Tokyo, Day 1: I Arrive.

"Takae! I am coming to visit you in Tokyo!"
"Okay! I will meet you at the train station, but I might not have a phone to call you."
"That's all right, just look for the American toting a red suitcase and looking lost. That's me!"

I didn't sleep at all last night, and for once it wasn't because of a 6.4 earthquake beckoning me out of my apartment in search of a safe haven. No, my 2am wide-eyed and bushy-tailed demeanor was due to pure excitement. I'm going to Tokyo! It's not the city that excites me, nor the fact that I have two weeks off of work and out of little Funehiki, but that I received the delightful invitation to spend this time with my adopted Japanese family. With a bit of internet research I found a potential train schedule via shinkansen, affectionately referred to as "shinks" by the team and "bullet train" by the rest of America. My morning was a flurry of cleaning, last-minute packing, dishes, taking out the garbage, trip to the daifuku store for omiyage, and grabbing Rachel so we could lug my little red suitcase to the train station. 

I almost missed the daifuku shop on account of being too early. However, I was able to enter and bid the friendly shop owner a good morning before requesting an order of 7 various flavors of filling. These included blueberry, banana, chocolate banana, melon, and chocolate chip. Being prompted I explained that they were gifts since I was traveling to Tokyo today. After a brief language fail gestures came through and she happily wrapped them in cute paper and ribbon and placed them carefully inside an insulated container with cold packs to keep the cream cold. I love Japan. 

The train ride was non-eventful and upon arriving at Koriyama with 40 minutes to spare I went to the ticket window to buy my shinkansen fare. That transaction included more language fails, mostly dependent on me not trusting myself that I heard what I thought I heard...sometimes I take in too much context. In the end I bought my fare and possessed two tickets going to the same destination but with two different starting points...for one train. Not sure what that was all about. Rachel and I exited the eki and hit up Starbucks for our free drink, courtesy of my boss who gave us free drink coupons during our last week of work. I bought my favorite soy macha frappachino but barely consumed half of the cup before turning it over to Rachel. I was so excited and nervous about catching the wrong train and anything else that could go wrong that I couldn't drink it. We parted ways and I proceeded to go through the stile to the platform. The machine accepted my pre-paid ticket and opened the door, but promptly shut again before I could walk through. It spat my ticket back out and beeped in defiance. 

What?! How rude.

I tried again. No such luck. 

Now time was beginning to tick away and I thought, how will I get through this stupid gate? This had better not make me late!

A friendly "sumimasen" (excuse me) appeared out of the air and I turned around to see a white gloved hand extended towards me. 
He asked to see my ticket, then asked if I had a second one. Turns out, you have to stack the tickets on top of each other and put them in the machine at the SAME TIME! Who knew?...

With my bag of daifuku held firmly in my right hand, my stuffed backpack with high-heels poking out the side pockets strapped to my sweaty back, rolling my red suitcase along behind my girly painted toes and bling sandals, I must have been quite a sight to behold. Imagine the sight as I rolled right up to the sign that said "Platform 13 --->" and I saw several flights of stairs stacked on top of each other, looming before me. I stood there in my cute Japanese shirt and leggings as the stairs went up and up and up. I remembered my mom's warning voice years prior, "only pack what you can carry," and I wanted to rewind a few hours back to when I added several pairs of shoes and sat on it to zipper it shut. 

I stood on the platform and watched a family of four preparing for their journey. The little boy was obviously excited for his first shinkansen trip. I was equally excited, but held it on the inside. It's no fun being an adult. 

The shinks was only at the platform for a minute, so I knew getting on the train was the most important thing. Holding a "non-reserved" ticket I was afraid of accidentally taking someone's seat or committing some other shinks faux pas. Unfortunately the line I was in was clearly marked "No. 8 reserved car" and so was No. 9, 10, etc. I couldn't read the signs in the other direction. The train arrived and I figured I'd just ask the conductor once I was on. I boarded and found a white-gloved, hat-tipping man eager to answer my stupid question spoken in terrible Japanese. 

I learned that cars 1-7 were for unreserved tickets. Great. I was on car 8. Well, that's not so bad, just one car to walk through. Well, remember all the stuff I'm carrying with me? Now imagine me going through a train aisle and all the people have also just got on and are finding their seats. Now watch me, the American with the bulging backpack and red suitcase barging through the middle and probably wheeling over some lady's foot. That's me. I made it to car 7 and camped out in the first empty row of seats I found. The train is already underway of course. The row of three seats was perfect: I took the window, my bag took the middle, and the suitcase took the legroom in front of it. Now to relax.

The ride was most enjoyable. It was like melting a stick of butter in a frying pan and you kind of stir it around as it melts. Seamless. A cloudy day, but the vivid green of the rice fields were bursting with color. Through several tunnels and small villages the shinkansen roared past, its rounded nose pointing the way to a bustling metropolis. It seemed to say, "Excuse me, pardon my intrusion on your quiet field, but I have a very important mission carrying very important people and we're kind of on a very tight schedule so if you don't mind I'm just going to go as fast as I can and pretend I was never here. Goodby---"
Stop number one, a half-hour into the ride, I could barely believe that time had passed. A few more passengers joined us but there were plenty of open seats. I listened to my soothing music from my headphones and was tempted to catch up on the sleep I missed last night, but the beautiful view and bewitching speed of the train kept my attention out the window. 

No sooner had I boarded the shinks than an hour had passed and it was time to say goodbye to the white magical machine. 
I was practically doing the potty dance by that time and was relieved to find a bathroom immediately after the platform. My phone rang and I knew it was Takae calling me, having borrowed her dad's cellphone. Due to my inopportune location, I did not return the call but immediately left the restroom and looked for her smiling face. In 2 short seconds I heard the familiar voice "Su-chan!" and saw her standing on the other side of the stile. Now an expert, I placed both tickets in the machine and was uninhibited by the gates as I passed through them. Greetings ensued, and as we proceeded to walk out she commented, "I am surprised that you only have one bag. I was expecting to see the red suitcase."

Eh?

Oh crap. I left it in the bathroom!

The stile-man kindly let me back through the stile with a magic push of a button and I retrieved the suitcase, standing at attention as though it belonged there. If this was an airport they would have brought over bomb-sniffing dogs and run me through a body scanner....twice.

I'm certainly glad Takae led me the rest of the way to her house because we boarded no fewer than 5 other trains for the remainder of the journey. Her mom (okaasan) picked us up a block from the eki. We exchanged greetings and "ohisashiburi desu ne" (it's been a long time!) and the tears began to flow. I felt so loved! Truly this is my other home. 

As I first entered the house I was anointed with my own pair of house slippers and a pair of hashi (chopsticks) which were a dark wood with dark red glossy strip at the top underneath gilded cream-colored sakura blossoms. Okaasan was impressed that I could use my hashi and eat sushi. Yes, it's a talent I possess. We went to ojii-chan's room (grandpa), sliding back the door to reveal a tatami-mat floor. I stepped in to greet him and committed my first of probably many mistakes: take off your shoes (inside slippers too) before stepping on tatami mats. I'd even been taught that before but it slipped my mind. Well, I guess I'll really remember it now!

The rest of the afternoon I enjoyed good conversation, courtesy of my translator, Takae, and a home-cooked meal. Everything was delicious, of course! Having not eaten since 7am that morning, lunch at 3pm was fabulous. We talked about the weather, about where I live, and about where I want to go in Tokyo. Of course the conversation eventually steered towards the earthquake that happened in March, fears surrounding radiation, and the quakes that shake Fukushima-ken on a weekly and sometimes daily basis. I received multiple admonishments to be careful, to be concerned for my health, and to leave Japan if I ever felt uncomfortable or in danger. In the end my message was: if it's good enough for you to live here then it's good enough for me. We're all people and it doesn't matter where we were born--that's just luck of the draw. As long as I feel that God wants me here then I'll stay here. You are like my family!

That brought more tears. 

Otoosan (father) and Yuko-chan (Takae's sister) came home from work a few hours later, each with a fresh and different bouquet of flowers they had bought at the bus station for me. SOOOOO sweet!

The rest of the evening was filled with stories, laughter, more stories, gifts, daifuku (which was  HUGE success), dinner, plans for next summer, plans for Christmas, plans to climb Fuji, and a little bit of sake. Konpai! Okaasan mentioned, "Susie, you are speaking more Japanese now than even when you arrived here just a few hours ago. You are improving!"
I pointed to the empty shot glass that previously held warm sake. 

"It's because of this." 

Point taken. 

Turns out, me and ojii-chan have something in common: we both like sake. 

I was given the tour of the house, the lights, the bathroom, how to operate the shades and air conditioner, and left to my own devices. Now that I'm most decidedly done writing this narrative, I'm going to catch up on my beauty sleep.