Mission Accomplished

W ell, I made it. I think. One piece? Maybe even. Exactly 48 hours ago I was at Kansai airport, waiting nervously for a standby flight to Sapporo.

Now I'm in my easy chair at home. In two hours from now, hopefully the fruits of my labors will be evident: the first video chat with Tai-chan from Montreal to Japan in over three years. I can't believe I had to haul my ass half way around the world to get it done, but if I hadn't, not a single other person would have lifted a finger to help me do it.

I slept all day; this morning I could barely move a single limb from all that walking, carrying, moving, scrunching. I still feel like shit. But it'll pass in a couple of days and I'll be normal again.

And I won't have to do it again for at least a year. How about THAT?

It's been interesting having you along. All I have left is to process all my real video from my camcorder;  I may even be able to put it up on YouTube.

But it's been . . . real. You may now remove this bookmark from your favorites. Thanks for having me and may your day be a quiet one.

Over and out.

It Seems Like

The Stare

 . . . yesterday. Was it yesterday? I can't tell any more. It kind of was. But now it's ten to four in the morning of where I was when I posted the last post. Here, it's ten to three in the afternoon. I still have an hour and a half until I board my next plane and then there's another four? Five? hours until I arrive in Montreal.

Geting on the bus at 6 a.m. yesterday morning seems like ten centuries ago. You can see the 1,000-mile stare in my rigid gaze to the left . . . too many gates, too many buses, too many people, too many conversations, too many checking and rechecking, too many have I lost it?s and Where did I put it?s and What time is it now?s . . . it's called The Danger Zone.

I just almost lost my jacket. Preoccupied with a non-working power cord to my computer, I pulled up stakes from one location and went to an Apple Store to see if it was just my computer or the airport's outlets (it was my plug) and then I buy a new plug, move my encampment to a new campground, and . . . my jacket! Where's my jacket????? My boarding pass is in it! Quick! What else? Credit card? No, got that . . . my Kindle! My Kindle is in the jacket! NOT REPLACEABLE! RUNRUNRUNRUN . . . . thank god the jacket is still on the back of the chair where I left it. Thank god I'm in Canada. Yesterday I almost left all Tai-chan's paintings at the bus stop for the airport in all the confusion of paying the bus driver and getting all my bag stuff together . . . a nice Japanese guy who had been sitting next to me on the wait bench brought it onto the bus and gave it to me. What if I'd left it . . . ?

No wonder I have lost laptops. Credit cards. never a passport, thank god. But so many things to think about . . . a 36-hour travelling circus of details, things to carry from place to place, distractions, little, big, huge, small . . . THINK about it. It's a miracle I'm here at all.

At this moment as I type, I hold in my head a mental inventory of all my possessions. I must keep going over that inventory. Over and over again. When I go into a bathroom. When I leave the bathroom. All my possessions . . . everything that I DEPEND ON . . . have moved from two hotel rooms in Japan through three buses, five planes, six terminals, 4 security checks, two baggage pickups, five restaurants, countless escalators, elevators, walkways, ramps, stores, benches, airplane seats . . . computer has come in and out at least twenty times in that period, Kindle, passport, credit card, cash, magazines, pens, boarding cards, itineraries . . . the question is not DID I make it in one piece, but HOW did I make it in one piece?

It's a GODDAMN FUCKING MIRACLE.

Doing The Tour

Hicksville, Hokkaido

Currently I'm sitting in a packed, dingy 70s-era  airport lounge surrounded by screaming kids and dumb Japanese tourists. It's about 12:15 p.m. on Thursday afternoon; I'm, like, in what Bakersfield Internat'l Airport: Gateway to the San Joaquin Valley would look like if Bakersfield had an international airport.

Who knew Sapporo would be this primitive? When one is forced to refer to the people around one as "Japanese hillbillies" you know you're not at the greatest point in your Japan Saga.

I'm on my waaaaaayyyyy . . . . to the 1.5 people who are still reading reading this, Hello From Hicksville, Nippon! If on my next flight I plummet in a fireball to the ground at least I'll die knowing I've finally seen it all.

Good Bye Nippon

Good bye, good bye.

A t the new hotel. Up at 4:30 a.m. for the 6 a.m. bus to the airport. Then the crazy lurch around Japan all day until the late afternoon, when I leave Narita for Vancouver.

I'l be overflying Mount Fuji three times, if my counting is correct. Once going north, once going south, once going east.

Tai-chan spent the night. I didn't sleep a wink so I'll die like a fly tonight.

Last day at Mellow Café. Good-bye, Japan, good-bye.