3 September 2011: The singing, ringing bathroom

As it turned out, bedtime wouldn’t last so long. Ah, the jetlag. Always a pleasure. When my bathroom started singing a jolly tune at 7.30 am the next morning, I thought it best to postpone sleep to tomorrow night and just get up.

I finally had time to admire my room. As you come into the room (little flat, really), you get to a little kitchen area (picture 1) with massive storage space. Through the kitchen, you get to the main room, with desk (so. much. storage. space.), fancy desk lamp and Japanese kettle (picture 2). These things are absolutely amazing. Once heated, the keep the water at 98ºC. So whenever you fancy a cup of ocha (green tea), you press a little red button, a red light shows where the water will hit the cup, and, pressing another button, you’ve got a steaming hot cup of tea in about 3.2 seconds. No idea why the English haven’t imported a couple of millions of these yet.

The main room also has a flat screen TV (yes, I hear you, why so stingy and not a 3D TV...) and a double bed (Japanese size, so more of a 1 1/2 bed) (pictures 3 & 4). Off the bedroom is a little wardrobe/dressing table area (more storage...) and a little door leads to a bathroom. Japanese bath tubs are slightly different to European ones. They’re shorter and higher, as you’re meant to sit in them and soak in the hot water, rather than lie, read and pop bubbles with your toes.

All in all a decent sized room. Rooms. Seriously, it’s huge, incredibly generous, and I feel much too undeserving of any of this. I try to do my bit by switching off the light and air-con whenever I can (in fact as you leave the room and take out the key, they all switch off automatically, but I’d like to think that requires some effort on my side) as Japan is currently trying to make a genuine effort to save energy.

At 8am, I went downstairs to have my first Japanese breakfast. I got a tray with hashi (chopsticks) and loaded it with a bowl of rice (of course), miso soup (of course), pickle and a plate with slices of omelette and salad, as well as mocha (green tea made from powder). After a little post-breakfast kip (okay, three hours of unconsciousness) Seb met us in the living room area. We were told about the wonders of Cambridge House: there’s a baiten (little shop) on the ground floor, as well as an onsen (indoor bath house), billiard rooms, three karaoke rooms (I am still desperately hoping I will be spared the embarrassment), an entrance hall that is so thoroughly polished that it looks like a swimming pool, shoe lockers (walk up to the locker in slippers; open the lock; put your slippers inside; walk across the entrance hall in socks; put your street shoes on at the step, making sure not to step onto the lower floor with your socks; look around to see if anyone looks really offended; think twice whether you really want to go out for some toilet paper, or whether you want to give that “bidet” button a go instead).

Later in the afternoon, we are introduced to the Cambridge House staff. We all line up in front of them and each say our name, followed by a bow. None of us really knows how to bow just yet, and, practising in front of the mirror, mine still looks more like my head is bobbing on my shoulders like one of those Dachshund figure you sometimes find at the back of cars. The staff also takes a picture of us in front of a large welcome sign. At least I think that’s what it says.

For lunch, we brave the outside world for the first time. It’s been raining for days, but it’s hot. We reach Hottomotto, a take-away place, and are soaked in drizzly rain. After some ten minutes of pointing at vegetarian-looking dishes, I give up and buy the soup. Back at Cambridge House, I feel very, very pleased with myself, having purchased and devoured my first bit of food.

2 & 3 September 2011: London, Seoul, Fukuoka

I have spent the last month or so repeatedly saying my good-byes to people in the UK and Germany, and on the 2 September 2011 it was finally time to leave. Until Thursday afternoon, when I arrived at Heathrow, Terminal 4––with overweight luggage and overly pessimistic thoughts––I hadn’t met many of the other ten students I was going to live, learn and look like a lemon with for a year. As it turned out about 25 minutes and 5 seconds later, they were all incredibly lovely. A first group photo was taken as we were waiting to board the first plane to Seoul Incheon airport, South Korea. Step 1 of the bonding process was pretty much done. For those of you who I’m leaving behind, I hope you will find this blog a little bit interesting, and excuse me if I get all too boring and repetitive. I’m writing this as a note to myself, really, to remember the wonderful experiences I (hope I) will make in Japan from September 2011 to July 2012.

The first part of our journey, a twelve hour flight with Korean Air, was fairly uneventful. The omnivores amongst us were served bibimbap for dinner (Korean dish of some meat and vegetables which you mix with rice and some pickle substance, stir it, and enjoy) and a hybrid of rice pudding and porridge with green tea flavouring for breakfast.

At 2pm Korean/Japanese time (6am UK time, but by this point we were determined to ignore the 8 hour time difference and live, sleep and eat according to Japanese time) we landed at Incheon airport, which, we all decided, must be the most wonderful airport in the world. Not only do they have free internet, but they also have cultural exchange places. We went to one of these to try on traditional Korean clothes (picture 1). Apparently, I had chosen the dress of an “entertainer” (I sincerely hope that this was not a euphemism for something else), whereas the others had chosen more wisely––the dress of a princess and some other, more reputable looking professions. We had the first pictures taken of us by strangers, and I also made sure to practice the shoes on, shoes off routine at the step that led to the little platform on which we were standing.

The connecting flight to Fukuoka was slightly less pleasant. Not because the Korean Air staff was any less polite than on the last plane, but because the landing was a bit of a nightmare. I had been warned that there was a typhoon coming our way, but I wasn’t aware that we were actually in the midst of it all. Hence, the landing was very shaky, and when we realised we were on safe ground even the quiet Japanese lady sitting next to me smiled at me and joined into our relieved clapping (I never clap, honestly, but this was heartfelt).

At the airport, I also had my first encounter with a full-on Japanese loo: one button promises to “spray”, another offers a “bidet”, and another shows a little musical note and, when pressed, ensures that any noises you may make are well concealed by a flushing noise. I have to admit, I chickened out of using any buttons, but I will make sure you pamper my cheeks soon.

At the airport, we were met by Seb, who runs this scheme. We all piled on what looked like a school bus. At Cambridge House（ケンブリツジハウス), our new home, we were welcomed by a number of very polite staff, who had already lined up some slippers for us. Cambridge House is one of the halls of residence for the students of the Japan University of Economics (JUE) and is located in Chikushino-shi (I’m still not entirely sure where the university is, or where Fukuoka is in relation to Chikushino-shi). We had some sandwiches, which had been lovingly prepared for us (picture 2), some chilled “straight tea”, and, briefly admiring the size and gadgets in our room, fell into bed.