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Matt and Debbie's visit to Fukushima
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So Debbie and I live in Chiba Prefecture – a giant sprawling suburb with bits of city around the train stations, populated by 15 – 16 million Japanese people. Mike lives 3 and a half-hours North (by train), in Fukishima Prefecture, in a small town called Itate. We’d been in Japan for three and a half weeks, and we were keen to get out of the city, see where Mike lives and what the countryside is like. To this end we set out on Tuesday the 24th, at 10:30am, to negotiate the train system, armed only with a handful of phrases Mike had sent us and 35, 000 yen. We caught a middle distance train to Mito, about an hour from our home station. As we moved further from the centre of town we began to perceive a change in the scenery. Unrelenting suburb gave way to the occasional field, which grew in frequency and size till we were rolling past green vistas, open views of fields, with houses and temples small in the distance. We were attacked by some sort of small wasp, but Debbie was able to stun it with our hefty rail map of Tokyo, rendering it motionless enough to be squashed with a kit-kat wrapper. This I did (valiantly), then took a photograph of my kill for posterity.
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Debbie tries to blend in with the local mobile girls. There's no-one on the other end of the phone. Train make crazy! |
The evil bug that attacked us, and received its just deserts. Verilly did I smite it, with the wrapper of kitkattery. |
Some of the billboards over here are cool. This was taken from the train, just outside Mito. Cute chihuahua... |
The fields gave way to suburbs again, and we arrived in Mito. It’s a big station, with a couple of multi-floor department stores and about 8 platforms. We were desperately in need of food, having not eaten for several hours. We were pining for Big Macs. We organised our tickets first – we were unable to get a limited express train the whole way to Haranomachi. We’d have to change to a local train at Iwaki, about an hour north of Mito. We left the station, crossing a plaza thing with a great clock, and a few statues of old Japanese guys, and headed for McD’s. From just about any train station in Chiba it’s about a four-minute walk (at most) to a McDonalds. Very convenient. So we entered the local McDonald’s (very crowded) and stood in line, basking in the air-conditioning and promise of food to come. A huge black guy was sitting at a table to our left, and he nodded and waved to us as we stood in line. I waved back, then glanced around me to see if anyone he knew was behind me. Evidently, there wasn’t. I staked out a table while Debbie ordered food. The guy asked (across the intervening tables) "Where you from?". I jumped up and crossed to his table, and introduced myself as a New Zealander. The guy’s name was Tommy, and he told us that he was in Japan as a professional singer on a 2 year contract. He was sitting at a table with two Middle Eastern guys, his ‘posse’. He was very friendly and encouraging, and HUGE! He must have been 6 foot 3, weighing a good 300 pounds. He’d been in Mito for 5 months, singing in a nightclub called Celebrities. He asked how long we’d been in the country, where we lived, why we were here. He very kindly said that the first two months were the hardest, but that you do get used to it, it does get easier. He invited us to come see him sing some time – he works 6 days a week. We thanked him, said goodbye, and sat down to munch Big Macs. Japanese Big Macs are just like Big Macs in NZ, maybe a fraction smaller. Hardly adventurous, but reliable.
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The main drag of Mito. Taken from an overbridge from the huge train station. |
Matt in front of a cool clock fountain thing, wielding Mike's umbrella. |
Japanese statue guys, a little larger than life size. Pretty cool chaps. |
Refreshed and invigorated, we headed back to Mito station. We had a while to kill, so we went up to the third floor of the department store above the station, and had a look in the Disney store. It was pretty impressive. The range of pooh and other Disney merchandise was mind boggling, and this wasn’t a huge store. They had a fantastic selection, at prices which, while high, were not prohibitive. We weren’t sure how much the trip would cost, and the queue turned out to be incredibly slow, so we didn’t get anything. Debbie had been planning on buying an Eyore ‘damsel in distress’ stuffed toy, about 12 inches tall, very cool and only 980 yen ($20NZ), but the aforementioned delays in line prevented us from getting anything. We headed back down onto the platforms, and climbed aboard the Limited Express bound for Fukushima. It was a nice train – seats facing forward, slightly more spacious than airline seats, silent running and fast. We sat in comfort in front of a party of German tourists (deduced from accents, language and goofy clothing). The train sped on, and we relaxed. Unfortunately it stopped half an hour later, and everyone else got off, at a station we had never heard of. A train conductor came along and said something to us in Japanese, and gestured for us to get off the train. Confused, we complied, and noticed that they were detaching the back four carriages (we’d been sitting in one). Unsure of what to do, we jumped onto one of the front carriages, which was encouragingly full of people, and found seats. The train shortly pulled away from the station, and our journey resumed. We read books, and were irritated by a small child up ahead who had shoes with really loud squeaky things in the soles. The little brat wouldn’t stop walking around, and her mother wasn’t doing anything to discourage her, so we had to put up with the awful, infuriating din for half an hour. One stop before ours, they got off, so we had ten minutes of peace before Iwaki.
At Iwaki we climbed off, and (using Mike’s handy phrases) showed our tickets to a ticket guy and asked what platform we should be on. He claimed not to speak English when I asked, then proceeded to say "platform two, 14:43". Apparently a lot of Japanese people are like that – they say they can’t speak any English, but if you look very lost, or get them very drunk, they start spouting phrases and being a little bilingual. It was a good thing we asked, as the signs above the platforms (in English and Japanese) said the opposite of what he did – we waited under a sign that said the train would be going back to Chiba. We gave Mike a quick call, and he said we should get off at Odaka if we were going to be on a local train, as it was where the fireworks were going to be. He’d told us to go to Haranomachi because the Limited Express stopped there, not because it was where we were going.
It would take another hour to an hour and a half to reach Odaka. We had the choice of sitting in a booth type seat, with a 2 person wide seat facing forward and one facing backwards, with enough leg room for two short Japanese people to sit opposite each other, or sitting at the back of a carriage on a nine foot long seat running lengthways, facing into the train. We grabbed one of the latter, and spread ourselves out along it. Luckily the train wasn’t crowded. We took off our shoes and made ourselves comfortable, much to the dismay of the sailor suited schoolgirls sitting opposite us, who subtly waved their hands under their noses and giggled at us. The scenery was quite beautiful once we started moving – we skirted the eastern coast of Honshu, and managed to get a glimpse of the ocean. Very nice. It seemed to do something very healthy to our minds to be out of the suburbs, to see the ocean and the countryside. We even saw some bored looking cows (though cows seldom look excited). To pass the time, we indulged in charades. Many films and songs and books were mimed, and many rude gesticulations occurred. The train driver came out of his little booth half way to Odaka and sat opposite us, one eye turned in our direction. It was very fun, and helped pass the time.
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Debbie contemplates her next charade, on the local train from Iwaki to Odaka. |
You see some crazy old people in Japan. This was just outside Mito. |
The overpass in Mito, with the train station behind the camera girl. |
Just before 6pm we arrived in the bustling metropolis of Odaka. It was pretty novel being on a train platform that didn’t have a Nova office or a McD’s in sight. We also noticed rather quickly that we were the only white people on the platform, and that judging by the funny looks we were getting, we were some of the only white people the locals had ever seen. It was cool – we were instant celebrities, just because we were white. Groovy. We called Mike from a pay phone, and waited outside the station, eating ice-creams we’d bought from a vending machine. Car loads of young people driving past would honk and wave at us, passers by would smile and nod. Very friendly. Mike arrived in his sexy new car about 15 minutes later. We climbed aboard, and headed down the main drag of Odaka. Mike explained about the crappiness of his bank, from whom he could obtain no cash. His cashflow card wasn’t working, and his bank had closed at 3pm, so he hadn’t even been able to complain. Poor broke Mikey. He pulled into a Lawson’s convenience store (with a huge carpark), and we wandered across the road to a small barbecue and beer joint. We met up with a friend of Mike’s and his Japanese girlfriend, and munched some Yakitori and drank some overpriced beer. Very relaxing after all the travel.
The streets were liberally covered in horse droppings, from the Samurai parade that had taken place earlier that day. We waited around for a few other friends of Mike to show up (Shirley was off putting on a Yukata – a kind of less formal Kimono). We finally got together, and wandered to a bottle store to get firework watching supplies. A tall British friend of Shirley had bought a huge blue tarpaulin, so we met up with him at the river and set up camp, about 20 minutes before sunset. The group was about 8 strong – Myself, Debbie and Mike, a girl from Auckland, an Australian, a Canadian, 2 Brits and Shirley (whose nationality I neither picked nor was told). The fireworks were proceeded by some dodgy sounding Japanese announcer ranting into a very loud sound system for about 10 minutes. Apparently he was telling us how great the show was going to be, over and over. The weird thing was that he continued to talk during the show, between bursts of fireworks, to tell everyone how good the show was. In case they weren’t looking, or were blind I guess.
The fireworks were fantastic, after a brief false start. The first 6 rockets went ‘bang’, but didn’t do anything else. No lights, no spectacle. Maybe it was a warning shot. Anyhoo, the beautiful backdrop of the dark distant mountains, and a low quarter moon made for a wonderful experience. The fireworks themselves were pretty cool, and the show lasted about 40 minutes. Very pleasant, and in a strange way nice to be sitting with a couple of sarcastic Brits. We met some of Shirley’s students, and had to introduce ourselves very slowly and correctly, while trying not to smell too much of beer. Much fun.
After the show, we wandered en masse toward a pub. We took a stroll down a side street full of temporary stalls, set up for the festival, selling pricey food and drink. Heaps of people were wearing traditional dress – we even saw one girl in a ‘modern’ Kimono, if you can call mini-skirts modern. She was standing in a paddling pool, in which a few beers were floating, alongside some kiddies beach toys. Japan is a weird country. It ended up taking more than an hour to walk the 2 kilometres to the pub, as people kept stopping to talk to people on the street, or look at weird things, like the plastic upper body of a huge breasted cartoon woman with a light bulb beneath her bosom, to draw attention. It was adorning the last stall in the festival, and caused much excitement.
We finally reached a small pub in Odaka, where a Japanese man in a Yukata was singing Karaoke (there’s nothing sadder than a sad Japanese man). It was pretty cool – we were all served small bowls of octopus tentacles (with spring onion), which Matt ate enthusiastically (Debbie and Mike abstained). We only stayed for 1 drink, and some amusing anecdotes about speeding fines and court cases. Unfortunately, we were charged entry fee, and table charges, and Karaoke charges (even though we didn’t sing), so the three drinks and three small bowls of octopus tentacles cost us 4000 yen, which is a hefty $80 NZ. Apparently that pub usually doesn’t charge entry, table or Karaoke fees – that’s why we went there. Ho hum, Japan can be a very expensive country.
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Mike's sexy 4WD car thang. |
Always safety conscious, Mike drives with his eyes closed whenever possible. |
Mike's bedroom in Itate - he's showing us his collection of travel porn. |
Tiring of the Japanese singing and Macho posturing (drunk students being very rowdy), Debbie and Mike and I said our goodbyes and headed for Itate. Mike drove us up into the mountains at a sometimes painfully slow 50km per hour. The speed limits over here are very low – 80kph on the highway, and 50kph on country roads, slowing down to 40kph every once in a while for no apparent reason. We talked about Japan and all its crazy splendour, compared jobs (Mike’s is better in every way except that he lives in a tiny village up a mountain), and listened to some nice tunes. It felt incredibly cool to be in a car, driving along dark streets, free to travel at our own pace and with our own portable environment. We’re pretty happy using public transport – at least it’s reliable over here – but there’s something very nice about not being surrounded by Japanese people (or any kind of people). Mmmmm, driving.
So we arrived in Itate near midnight, piled quietly out of Mike’s car, up his stairs and into his apartment. It’s pretty nice – a 2 bedroom place, with a decent size kitchen and a bed – a glorious double bed! We never realised how much we’d enjoy so simple a thing, but futons really are one of the most crappy sleeping arrangements in the universe. They’re uncomfortable, smelly, inconvenient things, and you have to air them outside at least twice a week or they go mouldy and smell even worse than when they’re new. Grumble grumble….
Anyway, Mike regaled us with tales of his exploits in Europe, showing us many incriminating photographs and supplying many strange anecdotes. A consensus was reached on two points: first, that Japanese wine is best avoided; and second that Europe is very cool, and is a place we would all like to visit (visit again in Mike’s case). We talked till 1:30 am, when we fell over and went into the sleep, Mike scurrying off to the slightly messy spare room to enjoy a Futon, Debbie and I luxuriating for 5 hours on a real bed. In the morning Hotel Del Mikey proved to be excellently catered, with ‘organic’ brand peanut butter, vegemite, and crap Japanese bread being the highlights. As Mike said, it’s like the Japanese saw bread on TV, and decided to make some for themselves. It looks like Western bread, but all similarity ends there. Still, it’s OK to eat as toast. Happily breakfasted, we headed for downtown Itate, as Mike needed to buy petrol. Opposite the petrol station we saw a giant Hamster covered in plastic. Very weird. Mike took us to Haranomachi, where we failed to arrive on time for the limited express train. We had to wait forty minutes for a local train, and not understanding the quaintly random use of English on signs, we got on a train going the wrong way. Not knowing any of the stations we should have been passing, it took us some time to figure out we were going the wrong way (not seeing the ocean after half an hour was the main giveaway). We had to jump off and change trains, another half hour wait, then more delays, more suffering, till 8 hours after we left Mike’s we arrived back home, having carried a heavy stereo all the way back, and sat on slow local trains all day. We were hot, miserable, considerably poorer, but we’d braved the wilds of Fukushima Prefecture and lived to tell the tale. We’d seen more of Japan than just the city and suburbs, and Matt had eaten octopus tentacles. We were older, wiser people, returned from our great Odyssey to the place we now call home, Kita-Kogane. We hope our tale has pleased you.
We bid you fond good day, from beautiful Japan.
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A scary giant hamster, across the road from the petrol station in Mike's village. |
Mike's apartment, on the second floor. |
The excitement and thrills of the main street of Itate, where Mike lives. |
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