Coach class? On the flight there, I was in coach class. I noticed a stream of huge, athletic-looking guys dressed in the same outfit coming on board. I swear their shoulders were a yard wide, so I was glad not to be sitting next to one of them. Later, when stretching my legs, I found their part of the cabin and asked if they were part of a team. As a matter of fact, they were the English national rugby team! They were on their way to play the Japanese team (at the Prince Chichibu Memorial Rugby Stadium, which I found by accident when walking around on an earlier trip to Japan!). They were all wearing knee-high nylons, by the way, in order to prevent deep vein thrombosis, although I refrained from telling them how fetching they looked in nylons. But I got to thinking-- why is it called coach class when all the coaches were traveling business class?
The plane was going to Tokyo and then on to Beijing, so many people on the plane were Chinese. Airlines of course coordinate the food choices with the nationality of people on board. One thing that came with lunch with a slice of melon on a bed of something I couldn't quite identify. It was obviously shredded, cooked meat or fish-- at first I thought tuna, and then maybe beef, but my neighbor said probably pork. I've had melon with prosciutto in Europe-- I guess this is the Chinese version (or vice versa). I skipped the pork; it looked a little odd.
The greatest thing about arriving was not being met with a wave of intense heat. It was humid as usual, but only in the 70's, not the usual 80's or 90's that I expected from Japan in July. How nice! A cool spell.
The bad part is that I have bronchitis right now, causing me to cough quite a lot (a nasty-sounding cough, even though I don't feel sick). I was genuinely scared about getting caught at the airport and quarantined because Japan is still quite paranoid about SARS (especially from planes that are going on to Beijing). Luckily, I managed not to cough violently when passing through customs.
I stayed at a French hotel of all places. It had little French flags in the lobby, a bakery selling baguettes, and some French-themed gift shops (great, like I would come all the way to Tokyo to buy something French). But the rooms were still quite Japanese with fancy whirring toilets and the "Teaching of Buddha" book that I had seen earlier in Nagoya. Actually, I perused a different section this time and found it better written. But soon, it was time for sweet dreams.
The Expected. On my first day, the conference I was speaking at had not yet started, but I had a meeting in town. The breakfast place was up on the top floor with a fabulous view of Tokyo Bay, the Rainbow Bridge (mysteriously named because it has no colors and is only vaguely arched), and the nearby buildings. The food was as expected, a mix of Japanese and "American." The cereal was labeled "brownflakes," probably a misnomer for bran flakes, except they were rice flakes instead of wheat. The most amusing thing about breakfast was that I heard some French people talking at the next table. Perhaps they chose the French hotel on purpose?
The meeting was uneventful. It started raining as we traveled, so we stopped at a stand and bought cheap umbrellas. As with everything in Japan, even the cheap stuff is decent quality.
Dinner was also familiar, and welcome-- sushi!!! We went to a very expensive place with a private sushi chef for our table. I was surprised to learn that Japanese menus are typically deliberately deceptive about the price of nigiri sushi. As in the States, an order of nigiri means two pieces, but the price quoted on the menu is for one piece! In the US, the quoted price means the price for the set of two. Anyway, some prices ranged up to $7.00, meaning that the total price was $14.00 for a couple of bites of fish and rice! Whew.
We had maguro (regular and "fatty"), ebi, amaebi, hotate, uni, and other favorites until stuffed (washed down with plenty of beer, of course). Then we sat back to chat with the chef a bit. He had never been to the US, unlike my colleague who had lived there for nine years. "Jim" regaled him with stories of English-Japanese language issues, like the fact that "Calpis" is a poor name for a drink in English even though it is wildly popular in Japan. "Pocari Sweat" is the other main one, plus there are some less well-known examples too. The chef was amused (or played the part well).
Back in my room, I noticed a ship in the harbor that had a large, flashing LED sign. I had seen it the night before alternating between "O" and "X," and wondered vaguely what that meant. Then tonight it was flashing "F" repeatedly when I came home and "I" by the time I went to bed. What?? I didn't find out what the symbols meant on the trip, although I did find out that the "ship" is really a building at the water's edge-- the Maritime Museum. Later, a Japanese colleague found out for me that the code goes like this: O-- Outgoing of over 5,000-ton boat is permitted; I-- Incoming of over 5,000-ton boat is permitted; X-- No boats are permitted; F-- Free to navigate. So I'm still not sure what an alternating sign means (maybe it's in the process of shifting?), but I learned a little navigational trivia.
The Unexpected. The next day the conference started at "Tokyo Big Sight" (a very Japanese name), a convention center near the water. This day was filled with unexpected things to see and do.
First, on the monorail ride over to Big Sight, Jim pointed out a dingy little ship across the harbor. It was the North Korean ship that the Japanese sunk about two years ago in a tense encounter! About 20 North Koreans died after the Japanese fired on the ship. Amidst the ensuing international incident, the ship was raised and towed to Japan. They found a few interesting things, like the fact that it had extra engines installed so it could be much faster than expected for a ship of that size. And it had another ship inside of it, presumably for escape. (Keep in mind that this is the Japanese version of the events).
Then we arrived at Big Sight. It has stunningly ugly architecture-- what were they thinking? The best part is the giant sculpture of a saw out in front. It has a red handle and is partially submerged in the ground. I asked multiple people what it symbolized, who made it, etc, but no one had any clue.
More challenges arose inside. All foreigners had to fill out a "health form" stating whether they had been to China, Hong Kong, Singapore, or other SARS areas, whether they had a fever over 100 degrees, and whether they had any respiratory symptoms like (oh say) coughing. Yipe. I was coughing up a storm. Those who answered yes to any questions had to be examined by an on-site doctor.
A colleague saved the day. Because I was an invited speaker, all my registration forms had already arrived; I just needed the official badge holder. My colleague took my stuff and went through the (mysteriously shorter) Japanese registration line, and got me the goods. (Of course, since SARS has not been found in Japan, the Japanese are assumed to be pure and don't have to fill out the form, which seems like a silly assumption to me, but that's how they were doing it). Actually, it probably would have been fine to see the doc-- I hadn't been anywhere with SARS (if you don't count the US), and I didn't have a fever. But still, it saved some time getting in.
This convention was for manufacturing equipment and components that go into making flat-panel displays-- a real geek sort of thing with lots of whirring robots and weird chemicals. Almost all companies and attendees are Japanese. They usually have a token English-speaking person at the booth, but not always. And the handout material is almost never in English. The interesting thing is, if you are Japanese, there is no way this side of Jupiter that you can find out prices for anything being offered there. But as an American, doing the price dance seems too complicated, so they will often just tell you prices if you ask. I spent all morning gathering data that my Japanese colleagues drooled over.
For lunch, we went to a quick cafeteria. I ordered Japanese vegetables and grilled fish with miso soup, while all the Japanese I was with ordered spaghetti. Go figure.
The session I was speaking in was all afternoon, so we went after lunch to meet my interpreters. That's right, I was speaking in a bilingual session where the Japanese speakers would be translated into English, and the English-speaking speakers would be translated into Japanese. What fun! It was real-time, so I didn't have to pause after each sentence or anything. The interpreters (they work in a team of two so they can trade off every 15 minutes) had a few questions about terms in my talk, but otherwise seemed to think it would go OK.
I was most worried about my throat, actually. I chose the fixed microphone rather than the pin-on one, so I would have the opportunity to turn away from it if I had a major coughing fit. Luckily, all went well and my voice held for an hour, thanks to lots of water. The session chair said my talk was wakariyasui, which means "easy to understand." In the US, this isn't always a compliment, but I was assured that in Japan, it is.
After all that, I was dead tired, and pretty much just went to bed. No long dinner engagements.
Fun with Animals. The next day was all price-checking around the show floor, but I did have some fun experiences. One company made filters for water systems used in factories, and to prove the quality of its filters, they had a fish tank with live fish. Sure enough, the fish lived throughout the conference (or they did a nice job swapping in similar ones).
Another exhibitor was a publisher. They have many scientific books that were on display, but for some reason, they had a crate of other books for sale off to the side. I found a couple of cute kids' stories about a joey and his mom. Of course they were in Japanese, but come on, for kids' books you don't need the words! The pictures told the story just fine. I bought them for my niece, who is just turning two. I figure she can eventually make up her own words for the story (or maybe she'll end up being able to read Japanese!).
My final animal experience was dinner. I tried a dish called "Shrimp and strawberries salad with spicy tomato sauce" at the hotel. What could it be? It sounded intriguing. (If you are wondering why I didn't just believe the description, you haven't tried food in Asia. You will learn not to trust what they say it is because the people writing the menus are not necessarily skilled in English!). In fact, it was just what it said except not spicy-- about 8 large prawns with sliced strawberries and kiwi on a bed of lettuce with an excellent, slightly sweet tomato sauce that complemented the fruit perfectly. Wow! Maybe innovative cuisine is a great side benefit of staying in a French hotel.
And She's Off! The next day was my last (another whirlwind trip). I had hoped to have the morning free so I could go to some Japanese gardens near the Bay, but no, I had an offsite meeting at 9 am. It was OK, but not stellar. All I was doing was supporting the sales staff, and the potential customer didn't seem decisive about buying our stuff right away.
Then I met a friend for lunch. This friend is Japanese, but I met her in America when she lived there for two years while her husband was assigned to the Silicon Valley branch of his company. It was my first time meeting her in her home country, and we were both sorry we didn't have time for her to show me around a bit. Next time, I hope!
Then it was off to Narita Kuukoo, my favorite place. I did a little shopping as usual, and happened upon some intriguing foot care products. Apparently foot care is a big deal in Japan. One thing I saw had little fingers extending up between each toe, and suction cups on the bottom. It was a combination foot massager and exerciser (you were supposed to raise your toes up against the force of the suction cups). Then I noticed some Harry Potter toys. Yipe-- even Japan has been invaded.
The flight back was uneventful. No rugby team this time. I sat next to a Korean guy who rotated between reading notices of refurbished semiconductor equipment for sale in China, venture capital magazines, and the Bible.
In this economy, praying for good business could be a sound strategy.
Copyright © Kim Allen 2003
