Flights and Arrival

I'm sorry for the delay in blogs, my computer just got hooked up to Wifi today. A little more consistency will be my goal from now on. Fortunately, I've been keeping up by typing in Word, so here goes nothing:

I don’t think the fact that I was leaving really sank in until I was standing in the line to get my carry-ons checked. My mom followed me most of the way through, before hugging me and leaving. She was crying, which made me want to cry too. I didn't, in case you were wondering. Stay strong and all that.

Anyway, I got through the line with no problems. I was pretty sure my plane was the bigger one that I’d seen my suitcase going into (although I forgot about the suitcase in that moment). I walked over to the front door, and then just sort of stood in front of the steps looking pathetic and confused. The flight attendant spotted me and took pity on me. She called down to ask me where I was going, and a brief discussion ensued.

I finally managed to get on the plane and find my seat. Then came what felt like at the time one of the biggest challenges I’d ever encounter: Trying to put my smaller suitcase in the overhead compartment. Originally, I thought it would be easy. Swing up, slide in, I figured. But I was wrong. I stood there for what seemed like a good ten minutes attempting to slide it in, then putting it down again and muttering, “That’s not gonna work.” It actually got to the point where people were cheering me on. “Come on, you can do it!”
It must have looked like I suffered from Dory-type short-term memory loss. I just continued to repeat more or less the same actions over and over until the man in the seat in front of mine asked if I needed help. Feeling kind of stupid, I gratefully accepted as he jammed it in. “There,” He said kindly. “It’s in. I don’t know if it’ll come out though.” I thanked him and proceeded to bang my head on the overhead compartment as I took my seat.
Hailed as the “passenger of the day” (apparently I wasn't the only person he helped), the kindly man pulled my suitcase most of the way out of the compartment for me before getting off. I thanked him again, and- as seemed to be the new norm- I cracked my skull against the compartment on the way out, too.

As I climbed off the plane, I felt grateful that I had a plan in place for the Vancouver airport: Meet up with my grandparents briefly and grab my luggage. Unfortunately, things didn't work out that way. It probably started when I got off the plane and couldn't find them. Not knowing what else to do, I went up to an information desk and asked them where the luggage pickup was. Then, feeling uncertain, I asked if I was actually supposed to be picking up my luggage. The man looked at my ticket and told me no, they would transfer the suitcase over for me and it was headed straight to Tokyo. Not knowing what else to do, I asked where my gate was instead and began the long walk to find it. Partway through, I got turned around again and had to ask for directions a second time.
Most of the way, I was attempting to contact my mom through iMessage. Since I had no cell and no way of directly contacting my grandparents, I figured that was the best I could do. The only problem was that the Wi-Fi sucked. I tried FaceTime and email, but nothing would send through. By that time, I had reached my gate, and although I was reasonably certain I had the right one (right gate name, the flight was to Tokyo), I decided to ask anyway. According to my ticket, I had only about fifteen minutes until boarding.
I clarified that I was indeed at the right flight, but the problem of contact still remained. I was worried that my disappearance and my fail to locate my grandparents would send my entire family into panic mode. Internally freaking out, I asked about a phone and was directed to a payphone.
Keep in mind, I had never used a payphone before and had literally only ever seen them used in shows. I sat down and stared at the strange device in front of me for a moment. Instructions slid by in electric blue and I did my best to follow them. I picked up the phone and dialed my mom’s cell number. When it asked for money, I momentarily blanked. Then I began rooting around in my backpack for a dollar. My mom had given me change for water that morning, and that change was all I had on me. It took forever to fish it out, and I kept expecting the screen to just turn off.
I literally just about smashed the phone when the screen went back to the opening just as I dropped the dollar in. I was so mad. Now I had to use a Toonie, and the stupid thing didn't give change. However, finally, after the phone basically stole my water from me, I managed to make the call. There was no answer, but I left a message and hoped that no one died of a heart attack before my mom got it.

I never did see my grandparents, but I did meet a very nice man on the plane. He was going to Delhi, and gave me the cookie from his lunch because he doesn't eat sugar. This meant I received two desserts, which I felt rather made up for the payphone eating my money. We actually talked quite frequently, where he told me about his son. Fortunately, I didn't hit my head even once (and if I did, it must have been pretty hard, as I don’t recall), although I did come to once drooling.
My first impression of Japan was something along the lines of I’m going to like this country. It looks like it’s going to be a very f- whoa! Something sparkly! After that, I got off the plane, bid my seat buddy farewell, and began following the mass of people. One impressively long walk later, I found the place-where-everyone-forms-a-gigantic-line-and-gives-the-nice-person-at-the-counter-their-passport-and-that-white-paper-they-gave-us-on-the-plane. I stopped and joined the end of the line, eyeing a Japanese reporter and camera duo nervously. Roughly five minutes into the wait, the reporter came up to me and asked in English if I was okay with answering a few questions. I was so horrified that I stammered out a yes before actually thinking it over. The questions began and it took all my willpower to focus on what he was saying and not the giant camera lens pointed right at me.
Luckily for me, there were only two questions, both about the length of line. I spewed out some crap answer about thinking it was reasonable because we were foreigners trying to enter another country blah, blah, and he left me alone after that.

I had some difficulties getting through the place-where-everyone-forms-a-gigantic-line-and-gives-the-nice-person-at-the-counter-their-passport-and-that-white-paper-they-gave-us-on-the-plane because I didn't know the address or telephone number of where I was going, but they were finally able to let me through. Honestly, I think my expression of terror and stress had something to do with it.
I then picked up my suitcase on the other side, and went to go meet the family I’m staying with. I was incredibly nervous, wondering how best to confront the situation, but they put me at ease by both greeting me with hugs and just generally treating me like I was family. They asked me to call them Otosan (father) and Okasan (mother), as they’re my Japanese parents for a month. We got into their car and started on our way, which was when I got to see some interesting differences from Canada right off the bat.

The first thing I noticed was that the driver is on the opposite side of the car, and therefore, they drive on the opposite side of the street. A lot of the vans also favor the boxy shape over the smooth angles of the cars back home. Whereas Canadians seem to prefer blacks, silvers, whites and darker colours, many of the cars in Japan are more of a pastel. I saw more pink cars in one day in Japan than I have my entire life in Canada.
After observing the cars and vegetation (the trees here truly fascinate me), I started noticing people. There were quite a few with white masks over their mouths and noses. I believe these masks are worn if one has a sensitivity to dust or pollen. Perhaps this is something that Canada should adopt, as it’s really not a bad idea at all.
The first time I saw a group of girls in school uniforms, I nearly broke out in excited, spastic motions. They look exactly like they do in anime! The skirts, the tops, everything! Quelling my urge to have an excitement attack, I grinned hugely and began watching the streets closely for more uniforms. I started an attempt to mentally call them to myself: Come on, school kids. Don’t be shy. Walk passed the car. Here high schoolers. Here middle schoolers, middle schoolers, middle schoolers.
After doing this for a bit, I realized how creepy it sounded- even in my head- and stopped doing so. I still made mental comments on everything we passed, though. Sadly, they weren't intelligent or informed, mostly consisting of things like: Oo! Shrine. Oo! Bell. Big bell. Oo! Graveyard. Wait. Maybe I shouldn't sound so excited about that…

The drive back to the house took about two hours. We arrived in their neighborhood, which strikes me as very quiet in comparison to the rest of the city. In my opinion, the whole place is totally adorable. (Observe in pictures below). They gave me slippers to wear in their house, and a tour of the place. The room I’m in is very nice, it even has a desk! Then we went out for dinner to a really nice little restaurant about a two-minute walk from their house. I tried these delicious potato-things, and something called a “hamburger steak”.
Before going home, we went to a small, 7-Eleven sort of place, and a supermarket. I found both places fascinating, and probably could have stayed and stared at everything for hours. I became fond of the game if-I-stare-at-the-foreign-language-long-enough-maybe-it-will-start-to-make-sense. Eventually, we went back home, and I got to use the bath. To bathe in Japan, you always shower first, as the water is shared by everyone and you wouldn't want it to get dirty. I got into the water intending to only sit there for a few minutes, but the water was so warm and the tub was so deep and comfortable… I have no idea how long I sat there, fully submerged for. But at some point, I made myself get out and after getting ready for bed, I gave Otosan and Okasan their gifts. From their reactions, they were really happy, which was a great relief to me as I’d been a little worried about the whole thing. Otosan came up to my room to show me how to close the windows for night, because you have to slide metal blinds across them; they are a lot like what we have in schools.

Then I went to bed. Staying up for over twenty-four hours can really exhaust a person.

Here are two pictures of the street, one taken in each direction:

 And this is the awesome driveway of Otosan and Okasan: