Snow-peaked mountains dominate the view, right outside my window. How exciting! From the first time I've seen them I could not wait to stand on top of them and look down into the valley, onto this lovely little town that shall be my home for the next year. Of course, I realize that they are probably further away, and taller than they seem to be, but yesterday the weather was so lovely that I decided to set out and reach the pine covered hills to the East.
On my walk I encountered quite a few surprising things. First of all, what I'd thought were village streets turned out to be country roads. Narrow as they are, there is no sidewalk, and barely a shoulder to walk on. But there are houses on both sides, with the occasional vinyard, or barren fields. I really felt like a Guliver, walking along a Lilliput highway, which was really not much wider than a driveway in America, or a European bicycle path. Unlike on either of those two, however, there was intense traffic going on. Just like on a road! Those little, compact Japanese vans (more appropriately mini-vans), mini-trucks, and mini-cars, are still formidable forces in spite of their size. Especially because they tend to use the side OTHER side of the road than what I've been used to. Needless to say, I didn't see any other pedestrians out there. They must have thought I was mad, or simply a gaijin (=foreigner), which counts as pretty much the same.
As I was reaching higher elevations, I looked back on Shiojiri, and realized that it was not as small as it looked from within. In fact, most of it is probably not even Shiojiri. There must be other villages too, all grown together on this narrow strip of farmable / buildable land between the mountains to the East, South and West. Only to the North, where there are no hills, could it stretch out, forming a large patchwork of houses and farms, like the ones I have passed on my way. That place is referred to as "the town of Matsumoto" by the locals, which is either a synonym for uncontrolled suburban sprawl, or simply the place to be, where you can get anything that's not availablein Shiojiri.
It took me about an hour to reach the border of the forest, which separates nature from culture like the sharp line between yin and yang. And just like in the ancient symbol, there were pieces of culture scattered here and there between the trees, just like there is always some greenery in the village. No, I would be wrong if I called these hills trashy. In fact, considering their proximity to civilization, the woods I walked through were about the cleanest I have ever seen. And the color of the pines, illuminated by the afternoon sun, just shined in the brightest of green. How wonderful. Above me some bird of prey swooped down, inspecting the nearby vinyards for food, below my feet dry leaves and pine needles promised an even fuller green, once Spring would start. What a beautiful place I'd come to.
I did not stay in the forest for too long, as hunger drove me back to town. I wanted to look for a supermarket to buy myself something to cook. There were all sorts of eateries along the way, but I wanted to make something for myself this time. The previous days I had experienced Japanese restaurants, ordering from the picture menus, and once going for the surprise of ordering from a menu without pictures. The food was pretty good each time, though I never got what I thought I was gonna get, be it from a picture or not. Once it was a dish of rice, with meat and green onion on top, and a raw egg to the side. I observed another customer emptying his egg into a small dish, mixing it up with his chopsticks, and pouring it over the meat, so I did the same. The other time I got a big bowl of noodles, which were cold. On the side I also got a bowl of hot soup. At that point I didn't care to act like the crazy gaijin that I probably looked like, and poured the hot soup over the cold noodles. Who knows, maybe that was the way to eat it. Anyay, it was pretty tasty!
But now I wanted to make something for myself that I knew was gonna be good, plus I felt bad about keeping an empty fridge running, so I decided to explore the supermarket. It was a shocking experience. Just like every superarket in the world, this one has everything under the sun. However, I soon had to realize that the key word is always selection. Bread, milk and cheese were available, though hard to locate, but their selection was so poor that I decided against getting any. Seriously, only a fool would go to Japan and eat bread with cheese! So I had to look for alternatives. What else is there? The produce section was the easiest to familiarize myself with. Between many exotic types of mushroom there were also better known things, such as tomatos, cabages, and onions. But when it came to the packaged stuff, I kinda lost it. Many many things, with bright, flashy, colorful labels, explaining the ingredients and reccomended use... but everything in Japanese!!! And here selection seems to be the top priority, as there were at least thirty different soy-sauces to choose from. And then other sauces, in many different colors, some runny, others more pasty, for different purposes. The rice and the noodle sections were just as plentifull. Not to mention the fish and sea-food section, or the sweets and crackers. I tried to look for some miso, but gave up due to a severe case of illiteracy.
So in the end I bought some rice, some veggies, some soy-sauce, some surprise sauce (which turned out to be rather hot, which wasn't bad), and a package of dried squid to much on as a snack. More importantly, however, I have decided to take some cooking lessons (along with grocery-shopping lessons). It would be a shame, after all, to live in Japan and not to be able to make some sushi, a miso-soup, or even that dish with the raw egg.
Donnerstag, 29. März 2007
Mittwoch, 28. März 2007
Montag, 26. März 2007
First Impressions
Waiting and waiting, for hours and hours.... that was the name of the game even before I saw the 4 HOUR DELAY sign flash up next to the flight to Narita airport. My flight! So after all the incertainty of traveling into Japan without a valid visa or a flight back home, I got to enjoy the beautiful airport of Helsinki for a bit longer. Then, as soon as I finaly found myself on the plane, I fell into deep sleep, dreaming of all the fantastic possibilities Japan would offer:
"Intended duration of stay? Occupation? How much cash do you have on you? Are you carrying drugs, narcotics, swords, or weappons with you? When are you planning to leave our country? Where do you have your flight booked to? Where are you going to stay in Japan? What is the purpose of your visit? One moment please. Could you step into our office for a minute? ---I'm sorry, sir, but someone like you we won't ever need in Japan. REJECTED!!!"
Phew, just a bad dream that I woke up from. Okay, standing in line at immigration. Do I have all my papers handy? Is everything filled out all right? Are all the trick questions about swords and opium checked with a NO? Okay, so all I can add is a nice friendly smile, hoping for the best. :-) Three minutes later I am through passport control, bagage claim and customs. The officials are friendly, polite, and surprisingly civilized. The only reason I had to stand in line for almost an hour was their rigorous questioning of all the Korean passangers, who happened to be waiting for their connection to Seoul.
Finding the minibus that would take me to Shiojiri wasn't hard. The driver was holding up a sign with my name on it. What a welcome! I enjoyed the ride accross Tokyo, towards Nagoya and Nagano. Everything is as expected: the city's hughe, the country's mountainous, the cars are funny. Whereas Europeans prefer long sedans, and Americans love SUVs that are just big in every aspect, Japanese cars are compat, but interestingly tall. Which is understandable, since you want to save as much space on the ground as you can, you build things higher. The WagonR+, which many Hungarians consider an ugly freak of modern design, that the Suzuki company could only save by selling it at insanely low prices, is only one of many similar models. They are tall, square, and mostly reminescent of enormous flower-pots on wheels. Ugly as they are, the Japanese seem to like them.
Finlly we arrive in Shiojiri. The minibus is supposed to drop me off at Nagahara's English school. Eventually we stop outside a liquor store called Nagahara's. The driver jumps out to check if we're correct. Indeed, he motions me to step out. Here I am... Is this where I'll be teaching? I take a look at the beers. Lots of local brews, and a few world brands. They also seem to have a lot of hard liquor. Before I have a chance to inspect the wine selection, I am greeted by a short friendly man, who introduces himself as Nagahara. He's the owner of the store and the husband of my boss, who owns the school upstairs.
Very soon Mrs. Nagahara arrives too, and she drives me over to my appartment. That's where the first shock hits me. The place that will be my domicile for the next year, is too small to be called an appartment, although it is devided up into too many sections to be called a room. With its generously 15 square meters, (more realisticly it's probably closer to 12) it is way smaller than the my tiny room in Budapest. However, with its fully equipped kitchen (the one thing it lacks is space!), a bathroom, a separate toilet, a closet, a washing machine, a vacuum cleaner, free internet, and a TV, it is far superior to my place in Mexico. It even comes with two remote controls (one for the TV, the other one for the heating/cooling system), in case I felt too lazy to walk that single step accross the room. So what am I paying for all this? 25000 yen, plus utilities!
The bathroom is awesome: although the whole thing is more like a shower-cabin with a sink and a mirror, it has a builtin bathtub! The toilet has its own little room, which is normal for hungarians, but everyone else might think that it's weird, especially since space is such a luxury here. Interestingly, the toilet is so high tech that I still haven't figgured out all of its functions yet. It can spray water in different directions, and it has something like a blow-dryer built into it. (It almost makes me feel like a primitive barbarian, not knowing these basic things about human hygene.)
The best thing about my room, however, is the loft. It has already become my favourite corner. This is where I set up my bed, which Nagahara-san pulled out of the trunk, single handedly. What I'm talking about is a futon, I mean a REAL futon, not what they sell in Europe and America as such. It is thicker than a blanket, but so thin that you can fold it up and put it into the closet for the day. However, it is soft enough to provide padding between my body and the floor. (No more backpain!) It comes with a blanket, and the bedsheets fit right on it. Perfect. Slept like a baby on it.
"Intended duration of stay? Occupation? How much cash do you have on you? Are you carrying drugs, narcotics, swords, or weappons with you? When are you planning to leave our country? Where do you have your flight booked to? Where are you going to stay in Japan? What is the purpose of your visit? One moment please. Could you step into our office for a minute? ---I'm sorry, sir, but someone like you we won't ever need in Japan. REJECTED!!!"
Phew, just a bad dream that I woke up from. Okay, standing in line at immigration. Do I have all my papers handy? Is everything filled out all right? Are all the trick questions about swords and opium checked with a NO? Okay, so all I can add is a nice friendly smile, hoping for the best. :-) Three minutes later I am through passport control, bagage claim and customs. The officials are friendly, polite, and surprisingly civilized. The only reason I had to stand in line for almost an hour was their rigorous questioning of all the Korean passangers, who happened to be waiting for their connection to Seoul.
Finding the minibus that would take me to Shiojiri wasn't hard. The driver was holding up a sign with my name on it. What a welcome! I enjoyed the ride accross Tokyo, towards Nagoya and Nagano. Everything is as expected: the city's hughe, the country's mountainous, the cars are funny. Whereas Europeans prefer long sedans, and Americans love SUVs that are just big in every aspect, Japanese cars are compat, but interestingly tall. Which is understandable, since you want to save as much space on the ground as you can, you build things higher. The WagonR+, which many Hungarians consider an ugly freak of modern design, that the Suzuki company could only save by selling it at insanely low prices, is only one of many similar models. They are tall, square, and mostly reminescent of enormous flower-pots on wheels. Ugly as they are, the Japanese seem to like them.
Finlly we arrive in Shiojiri. The minibus is supposed to drop me off at Nagahara's English school. Eventually we stop outside a liquor store called Nagahara's. The driver jumps out to check if we're correct. Indeed, he motions me to step out. Here I am... Is this where I'll be teaching? I take a look at the beers. Lots of local brews, and a few world brands. They also seem to have a lot of hard liquor. Before I have a chance to inspect the wine selection, I am greeted by a short friendly man, who introduces himself as Nagahara. He's the owner of the store and the husband of my boss, who owns the school upstairs.
Very soon Mrs. Nagahara arrives too, and she drives me over to my appartment. That's where the first shock hits me. The place that will be my domicile for the next year, is too small to be called an appartment, although it is devided up into too many sections to be called a room. With its generously 15 square meters, (more realisticly it's probably closer to 12) it is way smaller than the my tiny room in Budapest. However, with its fully equipped kitchen (the one thing it lacks is space!), a bathroom, a separate toilet, a closet, a washing machine, a vacuum cleaner, free internet, and a TV, it is far superior to my place in Mexico. It even comes with two remote controls (one for the TV, the other one for the heating/cooling system), in case I felt too lazy to walk that single step accross the room. So what am I paying for all this? 25000 yen, plus utilities!
The bathroom is awesome: although the whole thing is more like a shower-cabin with a sink and a mirror, it has a builtin bathtub! The toilet has its own little room, which is normal for hungarians, but everyone else might think that it's weird, especially since space is such a luxury here. Interestingly, the toilet is so high tech that I still haven't figgured out all of its functions yet. It can spray water in different directions, and it has something like a blow-dryer built into it. (It almost makes me feel like a primitive barbarian, not knowing these basic things about human hygene.)
The best thing about my room, however, is the loft. It has already become my favourite corner. This is where I set up my bed, which Nagahara-san pulled out of the trunk, single handedly. What I'm talking about is a futon, I mean a REAL futon, not what they sell in Europe and America as such. It is thicker than a blanket, but so thin that you can fold it up and put it into the closet for the day. However, it is soft enough to provide padding between my body and the floor. (No more backpain!) It comes with a blanket, and the bedsheets fit right on it. Perfect. Slept like a baby on it.
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