Japan: A hub of Darkness, Poison Rain, and a Booze Cruise
Summer 20.X.1 - Part 2
Everything.
Everything could go wrong. That's what it seemed like anyway.
The year is 20.X.1.
I sit in the Bangkok airport waiting to check in for my flight to Tokyo. I had gone to check in a couple hours earlier, only to find the check in counter wasn't even open yet. This time I approached the counter and there where actually people working behind it. Frantically. My eyes meet theirs and I see a look containing a mix of surprise and fear. "What are you doing!?" The lady behind the counter asks, her tone and expression suggesting she had stepped on a knife at that exact moment. "Checking in?" I answered, unsure of what's happening. "You're too late, check in is closed!"
We stare at each other for what feels like several confusing minutes. "Why are you late!?" At this point I'm sure I'm more surprised that she is. I am then informed that my flight had been moved up an hour.
I was not aware that that was a thing.
Apperently the information on your ticket is more of an estimate than an actual fact. "You've only got minutes to make it to the plane. I'll check you in, but the rest is up to you!" She then paused in disbelief. "Do you have a checked bag!?" Yes. I begin the slightest motion to initiate handing her my gigantic novelty sized bag from Thailand. "Not here, we're closed! you've got to drop it off over there! (pointing far away) Run!" I ran as best I could wearing flip flops and carrying rediculouse baggage. I drop my bag off and take off for customs. I arrive and give the passport inspector my passport. Glancing repeatedly back and forth between me and the document, the inspector then takes my passport and leaves. I wait for awhile. Nothing. "This is taking a long time to stamp me out of here", I think, "He must be getting more ink for the stamp". The customs assistant who was left to watch me after the inspector took off must have been reading my facial expression becouse he said "Your visa is expired. We're detaining you untill we can figure out what to do with you. Probobly we'll charge you money." I didn't have much, and I certainly wasn't going to give them any if I could help it. The inspector returned and I explained the rush I was in and showed him my ticket. He agreed to let me go, without charging me with anything.
Circumstance overcome!
I boarded the flight and made it to Tokyo. "Finally things are looking up!" I thought. Turns out, this was not the case.
As I crossed into Japanese customs, the area was empty save for one customs agent and myself. No one else around as far as the eye could see. The customs agent looked at me and said "Our drug dogs have smelled drugs on you. You must come with me." Now, not only where there no drugs, but there weren't any dogs! There was nothing! Even though I'm sure they had a quota to fill, what happened next in their tiny "special room" was still rediculouse.
Minutes turned to an hour, and that hour bled into the next as this man and his boss carefully unpacked and inspected absolutely everything I had. Staring at each object as if it had come from space. "What is this!?" A poncho. "What's it for?" Sheilding you from the rain. "Yes... I've heard of these..." "What is this!?" Heat rash powder. "It's got a picture of a snake on it. Is it made from snakes?" No. That's the mascot. "Hmm...how do you use it?" You put it on. "hmm...".
So on and so on. Each question more rediculouse than the last. As one man clumsily bumbled through my belongings the other began the invasive questioning. "Any drugs on you?" No. "Weed" No. "Heroine?" No. "Drugs?" Still no. He then pulled out several charts with pictures of drugs on them. Pointing to each one he would ask "Any of these?" 'Are they drugs?'I asked. "Yes." Then no. Then he pulled out a huge binder of cataloged images of contraband, flipping through each one carefully and asking if I had any of them on my person. No bricks of cocaine. No samurai swords. No cannonball-with-a-wick-coming-out-the-top bombs. No rabid monkeys. Nothing. Which they already knew, becouse they had seen all of my things. "Do you have any pills on you?" I have vitamin C tablets, they're 2 years old. You can take them actually. "We don't want them."
Then came my personal highlight of the whole event. Japan is very closed when it comes to the importation/exportation of foods, animals, plants, ect. so they asked me if I had been near any farms, forests, or wildlife while I was in Thailand... but they phrased their question wrong. Their semantics allowed me to answer truthfully in the negative, which I did. Take that! Now your country is full of monkey diseases!
Though, as it turned out, monkey diseases would be the least of their worries. A few months prior to my arrival, the largest earthquake Japan had ever seen, and possibly in recorded earth history, had struck and decimated north east Japan. The force of the quacke was such that it caused a tsunami that destroyed towns, and hit a main nuclear power plant, which in turn caused a nuclear meltdown and left a third of the country in shambles. This triple strike had completely changed Japan.
Besides the physical shift, the economic impact was drastic. The yen had become so strong that Japan couldn't get other countries to import Japanese goods. This coupled with the increasingly worthless doller (lowest value since...WWII?) brought me right back to broke status...again.
Afterr I managed to escape the airport with the same intensity one might devote to escaping prison I made it to Tokyo proper. My next task was to find the place I would be staying. Hunting for a place you've never been with luggage you don't want to carry is good training... for your spirit. Either that or it just helps compound on all the other negatives that are around you.
Speaking of negatives, after I successfully found the place and dropped my bag off, I went walking around. It took no time at all for me to notice that the whole air about Tokyo had changed. After the triple strike of earthquake/tsunami/meltdown many people had moved away. There where noticibly fewer people around. Also, becouse some power plants where off line, Tokyo had gone into power conservation mode, which meant man of it's neon lights and giant televeisions where shut off. The city had literally become a darker place. Also figurativley darker. The people that hadn't moved away usually had much less welcoming attituded than before (this applies of course only applies to strangers, not friends).
Then there's the rain. Tokyo rain is notorious for being acid rain and causing you to go bald. Now however, thanks to the recent events, its more like radioactive acid rain. Now you can get big cancerous tumors as you go bald. In the dark.
If my outlook seems somewhat bleak, it might be due to the fact that at this time I was completely broke, and becouse of that, I wound up trapped in a small suburb with no money for transportation to the dojo. The distance was so great, I couldn't get there with any chance of training should I have walked (which I did do a couple time, but it was beyond impractical). Luckily, after a week, one of my previouse plans came to fruition and I got some money. Then it was back to business as usuall. Training six days a week, and doing my normal things.
I used Tokyo as my base of operations while I planned other ventures and embarked on other journeys, departing and returning to Tokyo. Journeys such as my training mission to Okinawa (see "summer 20.X.1-part 3).
The first time I went back to the dojo to give everyone their souvineers Mori said to the students "Oh, it's Nash. Everyone remembers Nash right? Always on some weird training mission, walked 1,200km on a wim, climbed Mt.Fuji barefoot. Yeah, Nash." Kamada told me everyone at the dojo talks about me throughout the year. Everyone wonders when I'll be back, and it seems the regular students arent' sure when I am, and when I am not, in the country.
As I was making my souvineer rounds, I stopped by one office where a friend of mine works and brought him and his female coworker some things from Thailand. He is always glad to see me, and hear whatever tales I've gathered since the last time we met. He loves a good story, and as such will help me anyway he can. His female coworker... much the opposite. "what are you wanting?" she asked snidley. Nothing. Can't a guy just drop ini and give people souvineers? "I suppose. Thanks". So...how can one go about getting to Okinawa from almost nothing? "I knew it! You only come by when you need help with some completely crazy plan you have!" She said with a mix of smug and disgust.
I got the information I needed though...
I also wound up meeting a couple of 19 year old guys who where going to a language school I went to, and asked if I would show them a real Japanese all-nighter, as they where new to the country and hadn't had one yet. They where not ready for it. One guy kept trying to pick street fights with japanese guys (they spoke no english, he spoke no japanese), and the other guy dropped to all fours in a crowded street and started projectile vomiting. A stranger came up behind him and pretended to rape him. I took a picture. A little later he again dropped to all fours and started projectile vomiting. This time on a police station.
It was a productive night.
I went to tell Mori of my endever during one of our regular dinners. We swapped stories of a similar nature and eventually got to me training with Kenji Yamaki over New Year's. Everyone at the table simultaniously said "What!? He's super famouse!" I hadn't realised how popular he was in Japan. Very popular. Mori then recomended several other karate masters I go visit. I asked why he hadn't visited them himself. A look of genuine sadness crossed his eyes. "I can't. Kyokushin fighters have to stay in Kyokushin. We're not allowed to visit other styles. We're not even allowed to visit other Kyokushin teams. I can't do the things you do. I don't have your freedom..." his voice carried a depressing desperate longing within it. This is why I will never confine myself in such a way. I'll follow " No-restrictions-fighting-Nash"style karate!
Though no one wants to do the things they don't want to do, sometimes they must. Such as Mori right then, are me and the place I was staying.
I was staying with a friend's friend. She's very nice, but our personalities and lifestyles are polar opposites. It was like a very unfunny "odd couple". To make matters worse, I was only supposed to be there for 10 days, then I was to stay with a friend who was coming to Japan... but they didn't come. So I stayed. Neither one of us was happy about it really, but I needed a place for my giant Thai bag, otherwise I would have just slept on the street. The lady didn't want me sleeping on the street, so she wanted me to stay. We where stuck.
On the bright side though, I met one of her friends who was a proffesional dancer. Upon seeing me she said "THIS is the guy? I thought from the stories he would be taller. More muscular. More wild. He just looks like a regular guy." That was literally the first thing she said in my pressence. I tried to convince her that I was plenty wild, and had muscles. "Nah. You just seem to regular to be the guy I've hear of." I told her I used to have mutten chops. "yeah, thats the kind of guy I imagined you to be". Outside of her destroying my self image, she informed me that she had a friend who had ridden a boat I had spent the last couple of years perfecting a plan to ride said boat for free. Turns out, it's not worth it. Guess I'll put that plan to use elsewhere...
Outside of that one good encounter though, I didn't match where I was staying. In fact, I didn't really like the area itself. Hated it might more acurately describe it actually. It also just so happens to be the place I was stuck ini for abit before I got my money. Apperently other people didn't want me to be there just as badly as I didn't want me to be there, becouse one day a low level yakuza thug walked up to me and tried to pick a fight with me at the train station.
I had never seen him before, but he saw me from across the way and came over. Then started swearing at me in japanese: "Hey! Fucking foreigner! What are you doing here foreigner? Japan is only for the Japanese! Get the fuck out! You think you're so good. I'm 39 years old god dammit!" He then proceeded to get into my space, being carefull not to actually touch me (wise move on his part). Then more swearing about foreigners. I wouldn't fight a frail 39 year old if he wasn't actually a threat (usually), so I just let him talk. Then he started to hock a big loogie. He implied that it was meant for me. Our eyes locked. The demon in me screaming 'Do it! Set me free!' . He had a change of heart and spit on the ground instead. After a few more minutes of him peacocking he left, realizing I wouldnt' fight based only on words. Oddly enough this low level yakuza fight avoidence had become increasingly common for me. This was the fourth time something like this had happened, but I won't drop someone just for saying something. Spit though...
Seaking some fighting I would actually benifit from, I went to the dojo. After training, Fab (my french buddy) and I went to a new MMA gym that had just opened. I wanted to watch training. We walked in and the coach asked if we had any training experience. "A little karate" I responded. "A little karate?" Fab said jokingly "your a liar." No, it's a matter of perspective I retorded. I chose the subtle route. Fab chose the opposite. "I've got 20 years Judo training, 10 years Jujutsu training, and a couple years karate training with famouse teachers." He said, proudly. We then went and watched the training and after we left I told Fab I had just picked up a few moves from them. "Your a technique theif! You just walk in and take some moves and leave!" No, I liberated those techniques. But even if what you said was true, you've gotta take what you can get.
As my time in Japan started running out, the going away parties started. As it turns out, quite a few people where going away, so there where quite a few. One of the more interesting ones was for my friend Haruka, who was moving to Singapore for two years. Her party was on an Alchohol filled boat. The Tokyo "Yukata booze cruise". Good times. My fairwell parties where unfortunatly mundane by comparisson, but had considerably more fighting in them (in a good way).
After all was said and done, and my many diffirent training journeys within the country over those two months where over, it was time for me to leave Japan and move on to greener pastures and wider sees... or at least less radioactive ones...
Also, I needed to fully refine the techniques I "liberated" from their respective gyms.
-Nash
Everything could go wrong. That's what it seemed like anyway.
The year is 20.X.1.
I sit in the Bangkok airport waiting to check in for my flight to Tokyo. I had gone to check in a couple hours earlier, only to find the check in counter wasn't even open yet. This time I approached the counter and there where actually people working behind it. Frantically. My eyes meet theirs and I see a look containing a mix of surprise and fear. "What are you doing!?" The lady behind the counter asks, her tone and expression suggesting she had stepped on a knife at that exact moment. "Checking in?" I answered, unsure of what's happening. "You're too late, check in is closed!"
We stare at each other for what feels like several confusing minutes. "Why are you late!?" At this point I'm sure I'm more surprised that she is. I am then informed that my flight had been moved up an hour.
I was not aware that that was a thing.
Apperently the information on your ticket is more of an estimate than an actual fact. "You've only got minutes to make it to the plane. I'll check you in, but the rest is up to you!" She then paused in disbelief. "Do you have a checked bag!?" Yes. I begin the slightest motion to initiate handing her my gigantic novelty sized bag from Thailand. "Not here, we're closed! you've got to drop it off over there! (pointing far away) Run!" I ran as best I could wearing flip flops and carrying rediculouse baggage. I drop my bag off and take off for customs. I arrive and give the passport inspector my passport. Glancing repeatedly back and forth between me and the document, the inspector then takes my passport and leaves. I wait for awhile. Nothing. "This is taking a long time to stamp me out of here", I think, "He must be getting more ink for the stamp". The customs assistant who was left to watch me after the inspector took off must have been reading my facial expression becouse he said "Your visa is expired. We're detaining you untill we can figure out what to do with you. Probobly we'll charge you money." I didn't have much, and I certainly wasn't going to give them any if I could help it. The inspector returned and I explained the rush I was in and showed him my ticket. He agreed to let me go, without charging me with anything.
Circumstance overcome!
I boarded the flight and made it to Tokyo. "Finally things are looking up!" I thought. Turns out, this was not the case.
As I crossed into Japanese customs, the area was empty save for one customs agent and myself. No one else around as far as the eye could see. The customs agent looked at me and said "Our drug dogs have smelled drugs on you. You must come with me." Now, not only where there no drugs, but there weren't any dogs! There was nothing! Even though I'm sure they had a quota to fill, what happened next in their tiny "special room" was still rediculouse.
Minutes turned to an hour, and that hour bled into the next as this man and his boss carefully unpacked and inspected absolutely everything I had. Staring at each object as if it had come from space. "What is this!?" A poncho. "What's it for?" Sheilding you from the rain. "Yes... I've heard of these..." "What is this!?" Heat rash powder. "It's got a picture of a snake on it. Is it made from snakes?" No. That's the mascot. "Hmm...how do you use it?" You put it on. "hmm...".
So on and so on. Each question more rediculouse than the last. As one man clumsily bumbled through my belongings the other began the invasive questioning. "Any drugs on you?" No. "Weed" No. "Heroine?" No. "Drugs?" Still no. He then pulled out several charts with pictures of drugs on them. Pointing to each one he would ask "Any of these?" 'Are they drugs?'I asked. "Yes." Then no. Then he pulled out a huge binder of cataloged images of contraband, flipping through each one carefully and asking if I had any of them on my person. No bricks of cocaine. No samurai swords. No cannonball-with-a-wick-coming-out-the-top bombs. No rabid monkeys. Nothing. Which they already knew, becouse they had seen all of my things. "Do you have any pills on you?" I have vitamin C tablets, they're 2 years old. You can take them actually. "We don't want them."
Then came my personal highlight of the whole event. Japan is very closed when it comes to the importation/exportation of foods, animals, plants, ect. so they asked me if I had been near any farms, forests, or wildlife while I was in Thailand... but they phrased their question wrong. Their semantics allowed me to answer truthfully in the negative, which I did. Take that! Now your country is full of monkey diseases!
Though, as it turned out, monkey diseases would be the least of their worries. A few months prior to my arrival, the largest earthquake Japan had ever seen, and possibly in recorded earth history, had struck and decimated north east Japan. The force of the quacke was such that it caused a tsunami that destroyed towns, and hit a main nuclear power plant, which in turn caused a nuclear meltdown and left a third of the country in shambles. This triple strike had completely changed Japan.
Besides the physical shift, the economic impact was drastic. The yen had become so strong that Japan couldn't get other countries to import Japanese goods. This coupled with the increasingly worthless doller (lowest value since...WWII?) brought me right back to broke status...again.
Afterr I managed to escape the airport with the same intensity one might devote to escaping prison I made it to Tokyo proper. My next task was to find the place I would be staying. Hunting for a place you've never been with luggage you don't want to carry is good training... for your spirit. Either that or it just helps compound on all the other negatives that are around you.
Speaking of negatives, after I successfully found the place and dropped my bag off, I went walking around. It took no time at all for me to notice that the whole air about Tokyo had changed. After the triple strike of earthquake/tsunami/meltdown many people had moved away. There where noticibly fewer people around. Also, becouse some power plants where off line, Tokyo had gone into power conservation mode, which meant man of it's neon lights and giant televeisions where shut off. The city had literally become a darker place. Also figurativley darker. The people that hadn't moved away usually had much less welcoming attituded than before (this applies of course only applies to strangers, not friends).
Then there's the rain. Tokyo rain is notorious for being acid rain and causing you to go bald. Now however, thanks to the recent events, its more like radioactive acid rain. Now you can get big cancerous tumors as you go bald. In the dark.
If my outlook seems somewhat bleak, it might be due to the fact that at this time I was completely broke, and becouse of that, I wound up trapped in a small suburb with no money for transportation to the dojo. The distance was so great, I couldn't get there with any chance of training should I have walked (which I did do a couple time, but it was beyond impractical). Luckily, after a week, one of my previouse plans came to fruition and I got some money. Then it was back to business as usuall. Training six days a week, and doing my normal things.
I used Tokyo as my base of operations while I planned other ventures and embarked on other journeys, departing and returning to Tokyo. Journeys such as my training mission to Okinawa (see "summer 20.X.1-part 3).
The first time I went back to the dojo to give everyone their souvineers Mori said to the students "Oh, it's Nash. Everyone remembers Nash right? Always on some weird training mission, walked 1,200km on a wim, climbed Mt.Fuji barefoot. Yeah, Nash." Kamada told me everyone at the dojo talks about me throughout the year. Everyone wonders when I'll be back, and it seems the regular students arent' sure when I am, and when I am not, in the country.
As I was making my souvineer rounds, I stopped by one office where a friend of mine works and brought him and his female coworker some things from Thailand. He is always glad to see me, and hear whatever tales I've gathered since the last time we met. He loves a good story, and as such will help me anyway he can. His female coworker... much the opposite. "what are you wanting?" she asked snidley. Nothing. Can't a guy just drop ini and give people souvineers? "I suppose. Thanks". So...how can one go about getting to Okinawa from almost nothing? "I knew it! You only come by when you need help with some completely crazy plan you have!" She said with a mix of smug and disgust.
I got the information I needed though...
I also wound up meeting a couple of 19 year old guys who where going to a language school I went to, and asked if I would show them a real Japanese all-nighter, as they where new to the country and hadn't had one yet. They where not ready for it. One guy kept trying to pick street fights with japanese guys (they spoke no english, he spoke no japanese), and the other guy dropped to all fours in a crowded street and started projectile vomiting. A stranger came up behind him and pretended to rape him. I took a picture. A little later he again dropped to all fours and started projectile vomiting. This time on a police station.
It was a productive night.
I went to tell Mori of my endever during one of our regular dinners. We swapped stories of a similar nature and eventually got to me training with Kenji Yamaki over New Year's. Everyone at the table simultaniously said "What!? He's super famouse!" I hadn't realised how popular he was in Japan. Very popular. Mori then recomended several other karate masters I go visit. I asked why he hadn't visited them himself. A look of genuine sadness crossed his eyes. "I can't. Kyokushin fighters have to stay in Kyokushin. We're not allowed to visit other styles. We're not even allowed to visit other Kyokushin teams. I can't do the things you do. I don't have your freedom..." his voice carried a depressing desperate longing within it. This is why I will never confine myself in such a way. I'll follow " No-restrictions-fighting-Nash"style karate!
Though no one wants to do the things they don't want to do, sometimes they must. Such as Mori right then, are me and the place I was staying.
I was staying with a friend's friend. She's very nice, but our personalities and lifestyles are polar opposites. It was like a very unfunny "odd couple". To make matters worse, I was only supposed to be there for 10 days, then I was to stay with a friend who was coming to Japan... but they didn't come. So I stayed. Neither one of us was happy about it really, but I needed a place for my giant Thai bag, otherwise I would have just slept on the street. The lady didn't want me sleeping on the street, so she wanted me to stay. We where stuck.
On the bright side though, I met one of her friends who was a proffesional dancer. Upon seeing me she said "THIS is the guy? I thought from the stories he would be taller. More muscular. More wild. He just looks like a regular guy." That was literally the first thing she said in my pressence. I tried to convince her that I was plenty wild, and had muscles. "Nah. You just seem to regular to be the guy I've hear of." I told her I used to have mutten chops. "yeah, thats the kind of guy I imagined you to be". Outside of her destroying my self image, she informed me that she had a friend who had ridden a boat I had spent the last couple of years perfecting a plan to ride said boat for free. Turns out, it's not worth it. Guess I'll put that plan to use elsewhere...
Outside of that one good encounter though, I didn't match where I was staying. In fact, I didn't really like the area itself. Hated it might more acurately describe it actually. It also just so happens to be the place I was stuck ini for abit before I got my money. Apperently other people didn't want me to be there just as badly as I didn't want me to be there, becouse one day a low level yakuza thug walked up to me and tried to pick a fight with me at the train station.
I had never seen him before, but he saw me from across the way and came over. Then started swearing at me in japanese: "Hey! Fucking foreigner! What are you doing here foreigner? Japan is only for the Japanese! Get the fuck out! You think you're so good. I'm 39 years old god dammit!" He then proceeded to get into my space, being carefull not to actually touch me (wise move on his part). Then more swearing about foreigners. I wouldn't fight a frail 39 year old if he wasn't actually a threat (usually), so I just let him talk. Then he started to hock a big loogie. He implied that it was meant for me. Our eyes locked. The demon in me screaming 'Do it! Set me free!' . He had a change of heart and spit on the ground instead. After a few more minutes of him peacocking he left, realizing I wouldnt' fight based only on words. Oddly enough this low level yakuza fight avoidence had become increasingly common for me. This was the fourth time something like this had happened, but I won't drop someone just for saying something. Spit though...
Seaking some fighting I would actually benifit from, I went to the dojo. After training, Fab (my french buddy) and I went to a new MMA gym that had just opened. I wanted to watch training. We walked in and the coach asked if we had any training experience. "A little karate" I responded. "A little karate?" Fab said jokingly "your a liar." No, it's a matter of perspective I retorded. I chose the subtle route. Fab chose the opposite. "I've got 20 years Judo training, 10 years Jujutsu training, and a couple years karate training with famouse teachers." He said, proudly. We then went and watched the training and after we left I told Fab I had just picked up a few moves from them. "Your a technique theif! You just walk in and take some moves and leave!" No, I liberated those techniques. But even if what you said was true, you've gotta take what you can get.
As my time in Japan started running out, the going away parties started. As it turns out, quite a few people where going away, so there where quite a few. One of the more interesting ones was for my friend Haruka, who was moving to Singapore for two years. Her party was on an Alchohol filled boat. The Tokyo "Yukata booze cruise". Good times. My fairwell parties where unfortunatly mundane by comparisson, but had considerably more fighting in them (in a good way).
After all was said and done, and my many diffirent training journeys within the country over those two months where over, it was time for me to leave Japan and move on to greener pastures and wider sees... or at least less radioactive ones...
Also, I needed to fully refine the techniques I "liberated" from their respective gyms.
-Nash