What the heck are those?
Those are three coin-operated massage chairs in Tokyo Narita Airport’s departure lounge.
This country is mad.
Wednesday 29 September 2010
Things I learnt during the flight from London Heathrow to Hiroshima
1. Japanese vending machines take notes
This was particularly useful to me, as I only had notes and there was nothing small to buy in the airport departure lounge to give me change. It’s different to how English machines take notes, though. They tend to gobble them out of your hand before you’d even let go, as if it was trying to hurry things up in case you changed your mind. Japanese machines kindly lift the note out of your hand and, with a smooth, whirring sound, you see it disappear. It makes me more willing to part with them. It was useful, though, especially in view of the fact that…
2. Japanese Starbucks has a rubbish cold menu
There was not one of the drinks I actually like to get from Starbucks. I thought the Chocolate Cream Frappanino (copyright?) was the best seller, but apparently they thought the Japanese consumer would have no taste buds.
3. I definitely can’t sleep on planes
Eleven hours, and I didn’t drop off once. Even more unfortunately, I was in a window seat, with a Japanese couple blocking my path to the corridor who slept almost the whole way. I took a rare chance (the woman getting up) to get out for the toilet once and spent the rest of the flight incredibly thirsty, because I couldn’t get out for another drink either.
4. Never eat green sludge, no matter how hungry you may be
I’m still not sure what it was. Something to do with apples, I think, but the description was all in French. I was starving, having, as aforementioned, not been able to get any snacks or drinks, and gobbled it down even though it was quite disgusting. This did not help me when they started the descent down, the only part of a flight that gives me travel sickness. It was like the time I went on the Eurostar, ate something like two packets of sweets, and spent the journey in complete misery.
5. You shouldn’t pretend you’re fluent when you’re really not
Especially not at airports, where if you miss something it could be crucial. I said one simple sentence, “I think it’s 23 kilos” (kore wa nijuusan kilo da to omoimasu), and missed the rest of the conversation because she spoke Japanese back at me. Just because I can know numbers, it does not mean I understand the phrase “Flammable or sharp objects”.
This was particularly useful to me, as I only had notes and there was nothing small to buy in the airport departure lounge to give me change. It’s different to how English machines take notes, though. They tend to gobble them out of your hand before you’d even let go, as if it was trying to hurry things up in case you changed your mind. Japanese machines kindly lift the note out of your hand and, with a smooth, whirring sound, you see it disappear. It makes me more willing to part with them. It was useful, though, especially in view of the fact that…
2. Japanese Starbucks has a rubbish cold menu
There was not one of the drinks I actually like to get from Starbucks. I thought the Chocolate Cream Frappanino (copyright?) was the best seller, but apparently they thought the Japanese consumer would have no taste buds.
3. I definitely can’t sleep on planes
Eleven hours, and I didn’t drop off once. Even more unfortunately, I was in a window seat, with a Japanese couple blocking my path to the corridor who slept almost the whole way. I took a rare chance (the woman getting up) to get out for the toilet once and spent the rest of the flight incredibly thirsty, because I couldn’t get out for another drink either.
4. Never eat green sludge, no matter how hungry you may be
I’m still not sure what it was. Something to do with apples, I think, but the description was all in French. I was starving, having, as aforementioned, not been able to get any snacks or drinks, and gobbled it down even though it was quite disgusting. This did not help me when they started the descent down, the only part of a flight that gives me travel sickness. It was like the time I went on the Eurostar, ate something like two packets of sweets, and spent the journey in complete misery.
5. You shouldn’t pretend you’re fluent when you’re really not
Especially not at airports, where if you miss something it could be crucial. I said one simple sentence, “I think it’s 23 kilos” (kore wa nijuusan kilo da to omoimasu), and missed the rest of the conversation because she spoke Japanese back at me. Just because I can know numbers, it does not mean I understand the phrase “Flammable or sharp objects”.
Saturday 11 September 2010
Knowing An Unusual Language Is Apparently Very Interesting To Strangers
Something I've noticed lately is that understanding Japanese makes strangers want to talk to you. I'm not sure whether this is a good thing or not.
The first time it happened was in a charity shop, which, bizarrely, had two Shakespeare plays in Japanese in the book section. Naturally, I couldn't resist having a look, so I picked one up and tried reading the first page. I could hardly understand a word of it, but halfway into the first speech I heard a man behind me say "Oh wow! I just realised, that's Othello in... in..."
"Japanese, yeah," I said quickly, sensing an all-too-common inability to differentiate between East Asian languages.
"Japanese, wow. Are you fluent?"
"Ha ha. Not nearly. Two years into a degree in it."
"Amazing. Have you ever been?"
"... no, but I'm going soon for a year."
"A year! Goodness! Well, good luck with that! Japan. Wow."
Now I thought it was a little unusual for a complete stranger to suddenly be so interested in my life. But no, it happened again on a train a couple of weeks later. I was sitting at one of the 4-seater tables, and a man was sitting opposite. I got out a Japanese manga (cartoon) magazine I'd bought earlier and started to read it.
Usually with these magazines I get a few interested looks from the people opposite. Sometimes you can tell they're dying to ask what language it is and why I can understand it, but until this moment no-one had spoken up. Then, suddenly,
"Is that Japanese? Or Chinese?"
"Japanese."
I put my headphones pointedly back in my ears, but he didn't get the hint.
"Do you speak it?"
I told the story as quickly as possible and put my headphones back in. No, he wasn't finished. He didn't stop asking me about it until there was nothing more to know.
Sometimes I enjoy telling people about what I do. I don't mind telling people what language it is and why I can speak it, but I don't want to make a habit of telling my life story to complete strangers.
I suppose it's going to be worse when I'm there.
The first time it happened was in a charity shop, which, bizarrely, had two Shakespeare plays in Japanese in the book section. Naturally, I couldn't resist having a look, so I picked one up and tried reading the first page. I could hardly understand a word of it, but halfway into the first speech I heard a man behind me say "Oh wow! I just realised, that's Othello in... in..."
"Japanese, yeah," I said quickly, sensing an all-too-common inability to differentiate between East Asian languages.
"Japanese, wow. Are you fluent?"
"Ha ha. Not nearly. Two years into a degree in it."
"Amazing. Have you ever been?"
"... no, but I'm going soon for a year."
"A year! Goodness! Well, good luck with that! Japan. Wow."
Now I thought it was a little unusual for a complete stranger to suddenly be so interested in my life. But no, it happened again on a train a couple of weeks later. I was sitting at one of the 4-seater tables, and a man was sitting opposite. I got out a Japanese manga (cartoon) magazine I'd bought earlier and started to read it.
Usually with these magazines I get a few interested looks from the people opposite. Sometimes you can tell they're dying to ask what language it is and why I can understand it, but until this moment no-one had spoken up. Then, suddenly,
"Is that Japanese? Or Chinese?"
"Japanese."
I put my headphones pointedly back in my ears, but he didn't get the hint.
"Do you speak it?"
I told the story as quickly as possible and put my headphones back in. No, he wasn't finished. He didn't stop asking me about it until there was nothing more to know.
Sometimes I enjoy telling people about what I do. I don't mind telling people what language it is and why I can speak it, but I don't want to make a habit of telling my life story to complete strangers.
I suppose it's going to be worse when I'm there.
Friday 3 September 2010
Visa
After a few weeks of waiting, I finally went to apply for my visa yesterday with a friend. The Japanese embassy is located in an unbelievably posh part of London, just across the road from the Ritz, and we felt completely out of place with our hoodies and jeans, especially when walking past hotel doormen in BOWLER HATS, sweeping the street after us as if to wipe off the stench of poverty. Do British people even wear bowler hats any more? Did that tradition not stop in the 50s?
There was a protest against whaling going on outside the embassy, and some intimidating policemen standing around. You know when you walk through a group of policemen, and even though you're completely innocent, you can't help feeling guilty of something? We tried not to look suspicious, but I find trying not to look suspicious makes you look more suspicious than people who are actually suspicious.
We had to show our passports and documents to the doormen before we even went in the building - that's how strict the security is in those places. It was incredibly shiny and posh inside, too, all glass and people in suits. I felt like I should've dressed for an interview. In the end, though, the documents were given in and not given back (my passport was my only ID, so I can't go into any pubs this weekend) and we were told to come back on Monday with £39 in cash.
I'm not looking forward to running that gauntlet again.
There was a protest against whaling going on outside the embassy, and some intimidating policemen standing around. You know when you walk through a group of policemen, and even though you're completely innocent, you can't help feeling guilty of something? We tried not to look suspicious, but I find trying not to look suspicious makes you look more suspicious than people who are actually suspicious.
We had to show our passports and documents to the doormen before we even went in the building - that's how strict the security is in those places. It was incredibly shiny and posh inside, too, all glass and people in suits. I felt like I should've dressed for an interview. In the end, though, the documents were given in and not given back (my passport was my only ID, so I can't go into any pubs this weekend) and we were told to come back on Monday with £39 in cash.
I'm not looking forward to running that gauntlet again.
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