Crossing the International Date Line

My name is Matthew Newman. I'm a senior at Union College, Schenectady, NY, majoring in East Asian studies. I am taking a term abroad to study at Kansai Gaidai in Osaka, Japan. This is a record of my experiences, journeys, and adventures.

I'll start by saying I've always been interested in Japan, ever since I first saw the TV show Robotech when I was eight. Afterwards I continued to watch anime, samurai epics, and read books about Japan until, before I had even realized it, the obsession had set in. (cue: I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so.) I import video games from Japan, watch subbed anime and try to understand what the characters are saying without reading the english subtitles, and read manga - you guessed it - in Japanese. Half the time I don't understand a word of what's going on. But I try. I've taken two and a half years of Japanese, one of the hardest languages the world has to offer, and I still speak on a fourth or fifth grade level. It's embarassing, but then I remember, I am a Gaijin, after all. (Gaijin = foreigner).

But enough about why I'm headed to Japan. Let me start my tale.

My mom dragged me out of the house at about 5:00 AM to make my 8:00 flight into San Francisco from JFK Airport. I had barely slept the night before and had an immense trip ahead of me. I got my first cue that something was strange about this trip before I'd even entered the terminal.

On the line to receive boarding passes was an entire class - no joke, at least 30 or 40 students - of Japanese high schoolers, complete with high school uniforms and all. It wasn't a little bit obvious they were headed on the same flight as me; it was DEAD obvious. I concluded right then and there that it would probably be easy to spot who was headed on my flight to go to Osaka, and who was headed on my flight to go to San Francisco, and I was quite right. I soon entered the terminal, leaving my mom behind, and thus began the first part of my journey. Waiting.

Lots of waiting.

As soon as I entered the gate there was an argument going on between several staff members. Apparently, the pilot of my plane had only just come in minutes prior from a delayed arrival, and was, and I quote, "really tired", so we have to give him a few minutes to rest. Normally I'd be okay with this, but I'm already sort of freaking out at the prospect of only having about fourty-five minutes to transfer planes in San Francisco. The man wanted a half hour. Leaving me approximately fifteen minutes to disembark, run to the shuttle going to the international departures, run to the gate where the plane to Osaka would be boarding, and get on the plane. Anyway, after a half hour delay, the airline apparently said, "screw this guy," and brought in a different pilot. Why they didn't just do that in the first place escapes me.

As I sat down to wait for the plane to start boarding, I noticed the student sitting directly to my right was definately a college student, was definately on his own, and was definately headed to Osaka, and immediately I gathered he was headed to Kansai Gaidai, like myself. I didn't exactly feel like starting the awkward conversation that would likely ensue, and it seemed he didn't either, so we just sort of sat there, listening to our iPods, occasionally glancing over at each other's tickets to see if our hunches were correct. Soon afterwards a girl came and sat next to me as well, same deal, although it was even more obvious in her case, as she was holding a Japanese grammar cheat-sheet and studying it intently.

We finally boarded the plane, which was already fourty minutes late (yes, this leaves me five minutes in San Francisco - already I'm plotting what I'm going to say to the staff when I leave the plane). As we stood in line, the kid who was sitting next to me pipes up and introduces himself, and we have our little, "oh, yes, we're going to the same place" moment together. "See you on the other side," I said, and the first flight began.

I sat down at my seat. The girl with the Japanese Grammar cheat-sheet passes me and sits directly behind me. I'm sort of ecstatic. Then a man comes up to the aisle seat in my row and plops a baby chair next to me. Shit. You've got to be kidding me. Well, maybe he's just putting a baby chair there... Doesn't mean he has a baby, right?...

He sits down and plops the two-year old directly next to me. The baby looks up at me with adorable eyes. They're absolutely adorable. They're saying, "I'm cute, and I'm gonna make your flight suck ass. But because I'm cute there's nothing you can do about it." and I have no response other than. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." The man introduces himself to me, he's incredibly nice, and apologizes for the fact that I have to sit next to the baby. "Nah," I respond, as the two-year old grabs my iPod headphones and begins to twirl them about as if he were a rodeo clown. "It's okay, I'll be asleep soon anyway." Adorable kid. Luckily, I was right. I fell asleep before the plane even took off and apparently slept through the entire take-off process. When I woke up, the flight was already about halfway over. The boy was watching Snow White on the man's laptop, playing with his dad's baseball cap. I got into a conversation with the man, who from now on I will call Babyman, because I soon find out that the two babies on the other side of the plane, where his wife is also sitting, are his as well. Babyman tells me that his wife also went to Japan to study, as I am doing now, and that she loved it a lot, and that I'm going to have loads of fun. This coming from the father of the baby whose mouth is covered in what looks like brownie mix. I thanked him and told him a bit more about me (not knowing that the girl behind me was eavesdropping the whole time), and bonded a bit with the kid. Sure, he was a menace, but he WAS adorable, and I gave him a nice wide smile every time he glanced at me. At one point, he dropped his dad's baseball cap, which fell too far to the floor for him to reach. Babyman was preoccupied and didn't notice the two-year old whining and motioning for him to pick it up. I reached over and nonchalantly handed the baby his cap again, receiving the cutest and nicest smile from a baby I've possibly ever gotten. Then he hit me with the cap. Nice kid. Adorable really.

As we landed, I overheard the girl behind me talking on the phone with, presumably, her parents, informing them about the rough schedule in SF. The flight to Osaka had been delayed as well - for once, incompetence is a good thing in this case - so she should have enough time to make it to the plane, she tells her parents. As she hangs up I see this as a good opportunity to strike a conversation. "Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear... You're headed to Kansai Gaidai, aren't you?" She nods and smiles, and tells me she already knew I was headed there, because she overheard me tell Babyman. We introduce each other - her name is Eliza - and we agree to meet outside the plane so we can make it to the next plane without getting lost. Little do we know.

As we exit the plane, there is a tiny, middle-aged Japanese woman holding up a very small sign, which seems to have been made just now with a red pen and a peice of computer paper. The sign says, "Fight 885 - Osaka". The lady clearly speaks no english whatsoever, as the only thing she says to us repeatedly is the word "Osaka" in various tones. Which makes for an amusing conversation.

"Osaka!"
"Osaka?"
"Osaka??"
"Yes, Osaka."
"Aah, Osaka. Osaka."

Me, Eliza, the boy I met before boarding the plane to SF, whose name is also Matthew, and another boy who we hadn't seen before, whose name is ALSO Matthew, are four of five people doing the transfer to Osaka. The other is a tall Japanese man who speaks very little english and has an identifying black mark below his lip that sort of looks like he spilled something chocolatey on his face, permanently. I decide to introduce myself to the other Ryugakusei - international students - as Aidyn, which is like a nickname that I tend to use with my friends up at Union College. It seemed like it would make it easier, since two of them are already Matthews and I would make three. Matt, Matt, Eliza, Chocolate-Japanese-Man, and I all follow the tiny Japanese lady as she works her way through crowds and employee-only areas to get us onto our plane on time. She looks extremely worried, and urges us to go faster, saying "Hayaku! Osaka! Hayaku!" (Hurry! Osaka! Hurry!). Obviously we're all very worried - but at least her shortcuts are taking out about 10 minutes of holy-shit-we're-lost-in-the-airport time. Eliza smirks and says, "I guess it costs less for the airport to send her to get us there on time then it would to refund all of our thousand dollar tickets..."

We finally make it to the gate. No passengers are around. There is one Japanese man behind the country, waving his hand and beckoning us to hurry, also saying "Hayaku!" as though the plane was already leaving. We rush in and take our seats. The man sitting next to me this time is a Japanese man, wearing a business suit, who is constantly, CONSTANTLY checking his watch, as if any minute now, he's going to begin a heist of some sort. Five minutes pass. Ten minutes pass. I'm beginning to wonder why so many Japanese people were Hayaku-ing us onto the plane when they weren't even ready to take off in the first place. The answer comes in the form of a message from the pilot.

"Erm, we seem to be having some technical difficulties... That is, well, we have an oxygen problem with the co-pilots oxygen mask, and, well, there's no way we're leaving without that, so... It'll take about a half hour to an hour for the maintenance guys to fix it, we're not even sure."

Great. Figures. More waiting.

So now, with all of the figures piled up, we're already scheduled to be about an hour and a half late in Osaka then originally planned. We eventually do take off and head out, and it's pretty smooth sailing (read: flying) from there. Dinner(? not even sure if it's dinner now) consists of chicken and rice. At this point I'm beginning to feel the effects of the crazy time-traveling that's going on; all in all I spent approximately 22 hours in daylight with no sight of nighttime; it was almost as if my 6 and 10 hour flights were only 1-3 hours long each, and I simply imagined the other 12 hours. A few times I got up to talk to Eliza or use the restroom; for the most part, the trip was uneventful. Very uneventful. Although, I did get to see Hot Fuzz and Next, which were entertaining... for about a fourth of the trip. The seat has a live map that updates every few seconds, showing the plane's progress over the pacific, which is like watching grass grow, only you're strapped to the ground and can't HELP but watch the grass grow.

After what seems like an eternity, the map shows that we've crossed the international date line, and coincidentally, the song that comes up randomly on my iPod immediately thereafter is the song "Date Line" by Yellowcard, which has to do with somebody traveling across the international date line in order to escape from their life. Prophetic iPods aside, nothing else happens for the rest of the trip - except for the paperwork.

Yes, the paperwork. In order to even LEAVE the plane, two forms must be filled out while ON the plane - a customs form and what is called, and I quote, a DISEMBARKATION CARD. I'm not even sure that's a real word. Actually I'm fairly certain Japanese people made it up to sound ridiculously intelligent. One thing about Japanese people: they LOVE their paperwork. Just to apply to Kansai Gaidai I had to fill out about 20 pages of forms, then have about 15 pictures of me sent to the school, then fill out an application for an International Student ID Card, then an insurance form, and now, a "disembarkation card". Whatever. But as I look around, I notice something peculiar. Japanese people all around me LOVE filling forms out. They whip out their pens and lick their lips and begin scribbling like they're writing down the answer to the Final Jeapardy question. They smile and nod to each other as if to say, "Here we go! Yes! My favorite part!" Is it just because I'm American that I think this card is a load of bullshit? Or is it just because I'm... Not Japanese? Either way, I finish filling it out and put it aside, waiting for the little plane on my little updating map to get to land.

Soon it shows that I'm over land but as I look out of the plane I see nothing but white. The clouds are too thick to see the land, which is a huge shame, because I've spent the entire flight unable to see anything other than WATER, and I wanna see some land, damnit. Just then I catch something out of the corner of my eye.

In the distance, something strange is poking out of the clouds. At first it's barely visible but as we fly by it, it gets more clear. It's a mountain - THE mountain - Mt. Fuji. Sticking up from underneath the clouds, with its volcano-like concave peak at the top and everything. I notice it minutes before the pilot says, "If you look out of the right hand side of the plane..." The sight was breathtakingly beautiful, and as my very first sight of Japan, it left a huge impression on me. I got up to tell Eliza and show her, then reveled in my luck. As I sat back down, the clouds began to clear and Japan became fully visible for the first time since the plane reached the shoreline.

A few minutes pass, and then the business-like Japanese man who'd been sitting next to me the entire flight began to talk to me. In relatively good english, he asks me why I'm headed to Japan. I respond in english, "I'm a student. I'm studying at Kansai Gaidai in Osaka." Ahh, he responds. "Nihongo wo hanasemasu ka?" He says this way too fast for me. WAAAY too fast. "Ee, to, yukkuri hanashite kudasai," I respond, meaning, 'please speak slower'. He gives me a strange look. Did I just offend him? Have I already messed up my first Japanese conversation? He repeats the question and I still can't quite understand what he's saying. Finally, he says in english, "Do you speak Japanese?" (which is what he'd been saying in Japanese) and I respond, flustered, "I'm trying..." He laughs. From out of nowhere, he smiles and points to his teeth, saying, "I'm a dentist." Ooookay. "So why were you in San Francisco?" I asked politely. Dentist-san, as I will call him now, gives a slight shrug and replies in very fast english, "to visit a congressman." Why a dentist from Japan is visiting a congressman from California is beyond me, and I don't even dare to ask. Is the congressman a friend of his? Perhaps he is proposing some kind of pro-Japanese-dentist bill? Is Dentist-san even telling the truth? Maybe he doesn't know what the word congressman means. Maybe he thought it was a different word. I smile and nod. "Nice." He does the same. "Nice."

Dentist-san is a pretty nice guy. We talk for a bit more, I throw bits and peices of broken Japanese into the mix, and he seems to avoid it and go back to English whenever he gets the chance, probably recognizing that I'm more comfortable with my native language, as much as I try to switch to Japanese whenever the opportunity arises. He's constantly checking his watch. CONSTANTLY. Is he late for an appointment with a patient? Perhaps a congressman from California.

A little while longer, and I leave the plane, giving Dentist-san my goodbyes, and promptly meet up with Eliza outside the gate. We talk for a little bit about the flight, waiting for the two Matts, who don't show up, and we gather that they probably left without us. I don't really mind. We head out towards the first step of customs and immigration, which is called "Quarantine". Yes, Quarantine. "Do we have some kind of disease?" I chime in. Eliza seems to take it in stride. We go through the Quarantine process - which is really nothing short of walking through a narrow hall with a Japanese dude looking at you from behind a counter - and head to the next area, where hundreds of people are standing in line, half of them behind a sign that says "Foreign Entry", and the other half behind a sign that says "Japanese Re-entry". The former is barely moving whatsoever; the latter is moving incredibly fast. So begins the trek through Kansai International Airport.

In my next post I'll describe the airport immigration procedures, customs, baggage claim, bad airport food, vending machines, why I should not have been worried about making it to the north arrival gate, and the journey from the airport to Kansai Gaidai... where I am writing this post from.

~ 'Aidyn' Newman