Osaka

I took a 14-hour flight from Chicago to Tokyo, then a 1-hour commuter jet to Osaka. On the overseas flight, despite having work stockpiled, I mostly slept and watched movies (/X-Men First Class/ and /Pirates in Strange Waters/). When I got to Tokyo, my original itinerary had me changing not just planes but also airports, from Narita to Haneda. However, after I consulted with a few people about the hour and a half bus ride, I arranged to get that changed, which was a good thing because the customs lineup took a while.

I had a few observations about the Tokyo Narita airport, largely dealing with how they manage to keep it feeling like a small and somewhat soothing place when in fact it is huge. For one thing, the ceilings are quite low for an international airport. Then there are the conveyor belts, which you normally expect to stretch for miles. Only here, they are short belts lined up, so it is quite easy to get off the system if you change your mind. Similarly with escalators, which take you for a short ride, a small walk, then the next ride, and so on. The chairs in the lounge area all face the same direction—toward the gates—and there is plenty of room to walk between rows of seats, and a ton of room in the stretch directly facing the gate, where they have a printed sign on a stand that tells you the status (e.g. “servicing” or “priority boarding”).

The customs area was also well managed, with polite people to show you where to stand and make sure you’ve filled out both sides of your form before you go and meet the teenager at the desk. Plus all the public announcements are made by impersonators of Hello Kitty.

The Green Rich Hotel
I am staying at a small designer hotel near the domestic Osaka airport, one of a cluster that includes the Hotel Nice, Hotel First, and somewhat confusing Hotel To. I seem to be getting along nicely myself, although as I had previously been warned, there is no English signage and no one outside the university seems to speak more than a word or two of English. Fortunately, I’d printed out my reservation in Japanese, so I can point to the part that I’ve been led to believe says I’ve paid for my breakfasts, and to the line that gives the name and address of the hotel, and so on. One of my colleagues, who travels quite a bit and is a vegetarian, carries a handy little card that says in Japanese “I don’t eat meat.” Features of the Green Rich Hotel include a “shower toilet” that “rinses your posterior” with either water or a deodorizing spray. It isn’t a separate bidet, but is built right in. They had something similar at the airport, only it seemed sufficiently technical that I elected not to try it—it looked like there were moving parts, perhaps designed to swipe across the toilet seat like a photocopier. The hotel also has public baths (one each for men and women), where you have a little shower on a stool off to the side, then climb in with your towel wrapped modestly around your waist (bathing suits are not, apparently, an option). Other delightful features of the hotel include a heating pad behind the bathroom mirror, so a rectangle of it never fogs over, your selection of additional robes, pillows, and dehumidifiers in an open case on each floor, and a talking elevator (featuring, of course, the voice of Hello Kitty).

Buffet Breakfast
I enjoyed peering under all the lids and opening the electronic gadgets that contained, respectively, rice, soup, and gravy. There was the kind of egg you get on tamago, next to pickled slips of something delicious and a plate of dried black shredded seaweed. The pineapple slices came from tiny baby pineapples and the orange slices came in your choice of orange or bright yellow. I had a fountain drink that I hoped would be carbonated apple but turned out to be carbonated water that glowed green in the dark. The bacon is not to be described, although later in the grocery store I saw that it comes already packaged in those neat rectangles and apparently just requires steaming for a minute or two once you get it home.

Outdoor Vending Machines
They are ubiquitous, standing wherever in North American cities you’d expect to see a newspaper machine or mailbox. Many of them are Boss brand, which is a can of cold coffee, although there are also various teas and Pepsi Nex Zero (I think the Nex means that it serves as a mild malaria medicine), as well as more recognizable Coke products. There are separate machines for cigarettes, which must be popular given the size of the machines and the range of choices. The restaurant last night had an ash tray at the table. I noticed it because one of my Japanese colleagues asked me to hand it to him, then went and sat in the doorway of the tatami room to smoke. He is fluent in something like eight languages, studies international Buddhism, wears Buddy Holly glasses, and is a Toshiro Mifune lookalike contest winner. The vending machine motif also carries forward into the student cafeteria, where you enter next to a glass display case of plastic dishes, make your selection on a large panel full of buttons that also takes your money, vending machine style, and gives you a ticket. You present the ticket to the cook and get your meal. It seems foolproof enough except that I was going by price rather than by Japanese characters, and ended up with curry on rice instead of vegetables on noodles.