyly punching or poking the older one to get him to retaliate and then getting in trouble. So reminiscent of my childhood!
After bidding farewell to the hyper boys, we made the quick trip across town into the city centre, searching for our bed for the night. The hotel that we booked was right in the heart of the city and directly across the road from the main shinkansen (bullet train) station. Resisting my inner boy and his urging to “go and have a look at the big, fast trains”, we instead skirted underneath the train lines and into the main shopping district. Dotted in amongst the Channel and Dior shops were something a bit more familiar to me – homeless people. The distinct lack of the homeless in other places we had visited so far hadn’t even occurred to me as something that was missing. I guess the fact that they were not there to be seen everywhere else, and so familiar to me at home that they are almost a part of the visual fabric of my daily life, had jolted me to look around for other “differences” between Japan and Australia. Sure, there are the big, obvious things (you know, like… there’s so many Japanese people here… who’da thunk it?!?!?), but I was more interested in the subtle differences. The things that make Japanese people a culture so unique and intriguing to us big dumb westerners.
There were the superficial things, like the food, the sitting on the floor, the removal of shoes when you go into someone’s home, etc; but there were also other aspects, too. Like the conformity. Walking around Nagoya’s bustling city centre at home time, all I saw was a mass of businessmen and office workers dressed in the standard white, short sleeved business shirt and dark pants (made me feel quite at home, considering it’s my work uniform). The conformity is also played out with their most treasured vehicle of choice – the pushbike. There are no fancy schamncy 15-gear, deep traction, wanker mountain bikes here. Nope, just a good old steel framed, 3-gear no-frills pushie, with little to no modifications added after taking home from the shop. All similar colours, shapes and sizes, I have no idea how you would know which was your bike at the end of the day, especially if you parked it in the underpass under the train lines – it was seriously packed from one end to the other with row upon row of bikes.
The other stark contrasts between our cultures, I found, was the deep politeness. It was politeness to the point of being embarrassing and annoying at times, but certainly polite. Take, for example, the barrage of greetings you get when you walk into, by or near any kind of shop or establishment – “Irashaimase!!!”. It’s basically an informal greeting, but when screeched out at a high pitch and forced out through the nasal passages, especially with the disinterest exhibited after screeching it for the hundredth time of the day – it starts to grate on your nerves. The politeness, though, did manifest itself in a deeply moving way with the irrepressible bow. Unsure of the custom towards bowing, I stuck with the basic Aussie-bush-larrikin-slight-head-tilt-cum-nod for most of my time in Japan. Thinking that I should take my time and ease into the full bow when I felt confident that I was not making a complete dick of myself, I continued my understated nod to all and sundry, and tipped my head to anyone passing on the street who maintained eye contact for even a split second. And so to the homeless man: not realizing it at first, I made the fatal mistake and made eye contact. This he took as a sign of obvious weakness and advanced on me with his hand out and the best hang dog expression he could muster. Realising my mistake, I motioned with the international gestures for “no”, but it didn’t put him off. As he approached closer, I decided to walk away and catch up with Satomi, who had vanished into the throngs as she was mesmerized by Gaultier’s latest retail offerings. A little disheveled, I turned back in the direction of the homeless man to see him following me. Slightly concerned for my welfare (although not sure why), I firmly told him to “fuck off”… a term that he seemed familiar with. Immediately, he dropped his outstretched hand, stood to attention and bent at his waist in a deep, respectful and (I believe) apologetic bow. With me now feeling like a complete prick, he turned and resumed his scavenging and left me in a slight state of shock.
After being jumbled in my thoughts for a bit after the homeless man incident, Satomi and I decided to grab a quick bite to eat (pizza and a salad… both quite nice) before splitting up and both of us having a bit of “me” time. Satomi continued to shop, and I headed back to the hotel to freshen up and check some emails before the events of the evening. Before long we were both freshened up and out the door to pay a visit to Satomi’s uncle. And it was here that I experienced my first (and, alas, only) rock star moment in Japan.
From the moment I stepped into Uncle’s (Ojisan) house, I knew things were going to be a little strange. Firstly, and for the first time in Japan, I was offered “house slippers” to use after taking off my shoes… only to find that my freakishly large clod-hoppers (well, by Japanese standards) has no way of fitting into them. That wasn’t the strangest part, however, as moments after having my feet stared at like the obvious freaks of nature they were, I was greeted by a cacophony of shrieks, screeches and hyperventilating reserved for the likes of The Beatles. It seems Satomi’s younger 2 cousins (both girls) were genuinely very excited about meeting a real life foreigner… a foreigner in their own house, no less! Ohmygawdohmygawdohmygaw OHMYGAAAAWWWDDD!!!! Yep. That’s about how it felt, too, as 2 post teenaged girls worked themselves into a gusset wetting frenzy just by my simple presence. I’ve always had a secret dream to be one of those faint-inducing rockstars and have the world at my beck and call… but if this was anything like what it felt like, then they could keep it to themselves. My usual disposition of being the understated centre of attention shirked and I just became plain understated and tried hard not to make any noises or sudden movements which threatened to elicit the same sort of response. After the initial reaction, however, the evening settled into something a bit more benign and casual. Before long, we were out the door and back to the hotel room for a little r and r.
The next day we woke early with a view to buggin out of Nagoya and on to Gifu pretty soon, but my little boy urges just wouldn’t let go. By 9am, we were standing on the platform at Nagoya station and I was wide eyed and buzzing with excitement as I watched bullet train after bullet train pull in and push out of the station. It was great to finally see them up close, including the cute little rituals the immaculately uniformed drivers performed as they changed shifts. After my little boy was satisfied, we choofed off to the highway and made the relatively short and painless trip to Gifu.
Gifu was the last of the planned introductions on the trip, but my oh my, what an introduction! Satomi had organized to meet three of her old college friends at once over lunch. The plan seemed pretty harmless, until they all arrived with their brood of toddlers. Seriously, I have no idea how these people do it. Every conversation took place while the other person was distracted by removing something from a kids’ mouth, or removing the kids hand from somewhere it shouldn’t have been. While certainly entertaining and fun to watch, I was more eager than ever than ever to get back in the car and have Satomi point it in the general direction of west and get back to the relative sanity of the rice farm and the Nagai family. As the lunch drew to a close and the formalities and pleasantries completed (including the traditional custom of present engaged couples with ornate packages containing money… a custom I am still not entirely comfortable with), we did get my wish and before long we were staring down the sunset and hurling down the highway towards home.
Driving back into the Nagai household driveway was a really weird experience for me. While I only arrived a couple of days ago, the feeling I got when I saw Nana (the dog) jump up in excitement at our return, and Otosan beaming with a huge grin and a wave… I truly felt we were “home”. The Nagai family had been so welcoming and accepting and loving to me that I immediately felt part of the family. It wasn’t something I was keenly aware of when I was first there a few days ago, but driving back in after a couple of days away it truly hit home how much of a part of their lives I had become, and vice versa. It was then that my heart began to sink a little, as I knew that in just a few days from now, I would be leaving this place, leaving them behind, and taking their little girl with me...
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