Tokyo Hotels
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Tokyo Orientation
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So I've been in Japan now for a little over a week. I know I've been delinquent about writing, and I apologize. So here's what's gone on. I'll have to do this in installments to catch up, especially since my internet connection is a bit sketchy (I'm tapped into a weak wireless signal at my apartment). I arrived at Orientation on Sunday, July 29th. On the way to Narita airport, we had a layover in Detroit, which is apparently a hub for Northwest flights, and I was surprised to see signs in Japanese there. Not Spanish, Japanese.
That was my first clue that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Orientation was a bit of a blur, what with the horrendous jetlag and (mostly useless) conferences. The teaching workshops were extremely helpful, but most of the "Life in Japan" afternoon workshops only covered what even the most ill-prepared of incoming JETs had already discovered on the internet. We heard the phrase "every situation is different (shortened sometimes to the acronym ESID)" until we all became nauseous at the first word. So, new information was slim pickings. However, we were staying at the Keio Plaza Hotel in Shinjuku, which is an incredibly beautiful hotel in one of the larger shopping and entertainment district in Tokyo. It was pretty swank. Shinjuku streets rival Vegas in neon lights, and it was fun to wander the streets, without a clue as to what the signs meant or what was going on around me.
The last night (Tuesday), my roommate (Celeste from Austin, on her way to Sapporo, Hokkaido), Alex Miner (from Oklahoma or Arkansas, I can't remember which, nor can I remember where he was headed), and I wandered in search of food.
We settled on a noodle shop without a single bit of Romaji (Japanese rendered into our alphabet) and only two pictures on the wall. The menus were entirely in Japanese. Not speaking a word of Japanese between the three of us (well, Celeste knows some, but was out of practice and the place was beyond her ability anyway), I pointed to the picture of noodles on the wall. The waitress asked what size (I gathered from her hand motions, no one was speaking any English), and I somehow dredged up from my memory the words for small and medium, sho and cho. I uttered sho, and we waited for our soup. It was awesome. Not much to it, just broth, noodles, and a piece of what I think was pork, but it hit the spot. After much gesturing to get the bill and figure out how much we owed, Alex went back to pack and Celeste and I went up to the Sky Lounge, apparently renamed the Little Bear Lounge. From the pictures on the coasters it seemed to be named after Ursa Minor. I had a Manhattan. It was about half the size of any other cocktail I had seen. But we were sitting at a bar on the 47th floor of the Keio Plaza Hotel, lulled by a jazz trio, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows filled with the Tokyo nightscape. Until that moment, it hadn't hit either one of us that we were in Tokyo; we had made it to Japan. After all the paperwork, packing, and goodbye, we were too exhausted to notice. But the lights of the city drove it home. We chatted, I smoked a cigarette, and we soaked up the brilliant lights of Shinjuku at night. I had never seen anything like it in my life. Sure, Vegas lights at night are a sight to behold, but nothing had prepared me for this moment of sheer awe. As far as we could see, from 47 stories up in the air, were lights twinkling from every skyscraper, every store, shop, restaurant, bar, and house in all of Tokyo. That was the best damn $15 cocktail in my life.
After paying our tab, Celeste and I split up. I met up with a few people going to Saitama Prefecture (where I am located). Jimmy, a second-year JET from Saitama, had arranged for us to go to a karaoke place. Two hours, 2,800 yen (roughly 28 bucks), but all you could drink. Three other recontracting JETs from our prefecture met us along the way, which was great since they were karaoke enthusiasts. It was a blast. I played it pretty cool since I was meeting my supervisor and coworkers for the first time the next day, but it's hard to keep track of how much you drink in a tiny room with a dozen of us in it. All of us new JETs had said we would just be karaoke spectators, but when you mix three hardcore karaoke singers with unlimited beer, miracles happen, and I was crooning with the rest of them. Singing songs I will not admit to knowing the lyrics to. It was a blast back to junior high, we'll leave it at that. But the night needed to end, as jet lag was killing me.
I stumbled home, crashed, and woke up refreshed and ready to meet my new coworkers and see my new home.
To be continued.....
Latest Comments (2)
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Awesome (reply)
Aug 7, 2007 10:07 EST by jenepel
It's so cool that you are doing this - I wish so badly that I had done something similar while I was there. (Of course I have paper journals but they don't reach anyone beyond me.) I think it's going to be weird reading it because it will bring back all my memories as you go through the stages I did. (Even though ESID...) I'm so jealous of the karaoke too!
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So Exciting! (reply)
Aug 6, 2007 21:03 EST by hayr1019
I loved your blog. You better keep a journal! You could publish it. i would buy it anyway! I can't wait to hear more! I miss you!
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