Japan is never quite what you expect, or are told, and I was hoping that would hold true for the
night buses, on which I would be a passenger for consecutive nights -
to and from Osaka to pick my sister up from Kansai International airport.
This was my hope because I had been told that the amenities on the bus were nice, but that I would be cramped, since
the busses were designed with the diminutive Japanese body in mind. The former was true -
there was hot tea and slippers and even headphones (to listen to what, I wondered?), but with
a middle seat - three seats to a row, I had room to stretch my legs. Once again I was pleasantly surprised
by Japan.
My epic 34 hour skip began, when I purchased three tickets (two for me and one for my
sister's return, weary-eyed and jet-lagged she would ride home with me) from Kita-Fuji in
Uwajima. Kita-Fuji was called 'grand' and it was all-emcompassing.
You could buy anything there: food, clothes, electronics, toiletries, bedding, train and ferry
and airline tickets. There was even a bakery and a restaurant. But it was notable not because
of what you could buy but for what you could do, watch or play; laundry, TV, video games.
I even heard there was a pachinko parlor somewhere in the building.
I got my tickets and got the hell out; the place gave me a
headache.
Two hours later I was boarding the 10:20 outbound bus (not from Kita-Fuji though - that was
one thing you couldn't do, though if you bowed deep enough, I'm sure you would be offered a
shuttle from Kita-Fuji to the bus terminal) to Osaka.
The worst part about the bus wasn't its lack of spaciousness, but its brevity. With just eight
hours from Uwajima to Osaka, a full night's rest would require shut eye for the duration. It
wasn't to be. In 34 hours time I would be back in Mima teaching English to eight year olds
with my eyes closed. I'd probably be wearing the same clothes, coughing the same cold, and
accompanying a beautiful sister. The bus rattled down the expressway and I pondered my good
fortune, dozing off to sleep.
When I awoke the bus was stopping in Kobe to drop passengers off at Sannomiya Station. It was
5AM. I had been here before, ironically at a similar hour, when with a friend we had danced
all night and caught the first train back to Osaka. Now I was having eerie deja vu.
Arriving in Osaka an hour later forced an early breakfast, at a western style cafe where I
napped in a cloud of cigarrette smoke. I knew I had a typical aimless travel day ahead of me:
no plan, no must-sees, just a day of wandering unnavigable streets of an unknown city. I had
perfected this spontaneity all over Europe, and it was one of my favorite travel pastimes;
let the experiences come to you. Unlike life, the only ambition travel required was the initial
step out the front door. After that, the inspiration just came to me.
I was jolted awake by clinging coffee mugs and obnoxious Japanese conversation. The endless
responses of "Neeeee!" and "Ehhhh!" could get on your nerves. I turned and looked at the older
women chatting next to me.
"Are you tired?" they asked. I hadn't yet perfected sarcasm in Japanese, so I had to reply yes, though in
English I could have thought up seven or eight scathing replys.
I asked, "Do you know where an onsen is in this town?" I needed a shower and showed.
"Eto.........." and a long pause. Japanese were wary to give recommendations unless they had
been given express consent by seven or eight of their friends, and had called their mother
for final consulation.
They finally agreed it was acceptable to tell me about Spa World, a modern hotel with several
floors of themed bathing. I was intrigued despite my lack of understanding - I could only
make out around half of what they were saying in their thick (Kansai-ben) dialect.
"Oki ni!" I said, (Thank you) trying hard to use the only Kansai-ben phrase I knew. I set off
then, on a quest that must have consumed travellers of old; the search to find a place to bathe.
But there were other priorities, too. The first was a second breakfast, or early lunch, but
since the Indian place I passed didn't open for three hours (it was still 9:30AM) I
had to settle for convenience store sustenance. As I munched on onigiri (Japanese style rice
ball), I flipped through my guidebook and settled on two destinations worthy of rest stops on
my way to the spa. If I was going to pay for my bath - and there was rarely a free onsen - I
was determined to get real sweaty beforehand. I wanted to bathe just before I picked up my sister;
onsen always relaxed me and put me in a good mood.
I picked the rest stops because they were different - not temples or shopping malls or castles or
gardens. Shin-Sekai (The New World) was 'dangerous' according to my guidebook, and Amerika-mura (America-town) was
downright sad, it said.
The latter claim was accurate, but only in so far as you think China-towns and Irish pubs
throughout the world are sad. The latter are but recreations of what people most love about
China and Ireland, respectively, grub and grog. But what was sad about Amerika-mura was that
these Japanese kids were only offered America's worst - trendy clothing and bad music. It seemed
to me that while there would always be a market for good Chinese food and pint of Guiness,
the Amerika-mura's of the world would not be so lucky in their longevity. Yet because most of
Amerika-mura's shops were closed when I went (it was still mid-morning) I had no reason to
complain about the place. After months of living in rural Japan, there was something heartwarming
about having the option to buy FUBU, no matter what the F, U, B, and U stood for.
The streets were bustling with hurried workers stocking shelves with orange and pink New York Yankees beanies.
They swiftly opened shipping doors and screamed warnings as they did. They were merely readying
themselves for the youth stampede, which I imagined would arrive sometime in the afternoon.
While most of the American-wannabes nursed Jack Daniels hangovers (I guessed they even chose American beverages),
the kids I did see traipsing the streets were typically dressed in designer clothing (girls)
and hip-hop baggy threads (guys). The girls had dyed their hair brown or even blond,
the boys wore theirs shaggy like the fur of a St. Bernard. On occasion it was bleached as
well. I had been told by a friend the story of a Japanese business man who flew to New York City
every month to bring back hip-hop clothing to sell to these kids, and remembering the story and
seeing the stores (American clothes!, NIKE, SeanJean, FUBU sold here!), I thought this
man must have been one of many. It wasn't only American businessmen who preyed on the disposable
income of the Japanese youth.
My guidebook said that Shin-Sekai was the 'closest thing to a dangerous place' in Japan, but
it was noon by the time I found it, so the criminals must have been napping. At first,
I didn't know what it was exactly, since it looks just like any other covered shopping arcade
in Japan. Then I walked around and asked some storeowners if I was in the right place,
and they all nodded and frowned at my presence. The Japanese always seemed too uptight to
be friendly in the big city.
