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How does almost every trip have some unfulfilled assumption? I am starting this column in the International terminal of Chicago’s O’Hare Airport waiting for our flight to Tokyo, our second trip to Japan in fifteen years. We thought we’d go through security and then have lunch. Surprise, there are no restaurants beyond security. Beyond security in Minneapolis-St. Paul, there are several restaurants and shops to choose from, in Toronto there are several, in Reykjavik there are several. But in Chicago there are some kiosks where you can buy pre-made sandwiches, salads, or sushi. Our salad and sushi cost $16.33. The lettuce in the salad had some brown edges and the rice in the sushi was dry. Some international airport! International flights are long and cramped. I really felt my age when I got in and out of my seat, and I had an aisle seat. I never slept well either. I would read a book, do a Sudoko puzzle, watch a movie (selection of 12 or so, my choice of language), or listen to an audio program. I swear one piece was Japanese klezmer! But did we eat and drink well. The seafood curry for dinner and the salmon pasta for “breakfast” was so far above the kiosk food, I felt like was in heaven. We could also get all the wine, beer, sake, or whiskey we wanted whenever we wanted. However, two beers and one little bottle of sake was enough given the low humidity – I had enough of a buzz. I probably should have drunk three times the water I did. Mihoko, one of our daughter-in-law’s sisters, met us at the airport. We thought we were going to take a train into Tokyo but she had to meet a client nearby and had a company car. We were on and off toll roads onto small streets and highways that looked like many built-up suburbs in the U.S. The only difference was we were on the left side of the road and many of the signs also had Japanese – Shell is Shell the world around. By the way, gas in Tokyo is 127 yen per liter – or about $4.50 a gallon. Gas may be expensive and hotels may be expensive, but some food can be cheap. After we checked into our hotel in Tokyo we went to a small restaurant down the block. Mihoko and her sister Richiko paid for the meal so I don’t know what the total tab was. I do know that our plate of noodles with vegetables and bacon was 350 yen each, or a bit over $3.00. I don’t know many restaurants in the U.S. where you can get not huge but satisfying plate of pasta for that price. On the down side, a glass of draft beer was about the same price. The next morning we were off on the morning train to Akita to visit our daughter-in-law’s parents, Kokichi and Masako. Now we’re talking big bucks again. The tickets for the three-hour train trip were about $150 each, but, boy, what a ride. As I write this, we are traveling at 250 km./hour, if I interpret the electronic banner at the front of the car correctly, or about 150 mph. Well, we were. The train is braking for Sendai. It surprised us by a bit of jerky braking. Otherwise, the ride is far smoother than the airplane ride. Watching the trains come and leave the station would make Marsh Stenerson’s and Ken Buhler’s hearts flutter. You see the pike-nosed train glide into the station a few minutes before its departure time. It pulls up so the doors line up with signs with the same number as the car number. The doors open automatically and a little platform slides out to bridge the gap between the train and the platform. Exactly at the scheduled departure time, the doors close automatically and the train gradually accelerates. Gradually? I guess it is going over 50 mph before the last car has left the station. We observed, in the sense of both seeing and following, an interesting courtesy. Automated announcements in Japanese and English asked passengers to use their cell phones at the ends of the cars, that is, the vestibules. I dutifully did so when I called Kokichi and Masako to let them know we were on the train. As I stood in the vestibule another passenger came out to make the call. Later I saw other passengers get up with cell phone in hand and head for vestibules. One more quick observation and then I run out of space. The conductors never ask for our tickets. They go through the compartment with a handheld computer and note if the reserved seats are occupied. I’ve been here only two days. I probably could fill this issue with the rest of my impressions for the two weeks. Ja mata, or see you later. ©2006, 2007 Melvyn D. Magree |