Lost

(It’s still late August, I have not started teaching yet even though school has been on for nearly two weeks-—probably trying to acclimatize me rather than traumatize me. I spend my weekdays at the Ohtawara kyoiku inkai (literally the educational authority, but I prefer Ohtawara Board of Education, or OBOE) offices, where I study some Japanese and write letters—speaking of which, as part of a rather innocuous gesture, I decided to write a letter to a cab driver I met a month ago in Toronto who drove me around the entire day while I was on assignment for the Toronto Star newspaper. Little did I know that I would get a life-long friend because of writing. Say hello to Doug McIntosh. If you need a cab in Toronto, he’s your man! I wish I had him for this next adventure…)

“I never get lost because people always tell me where to go.”
And so begins yet another epic journey for Andrew in Wonderland.

This time, I was journeying to Ibaraki-ken (prefecture/province immediately to the east of Tochigi-ken—ken means province) for some fun-filled times of some beach-blanket bingo with some other AETs (assistant English teachers) from my prefecture.
Gasoline would be there. On a beach. With a bikini (I hoped). And that was all the incentive I truly needed. Gasoline, if you will recall, is the northern representative of the AETs in Tochigi-ken. Her real name is Catherine Komlodi, but because of the Japanese alphabets, Catherine is notoriously difficult to say, making it sound very similar to the word gasoline.
Click HERE to see a poorly taken photo of her. It does NOT do her justice, and I apologize for how crappy it is. I was sooo shy around her that I felt I had to take the photo clandestinely.
Gasoline had phoned me up with some directions to the beach. It seemed easy enough: Take the JR (Japanese Railways) train south from Nishinasuno eki (station) to Oyama eki, east to Mito eki and then to Kiwagire eki, followed by a short taxi ride to the Senna Minshiku Hotel. Yup. No problem. How wonderful the innocence of youth can be.
None of the local AETS were going (I’m free!), so I’d have to go it alone. Despite the opportunity to see my crush, Gasoline, the prospect of traveling by myself scared me.
Following a confusing night involving girlfriend problems, my day began death, as one of my goldfish decided to give up the ghost. (I had purchased a 10-gallon tank and a pair of large lionhead goldfish that would have cost me $100 back home, but only cost the equivalent of $5 here). Arguments and death. Nope, definitely not a good omen.
After disposing of the fish, I walked to the shower. Just before turning on the gas heater, I noticed a strange tube dangling from it. That’s the thing about Japan. Every place with running water has a gas heater that must be turned on to heat it.
So, what to do about the dangling tube? I never even noticed a tube before. Was it a present from an angry girlfriend? Could my apartment blow up if I turned it on? Wanting to smell nice for Gasoline, I figured a hot shower was worth the risk. Life over fantasy. It’s amazing how little one value’s life when there is even the teensiest chance of getting a handshake from a beautiful woman.
As soon as I finished—it was probably the first time I’d ever sweated in a shower—I began to pack my beachwear, promptly forgetting my towel and trunks, and headed out for my 20-minute bicycle ride to Nishinasuno eki. Rain clouds gathered in the sky awaiting my departure so that it could relieve itself on me as I began my trek.
Surprise, surprise. I made it to the station, and managed to purchase a train ticket to Oyama. I got on the train feeling pretty smug, settled in and began to read a book on Japanese history—almost oblivious to the stares of a multitude of teenaged girls in Victorian sailor outfits (which is what all female junior and high school students wear. Boys wear the male equivalent. Click HERE to see) who must have to travel by rail to get to school.
Arriving in Oyama, I disembarked and asked a woman (in Japanese, yet!) how much a ticket to Mito would cost. After telling me in English, she leaves before I can thank her, but more distressingly, she leaves before I can ask her which train I should catch as Oyama is a big city and has 12 active train platforms.
Swallowing my fear, I walked up to the JR ticket puncher (whose hands clicked a hole punch continuously regardless if a ticket was in reach) to ask in English (I don’t know the Japanese equivalent, okay!): “How do I get to Mito?” He says, and I quote: “Gay-toh 15.” And holds up five fingers. I bow deeply and rush off to find Gate 15.
There isn’t one. There is a Gate 5, however—and he did hold up five fingers. I hop on the train that is waiting there.
Since I have never been on this JR line before, I check every single station for my stop even though I know by the price of my ticket that it’s not for another 45 minutes or so (Here in Japan, your ticket price increases the farther you travel).
After about 30 minutes, the usual fear in my stomach traveled up into my throat and turned to dread. I know I got on the train at the right platform, but still… I’m passing Tochigi-shi and Ashikaga (aren’t those in the west?!) and mountains… near the beach? Uh oh!
I decided to take the ultimate risk and get off the train at a place called Kiryu. This small Podunk of a place shouldn’t even have a train stop, as everything around it looks like a snapshot of the 1600s.
I hand my ticket into the JR ticket man (he too seems to have a strange palsy in his hand). He glances at the ticket as I tell him I am looking for Mito. He looks more confused than even I normally do, so I show him my directions while slowly reading out the train stations for him in case he can’t read English (a good decision, it turns out).
The man looks mortified, as he draws a new map for me. This is what it looks like. Click HERE.
Now I get it. That first ticket puncher in Oyama gave me a bum steer. I’ll kill him if I ever recognize him again.
Feeling immensely deflated, I decide to head for home. Gasoline in a bikini! Aargh!
Passing by Ashikaga-eki a couple of stops east of Kiryu, I notice a train station called—are you ready for this—“Tomita”. Now it all makes sense. The JR guy thought I had asked: “How to I get Tomita?” not “to Mita”. An honest mistake.
I stopped off at Utsunomiya (Tochigi-ken’s capital a few stops north of Oyama) so that I could go shopping. I met a couple of Australian businessmen who asked me to show them around (in Japan, foreigners tend to congregate whenever they see another foreigner just so that they can feel non-foreign for awhile).
“Okay… I’m not sure where we are now, but I recognize it as a place I once was lost in.”
They soon got tired of my hapless tour and got lost somewhere else.
While this episode was not as physically draining as my three-hour tour around Ohtawara, it was more expensive. On the trains alone, my ride aboard the disoriented express cost me about ￥4,000 which is about $40 US or $700 Cdn. Of course nowadays, the US and Canadian bucks are inching very close to par…
And, when you factor in the costs for food, drinks and sanity, I’ve come to realize that traveling in Japan is a very costly proposition.
By the way… there was a Gate 15 in Oyama eki… it was very well hidden, and usually only found by people who need to find it—like this woman. Click HERE.
And, just so you know I wasn't lying... here's a few pics of my time in Kiryu and the Aussies--click HERE.
Somewhere chasing rabbits,
Andrew Joseph
PS: Title is byColdplay