Things are looking up

What a couple of days I’ve had, let me tell you.

When I last left off I was setting forth with Franz to head up to a place called Namba via the hotel-provided bicycles.  On the way, he was gracious enough to show me where the nearest 7-11 was (they have ATMs inside them that accept foreign-issued cards).  Unfortunately, my card was denied.  Mystified, I followed him to the post office (or ‘Postbank,’ as he called it).  The post offices also have ATMs that accept American cards.  Again, I was denied.  I did call Wells Fargo prior to leaving the US to make sure they wouldn’t lock my card overseas.

Somewhat worried, we continued on to Namba.  Once there, he departed, heading East to meet his girlfriend.  I spent the entire afternoon at the jazz festival there.  It was pretty good.  I saw three school bands; one junior high, one high school, and the other college.  Each one was pretty damn good for their age group.  The drummers all swung, and the horn players had great tones.  I don’t believe I ever heard a cracked note.  It was very impressive.

I spent some time talking to a guy named Hironori.  Very nice man.  He’s from Sakai, about 15 km South of here.  He likes jazz and American rock, and is quite a good illustrator (he showed me his sketches).  It’s great connecting with people.

In addition to the school bands, there was a singer stage.  I saw two singers backed by small combos, plus a four-piece jazz vocal group (no instruments, but one of the singers played decent trumpet and there was a saxophone sitting there as well… I’m not the biggest fan of jazz vocal ensembles, so I left before I saw it used).  Lastly, the third stage had what you might call heavily stylized jazz bands.  The first I saw was gypsy jazz band (complete with two Selmer Maccaferri guitars, a clarinet, and an accordion), followed by a decent Dixeland band.  They were okay, but I have soft spot for that stuff, and it really reminds me of home.  Lastly, there was SMOKING New Orleans-style brass band.  Their tubist was quite the badass.

In addition to the music, there was also dance, art displays, food (which I couldn’t afford), some traditional dancing, and some AMAZING taiko drumming.  The streets (the festival was held in the middle of a major business district) were absolutely jam packed.  It was astonishing how many people came out.  I didn’t have a bike lock, though, so I had to haul it around with me everywhere I went, which got annoying, since I could never get too close to the players.  The areas around the stages were already crowded enough, and I couldn’t get in there with this giant bike (which incidentally was way too small for me… it may have been a girls bike).

After the festival, I made my way back to the hotel.  I took a different route, but managed alright.  I biked some of the way, but I ended up walking for most of the journey.  Even though I know Japanese drivers are more conscious of cyclists, I’m still in American mode, and biking a big city (Osaka certainly qualifies) just screams dangerous to me.  I had biked all the way earlier, though.  The way to the festival I had been following Franz, who a) had a nicer bike, b) was used to biking in the city, and c) knew exactly where he was going.  It had been a game of ‘Don’t Loose Franz,” which I did a couple of times.  Fortunately, he would occasionally look behind him.

On the way, I tried several more 7-11 ATMS with the same result.  After I got back to the hotel I spent hours on the internet trying to figure out what was the matter.  I won’t bore you on the details, but suffice it to say I wore myself out trying.  I had very little money, two bananas, and some rice candy to my name, and that had to last me until I could solve the cash flow problem.

I eventually went to bed.  In the morning (this morning), I woke and set forth into the city once more.  I had made some changes to my Wells Fargo account, and I was hoping that would work.  I walked a good mile or two to the 7-11, but again, it reported the card was invalid.  Frustrated, I walked yet another mile or so the post office, only to also be denied.  Tired and hungry (I hadn’t eaten anything except two bananas for the past two days), I walked the 2+ miles back to the hotel and did more online gruntwork. 

At one point I spent 500 of the 650 yen I had left to buy a phone card, only to have most of my minutes wasted on hold.  I had just told him the problem.  He explained what was the matter, and asked me if I wanted him to solve it.  Right as I was about to answer him, my time ran out and the card was disconnected.  It was a genuinely depressing moment.  I felt terribly alone.  I was on the far side of the planet, had the equivalent of about $3 to my name, and only two bananas and some rice candy to eat.  My reservation was set to expire the next morning.  I had exhausted all options, or so I thought.

Salvation came in the form of my mother, her tech-savy friend Kristen, and Skype, which can apparently be used like a phone.  I got a hold of a Wells Fargo rep, solved the problem, then walked back to the 7-11 and withdrew 10,000 yen.  I felt very relieved.  On the way back I bought a drink out of a machine.  It tasted like Sprite, but it wasn’t carbonated.  Weird, but refreshing.  After a few more phone calls (Kristen, my brother Al, and my mom), I set out to get something to eat.

There’s a long system of enclosed shops near here, sort of like an arcade (in the older sense, not in the modern, gaming-oriented sense).  All sorts of shops, though most of them are little restaurants.  There are little stores selling clothes, electronics, home products, pets, porn, computer parts, books, magazines, shoes, kimonos, sports stuff, floor mats, coffee, and other stuff that I just can’t recall (there was also a large 24-hour grocery store and a casino).  The arcade ran on and on, and branched off several times in different directions.  After walking around for a while, I eventually picked a little place off the beaten path and walked inside.

After a somewhat awkward pause, I indicated I wanted to eat there by rubbing my stomach.  She sat me down at the bar (the place was empty), and gave me a menu.  I told her in Japanese to “decide for me,” because the menu was completely written and I couldn’t understand a word.  She said ‘yakisoba,’ since I knew what that was (fried noodles) I said that would be fine.  It was more than fine.  I was starving, but I don’t think that biased my opinion too badly.  I washed it down with a large mug of beer, which tasted so good to my dry tongue I nearly wept.  I had been very stressed the past two days, and a good meal and a beer was just what the doctor ordered.

After the meal, I headed back here to the hostel.  I’m now up in my room.  The sun’s gone down.  I might hit the hay in a bit.  All that walking got the best of me.  I’m watching a nature program on TV.  Strange thing, though.  It’s all about predators on the plains of Africa.  Cheetahs, lions, hyenas, jackals, the like.  There’s shot after shot of these gazelles and other herd animals being set upon by single predators or even packs, all to tense background music.  However, in none of those shots does the predator succeed.  It’s amazing to watch a tiny baby gazelle dodge a full grown cheetah, but after a while, you start to feel bad for them.  They gotta eat, too.

Soupy twist,

Ed