Departure Day - Pt 2

Once we were allowed on the charter bus, our group made a mad dash for the back. We looked like a bunch of middle-schoolers who are permitted to sit with upperclassmen on the bus for the first time. Stupid, perhaps, but it made the trip to Kyoto that much better. :D

The Mt. Si group very graciously let us have our geeky little pleasures, as they nonchalantly seated themselves at the front of the bus.

I mentioned earlier that the Japan we saw was covered in rain clouds as we descended. When we landed , however, we found that it wasn't the case over most of Kansai. We ooh-ed and ah-ed as we crossed the long bridge from Kansai and looked onward to the glimmering sea of city that awaited us on the other side. We couldn't see it yet, but as soon as the highway rose over the city, we found that Osaka was no where near as organized as we previously assumed. Having come from Seattle, we were used to seeing the giant skyscrapers close to each other, competing for attention and awe. The skyscrapers in the outskirts of Osaka, however, were not grouped together at all. Instead, one gazes for endless miles across a flat, gray city with spiratic intrusions from daunting towers. The skyscrapers we did see were sporadically built, reminding me of intimidating guardians over the city. They popped up at random all over the place until we neared the core of Osaka--where there was so much 'busy' your eye balls felt like they might peel off your face from concentrating so hard. The center of Osaka, we decided, was reminiscent of Everett. Gray. Big. Smoggy. It was our first time seeing a place so foreign, yet we felt so at home. We looked down chaotic roads, gazed at towering domes, and quirked our heads at strangely shaped towers we found unfamiliar. There was a layer of pollution so thick and gray over the city that it felt like we were wandering into a metalic marshland. When the sun did manage to strain its way through the muck, the city felt like an entirely different place.











Now, I make it seem like we could see everything below us (that is, city) from the elevated highway. Please don't assume. There were vaguely translucent walls of plastic (or some material like it) that were just visible enough to see through, but were a PAIN when trying to take pictures. There would be eventual gaps of space between the inconviniently placed where one might snatch a decenet picture--if said individual were poised and had the reflexes to match the speed of sound. Alas! As far as I know, none of us were so skilled. the shots we did get were generally of things higher than the recycled, sound-proofing walls, or at a spot when the highway took rose above those blasted barriers for a brief moment.



Befittingly, we had dubbed Japan, "Land of Walls." this lead to a conversation on future host families, and our soon-to-be host parent's professions. Why? ....

On the information forms we received from our host families (filled out by our host sibling closest in age), there was a small slot for 'occupation', among a list of other things. We were all used to poor (yet noteably adorable) translations. For example, my host father was a "Bakery Orner." Despite the silly slip ups we encountered, however, nothing lost in translation beat out Leif's parent's 'occupations'. Ironically enough, his mother was "the Wall", and his father "the Traffic".
"Wrestling names, maybe?" Leif prodded as we all spurted out spurts of hysterical laughter.
One can only presume, by means of logical faulicies, that Leif's (host) mother controlled Japan--or at least reigned undefeated in Parental Death Match - Japan.

I can't say I remember all the things we talked about on our two hour journey to Kyoto -- our first stop. Around the second half of our trip, most (if not all) of us were gazing out the window to the alternating greens and grays around us.