Japan First Night…

From 1633 – 1853 Japan instituted a closed door policy by which foreigners were not allowed to enter except in specific instances of closely monitored trade.

On September 16th, 2012 Japan opened its doors to us.

After tearful goodbyes and extended embraces, Vicky and I endured a 14 hr flight straight to Osaka from New York’s JFK airport. Although by far the longest flight I’d ever been on, it passed with relative ease. We landed in Osaka at approximately 6pm JPT, ready to start our amazing race.

It’s astounding that with all the planning we’ve done over the last 6 months, neither of us bothered to map out what we would do upon arrival – but the goals were relatively clear:

• Get Japanese Yen
• Find a phone and/or sim card
• Connect with our couchsurfer

We were going to be staying with an English Comedian for our only night in Osaka. We had with us a telephone number, a metro stop, and a bundle of concerns:

1. What if he gave us the wrong number?
2. What if he doesn’t pick up?
3. Where will we sleep if we can’t connect with him?

Navigating our way through the airport was, as expected, more difficult then we expected…

Our first set back came when we were informed that renting a sim card might turn on the internet for our HTC phone inviting a world of unwanted charges. The clerk described it as “risky” and we opted against it. This in itself was a fairly risky move, given that our only means of connecting with our Couchsurfing host was via telephone.

We were going to have to find a pay phone.

Navigating our way to the city from the airport was a riddle all onto itself. Japan, it seems, has an endless supply of rail passes instituted solely to confuse travelers. We found ourselves getting on the metro and simply aiming for a random metro stop that appeared central. If we could inch ourselves a bit closer, we thought, we could eventually hit our final destination. By now it was already 9pm and we were walking around Osaka, without a map, looking for a payphone.

Success.

And now for the moment of truth as I dialed what looked like an arbitrary number of digits.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jeffrey, we’re your couch surfers for the night.”

“Firstly, my name is Gareth.”

Not the first impression I was aiming for.

We worked out a deal where he would meet us at the metro stop. I told him to add 20 minutes to what he thought it should take – a buffer for us to screw it up. This brought out a roar of laughter (to be fair, we did screw it up).

As promised we met Gareth at metro stop Asashiobashi and made our way casually to his apartment in the city. An affable fellow, Gareth took us in, fed us pasta, and let us shower.