Arrival in Tokyo
It always feels a little weird, starting a new blog. This one will be rather time limited—a journal, as it were, of an almost five week trip to Tokyo, where we'll be living in a small apartment (by Paris standards, which are already fairly small) and where Andy will be teaching a series of courses in philosophy of math at the university.
First, of course, we had to get to Tokyo. And before we could do that, there were all of the things that had to be gotten together before we could leave. Yarn to be purchased as a farewell gift for the woman who ran Charlotte's Tuesday activity. (If you happen to need yarn on Sunday afternoon in Paris, the BHV over by the Hôtel de Ville has it on the 2nd floor, and is open until 19H.) Flowers to be purchased for her regular teacher. Carmen's school registration forms to be completed and filled in, along with yet another copy of her birth certificate and five photos (recent, identical, unsmiling, forehead and ears visible). Assorted paperwork to mail off to the SECU (national health insurance) and SNCF (national railway) and a stamped addressed envelope to get to Charlotte's school so that her report card can be mailed to our apartment at the end of the year. And laundry of course, and dishes, and clean out the refrigerator, and make sure to sweep and mop and wash the counters and clean the bathroom because, after all, who wants to come home after five weeks to a house that's trashed or a fridge full of moldy food.
And then the kids packed, kind of, and I packed, kind of, because some of the things wouldn't be dry by morning, and we all went to bed, and woke up while it was still dark out and packed the rest of our things, and drank some of the leftover milk, and poured the rest down the drain, and brought down the last of the trash and recycling, and locked the doors and headed down to the metro to take the train to the airport.
And after that, of course, it all became a big game of hurry up and wait. Hustle down the stairs to catch the arriving airport train, and then wait for it to get to the airport. Hurry up to the check in area, and through security, and then sit (on a chair if you can find one, on the floor otherwise) and wait for the gate to be announced. Rush to get in line to board (overhead space is precious), and then sit on the plane and wait for arrival in Zurich. And then of course hurry through another airport. Which gate do we need? You'll have to wait 15 minutes for that information to be posted. And then off to the gate, through emigration, down to the airport tram, and then up again to the gates and more waiting. And then, of course, the rush to get onto the plane (again with those overhead compartments) and still more waiting. For lunch. For breakfast. For ice cream. For the drinks cart to come around again. And again. And again. And finally the announcement that we would be landing, twelve hours after we'd taken off, more or less. And then the worst wait of all. The "please stay in your seat with your seatbelt fastened until the plane has come to a complete stop and the pilot has turned of the fasten seatbelt light" wait followed by the "everybody may stand up but nobody can actually move because they haven't yet opened the doors" wait. And the of course immigration, and baggage claim, and the wait for customs. Did I fill out all the papers correctly? (Apparently yes.) And then bus tickets to Yokohama (oops, first find an ATM that takes European ATM cards), and a 90 minute ride to Yokohama. And then find the metro station and figure out how to get transport cards (more cash—the machines will only read Japanese cards) and the ride to Hiyoshi to meet Andy's contact and pick up the keys to the apartment. And the long walk up to the apartment, toting backpacks and dragging suitcases. And then, at last, we'd arrived.
First, of course, we had to get to Tokyo. And before we could do that, there were all of the things that had to be gotten together before we could leave. Yarn to be purchased as a farewell gift for the woman who ran Charlotte's Tuesday activity. (If you happen to need yarn on Sunday afternoon in Paris, the BHV over by the Hôtel de Ville has it on the 2nd floor, and is open until 19H.) Flowers to be purchased for her regular teacher. Carmen's school registration forms to be completed and filled in, along with yet another copy of her birth certificate and five photos (recent, identical, unsmiling, forehead and ears visible). Assorted paperwork to mail off to the SECU (national health insurance) and SNCF (national railway) and a stamped addressed envelope to get to Charlotte's school so that her report card can be mailed to our apartment at the end of the year. And laundry of course, and dishes, and clean out the refrigerator, and make sure to sweep and mop and wash the counters and clean the bathroom because, after all, who wants to come home after five weeks to a house that's trashed or a fridge full of moldy food.
And then the kids packed, kind of, and I packed, kind of, because some of the things wouldn't be dry by morning, and we all went to bed, and woke up while it was still dark out and packed the rest of our things, and drank some of the leftover milk, and poured the rest down the drain, and brought down the last of the trash and recycling, and locked the doors and headed down to the metro to take the train to the airport.
And after that, of course, it all became a big game of hurry up and wait. Hustle down the stairs to catch the arriving airport train, and then wait for it to get to the airport. Hurry up to the check in area, and through security, and then sit (on a chair if you can find one, on the floor otherwise) and wait for the gate to be announced. Rush to get in line to board (overhead space is precious), and then sit on the plane and wait for arrival in Zurich. And then of course hurry through another airport. Which gate do we need? You'll have to wait 15 minutes for that information to be posted. And then off to the gate, through emigration, down to the airport tram, and then up again to the gates and more waiting. And then, of course, the rush to get onto the plane (again with those overhead compartments) and still more waiting. For lunch. For breakfast. For ice cream. For the drinks cart to come around again. And again. And again. And finally the announcement that we would be landing, twelve hours after we'd taken off, more or less. And then the worst wait of all. The "please stay in your seat with your seatbelt fastened until the plane has come to a complete stop and the pilot has turned of the fasten seatbelt light" wait followed by the "everybody may stand up but nobody can actually move because they haven't yet opened the doors" wait. And the of course immigration, and baggage claim, and the wait for customs. Did I fill out all the papers correctly? (Apparently yes.) And then bus tickets to Yokohama (oops, first find an ATM that takes European ATM cards), and a 90 minute ride to Yokohama. And then find the metro station and figure out how to get transport cards (more cash—the machines will only read Japanese cards) and the ride to Hiyoshi to meet Andy's contact and pick up the keys to the apartment. And the long walk up to the apartment, toting backpacks and dragging suitcases. And then, at last, we'd arrived.
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