Okay, so, I believe there is some disconnect between the first post and the video I posted and I would like to harmonize these discordant pictures of my Japanese experience. After which, I will add another line of music that will be the predominant melody of today's choral arrangement.
When we last left our hero (anti- or otherwise), he was acclimating to his three day stay in Tokyo. Well, that Saturday, I built myself a plan. Or rather, I composed a framework for the day's adventure. I decided upon a $15 train ticket that would let me go anywhere in Tokyo for the day. The possibilities were endless. I could give you a blow by blow of what I did and how I got lost looking for the Tokyo Temple or my fumbling scholarship at the Tokyo Central Library, but instead, I will let a montage of photos quell your insatiable desire for details. Remember: These each are worth 1000 words, Ms. Lowry.
Here we see a beautiful HUGE temple right at the base of the Tokyo Tower. I thought it classic.
You know I wasted no time finding the Tokyo PokeCenter!
Tokyo Tower view of the ground. I felt so vulnerable.
The Tokyo Temple. The second time I tried this looked even worse. I just couldn't get the face right. (I wonder how many times God says that?)
Dwight, the other intern, wanted to go here. We spent a while waiting for a call girl to... call to him. We didn't get anything. Just 6 large black men that, quite literally, almost pulled us in to the strip clubs they worked for. Then, Sunday morning we left Tokyo on the Shinkansen and bulleted across the country at speeds that would make even Neo blush. But, I don't think I'll mention it. Keanu has enough to be embarrassed about already. It took us four hours to get from Tokyo to Hiroshima. At which point, we were set loose to find our hotel all alone. Someone had met us at the Tokyo airport and taken us to the hotel, but out in H-town (to use the local parlance) we were left to our own futile devices. So, in the falling vanilla twilight, we used street cars, feet, and a good old pair of pealed eyes to find our hotel. This one was a bit more accommodating than it's Tokyo rival. The beds were approaching Queen size in all but length and the doors were locked with cards, not keys, so it was obviously more secure. Plus, there was a convenience store right next to the entrance. (Convenience stores = layman's cafeteria). Our first night in Hiroshima was spent sleeping. I had slept a good 4 hours the night before and was slowly coming down with the scratchy-throated beginnings of a cold, so I was in dire need of some rest and respite.
Monday, I awoke early (4 am is early, right? Jet Lag clouds everything), and after some furrowing around on the internet got some pastry from the Lawson's convenience store as I went in search of the office we were supposed to make an appearance at at about 9am. After an hour of searching all the buildings within a four block radius, I surmised that the name of the company was written in English and that I had passed by the building it was in four times during my search for the Japanese spelling. I arrived back at the hotel in time to find Dwight standing awkwardly outside my door, mid-knock. I told him I found the office and we walked the 1 minute to the building and pushed the 'up' button on the elevator.
Thus we began our training at the Hiroshima branch of Interac Inc. Our trainer was the perfect offspring of Kramer and Bill Murray. This kept me a little on edge for the four days we spent cooped up in that tiny room. Just the three of us. Me, the somewhat pockmarked and cynically subdued Kramer, Gary, and a chubbier and clumsier ironically-named incarnation of Napoleon Dynamite, Dwight. I felt a little lost in translation, to say the least. I often excused myself to the restroom to check the mirror and make sure I was still myself. These are the days you'll turn into who you'll be the rest of your life, just be sure who you turn into. Well, Ben Parker, I've been trying to do just that.
Each night we tried to find something tasty to eat in the covered shopping district close to our hotel. Dwight was also in search of another, larger suitcase, so we spent some time on that. I was dog tired, but I had to go and be the guide otherwise he would've gotten terribly lost. So, with the dog days being over, I tried to stay awake as long as I could and go out on the town with Dwight ever night, but, much to his chagrin, ten o'clock always found me sound asleep on my almost queen sized bed. We did make it out to the A-bomb dome, though, one evening.
It was raining fairly hard all week and the walk to and from the dome was not the most comfortable in my Toms, but I made it there and back again, so, not too much to complain about. The hollow dome, along with the numerous people who passed by it not even giving it so much as a glance, was a sobering sight. But those thought are for another more expressive medium. verbal conversation, maybe? A haunting piano melody? I'll leave that to the orators and musicians and my future self who has become both of these. Then on Friday morning, we left our hotel and said our goodbyes. I bid my farewell to Napoleon and boarded a bus to my own island exile. I was tired, but not too tired for a listen through of Seven Swans (My favourite album at the moment, it seems). I tried to read a little, but my eyelids were in no mood to stand at attention for any amount of time, so, at ease, I quitely drifted between sweet sweet sleep and the forested hills outside. My dreams were a combination of a poignant and melancholic longing for love and the ancient groves that swiftly sped past on the opposite side of the glass I leaned my head against. Finally, subconsciously sensing a change in the road beneath, I was roused from my reverie and greeted with the magnificent views of the Seto Inland Sea. The calm water lay as a great plane between the majestic and sudden mountains that formed the many islands of the 瀬戸内海. Soon, Asia's longest bridge behind me, I stepped out of the bus onto the smallest of Japan's four main islands, Shikoku, and into Japan's smallest prefecture, Kagawa. I was met at the bus station by an individual contracted by Interac to help me get settled in. Her name was Mrs. Yano and had spent time as a student at Ricks college and BYU Provo, though she wasn't a member. Though that was twenty years ago, she still thinks fondly upon her time in the States and has kept up her English, though most of our conversations were in Japanese. Much unloading and shopping occurred that were, to be kind, boring as krade.
Eventually, it became Saturday and I was left with a day to myself without a bike. I decided to head out and take in my surroundings. I strapped a backpack on, because I felt lonely without one, and pointed myself toward a hill not far from my apartment. I was going to climb it no matter what, but I was relieved to find that the hill was meant to be climbed and trails were prepared for that very purpose. I took a fun little hike up and around the hill. Here are some pictures I found there.
Monkeys. They seemed really bored. So was I.
Sunday. Haha, so, I walked to the train station and took the train two stops over. Then I walked across the city to the general area of the church (or so I had hoped). I had spied the church on the drive in. Thankfully it was on a big road. I had this long walk up to the door and I was extremely visible to the two Elders standing guard greeting all those who entered. I was a bit embarrassed, but kept a straight-face all the same. Let them stare. I introduced myself to a couple of people, mostly just those who inquired, and sat down in the chapel and waited for the meeting to begin. There were a LOT of white people. I came to learn that the reason 20 of the 50 people in the branch were American was because there is an English school in the area that hires almost exclusively LDS. And that none of these had extremely good, if any, Japanese ability. One of the talks was given in English with the Branch interpreter giving it in Japanese every paragraph or so. It felt more like Tokyo than a small branch in the smallest prefecture in Japan. I scanned the room for any young adults, but the closest I found was a chorister. A young woman probably in her mid-twenties. I decided I might as well have a crush on her, though I was unsure if I could actually have feelings for her. But, I mean, what the heck, right? I didn't spend too much time on it, though. The little girl next to me really wanted to play and talk about who in the branch I knew (no one). It was a short conversation that lasted almost the whole hour. I looked up once during the closing hymn and thought I caught the chorister's eyes glance my direction. I looked at the program and found out her name was Ogita H. Somewhat helpful. I was looking forward to Sunday School to see if this hastily-made decision of crushing was premature or premonition.
Unfortunately, I was Matt Accosted by the white people and forced into their English Sunday School and Priesthood meeting. They seem nice enough, but I was really looking forward to spending my internship in Japan with the Japanese... maybe? And/or this Ogita H. lady. So, I'm stuck between snubbing the expat social club and missing my opportunity to be with the Japanese members. And/or this Ogita H. lady. Who I finally met after church in the hallway. I was to receive a ride home from the second councilor and his wife and two kids, but the District President had shut him and himself in a room to discuss the branch, so I was left to my own futile devices in the hallway. This Ogita H. lady went up to the missionaries and talked to them. I felt a little jealous. What YSA would rather talk to Elders than another YSA? Elders are off-limits, I'm really not. Then the Elders left. I was relieved. Then Ogita H. and I put on a fun little play. I was standing in the hall as awkwardly as I could. She was doing the same on a corner a couple feet away. We both sat there waiting. I looked down, hands clasped behind my back, scratching at the floor with my shoes as if to free some dirt entwined within the carpet. And she said her first line: "Those are some pretty nice glasses." The rest is, as they say, history. In short, yes, Sandra Bullock, it was premonition.
Then I got home and did nothing for the rest of the day. Then we had a training on Monday. And I taught Tuesday and Wednesday. Today is Thursday and I've spent it inside sleeping or writing this. Literally took me three hours. The kids are great. Next time I'll prolly write about Japanese Elementary schools. I teach 3rd and 4th graders. Soo fun! If you read all of this, you must have the patience of Gob.
