On my way
Welcome to the new blog!
Here is a post I wrote on the airplane on the way here, so it's a bit outdated (Sept. 29, 2005). More current news a bit later!
So far, so good… but not very far.
Now aboard Korean Air en route to my new home.
I am almost used to this type of long flight by now, but I have the 9th hour jitters and decided to write a blog entry and upload it later when I have internet access.
I’ll begin from last night. My “last supper” with S was spent at our favorite sushi place just down the road from our apartment. I had my last fill of raw fish for a while, and then went back home to unpack and repack for the THIRD time. First I had condensed from two huge suitcases to one, and that one still proved to be 17 kilos too heavy for the 20 kilo limit. I unpacked yet another half of my stuff and left it in Tokyo, but still took my chances with a 24 kilo suitcase and a 13 kilo backpack to top it off.
The morning’s good-bye was naturally far from “tearless,” but I was not the distraught sobbing mess that I thought I would be, so a pat on the back for me. I must admit, however, I was distraught enough to take the subway one stop in the opposite direction, leading to a LOT of cursing and a nearly missed train to the airport. But luck was with me today. I made the train, and subsequently, Korean Air was kind enough to let my overweight/extra baggage on the plane without charging me the abominable fees therewith. Another deep breath released.
Finally, I entered the no-man’s land between Tokyo and London, with a layover in Seoul included. At the gate, I overheard a group of British girls loudly cackling about the toilets in the airport, which provided a toilet seat cover that automatically changed after use. Thinking I would just never get a grip on the accent, I heard one of the girls say, “Issho?” as she set off for the loo. “AH, they do know Japanese, then,” I thought, and reproached myself for judging too quickly. Then I realized, she said, “Are you sure?” and I returned to my dazed reverie.
On the airplane, the flight attendants never know whether to speak to me in English, Korean, or Japanese, and I usually end up with a mish-mosh of all three. But I reveled in my opportunity to play interpreter for one attendant, who needed the word “butta” for pork in Japanese. The bibimbab wasn’t so bad either.
The flight is rather empty, and there is one empty seat between me and a girl from Brisbane next to me. I’m already tired of explaining my story to people—why I’m American but look Asian but lived in Japan but am moving to England. Is there such a thing as being TOO international? I should just write a sign and attach it to my forehead so I don’t have to explain anymore. Not in a mood for conversation, I sit back in my seat staring between my laptop screen and the movie screen, playing Mr. & Mrs. Smith. And I wonder, “WHY?”
Here is a post I wrote on the airplane on the way here, so it's a bit outdated (Sept. 29, 2005). More current news a bit later!
So far, so good… but not very far.
Now aboard Korean Air en route to my new home.
I am almost used to this type of long flight by now, but I have the 9th hour jitters and decided to write a blog entry and upload it later when I have internet access.
I’ll begin from last night. My “last supper” with S was spent at our favorite sushi place just down the road from our apartment. I had my last fill of raw fish for a while, and then went back home to unpack and repack for the THIRD time. First I had condensed from two huge suitcases to one, and that one still proved to be 17 kilos too heavy for the 20 kilo limit. I unpacked yet another half of my stuff and left it in Tokyo, but still took my chances with a 24 kilo suitcase and a 13 kilo backpack to top it off.
The morning’s good-bye was naturally far from “tearless,” but I was not the distraught sobbing mess that I thought I would be, so a pat on the back for me. I must admit, however, I was distraught enough to take the subway one stop in the opposite direction, leading to a LOT of cursing and a nearly missed train to the airport. But luck was with me today. I made the train, and subsequently, Korean Air was kind enough to let my overweight/extra baggage on the plane without charging me the abominable fees therewith. Another deep breath released.
Finally, I entered the no-man’s land between Tokyo and London, with a layover in Seoul included. At the gate, I overheard a group of British girls loudly cackling about the toilets in the airport, which provided a toilet seat cover that automatically changed after use. Thinking I would just never get a grip on the accent, I heard one of the girls say, “Issho?” as she set off for the loo. “AH, they do know Japanese, then,” I thought, and reproached myself for judging too quickly. Then I realized, she said, “Are you sure?” and I returned to my dazed reverie.
On the airplane, the flight attendants never know whether to speak to me in English, Korean, or Japanese, and I usually end up with a mish-mosh of all three. But I reveled in my opportunity to play interpreter for one attendant, who needed the word “butta” for pork in Japanese. The bibimbab wasn’t so bad either.
The flight is rather empty, and there is one empty seat between me and a girl from Brisbane next to me. I’m already tired of explaining my story to people—why I’m American but look Asian but lived in Japan but am moving to England. Is there such a thing as being TOO international? I should just write a sign and attach it to my forehead so I don’t have to explain anymore. Not in a mood for conversation, I sit back in my seat staring between my laptop screen and the movie screen, playing Mr. & Mrs. Smith. And I wonder, “WHY?”
posted by JoLo in Tokyo @ 10:05 AM
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