EPT"Yeah, I think so," I replied. "I just take the JR line to Narita and find a hotel, right?"
"Yes, and you know some hotels?"
"I do. My book has some."
She seemed unconvinced, but she smiled, held out her hand, and told me her name.
And I can't remember it.
I stopped at the tourist information booth at the airport in the hopes of aquiring a map of Narita. The girl behind the counter was dressed in a full uniform with a hat that matched her green jacket. When I asked for a map, she said, "This all we have. This here. You take and talk to...." She handed me a brochure and gestured to the right.
The brochure was written in French. I read a few things, just to prove that I could, and threw it away.
The metro ride to Narita was a breeze, even without the tourist "assistance." It was then that I first noticed an interesting phenomenon about the Japanese when they ride the metro: they slip into comas, only to magically revive themselves eight seconds before reaching their destinations. It is outrageous to watch. They let their bodies and heads go completely limp, swaying back and forth as the metro creaks down the track. Then the train stops, and they open their eyes and take off striding at a ferocious pace.
It was pouring rain when I arrived in Narita. All my worries about the weather were coming true, and I shook my head at the thought that this could conceivably continue for two full weeks. I sprinted through the rain and purchased a horrible, clear plastic umbrella at a convenience store near the station. Getting a hotel room was a simple process, anyway, and because she spoke some English, I took the time to harass the front desk clerk.
"What is your favorite restaurant here?" I asked.
She handed me a tourist map with sixteen restaurants marked on it. "No, no," I said. "Where do you eat? What is your favorite?"
She drew an X on the map at an unmarked location and said, "Maru. Very famous, very good."
I ended up having a spicy bowl of broth with fatty pork, green onions, bean sprouts, a chicken sausage, and udon noodles. Everything arrived at my table raw, and the broth was cold. I was... a little concerned. But then the host, who spoke a bit of English, delivered a hot plate, cranked the heat to high, and instructed me to "wait wait wait pork cook." He checked in with me throughout the meal, always curious about me and where else I was going to go in Japan. In addition to the service, the food was outstanding. I am not sure I have ever eaten so much food and still felt so light upon standing up from the table. When I went to leave, the host bowed deeply and said, "Japan enjoy. Japan enjoy." I smiled and thanked him, awkwardly bowing as I made my way out.
He held the door open for me, and I was about to open my umbrella when I realized the rain had stopped.
