Day 24 – October 11 – Tokyo - Osaka

So, JAL Airways is a superstar airline. I loved it. Now through a wonderfully efficient and pain-free customs experience. I grab my bag, which is one of the first, and I descend to the train station. Before departing the US, Heather, Robin’s lovely girlfriend, suggested I by a JapanRail pass prior to leaving the States. It is only available outside Japan, and it gives you 7-days of unlimited usage of the Japan railway system (save the Nozumi train-line). I used this to my advantage. Narita airport is far outside Tokyo, so the train into the city would have cost me a pretty penny, but this was included in the railpass. I transferred at Shinigawa station and went straight to Osaka, for a two night stay.

Honestly, I was just exhausted, so once I got to my seat and stowed my overly large backpack above me (it just fit, and all the Japanese commuters stared at me with concerned and then laughing eyes as I jammed it into the luggage hold), I passed out. The nice man next to me jammed me in the ribs once we arrived at Shin-Osaka station, my destination. I disembark, head for a cab, and get to my hotel, the Royal Rihga.

Okay, so here I have to explain a little bit about what my Osaka experience is going to be like. I have a family friend named Sadachika who lives in Osaka. He went to USC for a while and stayed with my dad’s family at the time. This was decades ago. He drove a Lotus, and from what he told me, my dad and Uncle Pat loved to see it come up the long winding driveway. It was a bright shiny sports car unlike anything in the US at that point. So, it was a big hit. Sadachika became close with my Grandfather, Mackie, and my Uncle John. So, when I knew I was going to be in Japan, my dad suggested I contact Sadachika and meet him. This happened. I emailed him, and we had a (roughly) 45-email back-and-forth to discuss if-when-how-where-why-and-any other logistics of the visit. It was painful, primarily due to the national holiday which was that weekend. Finally, we decided to have a traditional Japanese dinner of October 12 where he would pick me up at his suggested hotel, the Royal Rihga. Sadachika told me that the Emperor stays at the Rihga when he is in Osaka. Great, I’m expecting this to be cheap, not.

Upon arriving in Osaka, it was pretty late. I checked in where the staff and guests looked at me like a martian. This dirty, ruffled, backpacker is staying here? Yes, and I’ll take the complimentary mint, thank you very much. I got into my room and took a 30 minute shower to clean all the travel off of myself. I don’t care how short one’s overnight flight is, or how nice one flies, after sleeping in one’s normal cloths on a small reclining chair in close proximity to 300 other travelers from a humid climate, that traveler is going to smell bad upon disembarking the aircraft. Now, factor in that I had also taken THREE flights (Phu Quoc – Saigon, Saigon – Bangkok, Bangkok – Tokyo) and two trains (Narita – Tokyo, Tokyo – Osaka), and you have yourself, one cranky, smelly American backpacker. But I like think of it as Freedom-stink. So I showered, put on fresh cloths, and walked downstairs out the front door.

The hotel was in close proximity to the convention center and art museum, so I decided to have lunch/dinner. I walked down the street and across the river to a relatively deserted area of town which was most likely the business district. Being Sunday, and all, most shops were closed. I walked into a restaurant which had and bunch of “#1” signs all over the place, assuming that this place must be good. The restaurant was long and thin, with a long stainless steel counter and several stools attached. There was a chef behind the counter with his back to the door, watching a television gameshow. I asked, “Hello! Are you open?” He turned around, startled, and cocked his head at me. Obviously not understanding what I said, he just nodded his head vigorously. I sat at the counter, and he had a puzzled look on his face, pointing to the door. Being equally puzzled, I made eating motions with my hands. He nodded again, and pointed at the door. So, dejected, I started to walk out when I noticed what looked like a cigarette dispenser to my left. Actually, it had pictures of food and a coin slot. Wait… I was supposed to put the correct amount of money into the machine, pick a dish, and bring the receipt to the chef. What? Is pointing the same damn thing on a laminated sheet at the counter too difficult? The chef has no ability to multitask? He doesn’t want to get his hands dirty with money? Whatever, I’ll pick the spicy looking one with chicken and noodles, which he made in front of me. After about 95 seconds, my dish is in front of me, piping hot. It was delectable. Not really spicy, but very flavorful. First meal in Japan, a success!

It was about 7pm by this point, so I decided to walk around for a bit. The city was absolutely dead, being a Sunday with a national holiday the following day. There were tall buildings with bright lights, but nothing that was too different from Midtown Manhattan. I decided that it had been a long day, and I felt that giving the Emperor approved bed an extra-long testing this evening would not be a sad way to spend my first evening in Japan. It was also my first evening anywhere without the camaraderie of Mr Bot-Miller, so I didn’t have that friendly word of encouragement to rally. Oh well, I don’t feel bad about crashing at 10pm. Tomorrow should be interesting!