Surprisingly for someone who cannot get to Lille, I did once make it to Japan on my own. Perhaps less surprisingly I arrived at Narita and promptly burst into tears and fled to the Ladies loo to recover my fragile poise. My student son wasn't there to meet me!
I had come through arrivals with my big, so thrilled to see you again smile spilling over my tired face, quivering with anticipation and nerves after a 12 hour flight and no sleep. We hadn't seen each other for over four months, our longest parting in over 20 years, and he had promised faithfully he would be there to meet me.
My son was studying in Yokohama for a year as part of his university course. Wild horses would not have kept me away and when my ex-husband phoned one cold, dank, wintry evening to say there was a special offer in today's Evening Standard and I had to book a flight by midnight tonight, I just went for it and made it happen.
I composed myself and went back onto the concourse, studying faces, watching the ebb and flow of passengers arriving and dispersing. I had a mobile number for him but as the Japanese have their own system, I couldn't call him from my mobile and the public phones were worse than Latin and Greek, the instructions were all in Japanese characters and impenetrable to me. Two hours and several trips to the Ladies later, I finally composed myself and plucked up the courage to approach the doll-like Japanese ladies sitting at the rather formidable information desk and asked if they could possibly give me some change for the phone. "Ah, change!" they said, and promptly offered me more yen.
After much pantomiming and consultation amongst each other, finally a phone card was produced in exchange for a yen note and I again approached the incomprehensible telephones. As I stood there puzzling, a porter walked past and instantly seeing my problem, he inserted the card for me, I dialled the number and to my unspeakable relief, my son picked up the phone. He was on the wrong train, heading at great speed in quite the wrong direction.
Apologetic, he finally arrived at the airport over three and a half hours late and the relief of seeing him loping across the concourse towards me wiped away all the trauma in an instant as we kissed and hugged and greeted each other.
Travelling on the wrong train became quite a feature of my stay in Japan. I have never been in a country that is so alien and impenetrable, but with my son at my side I could just relax and enjoy the journey wherever it was taking us.
What a happy story!
ReplyDeleteIt IS scary coping in foreign places but you do feel good when it all (suddenly) goes right!
I don't think I was ever so pleased to see anyone in my life. Japan is completely alien. He had sessions to prepare him for the culture shock, I hadn't. It is almost impossible to get your bearings - even leaving my hotel room was a challenge.
ReplyDeleteI Imagine you now as Scarlett Johansson in that movie marianne, what was it called, 'Lost in train station'
ReplyDeleteI would love to live in your imagination as Scarlette Johansson, Rilly, or indeed in anyone's imagination in such a beguiling form.
ReplyDeleteI wish you'd said you were coming over - I've just scoffed two croissants with unsalted butter, Bonne Maman apricot jam and freshly made coffee - you could have saved me from myself.
I too was once stranded at Tokyo airport for three hours. I was alone, en route for New Zealand by way of Alaska and Tokyo.. It was my first return visit to my homeland in more than twenty years, and my first solo long-haul flight.
ReplyDeleteI had no idea therfore that you had to find the right boarding gate, so I just sat down on the first seat I could find and waited there for details of my onward flight to Auckland. Group by group, all the other passengers were called, and disappeared - until at last there were just me and a Japanese person or two, watching Sumo wrestling on a vast screen.
Alarmed, I sought help (and yes, it's very difficult to get help in Tokyo!) - only to find that I was about three miles from where I ought to be, and my plane was due to take off in about five minutes! The officials turned quite pale, and bade me follow them at a run...
Before or since, I don't think I have ever run so far or so fast as I ran along those moving corridors at Tokyo airport that day - but I have never again made a mistake with a boarding gate, I can tell you!
I have made that flight many times since, on different airlines - but I can tell you that the JAL service (and their coffee!) was quite the best of all.
I hope you made the flight Beatrice. Perhaps I sensed your spirit during my vigil there.
ReplyDeleteAre those virtual croissants or do Rilly Super and Marianne meet up in 3-d world....am getting very confused.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this lovely and inspiring piece - it makes me feel so happy about sons.
You write so beautifully - I am finding myself desperate to meet this son of yours and give him a hug myself. We all make mistakes and the wrong train is an easy one too do. Can I adopte him please, he sounds adorable.
ReplyDeleteHey Marianne, I managed to get on tram going the wrong way in Manchester and the Metro going the wrong way in Newcastle, so what chance would I have in Japan?
ReplyDeleteHowever, I can do the Tube in London.
When I first went in the 80s the tube maps didn't even have English translations!
ReplyDeleteI hope your son reads your blog.
Iijo-desu.
Sahd
Oh how scary! There's nothing like the far east to make you feel as if you've landed on the moon. Your mind must have been racing...glad it all worked out.
ReplyDeleteI have no idea what SAHD's parting comment is, but,
Sayonara!
Pigx
Yes, Marianne, truly alien I think. Reading 'Memoirs of a Geisha' in Tasmania last December reinforced my notion of not going there at all, if possible! (A good read, non-the-less.) What did your son make of it - Japan, I mean?
ReplyDeleteI have been immersed in the world of work for the last couple of days, and am all blogged out. Thank you for all the lovely comments, it's like coming home and finding a surprise party waiting for you!
ReplyDeleteHe really is a lovely boy - I am so proud of all my sons. The lovely thing about grown up children is being able to enjoy the people they are without the overwhelmingness of small children.
The croissants, I'm afraid, were real Omega Mum. Must develop willpower.
I'm glad I went to Japan Lizzie, though it wouldn't have been a top choice. Very unusual and interesting place. Loved Memoirs.
SAHD, I'm surprised you ever made it back. Impressed by the Japanese. No he doesn't read my blog. None of them do. I'm their Mum, enough said.
Yours sounds pretty divine too, Secretary.
If you go to Japan M&M, you'll have to borrow my son to take you around. He's fairly fluent.
Have you been to the Far East PITK? I'd love to see more of it.
A tale that reads like an account of one of my anxiety dreams! Chilling stuff...
ReplyDeleteDear Mariane,
ReplyDeleteYou do have a way with words. I really enjoyed this. Perfect post.
DM
Marianne, couldn't I just borrow the son anyway? ;)
ReplyDeleteDick, for once my nightmare turned into a dream.
ReplyDeleteDM, you are kind. I did show some of it to my oldest son yesterday - he's here for the weekend. He thought it was OK.
I'll put it to him M&M.
Marianne, we spent 3 years living in northern China...very interesting, very tough. Very good memories on the whole, and some fab holidays in sunny countries!
ReplyDeletePigx
i really understand what you mean. ive been living in yokohama for almost a 10 months now and i couldnt forget my first month here. all those alien characters i never thought existed in front of me and i never understood or read a thing. ;p
ReplyDeleteand trains are really a bugger if you take the wrong one. ;p
I am about to make the same journey to a son studying in the third year of his Japanese degree. I am not looking forward to the flight but I think he will look after us. I am so impressed that he understands the language. We will be like his children for the duration.
ReplyDelete