Everything in Japan is small... Except Pachinko

Me and Eliza got in line under Foreign Entry and waited. And waited. And continued to wait. We saw a few of the other students we'd seen before, but didn't really say anything, continuing our own private conversation. It was a bit frightening; on the wall behind the counter we were headed to was a gigantic sign that simply said, in english, something along the lines of "Due to the threat of terrorism entry process will be strict," or something similar to that. We kept exchanging scared looks, and Eliza said, "I hope I don't get deported," which is, of course, the worst thing she could have said, as it made me realize how bad things could get. Nevertheless, when we reached the counter, we simply handed in our passports and Disembarkation cards, waited a few minutes while the man behind the counter processed the information, and then he gave us back our passports and sent us on our merry way. It was easier than we thought. This ended up being the general theme for the rest of our trip through the airport. We had figured that this would be the hardest part of the trip - after all, now we're officially in Japan - but in fact, it was the easiest. After all of the hassle in SF, we reach Osaka and everything just sort of fits in place.

When we left the immigration area we got to baggage claim. Apparently everybody in our flight had already up and left. Our bags, along with maybe one or two more, were literally the only bags left whatsoever. We pointed at them, smiled, shrugged, took them, and moved on. "That was easy." Next was customs. Shit. We looked at each other, exchanging frightful glances once more. This was actually the easiest part, however. We simply gave the man the customs form we filled out on the plane. He gave it the once-over and let us pass. That was it. For some reason me and Eliza both had the impression he was going to open our bags and look through every little thing we owned. Apparently, writing that we didn't have anything illegal is enough for him. I wonder what would have happened had we actually attempted to smuggle something through. As long as we simply write that we didn't, he won't check? That would sort of be like if I shot somebody in the face, and then when the police officer arrived, I told him, "I didn't shoot that guy in the face," and the officer just nodded and said, "Ah, I see. You're free to go, then." But I'm not really complaining, since it helped considerably in this case.

We then had to find the North Arrival Gate. As soon as we began looking, however, I saw the large sign next to us that said, "North Arrivals", and shrugged. "Uhm... I think this is the North Arrival Gate." and surely, just as I said that, a very, VERY excited looking Japanese person, who looked only a little older than us, ran up to us and said, "Kansai Gaidai?" We nodded and smiled, and he beckoned us to follow him. We followed him to a little area where, it seemed, all of the other students had gone, waiting for the bus to Kansai Gaidai to leave. For whatever reason, all of us seemed to be under the impression that we didn't expect so many of us to be there. So it was pretty awesome seeing so many of us together. We broke off into little groups, looking for food around the airport, as the bus wasn't coming for another half hour or so. Me and Eliza looked about and eventually found a slew of vending machines off to the side.

There's a few things you should know about vending machines in Japan. Firstly, what many people know - vending machines in Japan sell EVERYTHING. I really mean this. There are vending machines that sell beer, calling cards, even girl's panties, from what I'm told. It's insane. But the first thing I saw in a vending machine wasn't something outrageous, it was just wierd. It was a sports drink called - and I'm not making this up - Pocari Sweat. Why somebody would think it was a good marketing decision to put the word 'sweat' anywhere near the name of something you put in your mouth is entirely beyond me. Eliza went up to the machine and bought one, immediately, with no hesitation. I gagged a little bit.

I bumped into Jackie, a girl from my home university, Union College, but had very little time to talk to her, since my bus was about to leave, and there wasn't room for Jackie and the other ten or so students that were with her, having just arrived. Instead, me, Eliza, and the group of students we were with boarded our bus and began the 90 minute ride to Kansai Gaidai.

The trip was enlightening in many ways. There was a period of time, at first, in which all of us looked out the bus windows and thought (or said aloud), "everything sort of looks the same..." But it didn't. We just hadn't noticed it yet. The very first thing that caught my eye was the sheer number of Pachinko buildings we passed on the way to Hirakata City. Pachinko is like a sort of Japanese slot machine game; you put a coin in, a marble drops from the top, hits a bunch of pegs on its way down to the bottom of the machine, and depending on where it lands, you either lose, or win. Essentially, it's a luck-based gambling machine. But for whatever reason it's insanely popular. I really mean insane. Every minute or so, we passed a very large pachinko place. There must have been at least a hundred on the way there alone.

The second thing I noticed was the mountain range in the background. Everywhere one looked, on the distant horizon, there was a ridiculously tall mountain. This could be said for places in America too, but not at all where I lived, in cozy Wantagh, Long Island, where the closest thing we have to a mountain is at least an hour away - and it's really more like a large hill, compared to these mountains. Power lines are everywhere in Osaka. Later, my friend Corey (whom I haven't met yet, if you're reading from the start) would say, "Isn't it unhealthy to have this many power cables running about? Like, isn't that really bad for you?" I imagine it's just out of necessity; after all, Japan is one of the most overpopulated places in the world.

The roads are also very narrow, which is something I noticed on the bus. Very often the lanes were so small that the bus, or other cars, would have to swerve into other lanes (even as far as the other side of the road) to avoid people biking in the street, pedestrians, or cars parked on the side of the road. This was especially true once we got to Hirakata, which is part of Osaka, but not really part of Osaka, if you catch my drift. Hirakata is a bit more country-esque; with the exception of the campus, buildings are rarely taller than one or two stories, and everything looks and feels a bit on the older side. However, it's a mere twenty minute walk (or a five minute bike ride) into the area of Osaka that is more metropolitan.

When we reached the university, I had to say goodbye to Eliza and many of the other friends I'd made, as they were dropped off the students at Seminar House 4 - my dormitory - first. I went inside and was told to fill out - you guessed it - more forms, as well as put my shoes in a small cubby to the left, where my room number was also posted. Everything in the dormitory is very neatly organized. Shoes go in the cubby. Umbrellas go in the box next to the door. Fridges for every single room are in the room next to the kitchen; not in each individual room. Finally, I head upstairs and into my room, only to find that my roommate is not around, although his stuff is strewn about the room, so I figured he was out and about, and that I should make myself at home. I hooked up my computer first, as I usually do when I travel and begin to unpack, but the internet isn't working. Looking through my orientation packet, I notice that we can't use our laptops for internet until we get them registered at the CIE (Center for International Education) building, which is a two to three day process, requiring - yes, you know what's coming - more paperwork. First we have to fill out a form and hand it into the CIE. Then we have to come back the NEXT DAY and drop off our laptop. Then, we have to come back either later that night, or the day after THAT, to pick the laptop up. While I'm not too keen on the idea of leaving my laptop with some strangers, the prospect of having no internet on my private computer is much worse, especially since my computer has Skype, a program allowing me to make phone calls to my parents at home. Sighing, I head downstairs and use the computer lounge to make yesterday's blog post.

When I head upstairs again it's nearly midnight and I'm exhausted from the day-long trip. I unroll my futon and get on - it's surprisingly comfy - very, very comfy - and begin to doze off, when the door opens, and Aaron walks in.

Aaron is, apparently, my roommate, who had just come back from a night on the town in Osaka with some of his friends, who he had made in the four days he was here without me. Feeling a bit silly for coming so late, we talked for a little bit, before he explained he was headed back downstairs to play cards. I was invited, but I decided not to. It was way too late for me. I fell asleep, setting my alarm for 8 AM. Tomorrow would be a long day. And since I'm apparently writing each day's post the day after they happen, I can tell you in earnest that tomorrow - which was today - was a very, very long day. In fact, I can't imagine writing all about it in one post. Maybe I'll make my posts shorter so I can write them as they happen. It'll be a lot easier once my computer is all registered.

In my next post(s), I'll write about today's experiences - the main campus of Kansai Gaidai, weather in Japan during the summer, Japanese architecture, cars, convenience stores, the cafeteria, Yohei the tour guide, Yuuki and Hana, many other people I met whose names are a long winded list, including Ruth, Kim, Corey, Chris, and Amanda, our completely insane trip to a Karaoke bar, fears about angry old japanese people yelling "Gaijin" at us, buying a bicycle and the tiny old man who sells them, and exactly why filling out paperwork in Japan can sometimes be an insane pain in the neck.

Until then,

~ Aidyn