On the Road

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I was all prepared to write about life in school, but I took a rather interesting trip this weekend so I figured I would write about that instead. This time I went to Fukuoka city on Kyushu island, one of the major culinary and entertainment capitals of Japan. Since the distance from Tamagawa was rather substantial, my friend and I decided to take Japan’s world famous bullet train, the fastest train in the world. It can reach speeds of 180 mph, and amazingly there has never been a fatality in more than thirty years. The trip would have taken two and a half hours by conventional transportation, but instead took a mere 45 minutes. By the time I remembered to look at the window to see how fast we were going, we were practically there. There is much to recommend the shinkansen or bullet train. They come about every fifteen minutes, and because the track is continuously welded is completely noiseless. Of course, you pay the price for such convenience. The round trip cost about $80, roughly a dollar per minute. Just seeing the Japanese countryside speeding by almost made up for the steep price.
Fukuoka is a city of about 1.5 million completely surrounded by low-lying mountains and the sea. It is a modern metropolis replete with expansive shopping malls, one with an artificial river, and restaurants serving every type of world cuisine and of course tons of Japanese restaurants. According to my guidebook, there are approximately 600 noodle shops. A favorite pastime of natives and tourists alike is finding the one that go above and beyond.
In Fukuoka, we did things that were more reminiscent of life in Long Island than new adventures in a foreign country. However, living in such a small town necessitates a return to the “ordinary” from time to time. We went shopping (I bought English books and a really cool samurai doll), saw a movie in Japan for the first time, (Captain Corioli’s Mandolin; cost: $15), and went to a museum of modern Asian art. My favorite painting there depicted three Russian pigs dressed exactly alike but with an eerie smile on their faces symbolizing resistance to communism. Many of the paintings, the aforementioned included, were almost photographic in quality.
The other outstanding aspect of the trip was lodging. I have stayed in dozens of hotels in my life, but none were quite like the capsule hotel we stayed at in Fukuoka. Because neither my friend nor I are great believers in foresight, we were forced to devote quite a bit of time to finding a hotel. Exacerbating the problem was the apparent fact that many hotels were reluctant to serve foreigners. At several hotels, it was difficult to determine if we were refused for lack of space or for distrust of gaijin. Whatever the case, we eventually came upon a hotel that was happy to let us spend the night. This was not just any hotel however, but a capsule hotel. I don’t know if this idea is unique to Japan, but it certainly fits the Japanese mentality to a T. The “rooms” are roughly the size of a coffin. However, we did fully appreciate that line in my guidebook until we returned that night.
When we were about to pay for the rooms, we experienced an awkward moment. The receptionist kindly pointed out to us that we were still wearing our shoes. A quick glance at everyone else’s feet informed us of the ignominy of our situation. I realized that we had committed the faux pas that I had successfully avoided for two months. Surreptitiously we went back to the entrance and removed our sneakers before returning with an air of shame.
When we returned to the hotel that night after a day of sightseeing, we picked up our keys and headed for the locker room. There we left all our belongings before heading for our capsules. By a rough estimate, I would say each capsule measured 3 feet by 8 feet by 5 ft. Each capsule consisted of a TV, radio and a bed. Mine was located on the second tier so I had to climb a ladder to reach it my quarters. It was actually pretty comfortable, but a fellow traveler’s an alarm went off at 7:00 and kept ringing for twenty minutes. The Japanese businessmen (it was a male-only establishment) were still unwinding in the sauna and massage rooms as we left. That day, we got a full dose of Japanese culture by eating at McDonald’s and Wendy’s. As much as I detest fast food, I really needed the break from rice and fish.
Like cities the world over, in Fukuoka, people dressed to success and all acted as if they had somewhere to go. It was an odd experience going to a place where you don’t greet every stranger on the street and discuss the weather with the bus driver. However, there were several people who were confident enough in their English ability to help us with directions when we looked confused (which was more often than not). It was kind of liberating to not recognize everyone and go through the streets as a tourist, not a member of the community. Of course, no one there rings your doorbell to present you with dinner, either. There is always give and take.

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