Japanic

It started out so well. We were fully adjusted to the time change and (gasp!) enjoying getting up at 7 am to greet the day and people watch in the breakfast room. Being that it was Saturday, there was a much more relaxed group of diners chatting and chewing that morning. We stayed the full two hours, taking advantage of our one free meal of the day, and the internet that only worked downstairs. Finally we rolled ourselves, all full of eggs and sausage patties, labeled "hamburg", into the elevator and back to our room to pack. Pained though I am to think of how my family reading along might react to such honesty, I must report that our exodus was not without the urge to imbibe, and weighing the almost empty bottle in my bag, we gave way.

We checked out promptly at 10:59 and were feeling simply stellar. High fives abounding, we made our way to the Tokyo Railway Station to activate our 21-day unlimited rail passes.

At the JR information area we coordinated the transfer of our order forms into real passes and reserved our seats for the Shinkansen bullet train to Nagoya. Nagoya, home to 2 million people, is the fourth largest city in Japan. It was then that the rain started to pick up, but no sweat, surely it would subside by the time we got off in 2 hours.

The Shinkansen was the most thrilling and unfamiliar way I have ever traveled. In addition to the wild, wheel-less magnetic technology used to propel this train at 200mph, the seats are spaced farther apart than a business class flight with more reclining ability and steadier tray tables. Indeed, when the train began to move, I was sure we were preparing for take off. Soon after, lovely uniformed ladies appeared carting beer, tea, and ornate lunch boxes wrapped in delicate cloth and rice paper, priced as opulently as they looked. The comely vendors turned, bowed and smiled each time they left our car. Again we high-fived at being clever enough to get these rail passes, as this train would have cost well over 200 dollars without them.

In no time at all we arrived in Nagoya, and though we had 3 hours to wait before meeting up with our hosts, we were excited to get out of the station and explore the city we fancied would be the Philadelphia of Japan. Again we congratulated ourselves on being so awesome as we hopped between the Sakura-dori and Meijo subway lines and got of at Kurokawa, exactly where we needed to be!

Unfortunately, this was our first moment of disappointment. Not only was it pouring down much harder when we emerged from the station, but it turns out that Japan is a bit like Israel in that entire cities seem to shut down on Saturday. I mean NOTHING was open, save for a takoyaki place that was more of a stall than anything else- an overhanging awning that spilled rain everywhere and had no seats. In case you don't know what takoyaki is, we'll get to that. But not to fear! Behold, yonder, a Mister Donut! We scurried across the busy street between cars sloshing water with their tires and wipers and entered the corner doughnut shop. Now, on any other day we might have been heartily disappointed to have ended up in the Dunkin' Donuts equivalent of shops our first ten minutes out of Tokyo, but we were so cold and soaked at this point that this place looked like Vetri to us. With nothing but time to kill, we broke out the Suntory whiskey and sipped it with a bowl of spicy noodles (because apparently you can get them everywhere, even at a doughnut shop) while playing No-limit Texas Hold'em.

The time came for one of us to step out and make a phone call to our hosts, right around 4:30, and I was the first to go. Note: first. We had two cell phone numbers, and I was lucky enough to find a pay phone just 100 or so meters away. After finally figuring out how to use damned the thing, I made four attempts at each number with no success. Okay, no big deal. Our hosts said they'd be home around 5, so I guess I'm a little early- they're probably on the train home right now!

At 5:30 Ken stepped out to try again, and again no luck. We'd now been at this Mister Donut for going on three hours, and it was time to make a move- maybe we could email them, or call them on Skype. The adjacent restaurants all opened at five, so we went into the one with a WiFi sign in the window. But after ordering a beer, we learned, naturally, that they don't know how to use their own wireless. The box had 8 different bar codes and sets of numbers and after several combinations I finally gave up.

At this point, one of the cooks, Katsu, handed me his phone. Okay, one last time, PLEASE pick up! "Hello?" "Maya! Is that you? This is Davida! We are here! Right near the Mister Donut!" A tiny voice on the other end said that she would pick us up there. Phew! Thank you Chef Katsu! We paid and left to wait out front.

Ten minutes. Twenty. Forty-five. She said half an hour, but it's not like a Japanese host to be late. Back to the pay phone. "Hello?" "Yes, Davida, where were you? I already go and come back. I go again, but please to wait." I guess it should have occurred to me at this point that perhaps there was more than one Mister Donut. But no. Another twenty-five minutes went by with no sign of Maya. With an ultimate resolve to get there or go broke trying, we hailed a cab and fervently expressed our desire to go to herokodori. Heerukudory. HE-I-RU-KU-DORI. If our cab driver had spoken English and we Japanese, I'm sure he would have been repeatedly asking us for a cross street, but alas, hindsight is always 20-20. After taking us on a 1400 yen ride ten minutes away to what we thought was their home, but ended up being just another phone booth where we received even more confusing and cryptic information, Ken called an audible and directed the driver back to Kurokawa, where we had been only too excited to arrive six hours prior. The only redemptive part of that stressful and completely unnecessary ride was the driver's refusal to take the fare. "Ser-vi-su".

At this moment, in great desperation, the two years of my Japanese study finally clicked for a brief moment. Kurokawa station's information booth was attended by a man whose English was equivalent to that of a mute person, being conveyed only through signs and gestures. Despite this I was able to extract one thing from all the accompanying gibberish; Hachi-ju San-ju-ni desu. The next bus is at 8:32. And with that, we rushed back to a pay phone, informed Maya of our arrival time, got back in time to board the bus, and got off just in time to see her riding toward us sporting a huge and apologetic smile.

Our time in Nagoya with Koji and Maya was precious, but especially so since it was punctuated by a momentary panic that somehow seems to be the sort of thing we'd do well to get used to.