Nowhere to Hide

I can still taste that wonderful steaming hot bowl of nourishment, soba as it is also called. Such intense flavors - texture of the noodles, the vegetables, the smoothness of the stock. All of it was delicious. But I am ahead of my story.

I left a land where snakes and spiders were poisonous, where it was so hot in the shade sometimes you could fry an egg, but a land that had wonderful trees that a young person could climb. At 13 I left this land; the ultimate destination was the country of my birth, but with a stopover in Japan. One of my mum’s friends, Albert, invited us to stay and we gratefully accepted. He was doing some work for the mathematics department at the University of Tokyo at the time. 

The flight to Japan on JAL (Japan Airlines) was an experience. Every passenger – men, women, and children – were given a pair of disposable cardboard/paper slippers to wear during the flight because our feet would likely swell. It was not an easy task to walk the aisles to the toilets wearing these, but we managed. Before the meal was served came my favorite part of the flight. The stewardesses handed out a warm, damp towel to each of us to wipe our hands. I put the towel on my face as well – soothing warmth from an implicitly clean white cloth. It wasn’t just on the flight I later came to find out, it was a practice for meals in many restaurants. Civilized custom I thought.

The first thing I noticed when I left the plane – everything was in Japanese lettering; there was no English. My knowledge of Japanese at that point was little to none. Yikes! I would have to learn and learn fast. My first travel experience in Japan was an underground train ride. It was very crowded so there were no seats; I had to hold onto a rail. At that time, a ride to the apartment we were staying in was about 100 yen. That sounded like a lot to me, but it turns out that was a small coin, about the size of a quarter. We had to buy the ticket at a machine on the wall of the station, then put the ticket in a turnstile to get to the train. Their paper money starts at 1000 yen. It boggled my young mind. The strangest thing about that ride was that I was the only blonde in a sea of dark haired people. Also, I was taller (even at 13) than most of the adults. No more blending into the background. In Japan I stuck out like a sore thumb with a green bandage. Just the thing for an introvert – not! I resolved to make the best of things though and absorb all I could about the culture and people.

I was able to babysit a little while I was there to earn some pocket money. At the same time, I would teach the parents English because they were eager to learn. The children were very well behaved, tidy, and respected anyone older than them (even a babysitter who didn’t speak Japanese). What a joy it was to take care of them. I got to and from the babysitting jobs and markets, stores, train station, etc. by means of a bicycle. Albert had borrowed them from a friend of his for us. Because of the huge population everyone rode around on bicycles – I loved my bike. Albert’s friend used to refer to himself as “the happy prince” and we would often eat at his restaurant in the evening. He always seemed happy to me, so the name was appropriate.

The funniest memory I have is that everyone slurped their broth (usually soba – a buckwheat noodle served with broth and vegetables sometimes). It was impolite not to slurp – that was hard to get used to, but I didn’t want to offend anyone. Another thing that was hard to get used to (and I never actually did get used to) was no doors on public washroom stalls and everyone used the same room. The toilets were different too (real low to the ground) so you squatted when you sat on them. It made it easier to go to the bathroom though, just took a bit of getting used to. 

My most favorite part of the whole Japan experience was the bath. In our apartment we had what is referred to as a soaking bath. We would climb stairs, sit on a bench inside the tub, and the water was then up to my chin chopper (nearly). Such fun and it felt truly luxurious! There was a lever to pull when we were finished that let the water drain out. Just the thing for a water baby. 

When I left Australia, I took the Lord of the Rings trilogy to read (I figured that would keep me busy for a while). I remember sitting on the futon in our apartment for hours reading, completely absorbed in the book. Futons doubled as sofas and beds depending on the position of the frame; or were just rolled up when not in use. Evenings were spent playing Scrabble or Monopoly – Albert nearly always won. 

Sometimes Mum and I would ride our bicycles to a wonderful store – Ito Yokado. The neatest thing about this store was the 2^nd floor roof garden. There was all manner of goodies available for purchase like soft serve ice cream and teriyaki chicken strips on a stick. They also had pinball machines. Clever reader – you figured out that they each cost 100 yen. Many is the time I spent my earnings in this store on those two items and the rest of it on the pinball machines. I knew the way there and back to our apartment like the back of my hand – or so I thought…

A beautiful day after a good night’s sleep. The sun was shining brightly, and I had no babysitting jobs to go to. I put on my jeans, favorite top and gym shoes and ventured outside. Ito Yokado here I come! Armed with a little pocket money I headed toward my favorite store. It was an easy bicycle ride to the store – I had done it several times before. My plan was to spend several hours there (on the 2^nd floor) and get back in time to help with supper. However, the universe had other plans for me that day.

I loved the feel of the wind on my face as I rode, the air crisp and clean and I could just taste the delicious ice cream I would have in a little while. My mind must have wandered during the ride because after a while when the store should have been in sight… I had no idea where I was and not a single person I could ask. Thirsty and hungry and getting anxious I rode on, thinking that I must at some point meet someone who I could get directions from. No store, no houses, no familiar landmarks, only trees - now very anxious. This was not supposed to happen. On and on….

         At last, a person – I breathed a sigh of relief. The only problem was she could not speak a word of English; and me not a word of Japanese, except Ito Yokado. I did know some words but because I was upset, I drew a complete blank when I tried to think of them. She shook her head no, so I rode some more. About five more times this happened then a miracle! I passed a lady who had a relative staying with her. The man had studied in the United States so he would be able to interpret for us and find out where I was supposed to be staying. She showed me a picture and said English, so I figured it out. It was a long, long ride to her house, but I was very relieved thinking that maybe I could get back home. Her relative knew where the Tokyo train station was (and rode with me after I had stopped crying) and I knew my way back to Hibarigaoka (where our apartment was) from there.

So much for a fun day out – when you have been lost in a country where you don’t speak the language, you have been lost! By the time I arrived at the flat I was staying at it was getting dark. I turned the corner and saw my mother – a beatific sight. After a long soak in the bath and some soba for supper courtesy of the “happy prince” I felt much better, but it would be quite a while before I would go to Ito Yokado on my own again.

         From the culture of Japan, I learned simplicity, beauty, happiness, and respect for nature and elders. Food was prepared and served at restaurants with pride and tasted delicious. I am grateful to have had the experience. With some sadness we bid farewell to our friends in Japan after a month and a half, and began a new journey – to London, England to stay with Mum’s sister.

We had to stop in Russia to refuel on the flight from Tokyo to London, England. That experience is a story for another day.