It began like any other day…

You know, any other day when your alarm rudely awakens you at the convenient hour of 3 in the morning.

You see, it was my first flight out of the country.  And boy, could I have picked a more exciting place to visit.

By now you may be wondering if you’re in the right place.  Yes, I did add this as an entry into my Adventures in Flea Marketing series.  But no, it’s not actually a story of flea marketing in the traditional sense; however, this trip captures the spirit of Adventures in Flea Marketing with all the key ingredients – it’s got my good pal Frank (remember him?), the tireless search for video games (or crust, as we call it), hijinks, frugality, and there’s even a touch of haggling involved.  The only difference here is our crusades took place exclusively in retail stores (not a single flea market or yard sale), and this all happened on the other side of the planet.  As such, the scope of this tale will be broader.

Uh oh, do I sense another multi-part series?

I guess we’ll just have to see where this goes…

Chapter 1: 24 Hours of Day

Though excitement existed somewhere inside of me, it was overwhelmingly eclipsed by the dread of being in transit for over 25 hours.  Not to mention the nagging feeling that something was bound to go wrong.  Since I had never flown out of the country before (aside from a trip to Canada nine years ago…yeah, sorry passport) I had no idea what to expect.  I had no clue how many moving parts there could have been.  And above all, I had no idea how involved customs might be.  

I boarded my flight to Newark, relieved that I had made it thus far and excited to land in that airport and get some food.  After all, New Jersey is known to have good food.

The flight itself was a standard flight.  Nothing I hadn’t experienced before.  At least as far as I can remember.

When I landed in Newark, I got myself a breakfast Stromboli, then proceeded to my terminal.  So far, everything was moving along much smoother than I had anticipated.  The time came, and I boarded the big plane: Air China.  This thing was massive.  I’d never been on such a large airplane before.  It had seats on the left, seats on the right, and seats in the middle.  I was in the middle, but I was fortunate enough to have an aisle seat.  Each passenger had a fold-down footrest, a pillow, and a blanket.  And we had more than enough room to make ourselves comfortable.

There was a gentleman sitting a row behind who shared my enthusiasm for all these niceties, only he was much more vocal about it.  Delighted by his unabashed wonder, I decided to strike up a conversation.  

This plane was bound for Beijing, but it turned out he and I had very similar itineraries.  We were both going to Kyoto and Osaka, but instead of Nagoya, he was going to Tokyo.  At least I think.  

Spotty recollection is what I get for taking my time to commit these stories to the page.

Anyway, the plane took off, and I had a 13+ hour flight ahead of me.  By this point, I had been awake for about 10 hours or so.  

Fortunately, I had one enthusiastic traveler, a plethora of intriguing in-flight movies, a book, three MP3 players loaded with a selection of music and audio a friend compiled for me, and two meals and a snack at my disposal to ease the sting of the flight’s duration.

Most of the window shades were drawn.  There were lights along the top of the cabin that changed color to simulate the time of day.  Since our flight chased the sun, the luminescence served as a simulation for night even though it was still bright out.  Despite the airline’s best efforts to offer a nocturnal experience, my body knew something was up.  I tried to nod off but was only able to phase out of consciousness for a solid…50 minutes or so.

My back started to hurt.  At the recommendation of my chiropractor, I took the obligatory standing position in order to ease the tension.  I did this through the guise of using the bathroom since the idea of loitering in the aisle made me rather nervous.  As the flight progressed, I found many other occupants enjoyed a more casual experience.  Passengers made themselves at home, wandering into the kitchen area to serve their own drinks, take snacks, and chat, all right in front of a flight attendant who was seated, idly staring at her phone.

Indeed, I took advantage, grabbing water, juice, a second bag of snacks, and in general, stood more than I was seated for the last quarter/third of the flight.  My back was screaming in agony and my temperament was beginning to sour.  All in all, I had been awake for probably 20 hours and was ready for this damn flight to be over.

I watched the plane’s progress on a monitor like one would watch a blade of grass go through puberty.  But as we drew closer to our destination, the dream was becoming a reality.  I was over another continent.  On the other side of the world.  In Asia!

We touched down in Beijing, and the simple notion of setting foot on such far-away soil had me pumped.  I wandered through the airport admiring every little detail like it was my first time at Disney World.  I discovered a map featuring a few American fast food places with strange items not available in the states and immediately became excited. 

I had about two more hours of layover before my flight to Nagoya.  It was around 2 or 3 in the afternoon, or 3 or 4 in the morning back home; I had been up 24 hours or so.

If at this point you’re having difficulty keeping track of the timeline, that is my fault; I wrote this about two months after my trip and did not keep a very good record, even back then.

Anyway…

Finally, the last flight was boarding and I was more than ready to get my ass onto that plane.

Chapter 2: The Final Leg

Wow.  Boy, was the final leg a pain in the ass.  First of all, the previous flight actually passed Nagoya, so we had to backtrack, which felt excruciatingly unnecessary.  Now I understand that the connection in Beijing was, in fact, necessary because it was Air China – not to mention my ticket was under $800 – but cut me some slack!  I had been awake for over 24 hours and was feeling ornery.  And even though the previous flight was incredibly long, this one felt like an eternity.  It was longer than I expected, and I honestly think the pilot was circling around Nagoya for a good hour or so.  And to top it all off, it was hot as fuck in that plane.  

“God, get me out of here,” my frantic mind cried to the vacant auditorium in my head.

Well, needless to say, we landed.  What I thought was impossible actually happened.  I was in Nagoya, Japan.  It was a reality.  Now I had to go through customs.  The part I had been dreading…

Chapter 3: It’s a Five O’Clock World!

“That was easy,” I thought as I strolled on through those pearly gates.  

I was a little frustrated because I was waiting on a text from my buddy Frank for information on where we were staying so I could finish filling out the customs card.  I was exhausted and my patience had run dry.  But in the end, it really wasn’t that bad.  I was ready to see my ol’ pal Frank, whom I had not seen in a year and a half.  And I had something planned for the occasion.

But first, a brief backstory:

Before he left, when Frank and I would go yard saling, the song “Five O’Clock World” by The Vogues became our anthem.  You see, after waking up uncomfortably early, then driving like madmen across Central Florida for a few hours and coming back either extremely excited or extremely disappointed, that song always seemed to be a proper way to close out the morning.  And it gradually became tradition to the point where it is now emblematic of our friendship.  We’ve even adjusted some of the lyrics to fit our shared juvenile sense of humor.

Anyway…

After jumping through some hoops and being told it was not possible, I managed to get the song on my phone (look, it was a new flip phone – yes they still make those – and it was quite shitty.  We can talk about that some other time).  As I made it past the gates and spotted Frank, I hit that play button.  When we reunited, the song echoed through my tiny phone speakers with me bellowing out the notes and Frank half-heartedly participating while also trying to navigate through the airport.  It was a jolly good reunion.

Chapter 4: Nagoya 

We took a train from the airport to the city.  It was probably 9 or 10 at night at that point, and dear god, I was still awake.  We arrived, and I got my first taste of what a Japanese city looked like.  It was very exciting!

Of course, we’ve all seen pictures and gotten small bits and pieces from TV, movies, and other media.  But to see it firsthand conjured a kind of excitement I cannot describe.  It was, well, kinda like a really cool American city with a Japanese flavor to it, only everything was written in the native language.

 

At the time I really felt like I was in a new world.  But as I came to explore the other cities, I found this one was the closest to home in terms of appearance.  At least in my humble opinion.

The bright neon lights were dazzling to the eye.  The buildings were packed tight, giving the city a cozier feeling than the cities I’ve visited back home.  It truly was a magical experience.  Right off the bat, I spotted strange and unusual signage, such as “Mini Mini,” and of course an adorable construction poster that was a cartoon.  Oh, how I love Japan!

After admiring the sights, we walked (and boy, is there gonna be a lot of walking in this story) to our hostel to check in and drop off our bags.  We were given bicycle locks for our luggage, which were about as effective as boiled spaghetti noodles, thus leaving us to rely heavily on the honor code that we assumed most thrifty travelers lived by.  My pal Frank wanted to get some food, but after all those meals and an ambiguous personal timeline, I had to consult with my personal weight counselor. 

When I stepped on said weight counselor, AKA my scale (yes, I brought a scale – I have an eating problem, get off my back will ya?) it told me I had no business eating, so I followed its curt advice and opted to simply watch from afar.

Arriving at our very first restaurant – an establishment called CoCo’s – I got to experience my first restroom in Asia.  The facility was quite lovely, with a seat warmer and a bidet that I was too intimidated to try (but don’t you worry, that time will come!).  Knowing from Frank’s warnings that most bathrooms were quite compact, I was relieved to find plenty of room to stretch out and relax.  They were even kind enough to include instructions on how to use the toilet, which I initially found humorous, but later learned why.

Overall, I was quite pleased with my first bowel-clearing experience in Japan.

We went back to our hostel, which I soon discovered was quite the…”hostile” experience.  Now it was a lovely place, don’t get me wrong.  But I slept in a hotbox.

All of us had our own personal cubbyhole to sleep in with a small TV, safe, keyboard, and guidebooks.  Each bunk was enclosed by a thick curtain.

As I already mentioned, it was hot in there.  And the beds were essentially thin pads on top of hard, wooden platforms.  Suffice it to say, I did not sleep well.  Though I did find out in the middle of the night there was a raised part for the lower back and that I had been sleeping upside down. 

Both of us had top bunks, which posed a problem as I often wake up in the middle of the night to piss like an old man.  Having to climb down a ladder every time I needed to take a leak only made the possibility of a full-night sleep even more far-fetched.  All in all, I got a solid four hours of sleep.  Fantastic!

But it didn’t matter.  I was ready for my first proper day to explore the city of Nagoya!

Phew, alright that’s enough for one entry.  You know the drill.  Keep your eyes peeled for Part 2!