Chance Encounters of the Nihonjin Kind

One just never knows how even the simplest Japan sojourn will turn out.


An unusual afternoon departure curtails the available liberty time on our last day in Fukuoka. Barely two and half hours of free time remain after the morning operations brief. I resign myself to stay on board with no chance to upload blog photos until our return to home base later in the month. Then an aviator shipmate, whom I'll call "Carol" because gender plays a role in this story, appears at my door. She opines that we may have time for an expeditious sortie out and back to Starbucks and possible WiFi. Efficiently working the time-distance equation we summarily create a plausible flight plan that will at least feed our mutual Starbucks addictions if not also provide some quality internet time.


About 45 minutes later, with laptops slung over our shoulders (mine sans battery), we alight from a taxi at the Canal City Mall. I optimistically note a much smaller crowd than what I encountered here yesterday. We make a straight-in approach to Starbucks, where Carol handles the ordering while I search for an electrical outlet. No joy. I even pull out the cord from my laptop bag and show it to the barista, "Doko electuricu outleto desuka?" She shakes her head. "No. Sorry." Indeed, internet squatters are not encouraged here.


But I already have a visual on the mall wall outlet that I used yesterday, so once again I sit on the floor, plug in, power on, log on, sip my latte, and then nearly spill it for excitement as my internet home page leaps onto the screen. My shipmate, with her enviably functional laptop battery, occupies a more conventional bench not far from my floor space. I notice her talking to a twenty-something Japanese woman, whom I had earlier seen conversing with the barista after my futile request for electricity. As she and Carol look at a Japanese/English translation book, the young nihonjin casts furtive looks in my direction. I am mildly curious, but remain focused on task and return my attention to my computer screen.


No sooner do I bring up my G-Mail inbox than I am approached by shipmate and nihonjin together. "I think she's trying to say that they frown on using these outlets," says Carol, mimicking the typical crossed arms Japanese sign for "Dame" or "Not allowed." Mortified at the thought of committing a cultural transgression, I immediately start fumbling through the log-off procedure. (I almost just yanked the plug from the wall, but I know too well what can happen to Vista when suddenly interrupted.)


"She says there is a McDonald's that has internet desks," my shipmate continues. "I think she will show us." As my laptop slowly grinds through the log-off and power-down process I look hastily at my watch. The target window is closing rapidly, but it's still worth a shot. At least I have my latte.


My computer finally shuts down and I yank the defiling plug from the outlet. Not wasting time to repack it all, I tuck the laptop, transformer, and cord under my arm and we hurry away behind our Japanese guide. She adroitly steers us through busy stores into another wing of the mall that is very, very, very crowded and noisy. I spy the golden arches at the far end of a gamut of open stalls that would stop my son in his tracks because it is all manga, anime, Shonan Jump, One Piece, Bleach...the entire range of Japanese pop culture icons, typically engaging hundreds of Japanese teens. In short, a perfect spot for a McDonald's.


Under those golden arches full rows of carrels with individual electrical outlets await us. Time is too short to consider buying French-fries or similar fare to justify our presence here, but the line of Japanese youth at the food counter tells me that McD's is doing fine without our yen. So again I plug in, power up, log on, and gratefully return to the internet.


Now our new best Japanese friend, whom I will call "Saki" because that's her real name, clearly thinks we have plenty of time for conversation. This is where gender enters in, because she directs the majority of her attention to Carol, leaving me to play the disinterested male role as I pound away on my keyboard. I feel only slightly guilty about this. We both endeavor to be polite and friendly while also staying on task and getting done whatever work we can. Less than a half hour remains before our flight plan dictates a launch back to "Mother."


We succeed beyond measure...at the polite and friendly part. After a few minutes of halting conversation, Saki-san departs the pattern. Now our fingers pound on keyboards at full pace. Attempting to upload my photos to Facebook I find I cannot use the expeditious Active X method, probably because of my laptop's security settings in the public access mode. As I'm fumbling to change my security settings, Saki-san abruptly returns, now with gifts for each of her new American friends. They come nicely wrapped in the typical Japanese way, each adorned with a tag printed in kanji, but also with English, "Thank you for your kindness."

Who should be giving gifts to whom here?


"You open," says Saki-san. We each discover a small cloth, the kind that Japanese people always carry to wipe their hands and faces. Some thought went into their selection. Both have floral patterns, but each sports a different background color. Carol's is dark pink. Mine is dark blue. My photo uploading project now becomes much less important to me than the cross-cultural human contact of which I am most fortunate to partake. So I resolutely begin the power-down process to turn my attention as fully as I can on this young Japanese lady, who for no apparent personal gain has befriended a couple of intensely focused gaijin in the middle of a busy mall.


We exchange names, which I try to pronounce syllabically for Saki-san. "Ma-i-ku" rolls off my tongue fairly easy. (The "u" is mostly silent in Japanese.) But there is no "l" equivalent in Japanese, so I stumble after "Ka-ro..." and finally blurt out something like, "Ka-ro-ru". Saki-san seems to understand, as she and Carol exchange e-mail addresses.

But now we really must expedite our departure back to the pier. We hastily pack up our laptops, trying our best to explain to Saki-san that we have to go back to work. Disappointed but polite to the end, she leads us toward the taxi stand. We pause briefly in the mall patio where another nihonjin graciously memorializes our trio onto my digital camera. Arriving at the taxi stand Saki-san tries to learn where we want to go so she can direct the driver, but we've previously had that written out for us in kanji. After effusive bows and "Domo arigatou gozaimasu" all around we jump into the cab and call out "Mata ne" ("See you again") to our new friend.


We cross the ship's brow fifteen minutes ahead of the liberty deadline. I feel slightly regretful that we could have spent a little more time relishing this chance cultural encounter. But we are Americans, after all, and always in a hurry. Later that evening Carol sends her an e-mail of appreciation, but alas it bounces back. 

Hopefully Saki-san will initiate contact from her end. Otherwise, how sad to lose track of a generous new friend so soon after meeting.

Searching for Bandwidth in the Land of the Rising Sun

In a most curious technological paradox, I find high-speed WiFi internet public access less available in Japan than in Malaysia and Thailand. I intended to post uploaded photos from the Sunday beisuboru event we attended at the Fukuoka Yahoo Dome. That requires finding a suitable WiFi access point for my laptop, since the firewalls and bandwidth limitations on our network preclude that activity...not without reason. But, hey, this is the land of Sony and Nintendo, right? Mondai arimasen, desu neh?*

I lug my oversized Sony Vaio onto the liberty bus and head for the Canal City Mall, which I'm told houses both a Starbucks and a Hyatt with WiFi access. I expect some crowding, since this is not only Golden Week -  a Japanese equivalent to spring break - but also the first day of the local Dontaku Festival in Fukuoka. But all I need is a seat near a good WiFi signal and an electrical outlet (my laptop battery having long ago permanently succumbed). There I will simply log on, upload, write captions, and post, just like I did in Malaysia and Thailand. Right? No so fast, Gaijin!**

The liberty bus discharges us on a downtown street corner, with no mall in sight. We confront a typical Japanese urban scene where you know the desired destination lies only a block away...but in which direction? My liberty buddy for this sojourn doesn't do standing in one place for more than a nanosecond, so I very quickly find myself following him into a Japanese grocery store. We emerge nanominutes later carrying little boxes of fresh sashimi, complete with wasabe, soya, and hashi.*** We pause on the street long enough to slake our mid-day hunger on raw fish before setting forth on a circle search to find the mall. The gods smile upon us, as we spot other shipmates coming from the mall who give us a direct vector...in exactly the opposite direction from where we were about to head. That saved us at least an hour of fruitless wandering.

We enter the mall and eventually find the Hyatt lounge, but no seats near any electrical source. We come upon another shipmate, who happens to be an IT professional. Her advice: "Forget it. Very slow connection." My liberty buddy, not into computing, blogging, or Facebook, is most pleased at this news. He charges off to a Canterbury of New Zealand store where he finds great deals on rugby shirts. I remain focused on my mission. This mall is huge. There has to be a Starbucks here somewhere. And we know that Starbucks is good for WiFi, right? Of course right.

A vector from another shipmate eventually leads us to the elusive Starbucks. After first procuring my grande non-fatto latte, I wander as inobtrusively as possible around the very crowded shop looking for a seat near an electrical outlet. None exist. Seats, yes. Outlets, not a one. Seems that this Starbucks eschews low margin internet-surfing premises-clogging squatters.

Still determined, I search the adjacent mall common area and sure enough spot an electrical outlet! No seat anywhere near, but the floor looks plenty inviting by this point. I resolutely plunk myself and my latte onto the floor, unpack my huge laptop, plug in, log on, and voila! Interneto desu!

Very.........................................slow.......................................inter....................................neto.

Ten minutes of tumbling hourglass symbols and dropped connections later, my energetic companion loses patience and wants to know how much longer I'm going to be. I'm thinking, maybe a week, maybe two. Clearly I've reached a "know when to fold 'em" moment. Admitting defeat, I unplug and restow my gear and we head out in search of dinner, the earlier sashimi now long since absorbed by our still hungry g.i. tracts.

Thus a disappointing afternoon turns into a fine evening.

Searching aimlessly for a suitable restaurant (criteria: must be Japanese and cheap), we come upon two other shipmates sitting at a yatai. These uniquely Fukuokan mobile outdoor eating stalls adorn the local sidewalks during the evening hours. We join our shipmates. We order birru, Kirin and Asahi. And ramen, Tonkotsu ramen that was first created in Fukuoka. And gyoza, lots of gyoza. Oishii desu!**** Very good and very cheap. Sitting outside, we engage in the favorite worldwide sport of people watching. We are both watchers and watchees. We take photos of nihonjin+ taking photos of gaijin. The perfect spring weather complements an engaging evening of immersion into this fascinating culture and cuisine. The evening far overcomes the earlier disappointment over bandwidth deprivation.

Our Japanese friends have it right. Why would someone want to sit cooped up in a crowded mall pounding keys and staring at a computer screen when he could be outside enjoying a unique slice of humanity? Why indeed? 

Besides, I figure that by the next morning the demand on the Starbucks' WiFi will seriously diminish. Maybe I will dash back to the mall then, before the crowds thicken, and actually get enough bandwidth to post those baseball pictures after all.

Stay tuned....

* "No problem, right?"
**"Foreigner"
*** Wasabe, soy sauce, and chopsticks
****It is tasty
+Japanese people