Departure, Arrival and Hmmm . . .

While certain parts of the evening . . . carrying/dragging/taxiing a more than a little too drunk Kaitlin across the city and back . . . left something to be desired, the company (new and old from there and there), the apple wine, the angry peppermint schnapps and the creative use of the quadratic equalizer made for a pretty excellent going away/welcome home party.Not to mention sir Frost’s ridiculous condition the following day.

From there I set off on my journey. I stopped off in Memphis for a night and a few beers with some friends, then enjoyed yet another layover in the oh so lovely Detroit airport before getting on my thirteen and a half hour flight to Nagoya. The flight was pretty easy (managed a few hours sleep), but I think this was the same plane I flew to Japan in last time (that was three years ago and it was notably old then). I did however get to see Kung Fu Panda on the way. Once in Nagoya I zipped through customs in oooonly an hour and a half . . . and walked outside to see a Mr. Jon Kyle Hiddleson sign awaiting me. The two people waiting (one of my supervisors and my support guy) and I jumped on a train headed for my hotel for the night. On the way we decided to stop off and grab some diner and some beers with another supervisor. After a few beers, some good food and the first round of questions (many more to come), my support guy (Ishii) lead me back to my hotel where I watched a bit of Olympic action before passing out (this was around 22:00).

Although I fought it, I couldn’t help waking up at 5AM (the combination of the 13 hour jetlag and the sun rising so very early), so I watched some more Olympics and some puff n stuff esque early morning kids’ shows until 9:00. At that point Ishii came by with another support guy to drive, and we headed to the company dormitory and my apartment. Building is old (more on that later), but the apartment is clean and has a bathroom, a kitchen, two rooms, a patio, air conditioning and a washing machine. Pretty solid (especially considering I get to stay here for free).

With the easy and successful bits out of the way let me step on the problematic bits.

First, and most troublesome, my quad band phone (which has worked beautifully throughout North America and Europe, and is supposed to work EVERYWHERE) is appearently not G3 enough, has no functionality and has been reduced to nothing more than a glorified alarm clock here in the land of the rising sun. Another sizeable problem that was eventually overcome was the issue of funds. Though a complete lack of foresight (and a piece of incompetence) I arrived with only $20 in my wallet. After being thoroughly and many times informed at the bank that we could use my passport to open an account (since I have an address with the company) . . . the teller that we finally came to came up with the differing answer of no. So, ok, I have to get my alien registration card first. No worries I will just use my card to withdraw some money from the ATM (as I did 3 years ago when I was in Fukuoka) . . . not so much. My card doesn’t want to work (none of my cards in fact), so off to get my alien registration card then. Surprise, surprise, I need two passport pictures in order to get the card (I think that rounds out to a total of 12 passport photos that I have needed in the logistics of getting this job), and I get to wait three weeks until I get the actual card (that means no bank account, no non-work internet and no phone for at least three weeks). After spending the next two hours trying to call the international help line for bank of America in order to try to get my card functional, we finally put in a requisition for a $400 advance on my first paycheck. Hooray now I can feed myself. Also of note, since my only internet access is at work (and the network there has a block on gmail), I have no access to any of my normal mail accounts. If you need/want to reach me, use my work mail ( kyle_hiddleson@mail.toagosei.co.jp ) or find me on the facebook.

As far as work goes, so far all I have done is meet everyone and photocopy about half of a textbook so I can “study up” on certain polymerization processes. With some luck I will get to do some experimenting and more interesting work next week.

P.S. Living and working in Japanese while fighting jetlag is doing its best to break my brain (and I can’t seem to find a boxing gym . . . guess that’s my task for the week).

As for the city that I live in . . .

I think this might be the most depressing place I have ever been to. As I wander around to explore the area and get the hang of where things are, everywhere I see signs of what used to be life. On every corner there is a small playground or park, but they are all rusted, broken and overgrown with waist high grass and weeds. The buildings are spoiled and aged structures that remind me of soviet block housing.

A little bit in one direction and there is nothing but factories and big trucks as far as you can see. Another direction and you find a river and, after you cross, yet another span of factories. The weather today isn’t helping the feeling of this place, but it comes through even in the sunshine. You can tell from the city design that this used to be a place full of families with kids running around outside and people frequenting local “hole-in-the-wall” restaurants and parks, but not anymore.

Now the only people who live around here are the employees of the nearby factories, and the notable features have become an overabundance of pachinko parlors, strip clubs, hostess bars and porn shops disguised as shops offering “books and dvd's”, further emphasizing the seeming hopelessness of this place. Not to mention the fact that there are fewer women here than back at home . . . Hopefully I’m wrong and this industrial wasteland is just hiding its life. Only time will tell on that one.

More entertaining than depressing, the name on this bottle ------------------------->
is "Big Man". As you can see it is a 4 liter (that`s more than 2 handles) plastic (hints at quality) jug of 50 proof alcohol (a whopping $18)

All that aside, all the people I’ve met here are great (overwhelmingly male, but great). That seems to be the constant throughout my travels. No matter where you go, no matter what the situation, regardless of cultural gaps and class separations, people are people everywhere, and a few good ones WILL make your time worthwhile.

Looks like I’ve quite a task ahead of me

So that was Saturday . . . now for Sunday

Another early morning (apparently too early) as I got up watched some more Olympics and some more ridiculous television. I left the apartment around 8:15 and headed down to the giant drug store down the road. I got to the store about 8:30 (here’s where that apparently becomes apparent), and discovered that it did not open until 10:00. So as any sound minded individual would, I walked off in a direction I had yet to travel in search of a means by which to commit chronocide. On my wanderings I passed a recycle shop (a second hand store, not a homeless money maker), but kept walking as it too opened at 10:00. I continued on passed the Nagoya Royal Bowling Center and decided to turn around after what I felt was a healthy distance. On my return journey I stopped by the recycle shop (prepared at the very least to enjoy some more wasted time or maybe buy a pair of running shoes). Rather than all that I found what will undoubtedly be the place for me to purchase a piece of furniture or two, should I find myself so inclined. More notably I found something to productively occupy my free time . . . But first a bit of background.

While talking to my support guy Ishii, I noticed that the fingernails on his right hand were quite long, and those on his left quite nubbish. After a little over a decade of answering the why are your nails so long question, I immediately recognized him as a classical guitar player (or a manicurist) . . . so I asked, and he said that he plays classical guitar. He is also in some sort of mandolin orchestra/chamber group, which I though was pretty rockin’. Now, I brought with me all my sheet music and tablature books (or at least the interesting ones) from years passed, because I wanted to get some practice in. Problem there is that when I asked Ishii where I could find a cheep guitar, he said maybe in a place about 30 minutes away by train. I don’t mind a train ride, and 30 minutes is nothing. However he then dropped the tid-bit that cheep was around $400 (maybe maybe $300 for used) . . . Needless to say, I am FAR too poor for that to be cheep . . . Winding back to the story

I found a guitar (a pretty decent one). I gave her a quick fingering, and all was in order. As I grimaced at the thought of the price that was about to smack me in the face, I was ever so pleasantly surprised to see a 3950 Yen (about $39) price tag. I checked my wallet, and I am now $39 poorer and one guitar richer (a more than fair trade). I strapped her on my back, got some eggs, milk and ramen from the drug store and spent the next 5 hours playing (something I, regrettably, have not done in over half a decade). It felt good.

Taking a cue from Masato I have started running and working out on the decrepit playgrounds everyday. That reminds me, I wonder if he ever found a harmonica or a guitar . . . As I was on my run for the day I did see a few ladies come out of hiding, thought still seems to be a shortage.

Ok, bed time. Oyasumi