We’re Alive!

We made it to Japan in one piece . . . the only problem (as I suspected) was the luggage.  Not getting the luggage on the plane or anything like that . . . just the fact that the one piece of luggage that I have to lug around Japan with me weighs in at 70 pounds . . . I only have 50 on the thing.  That does not make for good maneuverability.  But seriously, if that is the worst part of the trip–I will be one happy traveler!

We arrived at JFK insanely early–our flight left at 1:30 and we got to the airport at 9:30 : )  It was so worth it, though; there was literally no one around–no traffic on the way, no line at the check in counter, no line to go through security, no line at the food places, at the computer stations, or at the bathrooms . . . very happy.  So I bought (ugg) some Internet time and finished the London post (so if it is not so good, now you now why : ) But it seemed in bad form to leave for another trip when I never finished writing about the first.

Denis and I were able to get seats together, which was a huge relief . . . that (and the baggage situation) was one of the only things stressing me out.  It was kind of funny . . . there really weren’t many white people.  Sitting on the plane, I could only see Asians–not good or bad, just an observation–in fact, I thought, if anything, it might be helpful on a plane (we flew JAL . . . so I figured that the Japanese people on the plane would be very conscious of personal space).  We were in the four seater center of the 747–I sat in the middle next to an older Asian woman who I think only spoke English.  I was feeling pretty good about the whole situation . . . I had my newly purchased Breaking Dawn out and with 754 pages, I felt ready to go.  It was pretty cool, the plane had some sort of camera outside that was connected to one of the TV channels, so the passengers were able to actually see the take off happen from the pilot’s perspective.

All was well . . . there was a bit of a sour tinge to the air, but I decided to ignore it . . . God knows I will have to get used to the whole no deodorant thing for China.  I was absorbed in my book when I began to notice that there was a weird noise infiltrating my happy place.  It took me a while to figure it out, but I finally realized that it was the woman next to me sucking her teeth.  It was disgusting (especially considering that as she did it longer and longer into the flight, it was longer and longer since she had brushed her teeth . . . ewwwww).  She really went at it; I had never heard anything like it, so during one particularly long session, I clued Denis in on the act.  It was nuts.  I had to do everything could to keep from having a laughing fit.  But it gets better . . . 

Remember that smell I mentioned . . . guess where it was coming from . . . my lovely neighbor.  I didn’t realize it until we got our first meal, and she started moving around and lifting her arms a lot.  Phewww.  She obviously had a strict no-deo policy.  It was rank.  When Denis starting getting strong whiffs of it, I couldn’t deal any more . . . and THEN she started sucking her teeth again.  I was a goner.  I kept ducking my head into my blanket, which didn’t smell much better, for two reasons, one two avoid the smell and the other, to keep my laughing fit as silent as possible.  But alas . . . the saga continues . . . 

So she falls asleep.  Good, right, at least she won’t be lifting her arms . . . wrong, she has another surprise in store for me.  Her husband is sitting on her right, and I am on her left.  Does she lean over to her husband’s side?  Of course not.  Weirdo keeps lolling over to my side so that she is hanging over the arm rest and about two inches from my shoulder.  And she doesn’t do it in any kind of fluid motion; instead, she is like a pile-driver . . . she jerks down and then pumps back up a bit, getting ready for the next drop that will bring her closer to me.  Right as she was about to hit, she would do one of those startled semi-wake-up things, go back to center and start all over again . . . freak.  But that is not the end of it : )

I was stuck.  I knew there was literally nothing I could do to avoid this situation, so I tried to take it in stride (hence the laughing fit), but then she took it too far.  That’s right, as soon as she started messing with my personal space–weird lady was going down.  She had already annoyed me with her blanket–being careless with it so that it kept hitting me. Repeatedly, I calmly stuffed it into the small space between our arm rests.  But then she moved onto the foot.  I paid over 1500 dollars for my six inches of foot space and there was no way in hell that she was going to claim it for herself.  Every time I pulled my feet back, so that I was sitting with my legs at a 90 degree angle, she would stealthily slip her left foot into my stretch out space.  So when I would go to move my feet out again, she would be thwarting my attempt at comfort.  I actually dealt with this for many hours, but then, when I erroneously thought I might get some sleep, she kept at it.  At first, I tried saying something, quietly mumbling (though I think it might have gotten louder with each repeated attempt . . . not to mention more and more expletives making their way into the plea) something to the effect of “excuse me your feet are in my way could you please move them.”  She was supposedly out cold–completely ignored me (I don’t believe it though).  Then I tried gently nudging her foot out of the way, you know, sort of just slipping my foot in there and hoping she would get the hint and move hers . . . to no avail . . . she just kept her foot touching mine then.  AHHHHHHH.  I broke.  It was essentially two in the morning, and I had barely slept the night before due to last minute preparations . . . I kicked her.  That’s right–I KICKED the old lady–and it worked!  She stayed away for the rest of the flight.

So, while a lot of my 13 1/2 hour plane ride was quite enjoyable, there were some REALLY annoying moments.  And I do wish I could have slept . . . by the end I started getting that desperate “I have to sleep” feeling, but I just couldn’t do it . . . sigh.

Our disembarking (wasn’t sure how to word that) the plane was almost as easy as getting on.  Immigration was fine, our luggage all came off together and we (meaning Denis) had the space and time needed to get it off the carousel.  The luggage carts that each cost 3 dollars at JFK were free at Narita.  And storing our bags at the terminal was super easy (we will find out if it was too easy on the 21st–keep your fingers crossed for us . . . I will cry like a baby if my sweaters are gone).  The hard part started as I had to begin lugging around my suitcase on my own.  I do believe someone in Japan who involved in designing the floors in every station of public transportation must have hated suitcases . . . maybe his parents never let him travel anywhere, I don’t know, but all over the floors-EVERYWHERE-were never ending strips of three raised lines or bumps (often they were right next to each other) and for the life of me, I couldn’t get my luggage over them.  I would be rolling along (at a snails pace, but rolling none the less) and then I would come to a complete stop.  After a while I finally got it (had to literally push the suitcase) but there was another challenge awaiting me . . .

Getting on the trains.  I managed to haul my bag onto the Narita Express–the first leg of our trip into Tokyo–it was a bit embarrassing, how much I struggled, but I got it on and didn’t hold up or injure anyone.  But by this point, I was losing my facilities.  I was practically hallucinating on the train, I was so hungry, thirsty, and tired.  But the good part came as I tried to get off–not only is my bag 70 pounds, but it is insanely front heavy–not well balanced.  So when it comes time to transfer, I sort of hurl my bag out of the train . . . and it takes me with it.  It goes face-first onto the platform, and I had to “take a knee.”  I don’t really know why, I guess that is what my tired brain decided to do–the bag went down and so did I (I guess because I didn’t let go of the handle).  It hurt, I guess, but it didn’t really register, and while it was probably one of the most mortifying things I could have done, I didn’t care one bit.  I just wanted to get to the hotel, shower and go to sleep.  But that wasn’t in the cards.

We caught the next train and arrived at our station with no more incidents.  We made it, we thought.  What we didn’t realize was that the most difficult part was yet to come.  We knew that we had to exit the Shimbashi station at the Hibiya exit.  Sounds easy, but it turned out to be hell.  First we had to get up higher in the station.  What I had yet to realize was the the stairs on the escalators in Japan are just a little bit narrower than in the USA, so I get my suitcase on one, and suddenly it is all bucking up and trying to not be on the stair that I put it on . . . another lesson learned . . . I had to situate the bag so that two of the wheels would hang off.  But the real problem developed when we couldn’t find our exit.  It didn’t seem to exit.  We we hauling our bags all over the station and not accomplishing anything but getting SOAKED–it was 90+ degrees and 100A% humidity . . . oh, and you have to add one more thing to your mental image . . . RUSH HOUR.  There were streams (no, raging rivers) of people coming from all directions.  Not pretty.  The worst part of this whole little “adventure” was when we made it this one platform that didn’t seem to have any escalators or elevators back down.  I knew there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to get my bag down the stairs, so we had to do this incredibly special little dance.  We both started on the top of the stairs, with both bags.  Denis struggled down with bag one as I waited at the top with bag two . . . then, once he was situated at the bottom, we both rushed in the opposite direction at the same time, so I ended up at the bottom of the stairs with bag one while Denis was at the top with bag two.  Poor kid, he then had to drag bag two down.  Then only good part of this was that somehow, there was the Hibiya exit . . . go figure.  By the grace of God, there was a map outside the exit and our hotel was on it, so we hung a right and went down the street and around a corner . . . then we were there.

Our hotel is beautiful . . . a little worn around the edges in some places, but none the less, still very nice.  We, on the other hand, were anything but beautiful.  We were completely worn around the edges; there was nothing nice about us.  But again, I didn’t even remotely care–GIVE ME ROOM.  Once we got up, I refused to even open my bag.  I hurled my self into the shower so that I didn’t fall asleep right there on the floor.  While I became human again, Denis ran out to get food . . . he came back with a little ham sandwich and some random grapefruit drink–again, I could have cared less–I shoved the food in my mouth, was barely able to brush my teeth, and I was gone.  It was 8 PM : )

So as you can see, if it weren’t for those suitcases, this would have been cake.  But unfortunately, we are stuck with the bastards . . . oh well.  At least I have some idea how to handle them now.

Our bed is amazing–it is one of those kings that is made up of two twin beds, so Denis’s tossing and turning doesn’t bother me at all.  Sweet, sweet repose.

Overall, I was pleased with our first day of traveling (I don’t know if you were able to glean that from this post, but I am not kidding) I think Denis and I did really well.  Yesterday (Wednesday) we had a great time hanging out in Ueno all day, and after I finish this, we will decide what we will do today (Thursday).  We are loving it so far . . . hope it keeps up : )