Brenton
Japan Part One - Alone in the Airport
August 8th 2007 15:09
Kansai Airport - I Remember this
Japan is a trippy place. Especially when you’re one of five Australians traveling there, and you’ve ended up at a massive Japanese airport, with no one to collect you, and no idea what to do.
We sent the most proficient of us to the counter to go ask what was going on. A few minutes later something comes over the loudspeaker mentioning our school. There’s only so long that this kind of uncertainly can be hidden behind counting Vending Machines.
Nobody comes. We are alone and abandoned in a Japanese airport.
Then, a Godsend. Our Aussie teacher rings. They’ve managed to work out that the woman meant to be picking us up has been delayed. We have someone else coming to pick us up.
A woman with average English come along. She takes us to the train. I ask her what her name is and, having learned somewhere that all Japanese names have other meanings, I ask her what her name means. It ends in ‘Ko’ is all I remember, so it’s something child, which doesn’t really stand out as distinctive. She is very polite, and tolerant of my stupid Gaijin questions.
The thing that stuns you when you get out of the airport at Osaka is that it looks like Brisbane. It was a wet night – those first few days was all pouring rain and shimmering concrete.
You know who likes to stay in Japanese hotels enough to pay for the TV? Me neither, but I’d guess a lot of them are lonely men. Out of the eight TV channels, four were porn, and one of the ‘Drama’ shows of the other three was about a girl who liked to ride a bike in her underwear, whose bottom was of some great importance to the plotline.
Japanese porn is nothing though. All the naughty bits are blurred out.
We talk for a bit, my friend and I, before retiring to bed. Tomorrow is another long day.
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