Displacement

I managed to keep myself awake long enough to grab some food at the hostel, bungle a lot of Japanese trying to ask if I could borrow an adaptor (remember, mine lost itself…), and apologise ashamedly as the manager nearly killed himself trying to get my suitcase up to the fourth floor (“Old building” he explained “No lift”). I hope he recovers.

Not very much got done that day. Apart from a lot of staring around, confused, thinking…wait, how did I get here again? Hang on. I’m in Japan. How did that happen? I’m in Japan? Like, I’ve moved here. Ok. Lets process that. Lots of blank staring.

Then I opted to just eat loads of Pocky and purin and arrange my tickets in an artistic way. Worked a charm.

photo (1)

Then I tried to get out of bed, misjudged the distance, and now have a stunner of a bruise on my left butt cheek. Excuse me if I don’t include a photo of that.

My day (early evening) began with a much needed shower – the first in 40 odd hours + sweat-blob-person weather + 1000000kg suitcase and duffel bag. Yum. (I was just too tired to attempt to rent a towel the night before).

Sweating again the instant I left the hostel’s air-conditioned bliss, I struck out to source my own adapter and stumbled into a sort of discount electronics store, where an overeager (but very nice) salesman struggled to understand my toddler-at-best Japanese. After leading me around most of the five floors of the shop and involving a lot of other staff members, I finally got the idea across and the adaptor was found. Huzzah!

I then had a similar task trying to find a moisturiser, ending up resorting to: *points at bottle then at face*
“For face?”
[Japanese salesman, seriously]
“Only for face.”
(Turns out it was a terrible moisturiser after all that).

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The Move: Part 2

Sorry for the teaser – I’m hoping to catch up with myself on here tonight and all will be explained!

Time in Amsterdam revolved around spending time with Tiz, sorting out my Visa in Den Haag, haranguing Interac about what on earth I was going to be doing when I got to Japan, dithering over booking my flight, and drinking/eating as much/many coffee/cinnamon buns as I could.

( photo (8)  ) *dribble*

On the 2nd June, Tiz saw me off at the airport and I was bound for home (Flight #1).
As I’ve mentioned, the flight to Tokyo involved a stop in London (because it was waaay cheaper) so I was looking at a 7 hour wait in Heathrow. Luckily, the beautiful Florence-Anne offered her services as brunch companion and entertainer.

And so I saw off the UK with a stunning full-English at Muriel’s Kitchen, South Kens (its right next to the station and it is beaut!) with a lovely friend.

Making it to the flight (#2) basking in the achievement of leaving no personal items anywhere in the airport, I settled in for the duration – luckily the seat next to me was empty, saving me from the socially awkward situation of sleeping next to (and potentially accidentally on) a stranger. I managed perhaps 5 hours broken sleep, pretty ideal in the gradual process of shifting my body clock forwards eight hours. Although my general sleeping habits already gave me a good 4 hour head start…

Arriving into Tokyo, fortune was on my side and everything went well with my bags and visa (except for the incredible width of my face on my resident’s card). I lingered by the gate for the onwards flight (#3!) to Nagoya for a couple of hours drinking a long awaited vending machine Oolong tea.

My arrival time into Nagoya station ended up being around 8.30pm on the 3rd, although my arrival time at the hostel was considerably later. After wandering around with all 100000kg of my luggage I finally realised that I was on the wrong side of the station. I have no idea how this happened. Anyone who has met me knows that I have an impeccable sense of direction. Like a human sat nav. I don’t think the hostel staff have ever seen anyone quite so sweaty before…