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October 06, 2006
On Returning
I was sent on assignment to New York for the past five days. Last night, straight from the airport after a thirteen hour flight, on top of an hour car ride to the airport, and a couple hours waiting, and finally the infamous limousine bus into Tokyo, I went directly to the office, and worked for 27 hours straight. Now I wake up unneccessarily early, somewhere in between sleep and waking, somewhere between timezones and nations. I don't think I’m quite adjusted to where I am or what I am doing yet. I can remember a surreal, half-conscious conversation with my girfriend somewhere in those hours.
A couple days ago following a link from Marxy I read this recent Tokyo Travel article from the Guardian. Nevermind the mentions of Bape and Billionaire Boys Club for the time being, what was important to me was this quote: “The trip made such an impression on me that I’ve developed a prejudice in favour of anything that comes from Japan. I’ve even had the urge to go up to Japanese people on the streets of London and say, ‘I know, I’ve been there. No one else knows how to do anything.’” To a certain degree this rings true coming from New York to Tokyo. From a place full of many loud and angry people who seemingly hate their jobs (not to say there aren’t countless others who are nice and love their jobs), to somewhere in which everyone is overly polite, friendly and soft.
I don’t know what to call it other than vicarious pride, but coming back to Japan was like going back into one's home. A sense of relaxing comfort and peace comes over you. Something that makes you think: “It’s nice to be back where things are done my way.” All bullshit notwithstanding, I am a generally a soft person, living happily in the softest (and that’s not to say shy, indirect, or unexciting) of nations.
At the airport, a certian someone travelling with me gets a certain positive reaction from marijuana-sniffing dogs, and I get taken back into an interrogation room. All of my belongings are meticulously taken apart and searched through, and I am asked all kinds of questions. Not for one moment however do I feel that I am being violated or treated any way other than softly and respectfully. The officers and interrogators even make friendly conversation with me about New York, and about being a foreigner in Japan throughout the whole process. I tell them living in their country is wonderful despite the fact that I cannot read books and magazines fluently. At the end they apologize profusely and send me on my way. Even if they had found drugs on me, I find it impossible to imagine any negative or violent reaction from any of them. I imagine an alternate situation in which I am politely kicked out of the country with a smile, never to be let in again. It’s quite laughable.
Now I am listening to 69 Lovesongs repeatedly as it’s been continously raining outside. It feels like a very New York album to me somehow.
Posted by shane at October 6, 2006 06:00 AM