The Blowfish Blog.: Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto (Japan Visa Run)

Because I couldn’t get my visa in Thailand, I had to make a visa run to Japan. We intended for me to go during or prior to training week, but it didn’t work out. Instead, I did my training with the other newbies, then started working the following week. Then I worked two days this week, then went to Japan. I guess they didn’t have enough floaters to cover me until now. It’s inconvenient to do it in the middle of the week (I have to work tomorrow, Friday), but whatever.

I left my house Wednesday morning at 6:30am, which is just painful for me. I hate mornings. To me, 6:30am is a “go to bed” time, not a “wake up and go somewhere” time. I have a theory that I was rudely awakened in the womb to be born at 6:32am, and I’ve held a grudge. Just a thought.

I easily found a taxi to DongDaegu train station to catch my KTX train. I arrived at 7am, and paid my driver 12,200 won. I went into the station moments before they announced for passengers on my train to head to the track. The train was a few minutes late, which I was surprised by; usually transportation in Korea is quite punctual. I tried to sleep without much luck. I arrived at Busan Station an hour and ten minutes later, and was pointed in the direction of the shuttle to the ferry port. The fare was cheap at 900 won. It took 5-10 minutes to get to the port, and I followed the crowd upstairs to the office where I had to pick up my ferry ticket and hotel voucher. I had to pay a ferry departure tax there of 10,300 won. I went through security similar to that at a non-crazed airport (i.e. not one in the States), then through customs. It was quite easy. I waited for about an hour in the departure lobby with a growing crowd, drinking a peach iced tea (2,000 won).

Soon I had to face my distaste of boats by willingly boarding one. My seat was on the second floor. The seat next to me was empty, and I was thankful. Sitting there for a few minutes until we left, all I could see was the dock moving up and down next to us. I noted the location of the motion sickness bags, but luckily I didn’t need one.

Gnome did though.

The three hour journey wasn’t too bad since we were moving so quickly, and I was able to sleep for over an hour.

We arrived at the Hakata/Fukuoka International Ferry Port, and again went through immigration and customs. Both Thailand and Japan have systems I think should be implemented in the U.S. They both take pictures and fingerprints of every person who enters to endure that no one who shouldn’t be there comes in. Novel idea. Of course, if the U.S. did this, we’d do something stupid like use it to keep everyone out. Or we’d go on a fingerprinting rampage to keep illegal aliens from coming in, working, getting a house—who knows. In five years, we’d probably have to give our prints to buy groceries. Okay, so maybe we shouldn’t do that. But it’s a good idea for non-paranoid, non-crazy countries with a limited-usage clause, I think.

I waited for the bus for a while, then figured out from the sign (only in Japanese) that it wasn’t coming for another 30 minutes. I got a taxi instead, since it was already almost 2pm, and I thought I had to get to the Korean Consulate by 3pm. The taxi ride was expensive at 1800 Yen, but we got there quickly and easily. The Consulate looked more Korean than buildings in Korea. It was odd, but beautiful.

I went in and straight to the counter, where a Korean woman with good English skills took my information and pointed me toward a booth to get some passport pictures taken. I knew I had forgotten something from Lynn, but I couldn’t think what it was until I was there. I gave my pictures to her when I signed my contract in March, not thinking that I would need them, not her. Oh well. 500 Yen for pictures is about the same as home. I tried to make myself presentable, which after 3.5 hours total of sleep and more than that in travel was a considerable task. Five minutes later, pictures taken and 4500 Yen Visa fee paid, I left the Consulate with instruction to return the next day between 10am-12pm or 130-330pm to pick up my passport.

I couldn’t find the right bus stop, so I opted for another taxi and another 1900 Yen paid. I got checked in quickly, and shortly was in my pajamas, ready for a nap. The room was tiny like a shoebox, but fine for my purposes.

The view was nice though. Night.

Day.

I slept for a few long hours, then woke up starving. I showered and found one of the coolest innovations in my room: a fogless rectangle in the mirror. The rest was steamed, but just where my face was, it was perfectly clear. I want that technology in my apartment.

I set off in search of food. I passed a few food stalls, but they all had curtains so I couldn’t see what was offered. I came across Kilroy’s, which had a delicious bacon, asparagus, and pesto pizza. It was amazing. Not very Japanese, though. I had a Coke refill, which I later found out was not for free. My pizza was 1200 Yen and each Coke was 500 Yen, for a total of 2200 Yen for dinner. A $6 Coke is crazy, even if it’s big, which mine was not. Oh well. I needed it.

I walked a bit until I found some stairs leading to the underground shops. Everything was closed but the coffee shops, but it was fun to see. It’s much nicer and cleaner than the ones in Daegu. It was mostly dark grey stone, with intricate Victorian-looking metal signs for each shop. It was like an immaculate upscale dungeon.

This is a running fountain by day.

I found a food area, with many shops with fake food displays out front of each. They were all closing too. Upstairs one level was a grocery store, where I found some sushi (for a late-night snack), a delicious chocolate ice cream cone, and some chocolate chip cookies, which I bought for 780 Yen total. I also found avocados, but I was afraid customs would take them, so I didn’t buy them. I seriously thought about it. On my way back to the hotel I found a 7/11 for a Coke (125 Yen, what a deal!). Seven-Eleven’s aren’t as popular in the States as they once were, but man, they sure get around overseas.

In the room, I had my picnic on the bed while watching the last hour of Million Dollar Baby. I’d never seen it before, and I’m glad. I had no idea how sad the end was. I figured it was a happy-ending story. Not the case. When it finished, I crashed again.

I woke up at 830am and went down to breakfast, which was included in the package. It was a buffet, and I left satisfied.

The view from breakfast in my hotel.

I asked the desk about late checkout, since I couldn’t be at the Consulate between 12-130. I decided to pay the extra charge (820 Yen) to stay until 1pm, and went back to sleep. I finally got up and got myself together, checked out and made my way to the correct bus stop. I went into a shop called Loft that had folding fans in the window. They were way too expensive at 2000 Yen, so I didn’t get one. Maybe next time.

I waited for almost 30 minutes then finally got on the 301 bus. I sat there long enough to see what to do, and got on at the back door when my bus finally arrived. When we were close enough to see the Fukuoka/Yahoo! Dome, I paid my 220 Yen fare at the front of the bus, and got off. The Consulate was on the next block.

It was another 5 minute trip inside to get my passport and visa, and I set about finding lunch. The Hawks’ Town Mall is across the street, and I decided on McDonald’s because it was fast and cheap. My cheeseburger set was 480 Yen, but the entertainment was priceless.

First, there was a mom with a baby strapped to her back, splayed out helpless, unable to move anything but head, which flopped around to see me several times while his mom ordered. I felt sorry for him. If he could’ve spoken, I think he would've screamed for help.

Next came a mom, her parents, and a small boy of 4 or 5. He was absolutely adorable. He was wearing knickers with socks pulled up, a sailor-ish jacket with a big white collar, and a straw hat with a ribbon around it, trailing off the back. He looked like the character Eloise. I tried to get a good picture, but his grandfather kept looking at me, so I had to sneak one quickly, which my camera phone doesn’t do well.

Gnome enjoyed his cheeseburger, too.

I wandered through the outdoor parts of the mall, heading back to the taxi stand. I found a cute shop and bought a writing notebook. No postcards to be found though. :( Maybe that’s an Asia thing; Korea doesn’t really do postcards either.

Hawks' Town Mall

The taxi back to the ferry port was another 1900 Yen. I got checked in and was told to pay two fees. The first was a fuel charge of 700 Yen, and the other was a 500 Yen terminal usage fee, which I had to buy as a ticket from a vending machine. Another Coke (150 Yen) finished off my spending.

I saw many fun things on this short trip, even though I didn’t really have the time, energy, or money to do anything really. The toilets at the ferry port in Hakata/Fukuoka play (loudly) the sound of running water while you use the toilet. It’s odd, but I like it. That way no one can hear your business. Most buildings I encountered had rounded automatic sliding doors, which was cool. I saw more people on bikes than anywhere I’ve ever been, including a man in a suit on a bike with a basket, his briefcase riding shotgun.

So many bikes!

I saw a stereotypical Japanese man with a long grey beard, a “Harajuku girl”, two geishas, a Japanese nun, and wild Japanese fashion. I see wild fashion in Korea, but it was more sophisticated and better put together than I usually see. Most people I encountered understood and spoke a little English, which was fantastic since I know even less Japanese than Korean.

When I first arrived, I was so exhausted that I didn’t have the energy to figure out a new country. But I think I could live there, or at least visit again. I’d have to make a lot of money in any case. It’s too damn expensive.

When I got back to the ferry port, I was once again surrounded by hoards of Koreans who looked me up and down. The whole time in Japan until then I was surrounded by Japanese people who have seen enough foreigners to not care that I was there or what I looked like. But now I was being sized up again. One 50-55 year old Korean man looked at me several times, a huge smile growing each time his gaze lingered on my chest. He said something nasty in Korean to his friend with a big smile. Guess I’m going back home to Korea. Hello again, sexual harassment. Ick.

Cute souvenirs.