My supervisor laughs when I inform I’m going to Suzu (珠洲) for Obon to visit my friend, Ezzie.
“Without a car,” his amusement is undisguised, “I don’t know how to get there.” With that, he bids me to call someone in Suzu and ask the best way, to which the reply is overwhelmingly, “why would you want to go to Suzu?” After I wait for the laughing to subside, and they realize I’m quite serious, they tell me to go to Anamizu with puzzlement thick in their voices. I nod, trying to fake confidence even though they cannot see me through the phone, and neglect to tell them I don’t actually know where it is.
Bus schedules in rural areas, such as the Noto peninsula are punctual but infrequent. Traveling north is a joke, for all bus schedules tell are for the southern towns, such as Hakui, and Kanazawa.
Nevertheless, I am stubborn about my impromptu decision, and I venture to the bus station to figure out the best route. As the directions are being explained, I notice that man’s cigarette has extinguished in neglect because of his shock. Why would anyone want to go to Suzu? The quest becomes more daunting, but I refuse to succumb to cowardice.
The first bus out of Togi to the north is at seven o’clock. Determined not be on busses all day, I wake up at six, and arrive at the station at six forty-five. At seven o’clock, I notice a bus leave, read its characters and realize its mine as it disappears through the city streets with an endless stream of my curse words chasing it, as if I believe they will wrangle it and bring it back. I chock it up to fate, and suppose there is a reason for missing the bus, though none become readily apparent. I believe in fate, although it does seem determined to make me live a life of never-ending stagnation. So, I returned home, watch Pocket Monsters (which is surprisingly easy to understand), some baseball and then make my way back to the terminal. This time, I get on the bus and make my way to the next terminal, a small Podunk town called Monzen.
The characters for Monzen (門前) mean “before the gate”, and I can only presume it means the gate way to hell. The streets where desolate, with the only population visible waiting in a very hot bus station for buses that seemed would never come. I am left with nothing to do but wonder if the devil had thought of making this a punishment for sins. Two hours pass, and I’m convinced that the lady sitting next to me is a witch, so much so that I write this:
There was a witch in Monzen, on the Eleventh of August, waiting for a bus. When
she spoke, her voice went into octaves inconceivable by ordinary humans, and
when she found something funny (which was usually something she said), she did
not laugh as you and I would, but instead cackled so loudly that for those brief
moments the room was so full of noise and echoes that one could hardly breath
for it was devoid of air. When her companion leaves her to smoke, she stands up
and paces, only to stand in front of the window and mumble nonsense phrases that
are likely curses. I felt fortunate to have preemptively countered her curses
earlier by holding my breath while going through a tunnel and wishing to make it
to my destination ok. She continues to mumble as I leave her. The witch was
still waiting for her bus.
I meet another foreigner on the bus, a second-year ALT on the bus, and I realize that it was then that I was meant to miss the first bus. Without him, I surely would have missed my stop and ended up in the far reaches of the Noto peninsula with nothing but a list of phone numbers to aid me.
I get out of the bus into the sticky heat of Anamizu 1600 yen and five hours later with high hopes about my last leg of the journey. However, all hopes are dashed when I try to read the schedule which is incomprehensible to anyone but a Japanese person. My genius plan, then, is to ask every single bus, no matter what side of the road, if it is going to Suzu. There is no such luck, and I continue to wait with my toes burning in the sun and my throat slowly drying like a pot in a kiln. It becomes harder and harder to swallow with every passing, burning second.
This is where I waited for the bus for three hours. Engrish like this is not uncommon.
Unable to bear the thirst any longer, I make my way to the ever ubiquitous vending machine, at which point I am accosted by a strange man with a poorly shaven face, a dowdy fishing hat and a shirt that proudly proclaims the name New York. He asks me “where are you going?” twice, as if he is unsure of his grammar.
“Suzu,” I reply.
“Wait here, wait here.” He motions to the stop I was at, and then looks at the bus schedule. The bus, he informs me, will not arrive until six o’clock. I look at my watch, which says it is only three. Seeing my face fall, he invites me to his house. I scramble for a way out, and remember there was a CD store nearby. “I like music,” I shake my head, “so I will go do some shopping.”
“I’ll come with you.” He is still fumbling with words. Excited to see a foreigner, he tells me that he is forty-five and asks “do you have a boyfriend?” I lie and say yes, and he tells me that I need to get married to him quickly. He says, “I hate Japan” and points to his shirt. “That is why I why I wear this.” It takes my best effort, but I smile knowingly, although up until this point I had found I really rather liked Japan.
As we approach the doors into the store he stops and he says that he can’t come in. Thankful for the opportunity to be left, I walk in without a second glance, fervently praying that he won’t be waiting for me to come out. I start to wonder if fate is being cruel again.
Originally, I plan to grab a CD randomly to add some more adventure to my life. However, the price was enough to quell even the most spendthrift part of me. Reluctantly, I set the CD that I had chosen (largely due to the very attractive man that looked up at me with sultry eyes) down and wander into the book section. Frankly, I was having enough of adventure. Comic books are a very cheap in Japan, so I bought five books and wandered over to the magazine section. My vain efforts to translate the titles is interrupted by a “hey! Hey!”
He is standing in the doors with a CD in his hand. Warily, he walks in and gives me the Best of Marvin Gaye which I accept suspiciously, largely due to the sheer arbitrariness of it, but also because I don’t actually like Marvin Gaye. With it, he gives me his three cell phone numbers, home number, and email address which he admits sheepishly. I chortle because it is Momotaroh125943, which is evidently a very popular name. Momotaroh is a tale that I have only just learned, but it is very famous in Japan. It is about a boy found in a peach with amazing fighting abilities, and it seems to me that everybody in Japan wants to be him. At least 125943 are not afraid to admit it.
The man leaves again, casting his eyes about nervously and I sneak out and dodge into the grocery store, which is busy, crowded, and not well suited for a frightened foreigner carting a suitcase around. I buy a snack because I remember I have not eaten since I left, and the sneak back to the bus stop, worried that Mamatoroh125943-san will return. A bus comes, and I do my usual “Are you going to Suzu?”
The bus driver replies, “Suzu no iida,” and I give him a blank look devoid of comprehension. He shakes his head and drives off. Two seconds pass, and it dawns on me that he was saying that it goes to Iida station, the exact place I needed to go. I berate myself using a few choice words that I say a little too loudly, and wait for another bus which comes forty-five minutes later and ask “Are you going to Suzu’s Iida station?” and the he nods his head unenthusiastically.
The bus ride is beautiful, yet I spend my time pondering safe places to go should earthquake occur. I came to the unfortunate conclusion that there is none, and resolve not to tell my mother about this, for she worries enough as it is. After that, the trip was uneventful. I was spotted by Anne (apparently it is very easy to spot blond hair in Japan), a fourth year ALT in Suzu who called Ezzie and she ran out to greet me. I try to tell her I am to sweaty to hug her but she does so any way. We meet the two other ALTs and eat ramen at a local ramen house and watch Shaun of the Dead. I thank god for the night for being uneventful as I go to bed for I had enough adventure for one day.
No comments:
Post a Comment