S05E03 - Oh that fool-iage...
In which we go to Hokkaido to watch leaves - but will the delusions of japanese proficiency leave me?
In the hotel neighbourhood there is a lot of small shops that can provide Hanko stamps, the personal "signature" stamp. It is a pretty cool thing to have, a stamp that uniquely depicts your name into a brand (and can actually be made legally binding as your signature on documents) and we look to get our own. But time is in short supply - we are covering a lot of ground (and air) in this short week. Besides, we are unsure how to explain our names and chose stamp design, so we opt-out. Later in the trip we'll end up in stamp-rally anyway so there is plenty stamp action ahead.
Up and away.
Catching the short ride to Centrair NGO in first. Looks good on the ticket stub.
The lounge is a classic collection of boring chairs and at this time of day it is pretty deserted. Not that much to eat either, but one can always down some sake while waiting.
A healthy breakfast saves the day.
Approaching Chitose, we get a beautiful view of rural Hokkaido in red - autumn foliage indeed. It is striking how much of Hokkaido is forested. Forests, with hundreds of golf courses ripping small threads open between the trees.
Taking the train from CTS into the city is my first contact with Hokkaido rail - it is rather different than the rest of Japan. More old fashioned and mostly (all?) are diesel.
We are sitting in the first row of the carriage. The door sealing off the saloon from the vestibule has a large window. The rough entry area of the carriage is normally only used by people on the phone (as it is considered extremely rude to speak on the phone on the train). So it is not out of the ordinary to see people parked in the vestibule. But what I see today is a girl, looking to be somewhere between 16-20 y.o., staying alone in the entryway. She is not on the phone and I start to wonder why, because the car is "unreserved" and anyone can sit in any seat. The car is far from full so there really is no reason for her to stay outside of the saloon. This minor deviation from the normal catches my eye.
Then I see she is in pain, and it suddenly makes sense. She chose seclusion in order to not disturb others. I can't really tell if it is body or soul aching, but she holds her stomach and her face is distorted. She leans against the wall, a posture you don't really see in Japan. The pain seems to worsen, and after a while she gradually slides down the wall until she sits on the floor. She looks really tormented and I feel very very uncomfortable just sitting here watching. I need to do something.
But as my mind starts to prepare sentences like '
Kurushii desuka?' ("Are you in pain?") and '
Byouin ikimasenka?' ("How about going to the hospital?") the train nears Sapporo station. We need to get up and collect our bags now. When that is done, I look again and see she is now back on her feet looking as if all is well.
We enter the vestibule and she is up, casually looking out the window. I feel a bit confused. Maybe it was just something temporary, someone was mean at her in school?
But I can't it let go. My perception of myself as language proficient overcomes my shyness. Stupid me.
As the train chugs through the rail switches coming into the station I turn to her and say
- Daijoubu desuka? (Are you OK?)
- Daijoubu desu. (I'm OK)
Her answer comes slowly, but she looks up and looks straight at me with a face equally filled with surprise and gratitude.
For a moment, we look at each other in silence before the inevitable happens. I am such a fool.
If you speak to someone in their native tongue, no matter how poorly you speak, they will respond in their native tongue as if you master it. And now recovering from the surprise of me approaching her, her flow of words picks up speed and soon I'm flooded.
Confronted with my illusion of speaking foreign languages and my factual inadequacy in Japanese conversation, I turn to my saviour intuition. I simply give up trying to pick out and translate individual words from the flow, and just tune every sense into reading her. Facial expression and eyes, pitch, stress and intonation of the voice, body language. A sort of tunnel vision for the brain - Everything else is zoned out.
To my surprise it works. Intuitively I just know she is telling me not to worry and also asking me how on earth I know anything about her situation.
OK, got that, I think to myself. Yes, I will tell you exactly how. With enthusiasm I go:
- あの... (umm..)
And then I stop. While this sixth-sense approach may help in understanding, it is pretty useless when responding. Using all brain capacity for incoming speech I've clearly removed all capacity for creating anything outgoing.
I feel as verbal as a gold fish (and probably look like one too) and end up having to default to sign language. I point through the window towards where I sat. She shines up and "says"- '
ah yes, you were sitting there and so you must have seen me here, that explains everything'.
Despite my failure, the conversation still is surprisingly snappy (for a mute). If she had any hesitations the foreigner understands Japanese, they are now gone and she goes full chat mode on me, telling me more and more things. Now we're way beyond the capability of my 6th sense. My head is full of useless phrases in just about any language but Japanese. It is just a noisy chaos. Not even a few well-placed "sou desuka" (≈"is that so?", a conversation space filler indicating you got it all) can save me now.
As the train comes to a full stop, neither of us hold any hopes for my ability to converse. We have both given up pretending and she just points to the right hand side to let me know where the platform is. We get off and she disappears in the crowd. My brother's curious face reminds me I am not travelling alone and I am now required to explain in detail what just took place.
The lakes
Sapporo feels slightly different than other Japanese cities. Some nice views, the park surrounding the old government office in district 5 offers a real Monet feeling.
Evening light downtown is interesting and I snap a pic. Do notice that the orderly people of Japan has absolutely no intention of using the actual "zebras" of the zebra crossings.
Of course we also go and see the "Sapporo clock tower", a true oddity. A wooden building in American mid-west style, built during the very late exploitation of Hokkaido in the 19th century.
And finally, the Botanic garden provides some nice autumn colours.
But for the serious autumn leaves experience, we will have to go countryside. Good thing we have JR rail passes! We head for the station. Coming from a Nordic country we find it pretty amusing that Sapporo JR station hosts not one but two Danish styled shops; the little mermaid and Danish Bar (Sadly no Tuborg or Gammeldansk salads, just hotdogs and soft ice)
We are going to Onumakoen, a quasi national park located between lakes onuma and konuma, with a nice volcano backdrop. We "just" need to take the train back to the coastline and then around Uchira bay.
Just and just, the ride is rahter long. In Hokkaido, rail mostly follows the shoreline, is slow and distances are long. If it wasn't obvious before, it now becomes clear that Hokkaido is different than the rest of Japan. Not only is the land less densly populated, but also roads and rail are longer and windier. And slower and less classy, with the diesel locomotives and older railcars in dated style.
Lake walk is nice, but we are actually a bit late in the season. Cloudy and grey weather makes this not the shining moment I hoped for, but still worth it.
To prove the ride wasn't in vain, we collect the station stamp. It's a funny thing: Stamp rally. Each station offers a unique stamp for you to stamp your travel diary with, to prove you were there. A slight redemption over not getting personal Hanko stamps earlier.
