NH202 London to Tokyo

[The date for this post is wrong – I arrived in Tokyo August 27th]

Writing my first blog entry would probably be quite a nerve-wracking thing anyway, but in the past I’d never thought I’d be writing mine from a hotel room in Japan, a short walk from Fujisawa station. It’s not the largest room I’ve ever been in and the bathroom looks like it’ll take a bit of getting used to. Also, I get the feeling that I should have definitely invested in some Japanese lessons before I came. As it is, I was more worried about getting my MacBook Pro sorted out than I was about other things, like language phrase-books – taking the view that if I have a computer, everything else is accessible. I guess I really am from the wired generation, even if it feels nerdy to admit it. That said, I am writing this in a blog, the ultimate gesture of wired nerdism to my mind.

The day started with me waking up in the UK and it never really felt that I would actually be six thousand miles away by the time I got into a bed again. Even the stress of getting to the airport, getting checked in, the worries about luggage and cash and everything – worries that turned into a desire simply to get onto the damn plane and go. Forgetting to change into smart black shoes that I’d intended to wear on the plane, to save weight in my already over-the-limit luggage, and the panic of realising that I might have to show up at my first day’s training in Japan in white trainers (a quick tour around duty-free and a new pair of shoes later I felt a little more relaxed – and that I’d under-appreciated how useful a shoe horn could be). The whirl of security checks and official documents that needed to be passed around was causing my head to spin a little. But when I stopped and sat for a moment, I found myself in the airport departure lounge thinking about people I was leaving behind, with my heart sinking further with every minute. After getting off the phone with the one person I was going to miss the most, I had to take a moment in the lounge just to get myself together – nothing like seeing a grown man laden down with baggage in tears in an airport. With our British reserve I suppose we’re not supposed to feel those kind of things.

Japan for me is my adventure. I think everyone should have at least one in their life, and hopefully more than one, but this is my first. It’s my opportunity to get out of the United Kingdom, where I’ve lived for the majority of my 26 years on this planet, and find out about another culture and lifestyle and existence – to really find out, not just scrape the surface the way a tourist would – to get right down to the bone and live it. It’s also a personal challenge, to see how I cope with being here in this country, away from friends and family.

I spotted NB in Boots, someone who’d been on training with me and the first familiar face I’d seen, grabbing a few last minute essentials from the UK - toothbrush, toothpaste. NB was an old hand at this, fluent in Japanese, had spent a few years there. For him, this was the start of a whole new life, in a way he was going home, and many of the other teachers I’ve spoken to since feel the same way. Many of them had come out of university, spent a couple of years working in the UK, and were now leaving either for good or to return at some unknown point in the future – I seemed to be the only one that would be there for the year and be gone. NB and I sat in the lounge and slowly began to claim other teachers; MT, another gent from my training the week before, HR, who seemed slightly older than the rest of us and who I’d actually met in the check-in queue as she struggled with the combination of suitcase and carry-on bag. It seemed that every one of us had gone over the limit, or had the same draining
task of unpacking and repacking suitcases to get the weight down. As the group started to grow they called our flight and the tension in my stomach racked up a notch. The questions you ask yourself are strange – should I be doing this? Why the hell am I doing this? But if not now, when really would I again? Have I forgotten anything? Am I actually crazy? Am I really ready for this? The urge to flee stronger with every step you take further into the seemingly unending warren of corridors that is a major international airport.

But this is what an adventure is about, at least to my mind. This is the scary part that makes the good bits all worthwhile. To be scared of something and to do it anyway I think is the definition of courage, and getting on a plane and flying six thousand miles is peanuts when you compare it to some things people do every day.

So all that remained was the flight. I’m not built for airline seats, I’m too tall, too skinny – twisting and turning never really seemed to achieve much in the way of improving comfort. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a plane, screens in the back of seats are a new thing to me. Watching a film at 12,000 feet is definitely a new experience, although admittedly an enjoyable one – you feel a little self-concious laughing with headphones on though. Eleven hours seemed to pass relatively quickly.

The heat hits you like a hammer blow when you arrive into Narita airport. Warm, humid air floods into the cabin as soon as the doors open. Instantly regretted the long black overcoat and hoody I’d elected to wear rather than pack them into my suitcase – and was glad for the bag the shoes from the aiport were in, as the hoody was stuffed inside and carried until I reached the hotel. Passport control and immigration passed in a blur (my first time requiring a visa) and suddenly we were being met by people from the school we’ll be working for, separated from suitcases to be delivered later, and directed towards trains.

My first view of Tokyo was from a train window, the rural scenes near the airport changing rapidly into a cavalcade of buildings, growing progressively larger as we headed in towards the city centre. The neon and the lights that we could see as the evening progressed was more what I had expected, although my experiences were coloured more by the films I’d seen rather than the physical reality I was now looking at. That and the jet-lag, which landed an anvil when I sat down on the train. Other members of our group start to be drawn away to their apartments and eventually we were down to three, two other blokes from the UK taken to a hotel and pointed upstairs by a very deferential receptionist.

Then I can’t sleep. It’s four am in Tokyo, about eight o’clock back home. Tokyo’s a city of neon and lights and the heat feels almost Mediterranean with the thermostat turned up a notch or two. Tomorrow it’s training and I lie down to try and wring a couple of hours of sleep out of the remainder of the night.