The story of the Little Old Ladies

I need to pay for my car insurance so I can go get my Mitsubishi Something-or-another from the company garage (I own it, and, I got it for free… you just can’t beat that price). To do this, I need to get money out of my ATM… in Ginza.

But I’ve never tried to get to Tokyo from here… the last time I went to Tokyo it was from Maia’s house, and she lived at Moriya station, which is just one train and 40 minutes to Tokyo (Using the Tskuba express, a wonderful train). Now that I’m in my home city, I have discovered that there are no trains out here… I have to go by bus… something I have not done yet.

Worse, I sorta implied to my Japanese helper that I wanted to do it by myself (I really felt bad making her come out here and help me, as she has three kids and it’s a Saturday). So she tells me to catch the bus at City Hall, and go to Tokyo Station and transfer there to Ginza.

Ah… the adventure begins…

I walk over to City Hall and stand at the bus stop… but I notice that no busses stop at the stop at 12:45… the time my helper said the bus would arrive… So I get suspicious and I walk into the City Hall.

“Excuse me!” I say somewhat timidly.
“Yes?” Says this really nice man behind the counter.
“I need to catch the bus to Tokyo station at 12:45, but…” (That’s what I think I said, I probably really said “Monkey pig and bus that is going Tokyo near aircraft landing pad.”)
Luckily, he figured out what I was saying and replied very distinctly and clearly: “flakgjdflkgmkvaskf ksafdjga aijva oaisjdoav aposdvfa mdksmcd”…
I stare at him for a second and then say, “I’m sorry, my Japanese is really bad” (Ironically, I was programmed with this line in Japanese class, so it is the only thing I can say in flawless Japanese…), “Could you repeat that, a little slower, please?”
“I’m sorry,” He says, “dsflkj Bus asdkfjhg This altkgjad Wrong place akfjh near Post Office.”

He then turns around, grabs a map of the town, runs to the copier, photocopies a page, and returns… all alarmingly fast (Everyone moves fast here… they run everywhere). He then puts the copy on the table.

“Here.” He points to the city hall, “Go to Stoppu Raitto” (He tries to say “Stop light” in English for me… that’s awfully nice of him… especially since I have no idea what the word is in Japanese… then again, it is Japanese… it just might be “Stoppu Raitto”… “fkja;jkg South” I nod, sagely… this is a skill I’m developing here… nodding and pretending I understand… folks get less frustrated with me then… “Post Office here.” I smile and give the “Ah! I get it!” look.

He smiles, hands me the paper, looks very proud of himself for managing to explain a complicated concept like “This isn’t the right place, Go to the post office, stupid.” To the poor, lost American. And then runs back to his desk to do, as far as I can tell, nothing critical at all… but at least he hurried to do it…

So I walk down the street to the one major stoplight in my town, and I head over to the Post office… Of course, you have to register with City Hall and the Post office when you move in, so I know where this things are… This would have all been avoided had I known the word for “Post Office” in Japanese… but alas, some things manage to slip my mind…

I get to the bus stop and I sit down. I check the schedule, and sure enough, there is a JR-highway bus (JR Hai-u-waii Basu) headed for Tokyo Station coming at 12:47. Suweet! I sit down to wait. It is 12:22. I crank up the MP3 player and settle in to some Pink Floyd.

A young woman sits next to me and, as if I didn’t exist at all, proceeds to read a newspaper. I’m good with this, that’s no different than any American city.

Then a little old lady comes over, with a young woman helping her. I stand up and offer her my seat (It’s not a big bench). She and I have a politeness war, but in the end, she sits down. Then she indicates that there is room next to her, and grins a huge grin at me,

“Please, sit down” she says in super-polite Japanese.

I smile and sit down next to her.

She then promptly pulls out a wrapped cookie and offers it to me,

“Here, try this.” She says,

“Thank you, but I’m okay, you have it” It’s really hard to match her super-polite Japanese, but I find polite Japanese easier than colloquial Japanese, so this is a better place for me.

“It’s tasty…” She says with a wonderful grin, “You should try to eat Japanese things.”

I can’t help it, I take it.

A bus comes and takes the young woman away, and no sooner than she has left, another little old lady has materialized, toddling her way across the street and into the place vacated by the young lady. The first old lady pulls out another wrapped cookie (They are all individually wrapped… something that happens a lot here in Japan), and the two strike up a very fast conversation that looses me. So I smile and let them alone… Back to listening to “Learning to fly”

Then another old lady shows up, so I offer her my seat, and we have a politeness war (Which I win ultimately by saying “I’m American, it’s my country’s tradition”) . All three of them are now chatting away happily.

It’s now 12:47, and a bus pulls up, so I go up to the driver and ask “Is this the bus for Tokyo Station?” To which he replies, “No, this is a local. The Tokyo Station bus will be here any minute.”

So I stand back and wait.

Three junior high girls whisk past on their bikes, these will be future students of mine… but they don’t know that. But the lead girl looks square at me and yells “Good Afternoon!” in Japanese as she passes… I smile and reply to her, a little stunned… That never happens in America.

Then yet another little old lady shows up, now there are 4 of them, happily chatting and eating cookies and being generally adorable.

It’s now almost 1PM when a huge greyhound-style bus pulls up, this is obviously my bus. But the third old lady looks at me, points to the bus, nods, winks and grins broadly.

I bow in thanks, smiling, this is a great little town. I think I’m going to like it here.

I get on the bus as a fifth little old lady comes over to the stop… I don’t know what bus they are getting on, but I kinda felt sad to be leaving them.

---

Tokyo is a 2 hour bus ride on an almost deserted bus (But expensive, it cost me about $13.00 for the ride into Tokyo). And as we get into town, the bus driver indicates that we are coming up on Ueno station, where one could transfer to the Ginza line of the Tokyo subway. Now, I know where my bank is in Ginza off of the Ginza line (I learned how to do it while in Training, when we 40 Gaijin assaulted the senses of the poor, unsuspecting Japanese people by being loud on said subway…), so I signal a stop and I get off the bus. I didn’t know that this would prove to be a very interesting problem once I try to return. But, being blissful and thinking myself awfully clever, I duck down into the Tokyo subway system and hop a subway over to Ginza.

Getting there was easy. Too easy… it’s like those movies where you know something is going to go wrong now…

I get my money, put it in my wallet (I have $1,000 in my wallet, and I have nothing to worry about, because pickpockets are almost non-existent in Japan… in fact, people routinely walk around with large amounts of cash…), and I hop the train back to Ueno.

I notice that the subway is going to pass Akihabara. This is the electronics capital of the world. You can get anything there… and, if you have your passport, sometimes you can get it tax free… I need to pick up some Cat5 cable and a hub so I can connect to the internet, so I decide to jump off, head over to Akihabara, and then I get back in the Tube to head back to Ueno.

It should be noted at this time that this is nowhere near the original plan, and I was all proud of myself for navigating Tokyo with such ease. I’m hopping stations, and jumping off and on trains like a pro.

I get to Ueno and I look for the bus stop…

It’s not there.

I’m a little alarmed, I got off the bus on that side of the street… where is the stop on this side of the street?

So, I ask a Policeman…

“Excuse me… I need to get to Moriya.”
“Moriya?”
“Yes, in Ibaraki.”
“Moriya city?”
“Yes. In Ibaraki”
“Please wait here.”
He goes and gets his supervisor, and older man who looks like I have been bothering him.
“You are looking for a train to Moriya?”
“No, I need to catch the bus.”
“Bus? There are no Moriya busses here, you need to go to Tokyo Station.”
“But I got off the bus over there.”
“You need to go to Tokyo Station.” Then he gives me the “Shoo off” gesture.
So I go into Ueno station, the second-largest station in Tokyo (The first largest being my destination, Tokyo Station)… during rush hour. Granted, it was a Saturday rush hour, but it was a rush hour nonetheless. I am a city boy, but this was more people than I have ever seen at one time… It was Union station… with twice the number of people.

Now, I’m pretty versed in the JR trains by now, and I just need to hop the Yamanote line (This is a train that loops around central Tokyo) three stops to Tokyo station.

I thought Ueno was a sea of humanity…

I drifted with the tide through Tokyo Station until I got to another policeman.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where the busses are?”
He gives me a blank look and then he says “I’m sorry, I don’t know, but you can ask at the fare adjustment counter.”
So I do… and the fella gives me a very sad look and then pulls out a map (The Japanese always have maps, that’s how you know I’m not Japanese, I didn’t have a map…)
“You are here, at the South gate of Tokyo station… the Busses are here, at the North gate…you need to go outside (Because to go straight, I’d have to have purchased a train ticket), and go through this corridor, and over to this side of the building.

Did I mention Tokyo station is huge? I should. During typical rush hour on a week day a million people pass through the station per hour. Per hour… And the building can handle it.

Now I’m at the busses.

I ask the conductor at gate one about the Moriya bus.

“Moriya? Gate 3” I am finally on my way home…

I get to gate 3 and there are 5 lines painted on the ground… one for each of the 5 busses that stop at gate 3… the problem is that I don’t know my home city’s name in Kanji… so I have no idea what line to wait in…

“Erm… excuse me, this Kanji… does it say “Moriya”?” I ask a little old lady.
“No, that’s for a different city, Moriya is the pink line over here. And your Japanese is really good.” They all say that. I probably said “Bus thing purple rice with cow manure sauce.” But they all say “You are so good at Japanese!” I dither, like Japanese are supposed to do, thank her, and get in line, saying something like “Kanji is so difficult.”.
I then get barraged by a chorus of “Not as difficult as English.” From various little old ladies which are standing about me… They beamed in to say that, I swear… I didn’t see them there before… Either way, I really can’t argue with that.
“Are you French?” the first little old lady asks.
“Erm… no, I’m American.” I reply… French? Really? That’s a first.
“I went to New York once.” She says “sldkfgadf kvjanldfkj a;jgoeinv New York akjfv Don’t you think? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
This is a little alarming, I have no idea what she is laughing at, but I laugh with her, I guess I can’t argue with disparaging New York in any way…

Her bus comes and she gets on, as her bus pulls away, I wave at her and she laughs and waves back… We shared a little joke… I don’t know what that joke was, but New York is obviously the butt of it… so I guess its okay…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…. Erm….right.

So I make it back, all by myself, navigating the third largest city in the world while not really speaking the language (Despite what the locals say… I know I am not doing so hot here…), and not even remotely following a plan, carrying no maps… and having only been here for three weeks. I feel like I can handle anything.

That is, until I meet my students in just a few days…

---Me.