5 - Arrivals

Within the realm of high anxiety there's a skewed ratio at work, determining that the time spent worrying over something should far outweigh the time spent actually doing it. The month I had between getting the job in Japan and actually leaving England was filled with panic, incoherent babbling and constant dashes to and from the shops. Having endured an eternity of preparation, this grand new folly was finally unfolding before me at a rate of knots. The whole affair had become somewhat surreal, no doubt tempered by the month of assumption, expectation and "what-ifs." I was no longer in the queue at the post-office trying to negotiate last-minute travellers' cheques, I was sitting in the back of a car in Tsu and my uneaten lunch was getting dangerously warm.

I'd been picked up by my supervisor, a large chap with a warm grin, and his assistant, a slight woman whose enthusiastic smile seemed to betray the slightest hint of nervous bemusement. She was serving as his translator, even though his continual protests at being unable to speak English were sounding pretty fluent to me. Here's one of the odd things about Japan: despite the general dearth of English speakers, a surprisingly large number of people are actually pretty good at it. Thing is, they keep it a secret, either through embarrassment, indifference or a teasing desire to make you squirm. Get them drunk though and they'll spill all about their travels, English friends and all-conquering love for the Beatles. All this I would discover in time...
























I had arrived in Tsu and was en route to Ueno, the main city in Iga. Bolstering my English with terrible pigeon-Japanese, I was actally doing quite well with my supervisor's assistant. We'd worked our way through where I was from and what I used to do before she hit me with, "Why Japan?" Err...

"Well, um, I think its sense of tradition, spirituality and total contrast to the West really appealed to me on a fundamental level and I wanted to experience it first-hand."

Far too pretentious - her nervous smile was returning. Quick, something simpler...

"I heard the girls were easy?"

Idiot, try again...

"I really want to be a teacher!"

Bingo! She was nodding and repeating it to my supervisor. We could move on...

"So, I'll be living in Ueno will I?"

"Umm, no. Quite far away."

"Oh, quite far away?"

"Well, here is Ueno," she said, pointing at an imaginary dot on the back of the driver's seat. "Two ALTs (Assistant Language Teachers) live here. Up here (finger moves up towards headrest) is another ALT, and here (finger moves an inch to the right) is another. And here," she added, moving her finger down past imaginary Ueno and towards the lint collecting under the seat, "is you!"

Imaginary rice paddies as far as the eye could see started appearing across the back of the seat. An imaginary old man rode past them on his bike whilst an imaginary stray dog barked at distant mountains.

"Oh, well is there anyone near me?"

"Hmm.." she pondered for an unnecessarily long time, "no. It's a very small apartment, you will be the only one in Aoyama."

No, don't panic, you signed up for a challenge, it'll be fine.

The next two hours were blur of introductions, continuous bowing and fixed grins as I was ferried from office, to school, to flat, to supermarket, to flat and back to office. My apartment was fine; tiny, but fine. Swinging a cat in it would be tantamount to an act of cruelty, though I could easily get away with swinging the odd hamster. Moreover, it was fully furnished with absolutely everything a growing boy could need, plus a few odd articles that baffled my bachelor ways (cleaning equipment, a vacuum cleaner, etc.).

I was living at the bottom of a steep hill, upon which stood my main school. The village was quiet but large, and despite a conspicuous rice paddy and old man on a bicycle, it lay on a major train line with pretty easy access to everywhere. Distant green mountains bordered my new world - the thick, humid air carrying unfamiliar sounds and scents.

Outside my flat was one of the English teachers I was going to be working with, and with her merrily leading I was whisked around the local supermarket, desperately trying to make mental notes of which bottle was orange juice and which was bleach. A quick shop and a change of clothes later (banging head on low ceiling count: 1), I was on my way back into Ueno to meet the other JETs.

Alas, most of the other JETs were out of town, but this wasn't too bad as I was starting to feel pretty overwhelmed by the volume of introductions. I was handed over to two kind girls, Rachel and Emily (from New Zealand and the US respectively), who thankfully recognised by bewildered stare. As I relished the opportunity to at last be able to talk English to somebody, we had a good natter about all and sundry over dinner before a quick whirl through how to use the local trains by myself.

And so I found myself back in Aoyama - the night dark and utterly silent, save for the incessant screech of thousands of cicadas. I ambled back from the station, crossing the vast, grass-filled river and heading into narrow streets of old wooden buildings. The place looked about as foreign as you could get, but comfortably so. This was no weekend retreat, and the realisation that I'd signed up for a year out here was starting to become pretty clear. My home was no longer a house six thousand miles away, it was a flat right around the corner. Well, perhaps not this corner, but the one coming up. Actually, maybe it was back that way. Or off to the right...

Damn.