Japan April 17th (Day 17): Tokyo, Hello Kitty (Yuzen), Gifts and leaving.

Since the whole leaving thing was going to be horrid (carry all luggage, go to airport, do security, go to plane, be on plane for many hours, go through security again, try not to die, etc), I had made a deal with Linda that if I could get 8 hours sleep (or close) overnight as was ready by 10 am then I could go and do some ‘last minute’ shopping over at the Keio Department store.

I WAS ready by 10:00 and we went down and posted the last of our post cards (seriously, if you have not gotten a post card from Japan in a week or so, then let me know and I will confirm address and send you another one because I sent a card to EVERYONE who emailed their address, even if you did it while I was in Japan – see, I do love you!). So we headed over to Keio which is a BIG, super-classy and upscale department store with nine floors and yet, in so many ways is VERY Japanese. For one thing, unlike North America, the price is the same. I mean, you go to a department store in Kanazawa (which we did), and a store in Beppu, and the equivalent of Harrods for Tokyo and the prices of items are….the same. There is just different selection. Also, you have to pay for EVERY item in cash (Japan is a cash society, almost all the Kyoto shopping was at cash only places, even for $300 fans or $180 umbrellas)

We figured out where the stationary was and went to the elevator and pushed the wheelchair button and after a bit the elevator opens and out steps KEIO ELEVATOR WOMAN (It is all caps because she is a superhero), I would have taken a picture except I was so stunned as this woman in a uniform out of 1960-70’s stewardess and the pure white gloves with a gesture of the hand and a sweet sounding, polite and FIRM word stopped this guy who was trying to get on the elevator in his tracks. She then turns and like guiding a supermodel down the runway, welcomed me with her white gloved hands into the elevator of Keio. Only then could others enter. As we stopped at the various floors she even sang out (in Japanese) the various departments available. It was like watching a Twilight Zone episode as we get to my floor and it is “Home Wares, Ladies Fashion, Stationary and other paper goods” (in Japanese).

In recent studies Japan is not number 1 in efficiency, but that is not because there isn’t a job for everyone to do, it is just that no one else does with so many people anymore. For example, I bought myself a present, indeed, I wish I COULD remember what I bought myself (it is still wrapped, pic ahead so you can guess too). You have to go to the big “Yen” symbol where one woman calls out what you are buying while another rings it up. I said, “Presento” and suddenly there was the woman in charge of “gift wrap” who came and offered me the PAGES of selection of paper for my gift to be wrapped in. She then ordered ANOTHER woman who was in charge of wrapping it. Then the ‘gift wrap’ manager was back to ask what type of EXACT ribbon I wanted (only NOW do I find those inflexible and everlasting ribbons from anime). The gift wrapped package is then given to the “ribbon girl” who wraps my package and does the bows and ends of ribbon with an intensity that her life might depend on it. Indeed she checks whether the ribbon ends and the bows are all exact and perfectly equal. Here it is, after international travel and being through baggage and as you can see, the ribbon girl’s ribbon is still perfect (just like anime!). In case you weren’t counting that was FIVE people at one till in order for me to buy this (at another till a manager RAN over to the Hello Kitty section to check for a second time the code of something, after two OTHER people had verified it).

I then, somehow, drifted over to Hello Kitty section which had not just one but two females (in their twenties) dressed as junior high school girls in the Hello Kitty department. I browsed and looked and finally decided to get this Kawaii (cute) little vending machine which you put in your Hello Kitty money and out comes your treat (maybe Hello Kitty apple juice?). I think is it great because it is VERY Japanese and teaches all the kids to use the vending machines at the age of, say, three, in order to get smokes, beer, drinks, hot coffee, even hot meals. Because you cannot go half a block without hitting one if not an entire row of these vending machines no matter how remote you are. And from the Beppu-Osaka ferry, here is a vending machine for making hot meals for those who can’t afford the restaurants or cafeteria. I still think my Hello Kitty vending machine is the cutest.

Okay, little Hello Kitty side trip here because going to Japan meant I got sucked into the vortex of the Hello Kitty world and going to the limited edition Yuzen Kyoto Hello Kitty store wasn’t the first time. Here you see the Hello Kitty Pasta I bought within 48 hours of arriving in Japan. You might also notice the Hello Kitty gum, which I needed to buy because…..she likes apples? I don’t know, it made sense at the time! Back to Kyoto and the Yuzen Limited edition stuff, here are the two Yuzen pattern (Kimono pattern which can only be sold in Kimono making cities like Kyoto or Kanazawa) purses we bought in the Yuzen Hello Kitty shop, you can see Hello kitty in each, though you might have to stare at the black one a while. And here is another picture from the shop, showing Hello Kitty in some of the different Kimono’s. I will just say that I DID buy something that you can see in this picture, but I’m not saying what (She is just so……KAWAII!!).

Anyway, if you want the pasta, please send me an email and I will see about sending it on to a good home (is someone’s stomach a “good home”). If you can get it where you are, then that’s good too. We also picked up some of the various flavours of Kit Kat (Linda ate the Hazelnut one), just to let you know, we did NOT buy the green tea or the curry flavoured Kit Kat among with many others whose flavours seemed a bit…..unknown.

We also bought some packing tape because the packing tape here seems to make ours very sad and boring. I also get a couple 3-D cards which I can’t show because at least one is going to someone who reads on here. After our reward of shopping it is out of Keio, and back to the hotel, checked out and then off to take the Narita Express, the train to the airport. We buy the tickets and find the JR/security guy and ask where the elevator is. “No elevator, Platform 5, escalator only!” we are told before he walks away. As it is, I barely have my head above the big bag o Japan loot on my lap and laptop atop it. We find the escalator and I know Linda can’t give me a hand (she has her own hands full), I just have to hold on to the top. My front casters rise and I grab the handholds and find, as I am tilted at a 45 degree angle that the weight on my chest, much less the computer bag pressing my neck, I can’t breath AT ALL. Thank goodness that was a smallish ride.

The Narita express is a bit of a rocky ride. We look out and remember that in Nikko, just to the North, and where we went after our arrival Narita express ride and our first day in Japan, today, the 17th is the last day of the big festival (from 700’s AD), where shrines are brought from all over Japan and everyone will be getting drunk on the barrels of ‘blessed sake’ like these here, protected and blessed by the shrine paper blessings. I wish I was there. I don't want to leave. Plus on the train I am feeling like a steel ball in a pachinko machine (not smooth rails) and I am pretty punked by the time it comes to get off. There is however an elevator and we take it up, only to be confronted with a series of post which allow people and luggage through but is too small for a wheelchair to get through. The wheelchair exit on the side is PADLOCKED. Linda has to leave and find someone and they eventually return to free me (JR still has a FEW bugs to work out regarding wheelchairs). We check in and since last time we flew Linda took an empty seat and left me to lie down on the two seats, so we ask if there are any empty seats. Nope, a completely booked flight. Arg!

We go for food and I have a beer (for the plane) and my favourite pop in Japan, Melon flavour Fanta (it is a dark green colour – tastes great) and some food. We are told that there is “one step” to the non-smoking area (there are two – we are so used to this we just get on with getting on) and head to the security with two hours to flight time on the basis we will go through security and then I can go to the bathroom.

Well, the oxygen concentration gets X-rayed again and again but the part they freak about is a bottle which has the rest of my Gatorade powder, which is in a water bottle I finished yesterday so the remains of the little water has turned the powder into a blue liquid (about 20 mm. of it). We show the doctor’s note. Then comes the ultimate “Chot-to Matte” moment (just wait a moment). Supervisors are called and more supervisors, we show the letter. We wait as they get an English speaker and I explain how Gatorade helps my liver keep my blood pressure in control. Then a conference of supervisors and we are told that they will call our airline, Northwest International, in order for THEM to decide to allow this blue liquid on board. There is a long conversation and Northwest asks them if they have used the machine that tests for explosives and other materials. They haven’t. They test the Gatorade and it isn’t explosive. 40 plus minutes have passed and we are told to go to the gate directly. So much for the bathroom.

We arrive at the gate and the “departure time” is listed 25 minutes EARLIER than we have on our tickets, meaning they are boarding NOW. We ask and find out that the Japanese LOCK the door early so the plane is always ready to be on time. Sigh. We explain about the bathroom, and they tell me that if I board I can use the bathroom on board. Okay. I wheel down and they have this row of seniors with airport chairs and a guy with an industrial aisle chair who is waiting for mee. I ignore him and the flight staff and their demands that my chair be stowed, flip up my casters, pull myself aboard and ask the steward where my seat is. He tells me I can only get there with the “ground crew” using a boarding chair. I refuse to leave the plane until they agree to put my chair in the closet (all except the frame). I get off the plane, transfer and then ask the SMALL Japanese guy if someone else is coming because I don’t want to crush him. I also refuse to board until I dismantle my chair, throwing the wheels, the side guards, the cushion and the legs of the chair onto the plane. Mr. Steward is having a hissy fit and says that “maybe we can find SOMEWHERE to put these….things!” I am wheeled to the bathroom. I am in there for 30 seconds when Linda knocks to tell me that because I am sitting at the front and this wheelchair toilet is in the back, they have held off ALL boarding until I am done in the bathroom. Geez, no pressure! So I finish as quick as I can and get taken to my seat to be passed by several hundred angry passengers (I hide my head in a book). Then as we are about to leave, the captain comes on the intercom: we are going to be delayed because…..the smoke detector in the wheelchair bathroom was defective but it couldn’t be fixed because I was in there and the repair guy had to wait for me and was delayed the three minutes needed to make our take off window. Great. My bladder has delayed the whole plane.

I am feeling terrible (not about being delayed just like pukey terrible) and pretty sure that since my heart is going erratic crazy I will be on the floor or in some sort of circulatory arrest by the end of the flight. But the massive amounts of pills including a special kill/cure sleeping pill puts me out for 2 hours and then another 2 hours. I make it to Seattle. There was no Dawn flight attendant on this trip to take care of me however, as for example the first time I push the light to go to the bathroom it takes them 37 minutes to come and answer (and 22 minutes the second time – both times I chose times they weren’t serving food or drinks, the “lulls”). And though I was told by the “head of the flight crew” that I will be taken two rows forward to the business class wheelchair bathroom instead of 40 rows BACK, guess who is in charge of business class? Yup, Mr. “I don’t want you on my plane” hissy fit. He refuses to let me into business class. He instead forces the female flight attendant to drag me back through all the rows of people, the great gawk show, by taking my feet and forcing her to pull me back. When I get out of the bathroom he sarcastically says, “Oh, are you worried you might crush US?” (regarding my remark about the Japanese guy who had to lift me about 18 inches into the plane using an aisle chair during boarding).

I reply with a smile and say directly to him, “Thank you SO much for stowing my wheelchair on board. I know that the FAA regulations, not to mention the ADA regulations require you do so by law but I find that people like you with such a willing and helping attitude makes such laws almost unneeded.” And then transfer back into the aisle chair. He never talks or comes near me for the rest of the flight. I apologize to the guy in the row back and of me hope the aisle chair didn’t run over his foot.

He says, “Don’t worry about it dear, WE are all on YOUR side.”

“We?” “Your” – is there a war going on?

We get off dead last (as is wheelchair privilege) but due to my actions my chair is in one piece and we go to customs, which is hot, hot, hot but after 20 minutes passes us on to Luggage Inspection. Homeland Security has a sign saying “Keeping America’s Borders safe and secure and our open door!” which makes me a) think people at homeland security are taking acid and b) I want take a picture if everyone in sight wasn’t wearing a gun (and there is a BIG sign prohibiting it).

Well, the luggage was a LONG time coming and even with a cold pack in my bra I was getting really bad. Only every 20 seconds there was an announcement that NO ONE WAS to OPEN ANY BAG and that to do so before being inspected could lead to a range of actions up to lethal force. So I am thinking, “Fuck, pass out or get shot getting oxygen?” I finally catch the person watching the people waiting for luggage and explain I need oxygen which I have in a bag, can I open it? Well, that goes to a supervisor and I am told to “wait” and 20 minutes later a couple people covered in guns come over to where I have my face planted in my lap and say that the EMT’s are on the way (with guns too I am sure) and I tell them I have my OWN oxygen and can I get that – I can, as it seemed no one told the higher ups about this. It helps a bit and our luggage comes. We get out and I feel good enough to eat but then 90 minutes later go into full crash, passed OUT. I thought you might enjoy a picture so you can see a) what it looks like and b) how much bigger I am than the chair I have been using “just for Japan” (this pictures is actually from earlier in the trip when the Keio Hotel pumped hot air into our room for three hours – but now that I look at the blog I did this about every other day if not more often).

I am taken to one hotel, I sleep an hour or so, then go for another 90 minutes before I sleep again, my arms are slightly less green but upon waking I have a blood bruise under my eye. My EMT friend advises me that along with my skin falling off (point that out to her, since noticing your skin dying is kind of worrying), my capillary system is weak and withdrawing so I can expect more bruises and need to watch for them. All I know is go to sleep and wake up with bruise under eye because “your system is so fragile even blinking hard can do that now” seems like a great welcome back from the land of magic to the land of medical (hey at least they have muscle relaxants here!). Anyway, home.

And the first thing we did, or one of the first was to plug in the Kabazaiku night light. We got this in Kakunodate, our second stop in the great Japan trip and is made by the artists who do Kabazaiku, the work started in 1700's in Kakunodate where they beat and then lay thin strips of cherry bark (using up to 40 different types of cherry trees), over things. Somehow, plugging in our new nightlight before heading off for another nap was a statement that “Home” was going to be different, not sure how that will unfold, but at least we have little touches of ancient art and beauty to light us in the night.