Days 13, 14 and 15: Inami, Osaka, Brisbane
It came around too quickly. I only just got there, if felt, and I was turning around and heading back out the door again! Monday was our last official day at Satomi’s home in Inami. After 33 years (on and off) of Satomi calling this place “home”, she was about to walk out the door and spend the rest of her life coming to this place as only a visitor. Understandably, the emotion was thick in the air, but we still managed a couple of necessary errands and an ‘interesting’ visit to her grandma’s.
After skirting around town to visit the bank and city hall, we popped into grandma’s place to pay our respects and say goodbye. We were immediately ushered into the ‘formal’ part of the house and were shown her pride and joy – a solid gold Buddhist shrine which she had recently had refurbished. The thing was so intricate and immaculate, with rows upon rows of finely carved gold shelving which delved deep into the cupboard where it was stored. Even more fascinating to me was a framed photograph of her grandpa from when he was a youngster and enlisted in the Japanese Imperial Army. He saw active duty during World War II and the beautifully crafted display case showed off his official papers, as well as the medals he received for his service.
We retreated back to the formal living room (I guess you could call it) where we sipped the now ubiquitous green tea and chatted more about the differences between our two cultures. It was here that grandma revealed to me (through Satomi) that as Satomi was the first grand-child, she was (and still is) a very special part of everyone’s hearts… so it was vitally important that I understand that and that they approve of her choice of suitor. Luckily, it seemed she did. Which she confirmed a little while later by relaying how utterly impressed she was with how I was continually offering to help her up. It’s not something I really thought about, but seeing a 80-odd year old woman with failing joints try to stand from sitting on the floor, it was a natural instinct for me to offer assistance. Apparently this chuffed her a great deal, and I was approved of instantly! Yay for me and my chivalrous ways!!! The afternoon tea was interrupted fairly unsubtly by a ‘friend’ of grandma who ‘just popped by for a visit’. Within seconds of entering the room, she dominated the conversation and it was visible on grandma’s face that she was none too happy about not having Satomi and I too herself. She seemed pretty nice, but I had to try hard not to burst out laughing at her disastrously ill-fitting dentures which seemed to want to launch out of her mouth every time she spoke. Apparently I was the only one who noticed it, including herself. All too soon, however, we had to leave and we bade farewell to grandma until next time. And Satomi’s tears fell for the first time of the day.
We headed back into town to get in some last minute omiyage for the folks back home. This was not such an easy feat, however, with Inami being famous for its wood carvings and Australian Customs being anal about not allowing wood products into the country. We persevered however, as Okasan had insisted we purchase something for my Mum from Inami. We found it eventually, in a beautiful 30cm tall bronze statue of a famous monk who had traveled through the region ‘back in the day’. With all of the buying out of the way, it was time to head back home to prepare everything for the departure tonight.
After a quick dinner and shower, I finally got all of my things squared away into my bags. Now, I had a hard-case suitcase (which weighed 24kgs), my shoulder bag (4 kgs) and now a rather large backpack (10kgs). With Jetstar restricting baggage to just one check in bag of no more than 20kgs, and one carry-on bag of no more than 7kgs, I knew I had to do something drastic. I left Mum’s present out and requested Okasan post it the next day, and rearranged some things into Satomi’s bag to lighten the load. Still, I knew we would have to do some swift talking at check in to make sure we weren’t charged the astronomical extra-weight charges.
I also already began to rue my wardrobe decisions. Without access to a shower or change of clothes tomorrow in Osaka, I decided to wear clothes I would be comfortable in while traveling tonight on the bus, and tomorrow night on the plane. It consisted of my new swish dark denim jeans, a t-shirt and over-shirt, thick socks and my boots. Even though it was 8.30 at night, the steamy humidity already had me sweating buckets… and we hadn’t even left yet! My outfit also caused mirth for Okasan who knew that Osaka would be stinking hot tomorrow and that I would be totally uncomfortable walking around in this garb all day. Oh well, I thought, it can’t be that bad. I was wrong… but more about that later.
Before either of us were really ready to leave, we were saying goodbye to Asami and Hiroki, as well as giving one last pat to Nana (and attempting to give a pat to Tane, the cat, who seemed utterly disinterested by our departure… bloody cats) and we were squeezing into Otosan’s cute little van for the hour-long trip to Kanazawa to meet the night bus to Osaka. After a brief tour of the bus station, our chariot arrived and it was time to bid a final farewell. With Satomi fighting back the tears, we quickly headed up the stairs and into our cramped front-row seats on the bus. Within minutes we were away, and Satomi no longer held the tears back. After 33 years of calling Japan home, and of using it as a base for her extensive traveling, she was just beginning the journey which would see her relegating this place as one in which to visit from time to time. While Satomi may not have always seen eye-to-eye with her parents over the years (they certainly didn’t seem to understand her want to live overseas), it seemed that in the past few months they had patched up their differences and turned over a new leaf. Her whole family, but particularly Otosan and Okasan, seem very happy with how Satomi’s life is going and her choice in husband (awe *shucks*) so the departure was a bittersweet beginning to a new chapter in their lives. And sitting their next to her on the bus, holding her hand and watching the tears stream down her face while we pulled out of the station at Kanazawa – it was hard for me not to be wracked with guilt over splitting this wonderfully loving family up. Of course, it’s not that melodramatic and Satomi never felt like that… but, you know.
The trip itself was rather uneventful, as we both drifted off into slumber. Apart from one surreal moment: both of are fairly light sleepers when traveling, and fell in and out of sleep during the night. Each time we woke, we would glimpse out the window to check where we were, and for what seemed like hours, we were sitting neck and neck with this strange green truck. We must have slipped in and out of sleep numerous times over the course of just 10 minutes or so while we were sitting next to this truck at a roadhouse; but in our minds, we had been sleeping for hours while the bus was hurtling along the highway and we were waking every hour or so to see this green truck still next to us! Bizarre.
The morning light shining through the curtains woke us early as we sped through the outer suburbs of this massive, sprawling city. With the crust still deeply set in the corners of our eyes, the bus had traversed the complex web of inner-city expressways and we were disembarking at the edge of the massive Umeda Station. After finding a large enough locker to stow our gear and a quick freshen-up, we headed into the bowls of this gigantic subway hub to try to make sense of the Osaka public transport system and make it get us somewhere to have breakfast. We jumped on the Midosuji Line and settled on Namba Station, a couple of stops away and in the middle of the city proper. We settled into a crisp American-style diner and downed a cooked breaky, coffees and cigarettes while deciding how to fill the next 11 or so hours. At just on 8am, the day was already steamy and I had no inclination to spend the hours traipsing around and working up a fine stink with which to entertain my fellow passengers that evening.
As neither of us had really researched Osaka and the attractions available, we left the diner with still no firm idea of where we were headed or what we were to do. For me, the attraction lay in the city itself – a massive sprawling metropolis which I couldn’t (and still can’t) full comprehend. Nevertheless, I didn’t really want to spend the day aimlessly wandering, so we found a Tourist Bureau which luckily had an English speaking guide. She did the hard sell on this Osaka Unlimited Pass thing, which looked too good to be true… but it wasn’t! Basically, it was a card which got us unlimited travel on the subways and buses for the entire day, plus very cheap or even free entry into about 25 attractions around the city – all for 2000yen (about $18). So, without further ado, we set off for the bus stop and on to our first tourist attraction of the day – the Osaka Human Rights Museum.
Being there just as it opened (yeah, we’re geeks!), we were the only patrons. As such, we were swarmed upon by all of the volunteers and museum workers. Through very broken English, one lass showed me how to use the English audio guide machine thingy, while yet another tried to convince me to pay for a locker for my bag. As we slowly wandered around the place, we were constantly shadowed by at least one of the green-shirted volunteers at all times… in case, you know, you needed help. Or something. Anyway, the museum was interesting enough and even though I missed most of what was going on due to the English audio guide simply giving very brief introductions to the exhibits. It gave an insight into the various human rights issues that have and still are facing the Osaka and Kansai region, as well as Japan as a whole. Issues such as modernity, the fate of the indigenous Ainu people, the treatment of Korean immigrants as well as the fate of lesbians and gays were all canvassed.
After an hour or so of being educated (and enjoying the blissful air-conditioning), we caught the bus back into Umeda for the subway trip out to Osakako and an experience I was strangely very excited about – a tall ship tour of Osaka Bay! The ship, called Santa Maria (just like the song by The Frames… although, I think it was just co-incidental), was a huge red ship that was once powered by sails, but now just a motor. Complete with fake cannons and a statue of Columbus (for that added feel of ‘authenticity’?), it was an absolute blast. Lasting for 50 minutes, it maintained our interest for about 15, before it veered away from the buildings and interesting parts of the bay to give us a close up tour of the working port. Yay! Oh well, inside it was semi air conditioned and the Asahi was cheap, and it certainly was a different way to kill a bit of time, so it wasn’t all bad news.
After the short trip of pretending to be a brave Japanese whaler (for research purposes, you understand?), we grabbed a bite to eat and jumped back on the subway for the trip back to city to start to organize ourselves for the trip home. By this stage in the day, we had walked an amazing distance and my pits were beginning to pong to high heaven. The place was sweltering – think Townsville on a bright January day – which was intermittently broken by freezing, gale force air-conditioning. My heavy outfit felt like I was wearing Arctic-grade fur coats in the tropics, and I was seriously getting over it and was looking forward to the plane just so I could sit down in comfort.
It was not to be, however, as Satomi insisted on dragging me through the massive undercover shopping mall at Shinsaibashi. The place was never bloody ending, as we traversed block upon block of brand name shops. I was utterly not interested in purchasing anything else to add to the weight which was now causing a serious lop-sided droop to my right shoulder, and so we just walked… and walked… and walked.
Fighting the urge to pass out, we eventually got to the nearest station and made our way back to Namba to get out bags, freshen up and start the journey to the airport. Being only 4pm, with the flight leaving at 10pm, we knew we were super early, but what they hey? At least the airport was air-conditioned!
The train trip was as you’d expect from a peak hour Osaka train – packed in like sardines. For about an hour, we hurtled through the massive urban environment of Osaka, squashed in between our bags and the business men on their way home. Before long, though, the crowd thinned out and we were on the bridge connecting the artificial island of Kansai airport to the mainland. After Satomi collected her bag, we did a quick reshuffle before joining the already huge line for check in. Thinking we were being smart and super organized, we arrived at the airport about 3 hours ahead of the scheduled departure… but so, it seemed, did everyone else on the flight! I spent the entire time in the line perfecting the speech I was bound to have to give to avoid the extra weight charges. Finally we were called to the desk and as we placed our bags on the trolley, the combined weight came to 48kg – 8 over the allowed maximum. Just as I was about to launch into my spiel (which included that we were newly engaged and our bags were filled with presents from family and friends… which was only partly untrue), the check-in girl looked up and tut-tutted our excessive baggage and warned us to be more careful next time. What? I had heard horror stories about how budget airlines were anal about weight charges, and yet here we were being given a slap on the wrist??? We were given our boarding passes and waved away, without even a cursory glance or mention of the two huge bags hanging on back (with a combined weight of 10kg!!) Woohoo! We were through and on our way, completely scott free!
With the night kicking in, we pottered around the airport for a bit, getting in some last minute duty-free shopping and some dinner, before heading out to the gate to wait for the flight. After a quick call to Mum and Penny to tell them we were just about to head home, we opened a letter Okasan had written for Satomi and handed her before she left. As Satomi translated it, the tears welled up in her eyes as she said goodbye to Japan. The letter was a sort of manifesto, a set of rules on how to ensure she enjoys a happy and full life. Drawing on all of Okasan’s experience, it detailed what Satomi must do to ensure she fulfills her role in making a happy and loving home for herself and her family. As the sentiments of the letter sunk in, our flight was called and we were on our way.
The flight itself was very rudimentary. We shared a celebratory drink and toasted the beginning of our new life together, scoffed down the awful meal and then settled into the night to sleep the trip away. And I firmly decided one thing – night flights rock! I had been warned that night flights were the worst, with the noise and interruptions ensuring a fitful night sleep. It wasn’t the case with us, however, as we both drifted off fairly early into the trip and didn’t really wake until the sun was coming up over the horizon. And it wasn’t long from then until we hit the tarmac and made our way to the arrivals hall to be greeted by the friendly customs sniffer dog and a rather uneventful and swift processing.
As we got in the cab to head back to Albion, both of us had a huge sinking feeling. On most other trips I had taken, after a couple of weeks I was very much looking forward to being home and enjoying the comforts it offered. Not on this one, however, as the moment we got off the plane, I wanted to be back on it and heading the opposite way back to Japan. The place was still a mysterious magical wonderland to me, filled with interesting and amazing things to discover and marvel at. Before now it was a place only spoken about, but now that I had a concept of it through my own experiences, I understood and appreciated Satomi and her history so much more. I had seen through her the intricacies and norms of Japanese society and family life, and had been wholly welcomed as a family member myself. And, despite the sinking feeling as we left Japan, I was also filled with a joy in knowing that over the next few decades of my life remaining, I would come to know this country and befriend it as a frequent visitor and welcomed distant relative.
Sunday, 7 October 2007
Monday, 1 October 2007
Travel Diary - September 1 and 2
Days 11 and 12: Inami
After the madness of the roadtrip, and the impending departure date looming large, the decision to spend some serious time around the rice fields was more the welcomed. Saturday morning saw me waking a little hung-over after the previous night’s festivities, which pretty much goes unchanged in the Nagai household – dinner and a long chat around the table, all the while downing drink upon drink. Amazingly, I hadn’t actually been all that drunk in Japan yet, despite the copious amounts of alcohol being offered around. The thing is, I didn’t feel all that drunk the night before either, but I guess it just all caught up with me at once.
Last night was particularly jovial, though, and was punctuated by a strangely moving (but equally just plain weird) moment between Otosan and I. Before coming to Japan, I had misgivings about how I would react to Satomi’s Dad. Obviously, the tension between Dad and his eldest daughter was something which worried her, and as a result I mainly only heard the bad stories. He was quite clearly a very conservative man, and in a very conservative country; the stories Satomi told me about him not ever cooking or cleaning and always being critical of the food prepared for him… I had no idea how my relatively progressive attitudes would meld with his. He worked hard, though, and provided a loving, caring atmosphere in his home. We hit it off well so far and despite the one monumental cultural slip up, I seemed to be passing all the right tests to become part of the Nagai family. He made it abundantly clear last night that I was more than approved of, with his antics, while soaked in Asahi and sake, tugging on the heart strings.
We had finished dinner and were settling into the night when I decided it was time for my ritualistic “breather” outside. Half way through the cigarette, Otosan appeared beside me, dressed in the bright orange Fretfest promotional t-shirt I had brought for him as an omiyage present. Hopelessly swimming on his thin, wiry frame, the shirt was in no way going to be a staple in his wardrobe – but he did crack it out every now and then just to show that he appreciated the gesture. So, here we were, one of the only times without any translation and we began to talk. We discussed the full moon, the liveliness of the dog, the heat and oppressive humidity (which he didn’t seem to feel) and the height of the rice fields (still about 3 more weeks to go before harvest, apparently)… all of this without either of us understanding a word of what the other was saying. We wandered up and down the driveway for a bit, before he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. Standing close, face to face, he uttered a long, heart-felt speech and never once stopped grasping my hand. I looked straight into his glassy eyes and thanked him, before he put both arms around me and hugged me! I naturally hugged him back, but he wasn’t satisfied with just that – and so he proceeded to bear hug me and lift me a good 3 feet off the ground. And this is no mean feat – just a touch shorter than me, the man is nothing but bone and toned, working-man muscle. Still, my fleshy 75kgs would surely having him struggling – but no, he kept me suspended for a good 40 seconds or so, before dropping me and challenging me to do the same to him. My flimsy frame barely put air between the soles of his shoes and the concrete – which provided him much mirth as he playfully pressed my biceps and ridiculed my pitiful muscle tone. Pulling apart, he began a classic macho-man competition and raised his shirt sleeve to show me his rippling arms, before I was thankfully rescued by a rather bemused Satomi. Thank god! I relayed the story to Satomi in a playful way and pretended to be bemused by the evening’s events and Otosan’s drunken behaviour – but deep down, I knew that even with the haze of alcohol, tonight meant a lot between the soon-to-be father-in-law and son-in-law.
We woke to a relatively quiet household on Saturday, with Asami, Okasan and Otosan all at work (Otosan helps out at a couple of local businesses when the rice is busily growing by itself). We eased into the day with a leisurely breakfast before getting ready and heading out to check out the last day of the wood-carving camp (where I also got to eat Anzac bickies!) and for a clothes shopping spree. Buoyed by my recent expedition to the DFO in Brisbane, I had come out of my fashion-buying slumber and was now firmly back on the clothes agenda. The first stop was Uniqlo – a Japanese institution of good quality, but ridiculously cheap clothes. After an hour, I walked out with 2 pairs of jeans, a pair of slacks, a pair of tracksuit pants and 2 t-shirts all for about 18,000 yen (about $160). Chuffed by the experience, we headed over to a department store for yet more spree madness before making our way back home.
The rest of Saturday and into the evening was spent packing all of Satomi’s worldly possessions to be either posted to Australia, or taken with us in a suitcase. I also took possession of a second-hand wheeled suitcase which had been gathering dust in the Nagai attic, to ease with the up-coming traveling extravaganza. Sunday we woke early and prepared a proper Albion fry up feast for breakfast – which went down a treat. Being Asami’s 27th birthday, we hung out around the house and continued to soak up its loving vibes, before getting ready for a special birthday dinner… or so I thought it was a special birthday dinner. As night fell, Satomi’s bags had been collected and were currently on their way to Kansai International Airport, and the imminent departure hung in the air like a cloud. We were ushered into the formal part of the house, where Satomi’s aunty (Otosan’s big sister) was already awaiting us – along with a massive sushi feast! Being ordered in, the platters of sushi and sashimi were a Nagai tradition for signaling a Big Event, and tonight being Asami’s birthday was an event worthy, I thought. It all began a little strangely, however, as Otosan again began a long speech directed at me, which roughly translated to him once again welcoming me to the family. Thanking him (again), I also toasted Asami’s special event – fearing that we were stealing her thunder. I was to be in no doubt as to the real intentions of the evening, though, when I was asked to open the specially-made birthday cake… however, it was no birthday cake – inscribed on the chocolate writing on top in both English and Japanese was: “Congratulations Ben and Satomi”.
It finally sank in now (yeah, I’m a tad slow sometimes) that this was actually a good-bye party for Satomi and I. And as we polished off the last of the 2-litre bottle of Asahi, I once again allowed Otosan to liquor me up with sake and soaked into our last night in Inami for some time.
After the madness of the roadtrip, and the impending departure date looming large, the decision to spend some serious time around the rice fields was more the welcomed. Saturday morning saw me waking a little hung-over after the previous night’s festivities, which pretty much goes unchanged in the Nagai household – dinner and a long chat around the table, all the while downing drink upon drink. Amazingly, I hadn’t actually been all that drunk in Japan yet, despite the copious amounts of alcohol being offered around. The thing is, I didn’t feel all that drunk the night before either, but I guess it just all caught up with me at once.
Last night was particularly jovial, though, and was punctuated by a strangely moving (but equally just plain weird) moment between Otosan and I. Before coming to Japan, I had misgivings about how I would react to Satomi’s Dad. Obviously, the tension between Dad and his eldest daughter was something which worried her, and as a result I mainly only heard the bad stories. He was quite clearly a very conservative man, and in a very conservative country; the stories Satomi told me about him not ever cooking or cleaning and always being critical of the food prepared for him… I had no idea how my relatively progressive attitudes would meld with his. He worked hard, though, and provided a loving, caring atmosphere in his home. We hit it off well so far and despite the one monumental cultural slip up, I seemed to be passing all the right tests to become part of the Nagai family. He made it abundantly clear last night that I was more than approved of, with his antics, while soaked in Asahi and sake, tugging on the heart strings.
We had finished dinner and were settling into the night when I decided it was time for my ritualistic “breather” outside. Half way through the cigarette, Otosan appeared beside me, dressed in the bright orange Fretfest promotional t-shirt I had brought for him as an omiyage present. Hopelessly swimming on his thin, wiry frame, the shirt was in no way going to be a staple in his wardrobe – but he did crack it out every now and then just to show that he appreciated the gesture. So, here we were, one of the only times without any translation and we began to talk. We discussed the full moon, the liveliness of the dog, the heat and oppressive humidity (which he didn’t seem to feel) and the height of the rice fields (still about 3 more weeks to go before harvest, apparently)… all of this without either of us understanding a word of what the other was saying. We wandered up and down the driveway for a bit, before he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. Standing close, face to face, he uttered a long, heart-felt speech and never once stopped grasping my hand. I looked straight into his glassy eyes and thanked him, before he put both arms around me and hugged me! I naturally hugged him back, but he wasn’t satisfied with just that – and so he proceeded to bear hug me and lift me a good 3 feet off the ground. And this is no mean feat – just a touch shorter than me, the man is nothing but bone and toned, working-man muscle. Still, my fleshy 75kgs would surely having him struggling – but no, he kept me suspended for a good 40 seconds or so, before dropping me and challenging me to do the same to him. My flimsy frame barely put air between the soles of his shoes and the concrete – which provided him much mirth as he playfully pressed my biceps and ridiculed my pitiful muscle tone. Pulling apart, he began a classic macho-man competition and raised his shirt sleeve to show me his rippling arms, before I was thankfully rescued by a rather bemused Satomi. Thank god! I relayed the story to Satomi in a playful way and pretended to be bemused by the evening’s events and Otosan’s drunken behaviour – but deep down, I knew that even with the haze of alcohol, tonight meant a lot between the soon-to-be father-in-law and son-in-law.
We woke to a relatively quiet household on Saturday, with Asami, Okasan and Otosan all at work (Otosan helps out at a couple of local businesses when the rice is busily growing by itself). We eased into the day with a leisurely breakfast before getting ready and heading out to check out the last day of the wood-carving camp (where I also got to eat Anzac bickies!) and for a clothes shopping spree. Buoyed by my recent expedition to the DFO in Brisbane, I had come out of my fashion-buying slumber and was now firmly back on the clothes agenda. The first stop was Uniqlo – a Japanese institution of good quality, but ridiculously cheap clothes. After an hour, I walked out with 2 pairs of jeans, a pair of slacks, a pair of tracksuit pants and 2 t-shirts all for about 18,000 yen (about $160). Chuffed by the experience, we headed over to a department store for yet more spree madness before making our way back home.
The rest of Saturday and into the evening was spent packing all of Satomi’s worldly possessions to be either posted to Australia, or taken with us in a suitcase. I also took possession of a second-hand wheeled suitcase which had been gathering dust in the Nagai attic, to ease with the up-coming traveling extravaganza. Sunday we woke early and prepared a proper Albion fry up feast for breakfast – which went down a treat. Being Asami’s 27th birthday, we hung out around the house and continued to soak up its loving vibes, before getting ready for a special birthday dinner… or so I thought it was a special birthday dinner. As night fell, Satomi’s bags had been collected and were currently on their way to Kansai International Airport, and the imminent departure hung in the air like a cloud. We were ushered into the formal part of the house, where Satomi’s aunty (Otosan’s big sister) was already awaiting us – along with a massive sushi feast! Being ordered in, the platters of sushi and sashimi were a Nagai tradition for signaling a Big Event, and tonight being Asami’s birthday was an event worthy, I thought. It all began a little strangely, however, as Otosan again began a long speech directed at me, which roughly translated to him once again welcoming me to the family. Thanking him (again), I also toasted Asami’s special event – fearing that we were stealing her thunder. I was to be in no doubt as to the real intentions of the evening, though, when I was asked to open the specially-made birthday cake… however, it was no birthday cake – inscribed on the chocolate writing on top in both English and Japanese was: “Congratulations Ben and Satomi”.
It finally sank in now (yeah, I’m a tad slow sometimes) that this was actually a good-bye party for Satomi and I. And as we polished off the last of the 2-litre bottle of Asahi, I once again allowed Otosan to liquor me up with sake and soaked into our last night in Inami for some time.
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