I'm in Japan. Yeah.

I arrived in Tokyo what seemed like a couple hours ahead of schedule, and much to my chagrin, the Hot Dog wrapped in an American flag and rubbing himself with condiments was not there to greet me this time. Originally I wasn't supposed to be in till five, but I had cleared customs (I improved my track record by not getting quarantined) retrieved my bags, planned the train route, and boarded the Limited Super Express by 4:45.

I realize it probably could have been easier to fly straight to Osaka, since I found tickets from JFK to Osaka for only about $80 more than to Tokyo. Might've been faster and cost less than the $160ish train tickets. Make a note for next year's travel instructions, Kelly?

These trains and airports, though, are where I take pride in being the only American traveling by himself. I see other people in family or social groups, most often sightseeing and without much language background. But my rarity again sticks out: even when I'm asking (in Japanese) which ticket to put through the turnstile (sometimes its two, sometimes its three, sometimes the machine returns a different number than what you put in) I most often get the response back in English. I walked up and down the 自由席 cars of the train looking for an open spot to sit, realizing of course I was the only non-Asian. Yes, I'm pretty tall, and yes I'm blonde. We've been there before, can we get over that already?

I had toyed with the idea of dying my hair darker before this trip to Japan, just to shortcut the numerous interactions of “OMG LOOK AT THAT TALL BLONDE FOREIGN DUDE” but decided against it. A) It would take a lot more than that to make me look inconspicuous, and B) For this one case, at least, Japan is going to have to adjust itself to my differences, and not the other way around. So suck it.

The first sign that told I had truly returned to Japan: HEATED TOILET SEATS. We are so uncivilized in the states.

But, I did avert the major crises of traveling. After remembering how much I screwed up losing my baggage on the train last time, I ran back just in time to my unattended crew duffel. And then swapping trains at Tokyo's Shinagawa station, I didn't realize that bullet trains only stopped for about 10 seconds before moving on. I barely made it on as I walked along the outside to my designated car then panicked when the gut-wrenching train sounds started happening all around me.

On the train though, I managed to strike up my first conversation with a real live Nihonjin since arriving, a cute girl about my age. She had been dozing and apologized if she had slept with her head on my shoulder; I was so full of the jet-lag madness that I hadn't noticed if she had. We were both kinda tired and my brain wasn't (isn't) yet functional so the conversation didn't get much past simple “where you from” “where you going” type questions, but as she departed at 名古屋 she smiled, leaned in close, and said to me “思い出たくさん作ってください”. ("Please make a lot of memories") D'awww. Maybe a cheesy way to start the trip, but I like it.

"But wait!" I hear you saying. "You haven't even included a single nonsensical picture! And linking to one from last time doesn't count!" Well then. I give you Wicked, on its Japan-wide tour.

You can't even tell the actress playing Elphaba is Asian. Because she's GREEN!