I spent the entire transcontinental flight in fear of the sticky note discretely placed by one of the stewards one my set, designating it for some unknown purpose. Was I singled out as a security threat? Did they have an issue with my visa? I saw a few other seats labeled in the same way, but couldn't find a pattern of racial profiling. They had also labeled the empty seat next to mine, (I assumed) to prevent me from escaping. I vacillated: would it be best to hide the sticky note, or would that increase the consequences? I had a lot of time to think about this, trying not to let my paranoia get away from me.
Turns out my anxiety was for nothing, as a steward removed all the sticky notes right before the final descent. Have no idea why they were there at all.
Getting to my apartment was the next step. I rode the Keisei Skyliner from Narita Airport to the Nippori station in Tokyo, and one transfer onto the Keihin-Tohoku line got me all the way to my neighborhood of Yokohama, Shinkoyasu. Finding the place in the dark was tricky (Japanese addresses are useless to begin with, not helped by the fact that few places show their own address) but recognizing the adjacent landmark--a McDonald's, the golden arches brimming with hope--helped me out.
Most importantly, the apartment is called the Shinkoyasu Flat. But because its written in Japanese, it comes out phonetically as the Shinkoyasu Frat. I'm kind of the frattiest person I know.
The place is small, but so far cozy. In very technical measurements, the dimensions of my main room are 1.3 Elliots deep and 2. 5 Elliots wide, and the entrance hallway (which doubles as the kitchen and has the bathroom on the side) is about .5 x 3 Elliots. Its all decently pre-furnished, so that at least saves me a lot of extra errands.
The suddenly extreme and unwelcome presence of humidity reminds me why Spokane is so great.
I've had reassuringly familiar cultural encounters, like the following exchange at a nearby convenience store when I tried to buy shumai dumplings.
Worker: Would you like chopsticks?
Elliot: Yes please.
Worker: Not a fork? Really chopsticks?
Two major snags so far:
~My cellphone contract expired, since its been over a year since I used it. I expected it would be a pretty simple affair to update the prepaid account with money to get service back, but apparently I need to enter a new contract (probably means I won't keep the same number), and that requires me to have my alien registration card, which I won't actually possess for 2-3 weeks, because of the joys of bureaucracy
~I have a daily withdrawal limit on my ATM card which is less than my monthly rent. I planned on paying the rent yesterday, but realize now I need to withdraw over several days to get enough for the rent and the deposit. I called the customer service number on the back of the card to see if I could raise the limit, and they advised me to call the customer service number on the back of the card. Thanks, Bank of America.
For an obligatory Engrish photo:
I know this establishment is called SLOT King. But that cursive script is dangerous, when you don't connect the top of the "o".
I succumb to jet lag. After doing various errands, I came home for a nap at 3 pm, and woke up at 1 am. FAIL. Now I will try sleeping again.
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