We stood in line behind nine (*kokonatsu!) Japanese girls in the sweltering Bangkok airport waiting to clear customs before we could get our connecting flight to Phuket. People kept putting stickers on me and sending me to one after the other poorly bounded line. When we finally got to the Thai Airways desk to check in for our connector I realized I'd lost my ticket. The lady behind the counter acted like this was a deal breaker and I'd have to make my own way down south but with a little pleading she wrote me up a new ticket and we were on our way.
From Phuket we got a taxi to the pier and hopped on a full-of-holes boat. It was taking on gallons of water and no-one seemed to care except for the pale white, fresh off the plane tourists. We all looked around the passenger area, laughing nervously and trying not to make eye-contact. Halfway to Phi-Phi both Kristy and I realized we both had to... well, pee, really bad (ironic!). Kristy was a little worse off than I so she went on deck and there encountered a violently rocking, soaking wet deck with no hand rail down which she was supposed to walk to reach the toilet. Mission: Aborted. We crossed our legs and hoped for the best. When a girl three rows behind us started puking into a plastic bag I thought "why not just piss yourself? It's no worse than vomit." Of course if I had, ahem, opened the floodgates they would have said I was gross. Go figure. When the seas calmed we took turns using the "toilet" (hole in the floor of the boat with a bucket over it). Finally we made it to Phi-Phi Island where Kristy and I would have to wait for another boat to Ko Lanta.
It was time for a beer.
We found a beachside bar and ordered two Singhas and did a little people-watching. The Lonely Planet, in one of it's panting, undignified attempts to sound hip, describes Phi-Phi Island as having beaches that will bring a tear to your eye but "shed another when you realize you're sharing it with every Speedo on the planet." It was, however, true. Do the 250 lb. 5' 8" tall guys who wear Speedos just not look in the mirror before they leave their room? Who let them buy the suit int he first place?
Anyway, we ambled back down to the pier, got onto the boat back to Phuket, realized our error, quickly hustled onto the boat to Ko Lanta and we were off!
*This is my favorite word in all of the Japanese language. You use it to count nine things or people. Like, if you and eight of your friends are out drinking you could order "kokonatsu" beers. We did this once with three people and had a blast.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Leaving Japan. January 31st, 2007.
Cast of Characters:
Me: You probably know me personally.
Kristy: My fiancé.
Josh: The Arkansan who adopted our turtles.
First thing that morning Kristy and I took the train one stop to Namba station to drop off our bags. Later we'd be leaving from here to go to the airport and neither of us wanted to lug all our shit around all day. We clown-carred both bags into a tall slim locker, jammed the door shut and crossed our fingers that the thing wouldn't burst. Then Kristy went to work.
I had some errands to do. Namely, mail what remained of our things to England and give the keys to the apartment to our landlord and explain the hole in the wall next to the bathroom mirror (light punch delivered by me out of mild frustration with our hot water heater. Our walls weren't made of paper but they might as well have been). These chores went off without a hitch and then I was off to meet my friend and co-worker Josh Hicks.
Josh sounds just like Bill Clinton if you ever had the chance to get Bill Clinton drunk at a barbecue and convince him it was o.k. to swear. He describes his mustache as Dali-esque but I prefer Dalinese. He is the only person who I don't mind going to karaoke with sober. He adopted our turtles.
Josh and I descended into the cavernous city-beneath-a-city that is Nambawalk in Osaka. Because of the lack of space (and their apparent hatred of the sun) the Japanese build enormous shopping malls entirely underground. It's possible to spend an entire day out and about in Osaka without spending more than 2 or 3 minutes outside (depending on how close you live to a subway station). It's amazing and a little scary but Josh knew of a good kaiten (rotating) sushi shop down there.
We found the sushi and it was good. I didn't exactly understand the color-coded plate pricing system and so spent 2500 yen but it was delicious so I didn't care at all. Everything was feeling very last-timey which made me excited and sad. It seemed I was already missing the place and I hadn't yet left.
Next on the list was karaoke. Customarily I would have anywhere from a few to a fair few drinks before doing karaoke but Josh and I rocked it sober. Extreme, More than Words; John Denver, Country Roads; Bill Withers, Ain't No Sunshine. It was a good last karaoke. I didn't rock my all-time favorite karaoke jam, Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush but I didn't think I could hit all the high notes. We left after 2 hours. Sated.
And it was time to get Kristy and get out of Japan. I met her outside work and we went for a last izakaya drink with some folks we knew. We stayed too long. We dashed to the train station and just caught the last train to the airport. We said goodbye to Japan.
Me: You probably know me personally.
Kristy: My fiancé.
Josh: The Arkansan who adopted our turtles.
First thing that morning Kristy and I took the train one stop to Namba station to drop off our bags. Later we'd be leaving from here to go to the airport and neither of us wanted to lug all our shit around all day. We clown-carred both bags into a tall slim locker, jammed the door shut and crossed our fingers that the thing wouldn't burst. Then Kristy went to work.
I had some errands to do. Namely, mail what remained of our things to England and give the keys to the apartment to our landlord and explain the hole in the wall next to the bathroom mirror (light punch delivered by me out of mild frustration with our hot water heater. Our walls weren't made of paper but they might as well have been). These chores went off without a hitch and then I was off to meet my friend and co-worker Josh Hicks.
Josh sounds just like Bill Clinton if you ever had the chance to get Bill Clinton drunk at a barbecue and convince him it was o.k. to swear. He describes his mustache as Dali-esque but I prefer Dalinese. He is the only person who I don't mind going to karaoke with sober. He adopted our turtles.
Josh and I descended into the cavernous city-beneath-a-city that is Nambawalk in Osaka. Because of the lack of space (and their apparent hatred of the sun) the Japanese build enormous shopping malls entirely underground. It's possible to spend an entire day out and about in Osaka without spending more than 2 or 3 minutes outside (depending on how close you live to a subway station). It's amazing and a little scary but Josh knew of a good kaiten (rotating) sushi shop down there.
We found the sushi and it was good. I didn't exactly understand the color-coded plate pricing system and so spent 2500 yen but it was delicious so I didn't care at all. Everything was feeling very last-timey which made me excited and sad. It seemed I was already missing the place and I hadn't yet left.
Next on the list was karaoke. Customarily I would have anywhere from a few to a fair few drinks before doing karaoke but Josh and I rocked it sober. Extreme, More than Words; John Denver, Country Roads; Bill Withers, Ain't No Sunshine. It was a good last karaoke. I didn't rock my all-time favorite karaoke jam, Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush but I didn't think I could hit all the high notes. We left after 2 hours. Sated.
And it was time to get Kristy and get out of Japan. I met her outside work and we went for a last izakaya drink with some folks we knew. We stayed too long. We dashed to the train station and just caught the last train to the airport. We said goodbye to Japan.
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