Traveling up north on the Shinkansen, stilted conversation punctuated extended bouts of silence. I would never have an easy relationship with the head teacher, perhaps because he connected my arrival with being taxed. April 1, 1989, a 3% consumption tax was introduced. The tax was unpopular with many people fearing that 3% was just the start--in fact it was raised to 5% during the 10 years span I lived in Japan. Late in the evening, Head Teacher checked me into a hotel--I would get keys to my apartment the next day.
In the hotel room, I took note of the room and myself. The room: standard hotel room, bright lights outside the window, and a book of Buddha rather than a Gideon Bible in the bedside table. Me: I was tired, I was sick, I was numb. My sinus infection was in full bloom. I tried to blow my nose but the sharp pain in my ear allowed only an ineffective, shallow blow. Because I was a novice at flying, I had no idea that the excruciating pain I had on landing first in Seattle and then in Tokyo was due to air pressure. I was incredibly fortunate that I didn't have lasting damage on the eardrum.
People often ask me, how I dealt with the culture shock those initial days, I believe that because I was so ill, I experienced everything with detached amusement.
The next morning, the head teacher met me at the hotel after my Western style breakfast of toast, boiled egg, coffee and salad. I had a 10:00 AM appointment with Koucho-Sensei--the principal. I made my first mis-step (quite literally) right off the bat. I went to step up into the school from the entrance way with my shoes on. I was pulled back and instructed to put on a pair of guest slippers to wear until I purchased indoor shoes to wear. Koucho-Sensei's office was massive and impressive--sofas, chairs, a presidential sized desk, and more. I make my official greeting and then I'm showed around the school. Around 12:00 we return to the principal's office for lunch. A fancy sushi lunch is laid out. Next to the sushi lunch was a small bowl of pale green liquid. Finger
bowl? I asked myself. Since I had never eaten sushi before and was unsure how to proceed, I decided to watch and observe first. It's a good thing, I didn't go sticking my fingers into the greenish liquid because Mrs. Onodera (who was to become my best Japanese friend) picked up the green bowl and took a sip. What? Then it dawned on me green tea is actually GREEN. What a rube! Next, I observed carefully how the sushi was eaten, in one bite after dipping in soy sauce. OK, I grab something that doesn't look like octopus and pop it into my mouth and begin to chew, and chew and chew--it seemed to be expanding in my mouth. I didn't want to open my mouth but I also couldn't breathe through my nose. For a flash, I worried that I might actually keel over right there on my
first day from lack of oxygen. I survived the lunch--barely, and needed to go to the restroom. I entered one of the stalls in the student restroom, looked down and wondered how I was to actually use it. I thought, hmm, maybe I don't need to go--FOR A YEAR?!? Next, I tried to blow my nose, but the pain was too severe and gave up on that, too.
The next stop was to show me my new apartment, this was a lady event, so head teacher, Mrs. Onodera and one of the OLs (office lady) took me to my apartment. It was a good size, nicely kitted out one bedroom. First they showed me my cook top which was a fancy Coleman stove and cautioned me to always turn the gas cock off as if there were an earthquake, I might die. Next on the tour was the heating element for my water pipes to prevent freezing due to being so far north. Nifty!! Next, I received a tutorial on how to tie on my apron and learned my first Japanese word--Hai--yes during the process.
On to the bedroom where I was shown the kerosene heater and cautioned to make sure that I always had the small window in the balcony door open to vent the room otherwise I might die from carbon monoxide poisoning. At this point, I felt that with the sushi experience earlier that Japan might just kill me.
After the tour, head teacher takes me grocery shopping at the supermarket. I am unsure of many things in the market and select a few items that seem safe--small oranges, boxed cereal, milk, coffee (that I didn't drink at the time, but was recognizable) and chocolate.
After grocery shopping, I was returned to my apartment with instructions to report to the school the next morning. Alone, tired, and sick, but also curious, I decide to poke around a bit. Larissa, the teacher I replaced, had left a box of odds and ends for me to use--pencils, notebooks, an alarm clock, etc. As I go
through the box, I pull out this smallish inverted cone made of light cardboard with a string hanging out of it. What's this? I ask myself. I tug on the string, nothing, a tug a bit harder and POP. My heart jumps into my throat and I think I might have a heart attack. Geez, I had never seen a popper in my life but I will never forget that first experience.
That night, I had the first of many dreams that I was back in the US trying to get to Japan but something went wrong. I woke up in the morning, I was so disappointed that I couldn't go to Japan when I looked around and realized that I had made it. I was there.
The next morning, I eat an orange only to find it was a grapefruit, and pour milk over the cereal only to find that the milk was liquid yogurt so for breakfast I had chocolate--wondering if indeed Japan would be the death of me. When I get to school the head teacher says: you know eating a lot of chocolate isn't good for you. And with that, I understood that he would never be someone that I could ask to help me navigate being a naive American living in the far reaches of Japan. But I also knew that I would figure things out. I would be OK. I did and I was.