Never eat fried rice as an in-flight meal.

Let's recap my last five days in America.

Wednesday, 18 July: Drove from Missouri to Georgia to spend time with my grandparents.

Friday, 20 July: Drove to Borders in Athens for the Harry Potter Wizards Ball. Met Cord, Clay, Jeremy, Stephie-chan, Ashley, and Laura A. Cord was dressed up like Harry, and Clay made an awesome Snape. Once the books got wheeled out, it became apparent that, even having reserved copies, the guys were going to be waiting a long time to get theirs. Since I hadn't reserved a copy in the first place, and since I was just there to hang out, I said my goodbyes and left Borders at about 12:03. Having heard rumors, I drove across the street to Kroger, and found an innocuous table with a pile of Harry Potter books on display. I quietly picked up a copy, paid about $20 for it, and strolled out of the grocery store with the book at about 12:07. Hah! From there I drove straight to Fish and Michael's house, read three chapters, and passed out.

Saturday, 21 July: Woke up bright and early, rendezvoused with the Weeville troupe, and skedaddled at about 8:30 for Tampa. Drove all day, ran into an awesomely inconvenient thunderstorm north of Tampa, and got to Anna Maria Island at about 8:30 that evening. Didn't read any Harry Potter.

Monday, 23 July: Having thoroughly enjoyed 1 2/3 days as a resident of Weeville Beta, I made tracks for Missouri after lunch. In case you've never tried to make that trip, a) it's 22 hours, and b) don't. Stopped between Chattanooga and Nashville at about midnight and got a hotel room. Didn't read any Harry Potter.

Tuesday, 24 July: Woke up reasonably early, drove for the day, got to Springfield at around 8pm. Packed. Didn't read any Harry Potter.

Wednesday, 25 July: Packed. Didn't read any Harry Potter.

Thursday, 26 July: Drove from Missouri to Georgia with Mom and Dad. Didn't read any Harry Potter.

Friday, 27 July: Spent time with family in Toccoa, drove to Atlanta for the pre-departure orientation. Met lots of people I'm sure I'll never see again. Very helpful nonetheless. Drove back, stayed up until 2am packing and repacking, trying to get my two suitcases within the 50lbs allowance, and failing miserably. Heather and Megan, having driven all day from Missouri, drove to Toccoa from their hotel in Alpharetta. Didn't read any Harry Potter.

Saturday, 28 July: Woke up at 5am, did more last-minute packing, said goodbye to granny and papa. Rode with Mom and Dad to the airport, meeting Heather and Megan there. My flight wasn't until 12:23, but the JET people wanted everyone checked in at the airport by 8:30. Stood in line for about an hour and a half, talking with other JET folks, and noticed lots of people carrying copies of Harry Potter for the flight. Checked my bags (only one was over the free allowance! yay!), got my boarding pass, and was all done at 10:30, giving me at least an hour before I needed to go through security. Bleary-eyed and with a stomach upset for several reasons--not least of which was the antibiotics Mom made me take to get over my sinus infection before getting to Japan--I sat down with the four of them and had breakfast. We made idle smalltalk, trying desperately to avoid talking about saying goodbye. When it finally came time to say goodbye, it wasn't as painful as I was fearing. Maybe it was because we were all tired, maybe it was because I'm older now than when they dropped me off for college, maybe it was because I wasn't afraid of where I was going--for whatever reason, Mom didn't break down. That kept me from breaking down. It was still rough, but I'd spent the better part of six months dreading that goodbye, and it wasn't as bad as I'd been expecting.

At any rate, I said goodbye, made it through security in 20 minutes, got to my gate, and finally opened up Harry Potter. The rest of the day is a blur, due to my nose being stuck in the book, and also to my being stuffed in a plane for 14 hours.

Suffice it to say, when I got to Tokyo, I was numbed from travel. I had, however, finished the book, and was thoroughly satisfied with the ending. Ever since the fifth book, roughly 75% of which consisted of Harry being angsty and depressed, I've loved every page that doesn't contain Harry being a weenie. That probably contributed to my loving the seventh book.

...Anyway, Tokyo. We got out of the airport, and had to pick at least one suitcase to send on to our contracting organization, since the hotel would only allow one suitcase per person. Acting on the advice of the JET coordinator in Atlanta, I opted to bring 3 carry-on-type bags, and send both bulky suitcases to Tsushima. I was still encumbered, but not nearly as badly as I would have been with one of my suitcases. So we got on the bus, had to wait on account of a girl suffering a severe bout of nausea, and finally headed for the hotel.

We got to the Keio Plaza Hotel in Shinjuku, Tokyo, at about 9pm local time. At checkin, we were presented with about 30lbs of paperwork and informational packets whose purpose, I later learned, was merely to hinder our progress toward our nice, warm bed. The hotel, at any rate, was stellar. Easily the nicest I've ever stayed in. One of my two roomies reminded me of Chuck, except it was the Chuck from circa fall 2003. This roomie was almost frothing at the mouth at being unleashed on an unsuspecting group of vulnerable female JETs, as well as the local population of gaijin-adoring Japanese girls. Those few of you who knew Chuck way back then will understand the comparison.

The hotel bathroom could probably have beaten me in a game of chess. I'm not even kidding--no fewer than ten buttons adorned the toilet, including options for bidet, spray, seat warmer, and about thirty other words I couldn't decipher and somehow never needed to satisfy my toiletary needs. The bathroom mirror also had a heater behind it, making it steamproof. I don't know about whomever's reading this, but to me, the only thing more discomfiting than an ice cold toilet seat is a toasty warm one.

The 2007 JET Programme Group A Tokyo Orientation spanned the next two days, required full business attire, and consisted of huge meetings, medium meetings, and tiny breakout seminars.

The huge meeting had all ~1,000 of us gathered for speeches from the head of CLAIR (the Council of Local Authorities for International Relations) and higher-ups from the three ministries involved with the JET Program: the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology.

The medium meetings were for those of us specifically teaching in schools (as opposed to other types of JETs, who work in government offices or boards of education), and consisted of more speeches by higher-ups.

The small meetings consisted of actual JETs giving lectures on how to teach alongside native Japanese teachers, as well as smaller breakout sessions devoted to topics such as rural JETs, pop culture, and etiquette in Japan.

The huge meeting wowed us, the medium meeting bored us, the smaller meetings were marginally insightful, and the breakout groups were mildly helpful. All in all, the official orientation was useless; what made it worth the time was the opportunity it afforded for networking. We were seated in the big meetings based on which prefecture we were heading to, and this allowed me to focus on 25 people who I could possibly see again this year, instead of the 9,975 other JETs who I'll probably never see again. I met two guys going to a tiny island next to mine, and found the other new JET going to Tsushima.

Amid all of these meetings, we had breakfast and lunch with whomever happened to be around when we sat down, which was amazing in and of itself: I met several Brits, a few Scots, some Irish, Aussies, Kiwis, and South Africans.

To any American readers who have taken Japanese and are self-conscious of their accent: don't worry. I thought my accent was subpar, until I heard a Dubliner trying to explain Japanese etiquette. I'm pretty sure the non-American English speakers will have the hardest time being understood by their students and coworkers. I mean, native English speakers have a hard enough time understanding full-speed Scottish--what chance does an ESL student have?

Almost everyone spent both nights touring the Tokyo bar scene. (I was a weenie and spent the first night sleeping.) The second night, however, I enjoyed a Filet O Shrimp sammich at the Shinjuku McDonald's, and saw a sign for the Mega Mac, which can only be described as a Double Big Mac. I ran into a group of other Atlanta JETs heading out to dinner, and I tagged along.

We stopped at a restaurant and ate tapas-style, ordering about eight different appetizers. They were mostly variations on the chicken theme--grilled chicken skewers, tempura chicken, fried chicken cartilage, etc. They did, however, have nigirizushi, so I availed myself of some mackerel. I absolutely love the stuff in Athens, but it was simply amazing in Tokyo. The check came in as a collection of slips of paper, each with an amount at the bottom. We assumed these were either the check for each item ordered, or that the server had tried to be helpful by separating the bill for us. That total came out to about ¥27,000, which is a little north of $200. It was a pretty fancy restaurant, so we were only mildly surprised, and spent five or ten minutes pooling our cash. When we went to the front to pay, though, the host freaked--our total was only about ¥9,000, which was on the bottom of the topmost ticket they had given us. We didn't argue with him, but after we left, we spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out how eight of us ate practically a full meal for a grand total of about $75.

We hopped on a JR from Shinjuku to Shibuya for about a dollar each, and did the tourist thing there. I know next to nothing about Tokyo, by the way, so you'll have to look elsewhere for that kind of stuff. All I know is that Shibuya is amazing. Someone mentioned it having one of the busiest pedestrian crossings in the world, with something like 10,000 people crossing at every signal.

We found a bar called Gas Panic, where some friends of one of the guys in our group were meeting later on. When we arrived, there were a few Japanese dancing, but they quickly retreated when the guy's Atlanta friends showed up. They literally took the floor over. When the DJ saw all the Americans on the floor, he keyed up This Is Why I'm Hot and Walk It Out, and other such stuff. It was awesome. The rules of the bar were that you had to have a drink in your hand at all times, or else they asked you to leave. So I kept an empty beer bottle in my hand all night. They didn't do tap water, either, and every drink was about Y500, so it would've been mighty expensive to get drunk or to hydrate.

So we took taxis back to Keio Plaza. (An aside: in Japan, not only is the legal blood alcohol content to drive 0.00%, it is equally illegal to be a passenger in a car being driven by someone who is intoxicated. Guilt by association is big here.) We all had to wake up early the next day for to ship out to our actual contracting organizations.

As I lined up with my Nagasaki-ken brethren, fully aware that I'll in all likelihood never again see 90% of the 1,000 or so assembled, it finally felt like I was going to Japan. The orientation felt like a sort of safe haven--Japan was out there, while we were safely insulated in the hotel. It didn't freak me out, really. It just sort of finally started to sink in.

We took a bus to Tokyo's regional airport, and along the way, I realized how much I hate big cities. Tokyo, for all its historic beauty--what with the Imperial Palace, the awe-inspiring skyscrapers, and Suntory--is a wretched place. Almost 13,000,000 people live in the city, with 35,000,000 in the greater Tokyo area. From my 31st-floor window, I remarked to my roommates that Tokyo's pretty foggy. They corrected me--that was, in fact, smog obscuring my view of buildings three blocks away. I can't imagine living in a city where you're constantly breathing that in. The roads are tiny (which is fine--so are the cars), and they're right next to the buildings, so the sides facing the roads are black from exhaust. All in all, I was glad to get out.

We boarded a plane for Omura Airport, which is near Nagasaki. I sat next to a guy named Anthony, who, although Scottish, to me sounds indistinguishable from a Brit. As offensive as that remark may be to both Scottish and British alike, there it is. Anyway, we had a great conversation about cultural relativism, world travel, and religion.

I freely acknowledge how awful the average American is, and that we are notorious for our gluttony. I apparently am still not aware of the extent to which we stink.

Case in point: in preparation for coming to Japan, American JETs were notified that we were allowed to check two suitcases weighing no more than 50 pounds each, and were further permitted one carry-on bag to stow overhead, one carry-on bag to stow under the seat in front of us, and an additional item such as a coat, umbrella, or book. Our checked bags, if overweight, would cost us $50 per bag and would allow up to 70lbs each; anything behind 70 would not be accepted.

I stuffed two suitcases to about 65 and 51 pounds, stuffed a carry-on duffel bag to the maximum acceptable weight, and brought my laptop as my second carry-on. I knew I'd packed a ton of stuff, but I justified bringing all of it, paid my extra, and thought nothing of it. I grumbled at myself for bringing so much stuff to lug around, but that was all.

I mention that to mention this: as we were gathering in the hotel lobby prior to prefecture-specific departure, it came up in conversation with an Irish guy in our group, an Aussie, and Ant (the Scot) that non-Americans were permitted one checked bag of no more than 20kg, which is about 45 pounds. Any overage would result in a charge on a per-kilo basis, coming out to something like US$5 per extra kilogram.

It's things like this that make the outside world hate us, America.

The guys were prodding us about it--all in good fun, of course--but on the flight later that morning, sitting next to Ant, he didn't seem to hold us in contempt. In fact, he was very forgiving, saying that most of the people he knows back home are just as awful as the stories everyone tells of America--it's just that we're a much easier target. I'm not sure how I feel about being exonerated--sure, my country's off the hook a little, but only because we're not the only ones being chowderheads.

At any rate, we landed at Omura, and there it abruptly became clear: we were going to be picked up individually by someone from our school, and taken off from there. I guess it was obvious all along that this was going to happen, but it hit me as I was getting off the plane that I was finally going to officially meet the people I'll be working with for the next year. So I grabbed my bag from the conveyor, and saw a crowd past the security checkpoint. One guy was holding a sign that said "Welcome to Japan Adam Shirley." My thoughts were (in this order): 1) sweet, they spelled my name right, and didn't put Shirley first; 2) I really wish I wasn't sweating like a pig; and 3) maybe I should take a picture of that. So I took one, I promise. I just haven't gotten around to posing it yet.

The guy introduced himself (in English) as Murahashi, a teacher at my school. I introduced myself in Japanese, shook his hand, and he explained that we were catching a plane to Tsushima Island in about 45 minutes. We walked about 50 feet to check my bag, and he asked if I was hungry. We stopped in a noodle shop and had chanpon and gyoza. Gyoza are Chinese pot stickers, and chanpon is noodles and shrimp and squid and fish cake and mmm. It was yummy.

So we hopped on the plane, and Murahashi told me it's about a 30-minute flight, and that as soon as we reach cruising altitude, we immediately begin our descent. We talked about the island for a few minutes (he speaks excellent English), and very soon were landing. The landing was a bit rough, due to the island's strong winds, but we made it just fine. We hopped in Murahashi's car and took off.

Tsushima airport is about half an hour's drive from Izuhara, my town. The island is absolutely beautiful. I spent most of the drive trying to read the signs we passed, surprising Murahashi with actually being able to read kana. I had almost gotten used to being a passenger on the left side of the car when we passed my apartment, and kept right on going. I hadn't known we were going straight to school. We get there, and I didn't have a change of shoes for school. Not to worry, though--they have a full supply of cute green visitor slippers, in sizes ranging from an American men's 7 to 8. Being a size 10 1/2, you can imagine how goofy this felt and looked. The stairs defeated me with every step.

We entered the teacher's workroom, which is a big room with the desks for all 50 teachers, with the vice principal's desk in the center. When I walked in, the 15 teachers or so applauded. I was introduced to the vice principal, and handed a microphone to introduce myself to the teachers. I did so, in Japanese, which elicited gasps of shock, and further, stronger applause. A couple of teachers approached me afterwards and complimented me on my excellent Japanese. For those of you who haven't studied Japanese, the only Japanese these people had seen me use up to this point is what you would learn in about a month in a normal-pace introductory Japanese course. I'm nowhere near as good as I should be, having studied for a combined 5 1/2 years, but, just like people at the orientation told us, regular Japanese folks are amazed if foreigners speak any Japanese.

Murahashi-sensei had to take care of something, so I got passed to the care of Urata-sensei. We left after about ten minutes, and Murahashi brought me to my apartment. The entry room has the standard bare floor for changing shoes, followed by the step up into the house proper. This entry room has three doors--to the left is my bathroom, shower, and washing machine; to the right, my bedroom; and straight ahead, the room they call the LDK ("Living/Dining/Kitchen"). The floors in the house are pretty nice hardwood, and my bedroom is a 6-tatami room. (Tatami, for those of you who don't know, is a creamy confection similar to nougat.)

The apartment came fully furnished. The kitchen has a sink, refrigerator, freezer, microwave, stove, cabinets, and an oven. There's a sofa, a pantry, a wire rack for cookware, and a desk. There's an additional foldup desk and accompanying chair, as well as a foldup ping-pong-sized table. The bathroom consists of a traditional Western-style toilet (no so called 'squatty potty'), a regular sink and mirror, the washing machine, and a Western-style shower and bathtub.

The bedroom has a coffee table, a large chest of drawers, a computer desk, and a ton of closet space. There's also a leather chair that reclines. The only strange part is that the seat of the chair is flat on the floor--no legs or wheels for the chair. This makes it perfect for scooting up next to the coffee table.

Urata showed me around, teaching me how to use the remote-controlled air conditioner (something I've never even seen in America). Around this time, David--my predecessor--showed up. He's a beast compared to me--a couple of inches taller, and a bigger frame--which made me immediately feel not as bad about the slippers situation. (He wears a size 13.) He's a great guy. He showed me around the apartment, covering the things Urata hadn't. We waited for the gas man to show up and get my hot water heater set up in my name. David's brother was flying in to Nagasaki the next day, and the two of them were going to spend four or five days visiting the island. We had talked about it beforehand, and I had no problem with them crashing at my/his apartment.

So Urata left, and David and I talked while I unpacked. One of the teachers, Kurokawa-sensei, showed up to say goodbye to David, since he would be out of town for the next week. He brought his son and daughter, who couldn't be more than 3 and 5 years old, and I discovered what every other visitor to Japan has discovered: that Japanese kids are absolutely adorable. They have all of the fascination with Americans that grown-up Japanese do, but with none of the timidity and restraint that adults have had drilled into them. David spent most of the time wrestling with them, and they loved every bit of it.

After Kurokawa left, it was right around sunset. We took a walk, and David showed me around town. We stopped at a store about five minutes' walk from me, and I stocked up on cereal, milk, yogurt, juice, and "peanut cream," desperately hoping it would be a poor translation of what was actually peanut butter. (I was wrong.) We came back, dropped off my groceries, and took a much longer walk to the mini-mall in Izuhara. It's actually an impressive indoor shopping mall, with a full grocery store called Red Cabbage, a bakery, two or three department stores, the only fast food joint on the island ("Mos Burger," pronounced sort of like "Moe's," but with a soft 's' at the end), two more restaurants, and a space that serves as a movie theater--Pirates of the Caribbean 3 is coming in a week or so. From here we walked a little to the apartment of another JET in Izuhara, named Evelyn. She wasn't home, but David had moved most of his stuff to her place. I saw a gecko! And a beetle with antennae longer than his body! Man, I hope I get the pictures up soon.

It was around this time that, for the first time since arriving in Japan, I felt exhausted. In a matter of half an hour, I went from peachy keen to dead on my feet. David and I had sort of planned to get dinner somewhere, and continue showing me the town, but I had to bail on him. He completely understood, but we still had to walk back to my place. It's a full half hour walk, which is agonizing if you're tired and were stupid by wearing chacos for a four-mile hike. Suffice it to say, I made it, bade him goodnight, and got ready for bed.

After brushing my teeth, I made ready to collapse onto my bed. But wait! I'd forgotten to make my bed. Japanese futon are collapsible and are stored in the closet when not in use. I was lucky--the school bought a brand new futon set for the apartment this year. I still had to unfurl the thing, though. It wouldn't have been nearly as frustrating if I'd been coherent. I got it laid out, and slept like a rock. ...A rock that sleeps.

So that enormous tale covers my first four days in Japan. Any one of those days could have been expanded to take up this much space, but mah po hands just cain't take it.