Farah's TrekLog: September 2007

Kusunoki Masashige

September, 2007

... Are novelties fun while it lasts? I am not so sure.. I used to subscribe to that, but doubt clouds over this space upon reflection.

It's been two months since returning from the Land of the Rising Sun and if it's possible, the sense of awe is still there. Despite it sitting on the edge of the ring of fire, here's a country that is truly bizarre yet unique in its own way. Growing up on a healthy diet of Ultraman and Oshin, I've harboured this innate desire to visit the weird wacky place they call Nippon and we call Japan. Why is that?

Anyway.. chance had it that I got the opportunity and I naturally pounced on it with every fibre of my being! There was absolutely no way I could contain the excitement though I just about managed to preserve my well-cultivated cool macho exterior, inside I was bouncing up and down like a 14-year old school girl.So off I went preparing for this, my first trip to the birthplace of Ultraman, the walkman and practically every other car you see on the road.

I had always held a great admiration for the people of Japan, for their unbelievable tenacity, persistence, preparedness, sense of belonging and patriotism even. OK, sure I may have part of that Ultraman generation but ever since I met my very first Japanese friend Mao (of course the name continues to baffle me til today), I had been in awe for the past 20 odd years.. No amount of googling or books I researched or even Japanese expat friends I made, it would ever equate to a first-hand experience of the place for myself.

日本へようこそ
Those were the first words that greeted me as I landed at the Tokyo Narita Airport recently. Naturally, the alarm bells went off in my head, as I toyed with the idea of having to dish out the phrase book to enable me to unscramble to puzzle and unlock the code that would guide me to the "baggage reclaim".

Despite my best efforts to memorise the few phrases that would get me across the customs, I landed at the Narita International airport tongue twisted and whatever memory cell that stored those few phrases evaporated the moment my foot touched Japan. I was simply unprepared for what I would experience. For once I actually experienced everything I had expected and more! Quite honestly there are not enough words in the English language that could come close to articulating it!

Of course the language was a barrier from the word go, as everyone from the travelator operator at the airport to the customs officer spoke to me in Japanese and apologised every step of the way. If there were a litmus test for politeness, Japan would be up there at number 1. Even as they queried where I was from, insisted on opening my bags and ask what I had been doing in the Sudan, they apologised profusely the entire time. You simply cannot get annoyed, it is impossible.

The journey across Tokyo to get to Haneda airport was an experience as you try deciphering the kanji codes to figure out the sign that says "bus" and thus the adventure began. I had heard stories from colleagues and friends who say that the Japanese are inherently private, "so Farah, you can forget about asking for directions!" was the advise I was given.

I decided for the sake of fun, if not intrigue, I'd chance it, and chance it I did. I approached a lady, who looked friendly enough and asked her in pure English (by then I had forgotten the "ohaiyo gozaimasu, sumimasen... etc") where the bus terminal was for Haneda airport transfer. She smiled, took my hand and pointed me to brightly orange painted booth that was under my nose the entire time. And she said, "dozo, please.." and that was enough to convince me that being rude in Japan is simply impossible.

My 2-day journey from Southeast Asia to Japan eventually saw me wind up at my intended destination, Tokachi-Obihiro in the northern island of Hokkaido. Imagine this as the first thing that greets you - green pastures, farmland and endless bowing. I fell in love with Japan almost instantly. I was picked up by my intended contacts who immediately whisked me off to the circuit where I was to watch my very first 24-hours endurance race, live.

A month prior to that I had the privilege of interviewing the only race car driver in Japan insane enough to race in three different race categories - endurance, touring and formula. And contrary to popular belief this particular Japanese was incredibly funny! He had me in stiches throughout the entire 90minute interview.

So, a month later, there he was at Tokachi and that he remembered me out of the thousands of Japanese 20-something year old women who idolise and want to be the mother of his child not to mention the mothers who want him as their son-in-law - was incredible. So, Ma, domo arigato gozaimasu!!

By the 12th hour of my stay I was already madly in love with Japan. Leaving the circuit that evening, I saw the endless vending machines that sell everything from the regular coke, sake to coffee (and you can pick how sweet or how white you want it to be) to toilet rolls and pencils. I really don't see the need for supermarkets or restaurants. I bet they'd come up with a machine that lets you do your laundry and choose the filet mignon as you wait.

But out of all, I chanced on a contraption I have never seen anywhere else in the world - a vending machine for cars. A gentleman, just back for his toils in the office drove past me, pulled into a garage-looking thing, opened the windows, and got a chit. He then proceeded to drive into the garage-looking thingymajig, got out, bowed at the attendant and left as the machine parked his car.

The next morning I waited outside to see the reverse process. Luckily enough the attendant, thinking I must be insane, politely obliged. Another gentleman, (thank goodness it was not the man from the night before, otherwise he would think I was stalking him), went up to the attendant, exchanged pleasantries and placed the chit into a slot, paid the amount, pressed a couple of keys and less than a few minutes later, hey presto out came the car. I wondered to myself if the machine actually washes the car as well, as it was spewed out of the vending machine spotless.. hmmm.. I must ask Ma. Though he has yet to forgive me for the conversation on earthquakes that led to an actual one on the last night of my stay.

Anyhow, upon reflection, there are so many things the Japanese have taught us. Here is a nation fiercely proud of its heritage, its history and its journey - past, present and future. A colleague and I once had this argument that the people from the land of the rising sun are the original intellectual property violators. I beg to differ in that sure they immersed themselves in the technology that the industrial revolution produced, studied it, took it apart, rebuilt it and ok, copied it. But, the striking difference I think is that they made it inherently their own.

A copy is a copy, there wouldn't be anything different BUT, in Japan's case whatever they make is their own, has their own signature, in fact is an improvement on the original, thus making it an original in itself. Well, whatever it is, I have never been to a place that truly truly takes my breath away, and Japan is it. It is clean but not sterile, they're polite but not to the point you want to puke. It's systematic but not exactly rigid. It is a weird and truly eccentric place - just think the stuff that their best anime artists produce.