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| Japanese Garden in Ohori Park |
Woke up at four in the morning to have Matt drive me to
Incheon Airport. Shuffled between various check-in lines, security, only to
have some orange haired, leopard –print legging clad middle-aged Korean ladies
cut in front of me at the passport check. Being impatient, they quickly
switched lines. I waved at them through border control, while they were stuck
behind an old man fumbling for his passport.
Arrived in Fukuoka a bit late, thanks to the plane being
delayed, and got stuck behind a group of elderly Korean tourists, identified by
their insistence on wearing expensive hiking gear no matter where they go, who
couldn’t figure out how to fill out the arrival slips. I race down the stairs to
customs, only to be interrogated. Why did I have only one bag? Why am I only
staying for three days? He then politely emptied out the contents of my bag,
not bothering to search through my official documents, underwear bag, or
computer bag (the place people would smuggle if they were to smuggle).
Hop on the shuttle bus to the domestic terminal and was
utterly confused as to why it kept switching driving sides. Lulled to sleep by
the gentle rocking of the subway, I woke to the announcement of “This station,
UglyBoy!” spelled “Ohorikoen.” My stop was next. Got off at Tojinmachi, raced
around the underground maze to Exit 1, up what felt like one hundred steps, and
zipped down the road.
The Korean Embassy was easy enough to find, but the guard
wouldn’t let me in without a phone number. I tried several numbers, he finally
grudgingly allowed the local hotel number. I still haven’t a clue as to what he
was actually wanting. Finally allowed just before the cut-off time, and set to
the odious task of filling out the E2 visa form.
After paying and given my receipt, I limp out of the embassy
in search of food and plasters for my heels. Gave up looking for food, and
ducked into the first shrine I came across. Several people came up and asked if
they could take my photo, which I politely declined, as I was unable to get the
camera settings adjusted just right. Learned to pray like a Buddhist at Jomanji
Temple, which turned out to be a giant sand zen garden. After the short
tutorial, I was left to gratefully sink onto the cushion on the floor for a
rest.
Hunger finally won over, I continued down the road until I
found a café advertising a six dollar lunch set. Dived into the crowded café,
where the waitress didn’t moan and groan about having to talk to a foreigner,
but actually came over, smiled, and managed to tell me how to order and where
to get drinks, even though she didn’t speak any English. It was a painless
experience. I ate my strange meal of Japanese meatloaf patty, tempura tofu,
plain white rice, and shredded cabbage.
Stopped in a McDonalds for wifi, but had to be satisfied
with staring at a “small” Sumo Wrestler eating his four Big Mac meals as he
stared at me sipping coffee. I really wanted to take a photo, but I just cannot
bring myself to be THAT person… though, I really wanted to be.
Went in search of the hotel, hoping for some wifi there. I
wandered around a bit, trying to follow the crappy hotel directions my boss had
given me, when I found a tourist desk. She easily directed me to the hotel, and
I went up to the lobby. Unfortunately, my boss had neglected to notice that the
reservation was unpaid, so I had to pay. My jaw dropping a bit at the price. I
was especially enraged when I opened the door to my room.
The room was stuffy, smelled of stale cigarettes, there were
burns in the carpets, the walls were yellow, and everything had a thick layer
of dirt and grime. Even the pajama shirt they had laid out was looking pretty
bad. I returned to the desk to figure out the wifi password to be told the only
wifi was in the form of a thumb drive device, which downloaded strange malware
onto my computer and prevented most of my aps from opening.
Too sick really to care much, I passed out on the dirty bed
to awake in the dark. I decided to go in search of food, finding a McDonalds to
relax in. Headed back to the hotel and passed out again.
The next morning I woke early, plastered my feet, and headed
to Starbucks. The air was crisp with fall, the shopping centers decorated for
Christmas. Surrounded by well-dressed, considerate people and with a belly full
of coffee, the negativity of the previous day fled and adventure won over.
Headed to Ugly Boy once again. This time I got out and
walked around the castle ruins. The sky was so blue, but a storm was building,
so I rushed through the park to the castle, feeling excited. Snapped pictures
every so often. Stopped to watch a girl agonizing over her tripod and rush to
pose for the photo in a typical Asian style. Climbed to the top of the ruins,
meeting a group of Japanese tourists who took my picture and gave me plenty of
room to admire the view. Coming down, I climbed over some of the larger rocks,
feeling like Indiana Jones in the city.
Finally decided I had spent enough time at the castle and
wandered back through the park, waving at the Asian model who was now wearing
pink instead of red—where she changed, I have no idea. Walked past the tourist
information center and the men in “traditional” soldier outfits only to be nearly
run over by a baseball team running its laps.
Head back to another part of town to see the Giant Wooden
Buddha (everyone claims to have a giant Buddha). Somehow find it, only to be
disappointed about the not being able to take photos, as if that somehow
diminishes its splendor. Shoot some photos of the pagoda and move on down an
alley of nice apartments and villa-like houses.
Enter into a promising looking temple, where even the
grounds’ workers smile and say hello. Follow a kitten up to the grave site, to
find two old women feeding kittens. One woman starts speaking to me in perfect
English, handing me a kitten. Apparently, she comes every day to feed and pay
attention to the cats. Too used to being scammed in other countries, I pet the
cat, with one eye on my belongings, and make a quick exit. However, I think
they were quite genuine.
Spent the next morning walking around Ohori Park and the
Japanese garden, before collecting my passport and visa. Spent the next few
hours in McDonalds playing computer games while the rain poured down. The calm
of the trip died as soon as I reached the airport and was surrounded by
non-Japanese.
