Greetings from Nihon

 
 

Shibuya Station, Hachiko Mae


Today I`m heading up to the northern Honshu region and I arrived at the top of the stairs on platform 21 in Tokyo station just in time to see the line of train stewards stand at attention and bow as tIhe Shinkansen (bullet train) pulled into the station.  I salute as well, politely bowing as I enter the non~reserved car bound for Urasa Yamato-machi, a village in the mountains of Niigata Prefecture.  This is where my `Okaasan` lives, a dear friend who insists that I`m the daughter that she never had.  I slump into a seat next to the window, completely dehydrated, my head a throbbing mess.  My exhaustion at the moment isn`t only due to jet lag.

I suppose there`s no better way to get some exercise and to re-kindle the fire of dormant language skills than to be given incorrect directions at the airport and to then make an attempt to navigate through Tokyo station rush hour pulling a swollen awkward rolling bag that doubles as a back pack.  Good times....if I weren`t able to read Kanji, I would have ended up on the bullet train to Sendai.  The attendant who gave me the directions gave them to me in perfect English and even went through the extra helpful steps of writing out the needed (incorrect) information on my tickets. I soon realized that I had been given the wrong platform and wrong time for my train.  So I made a sprint through the crowds of commuters and up and then down several platforms in order to prevent being in the predicament of missing that last train to my destination.   Though brutally stressful, I`m still having a hearty laugh on the inside at the extremely polite final round speech contest Japanese that took over and uncoiled form my mouth.


Shinkansen - Bullet Train


As the train builds its momentum, the scenery from my window is an over-stimulating pulse of vibrant color, flashing lights and large scale video images that spread across entire buildings. My palate longs for the bowl of oden that awaits my arrival, a simmering pot of long cooked daikon, noodles and mountain vegetables.  For now, I`m going to have to make do with the onigiri that I have stuffed in my pack; triangle shaped balls of rice filled with salted plum paste and wrapped in a delicate layer of nori.

The train soon speeds into a tunnel for what seems like forever, but in reality is probably 20 minutes.  My ears begin to pop due to the altitude once we surface and the landscape is suddenly majestic and still.  The silhouettes of mountains and trees stand silent against the dark blue night, replacing the vibrant flash of the city on the other side of the tunnel.  I begin to lean my shoulders onto the upper seat arm next to the window, noticing how the car rolls swiftly and smoothly along the rails like silk.  My eyelids suddenly start to become too heavy to keep from sinking, as my physical body lags some 17 hours behind the surrounding night that passes by at 188 mph.  I surrender my head against the thick glass window and slowly fall into a peaceful jet lagged induced slumber...