On The Road: A Prologue

Saturday morning and I am about to run the Eliminator for the third time. You recall my elation over not having to return to this taxing, body rending day of child serial killers and masochists do to having taught it twice in rapid succession? Joy melts into horror so quickly in Japan as when our schedules cycled and everything began anew in April the school home to the Eliminator was moved from the end of the month to the beginning and, thus, there I was again facing the five hours of torture with yet another fresh cold coursing through me and three days of travel to look forward to. Yes, I was to head out on the road on my first major trip outside of my area. I lugged around with a travel bag packed with clothes, maps, books, the boredom killing MP3 player, some extra cash and, of course, the camera which, like American Express, I never leave home without. Though I have nothing but contempt for my dueling weather websites I turned to them once more to acquire some kind of idea what the weather would be like during the next few days. Yoshino was a quick train ride compared to the over two-hour journey I was looking at tonight and it was a far more costly one. I would have to gamble. The websites predictably were at polar opposites in the weather report and the deciding factor, what would take me westward, would be the thought of facing another few days in the apartment, coughing, nose running, listening to the train clang by the low heat of my Ukadac was not an appealing image. Though it has taken a colder turn these last two weeks, sweater weather, I tossed into the bag the freckled mug of Megan. In need of a good ironing to flatten out the wrinkles of travel and tight closet space, Megs would be tossed about Gizmo-like in my knapsack for the day as she made the trip with me in a bag that felt much heavier to a guy dealing with his second bought of the flu in under a month.

I had been hoping that my day would be lightened at the Tenri school with the new semester as it had been with some of my other classes but the Eliminator still stood, tall, dark and foreboding, looming over my weeks like death to one turning 80. Outside of the train station the sun beamed as a hopeful sign that the next three days may follow behind in an identical pattern of clear and clement weather. Inside the caffeine began to work it’s magic as the three coffees downed like bar shots, liquid courage to ignite the flames needed to nitro blast my way through this day, began to pump through the veins, sweet brown lifeblood tinged with milk and sugar.




Near the station there is a nice patch of blossoms that were now in full bloom next to a caged old black steam train. The train would make a nice attraction to the town if it wasn’t so entrapped under steel and wire. The Sakura trees sit in a terribly unattractive park next to the train. They are just beautiful blooming accessories to ugly. It’s like putting really expensive, glimmering diamond earrings on the wet-beaten-burlap-bag-of-hamburger face that is Rose O’Donnell. The water in the “pond” resembled a sewage leak, green and polluted. I could picture some toxic creature rising out of this horrid lagoon, all caked in weeds and muck, jaws gaping to pull down any unsuspecting child who might deem these waters of contamination worthy for toy sailboats. “We all float down here, Billy!” That one’s for you, Mike. Still, if you turned your eyes and nose away from the tar pit adjacent to the park path you can walk under the blossoms arch above which rains small petals of snow white down on you as you walked under them. There were a few early morning flower parties going on next to the sludge and under the trees, breakfasts and smiles. A woman wished me a good morning as I walked by and I noticed the soup she was eating bore a striking resemblance to the contents of the pond next to her. Hummmm, best not to ask.

Coffee kicking into high, the travel bag and I managed to speed inside the classroom an hour before lessons to prep for the five hours and to also give a ring to the guy who was, in part, making this trip possible. You might remember Luke, the Australian married to a Japanese gal (okay, so there are many), translator and general adopted leader of our rabble back in training. If not click on the link to the February musings and look for the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas mock up I did of him. That is Luke. He has continued his fatherly ways as he keeps tabs on us group members ensuring we are doing well, offering an ear to those who might need to rant and rave and, these next three days, he was offering me his dual services as tour guide and bed and breakfast manager as he would be shacking me up in the small home shared with his wife and child out in Hyogo prefecture city of Kakogawa. Luke is a great guy and it is nice to know that I have a friend like him a few hours away. His near fluency in Japanese also helps if ever I need to order a pizza. Hey, Luke, don’t look at me that way! You offered!

Surprisingly, the Eliminator was an easy run today. It may be the kids becoming used to me, my strictness in the first two lessons or simply the curiosity of the new curriculum but the five hours were eaten away in large gulps without incident. Well, okay, one incident. The final class of the day, the hardest of the bunch, and it is now in the last few minutes. The kids are check marking their books as a form of evaluation of comprehension on the day’s lesson and I am eyeballing the clock and sorting out my train route in my head. The last minute clicks and it is time to go. This class is more then happy to tear out of there and leave a Roadrunner cartoon smoke blur behind them unlike some of my younger classes where you have to peel them off the rug like a wad of wet gum. Not just any wet gum but that gum that came with Garbage Pail Kid cards. Yes, it lost its taste within milliseconds but was such a strong adhesive it could be used to re-adhere limbs, secure dentures and repair lamps you accidentally knocked off the table near the television when wrestling with your brother. Sorry mom. During the rush to the door one of my special needs students took it upon herself to vacate the premises using the side door. I’ve already mentioned my dislike for this school having this door leading to the equally hated outside bathroom. The girl, no shoes or coat, was outside for about 45 seconds before my headcount informed me that somebody was missing. It has been noted in recent weeks in our communication books that this kid is turning this sort of classroom escape into a game so I already knew where to look for her. She was hiding under a car in the parking lot. I quickly hurried her back in to ensure no other kid decided to join this game and within minutes they were out the door and within a half hour so I was I taking the first train rumbling down the tracks on the two hour plus trip to Kakogawa. Four train changes later I was on the longest leg of the trip dozing with the sounds of Coltrane in my ears. There is nothing like the sounds of sax to sooth you after a long day…well a full body rubdown would be good and maybe some mango but you work with what you got. On the train a drunk man lurched towards me and blew a hot wash of whisky breath over me. I removed my earphones although I have no idea why. It is not like I could understand him. I think he was trying to tell me my music was too loud. The others around me looked at him in embarrassment as I tried to explain, nose turned away from his stink, that I didn’t understand the language. He stumbled off at the next stop leaving a smell that would linger in that train car for what may be years. I’d pull into Luke’s home station later then expected but, what a guy, he was still waiting for me and had been for the last hour and a half. I thanked him and was happy to see a familiar face. I had not had a chance to eat in my rush to catch the train out of Tenri and Luke brought me to the finest dining lounge in his city: McDonalds. Well, I shrugged as we walked in, I did say that I would force down the Mc if it was the only place around or if somebody took me there and here we had both. I hadn’t really noticed it before but man the McDonalds uniforms here are sexy but then again you could toss a Glad bag over most of these Asian women and they’d still be attractive. Kakogawa is unlike anywhere I have been in Japan as, really, the buildings are very Western influenced and if not for the Japanese text you’d feel you were walking down a suburb of Toronto. Luke lives in a small townhouse just a touch larger then my own. With a small child and a wife I imagine it gets quite cramped at times. He had already laid out a futon for me in the spare room which where was they kept his son’s collection of toys as well as a bookshelf of text with titles like 100 Great Breads, 13 Secrets of Speaking Fluent Japanese and the Encyclopedia of Daily Life. His wife and son were already asleep so we chatted quietly over coffee catching up on our life after training and ranting about the company to the fever pitch of complaining one can reach in muted tones. It had been long day and it was nice to have an evening of conversation instead of typing and downloading for a change. It was near midnight when I finally crawled under the sheets and I was out instantaneously hoping the weather tomorrow was as sunny as today and that Luke’s son didn’t step on my head in the morning on the way to the toy chest.