I'm not gonna lie. I maybe probably teared up a little bit as the plane was coming down into Narita International yesterday. I've only been wanting to come here since I was 12. No big deal.
But really, I'm kind of amazed we made it here, and that everything turned out as okay as it did. Not to say everything's been going perfectly swimmingly. Not even a little.
Weeee forgot to pull our garbage can back from the curb, We didn't bring an umbrella, and the forecast shows a 100% chance of rain for the next two days. In the rush to hurry up and load the airport shuttle when it arrived, I left a half-eaten biscuit sandwich on the counter, which I'm sure will smell awesome when I get back, I brought packages with me to the airport with prepaid labels, thinking there was a post office I could drop them off with (there wasn't).The line for the security check point at the airport was so hideously long, we barely made our flight, despite arriving at the airport at 10:30 for a 1:15 departure. We literally just got through the recombobulation area (put your shoes and belt back on, and give us back our bins, please) when I caught sight of one of the ANA flight attendants wandering around, frantically calling, "ANA Passengers! ANA Passengers to me, please!"
"Shipe?" she tried to ask, when I approached, pronouncing it better than most native English speakers. "Yes," I responded. "Shipe and Fraser?"
She immediately got on her cellphone. "I found them," she told the person on the other line.
"Come with me, come with me!" she told us, embarking in the most impressive high-heeled speedwalk I've ever seen. She led us down the escalator, and to SeaTac's intra-terminal train, where we waited very patiently for the next arrival. She seemed perfectly calm. We rode for two stops in a packed train, and when the doors slid open at S Terminal, she squares her shoulders and says ominously, "OK, now we run."
What.
No, but seriously. She booked it though a iceberg-thick crowd of confused, lost travelers, up not one, but two consecutive escalators. By this point, I'm starting to feel that I'm in a marathon. Every fifty or so meters, there is another flight attendant standing as if at a checkpoint, urging me on. "Hurry!" they yell. "Door is closing!" As we entered the plane, huffing, puffing, and sweaty (just how I love to start flights), Every attendant we pass bows, and goes, "Thank you for hurrying!" At last, we make it to our seats. Unfortunately, our equipment seems to have gotten swapped out, because what should have been a 787 Dreamliner, was in fact, merely a triple seven. Sad face. Oh, well. maybe for the return flight.
The flight itself was long, but still one of the best I've had. Omotenashi is like... the embodiment of the spirit of Japanese hospitality, and they take it very seriously. While it's applicable to any service-oriented job, it's probably not something you'll really experience buying books at Kinokuniya, or cream puffs at Beard Papa in International District. I got full on smacked in the face with it on our flight. They literally dote on you the entire flight, They brought oshibori (wet towels for cleaning hands before meals), then snacks, then drinks, then the best meal I've ever had on a plane (wish I'd thought to take a picture!) of cold soba, curried vegetables and rice, tsukemono, edamame, and fruit, then they brought a little individual sized cup of vanilla ice cream for dessert. Then they brought after meal tea and coffee, then they brought another round of drinks, and snacks, and so it went. Even when they weren't coming around giving out drinks or snacks, or oshibori,or collecting rubbish, there was an open galley, so at any time, you could just go get yourself an extra pack of that super-yummy senbei, or a banana, or an orange juice, or whatever. For "breakfast," you had a choice between chicken basquaise(???) or cheese ravioli.
So we land. We disembark. So... I've been casually studying Japanese on and off since I was probably eleven or twelve. No matter how good a grasp you think you have on basic language mechanics, it will never prepare you for how utterly helpless you will be, should you ever find yourself completely immersed in the culture. Between collecting our bags, getting some money exchanged, picking up rail passes, subway tickets, and our pocket wifi mobile hot spot, it took us about two hours to leave the airport. By the time we figured out which train we needed to be on, it was around sunset, which gave some really lovely views as we were leaving the airport. Eventually, we got confused about which train we were supposed to transfer to, and where we ere supposed to transfer, got off at the wrong stop, ending up taking four trains to get to Asakusa station, when it really only should have taken us two.
From Asakusa station, we walked to the little apartment we're renting from Air BnB. It's a little flat above a tiny curry restaurant called Cafe Latino, and it's adorable, When we arrived, our host Tadarts-san said he wasn't done cleaning it, so he had us come into the cafe, sit, and wait while he finished, but not before bringing us some iced coffee(!). So we went up, called bedsies, and settled in, exploring, and photographing our new temporary home (that's most of the day one pictures, sorry). Tadarts-san came back with a tooon of snacks and stuff; there was a carton of orange juice, a bunch of bananas, a package of croissants, and apple bundt, some pocky, some little ramen snacks (which are amazing, ugh, I hope I can get these in America), and a loaf of bread (for which there is a full complement of jams in the fridge). We were so surprised! He's such a great, thoughtful host, so I'm really, really glad I went through the trouble of lugging a cake to give as a host gift through the airports, and four train rides, and seven blocks while also juggling my luggage.
So after we settled in a little, we started feeling kind of hungry, and we needed more cash, so we hit up the local 7-eleven, got some incredible karaage chicken skewers, a beef korokke, and some drinks to keep in our fridge. Honestly, I feel like we're going to get so spoiled, being here. The service everywhere, even in convenience stores is just so astronomically better than in America.
The atmosphere is really foreign, too. We walked by ourselves in a strange country at like 9pm to a convenience store, several blocks away, and it felt totally, perfectly safe. The little side streets and alleys of Sumidaku are so cute and quaint, and old, and there really are vending machines EVERYWHERE. I love it here.
I passed out at like 10pm after eating; I think at that point, I'd been up over 24 straight hours, because... yeah, sleeping on the plane didn't happen. I was dead tired, but I woke up on my own at what turned out to be 2am, and couldn't get back to sleep, so here I commemorate, uploading pictures, and drinking apple tea, and eating Yokai Watch branded ramen snacks, while I dream up what adventures I'll have today...
But really, I'm kind of amazed we made it here, and that everything turned out as okay as it did. Not to say everything's been going perfectly swimmingly. Not even a little.
Weeee forgot to pull our garbage can back from the curb, We didn't bring an umbrella, and the forecast shows a 100% chance of rain for the next two days. In the rush to hurry up and load the airport shuttle when it arrived, I left a half-eaten biscuit sandwich on the counter, which I'm sure will smell awesome when I get back, I brought packages with me to the airport with prepaid labels, thinking there was a post office I could drop them off with (there wasn't).The line for the security check point at the airport was so hideously long, we barely made our flight, despite arriving at the airport at 10:30 for a 1:15 departure. We literally just got through the recombobulation area (put your shoes and belt back on, and give us back our bins, please) when I caught sight of one of the ANA flight attendants wandering around, frantically calling, "ANA Passengers! ANA Passengers to me, please!"
"Shipe?" she tried to ask, when I approached, pronouncing it better than most native English speakers. "Yes," I responded. "Shipe and Fraser?"
She immediately got on her cellphone. "I found them," she told the person on the other line.
"Come with me, come with me!" she told us, embarking in the most impressive high-heeled speedwalk I've ever seen. She led us down the escalator, and to SeaTac's intra-terminal train, where we waited very patiently for the next arrival. She seemed perfectly calm. We rode for two stops in a packed train, and when the doors slid open at S Terminal, she squares her shoulders and says ominously, "OK, now we run."
What.
No, but seriously. She booked it though a iceberg-thick crowd of confused, lost travelers, up not one, but two consecutive escalators. By this point, I'm starting to feel that I'm in a marathon. Every fifty or so meters, there is another flight attendant standing as if at a checkpoint, urging me on. "Hurry!" they yell. "Door is closing!" As we entered the plane, huffing, puffing, and sweaty (just how I love to start flights), Every attendant we pass bows, and goes, "Thank you for hurrying!" At last, we make it to our seats. Unfortunately, our equipment seems to have gotten swapped out, because what should have been a 787 Dreamliner, was in fact, merely a triple seven. Sad face. Oh, well. maybe for the return flight.
The flight itself was long, but still one of the best I've had. Omotenashi is like... the embodiment of the spirit of Japanese hospitality, and they take it very seriously. While it's applicable to any service-oriented job, it's probably not something you'll really experience buying books at Kinokuniya, or cream puffs at Beard Papa in International District. I got full on smacked in the face with it on our flight. They literally dote on you the entire flight, They brought oshibori (wet towels for cleaning hands before meals), then snacks, then drinks, then the best meal I've ever had on a plane (wish I'd thought to take a picture!) of cold soba, curried vegetables and rice, tsukemono, edamame, and fruit, then they brought a little individual sized cup of vanilla ice cream for dessert. Then they brought after meal tea and coffee, then they brought another round of drinks, and snacks, and so it went. Even when they weren't coming around giving out drinks or snacks, or oshibori,or collecting rubbish, there was an open galley, so at any time, you could just go get yourself an extra pack of that super-yummy senbei, or a banana, or an orange juice, or whatever. For "breakfast," you had a choice between chicken basquaise(???) or cheese ravioli.
So we land. We disembark. So... I've been casually studying Japanese on and off since I was probably eleven or twelve. No matter how good a grasp you think you have on basic language mechanics, it will never prepare you for how utterly helpless you will be, should you ever find yourself completely immersed in the culture. Between collecting our bags, getting some money exchanged, picking up rail passes, subway tickets, and our pocket wifi mobile hot spot, it took us about two hours to leave the airport. By the time we figured out which train we needed to be on, it was around sunset, which gave some really lovely views as we were leaving the airport. Eventually, we got confused about which train we were supposed to transfer to, and where we ere supposed to transfer, got off at the wrong stop, ending up taking four trains to get to Asakusa station, when it really only should have taken us two.
From Asakusa station, we walked to the little apartment we're renting from Air BnB. It's a little flat above a tiny curry restaurant called Cafe Latino, and it's adorable, When we arrived, our host Tadarts-san said he wasn't done cleaning it, so he had us come into the cafe, sit, and wait while he finished, but not before bringing us some iced coffee(!). So we went up, called bedsies, and settled in, exploring, and photographing our new temporary home (that's most of the day one pictures, sorry). Tadarts-san came back with a tooon of snacks and stuff; there was a carton of orange juice, a bunch of bananas, a package of croissants, and apple bundt, some pocky, some little ramen snacks (which are amazing, ugh, I hope I can get these in America), and a loaf of bread (for which there is a full complement of jams in the fridge). We were so surprised! He's such a great, thoughtful host, so I'm really, really glad I went through the trouble of lugging a cake to give as a host gift through the airports, and four train rides, and seven blocks while also juggling my luggage.
So after we settled in a little, we started feeling kind of hungry, and we needed more cash, so we hit up the local 7-eleven, got some incredible karaage chicken skewers, a beef korokke, and some drinks to keep in our fridge. Honestly, I feel like we're going to get so spoiled, being here. The service everywhere, even in convenience stores is just so astronomically better than in America.
The atmosphere is really foreign, too. We walked by ourselves in a strange country at like 9pm to a convenience store, several blocks away, and it felt totally, perfectly safe. The little side streets and alleys of Sumidaku are so cute and quaint, and old, and there really are vending machines EVERYWHERE. I love it here.
I passed out at like 10pm after eating; I think at that point, I'd been up over 24 straight hours, because... yeah, sleeping on the plane didn't happen. I was dead tired, but I woke up on my own at what turned out to be 2am, and couldn't get back to sleep, so here I commemorate, uploading pictures, and drinking apple tea, and eating Yokai Watch branded ramen snacks, while I dream up what adventures I'll have today...
12:21 PM |
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