Taking off

There is something very strange about locking your apartment up before you leave for more than two months. Something strange, and maddening, since you are pretty sure you did something stupid like leave the air conditioning on. (Yes, I think I did.)

Now I'm sitting in the Sacramento airport listening to elevator music. There are lines stringing around the corner at the Burger King. Starbucks is equally popular. It's 5:30 a.m., so I'm a little punch drunk. That and excited. That and a little sad.

James deserves "Prince Charming of the Year Award" for getting up at 2:30 a.m. to drive me here. But as promised, in about five minutes, I will start brainstorming ways to repay him. So far, throwing him a parade with elephants and monkeys is topping the list. Maybe I should brainstorm when I'm not so tired.

I'm sorry to all those who I didn't get to see before I left. I'm going to try to keep this blog relatively up to date, particularly while I'm in Germany. Stay tuned and in touch.

Lesson learned: James drives my car better than I do.

Over the ocean

Eleven hours on the plane went quicker than we thought it would and consisted mostly of cycles of eating, sleeping and watching movies on the small screens in front of each seat.

For those of you who don't know, I'm traveling to Japan with a Rotary foreign exchange team. There are four of us, plus a Rotary member who serves as our team leader.

We flew into Osaka first, which is south of Tokyo, with plans to fly north the next day. After deplaining, we found a shuttle to take us to our hotel. Every announcement on the bus became an opportunity to try to decipher her words. We would celebrate any time we understood any word in the string of sentences she spoke. We stayed at the Ana Tower, a lone sky-rise near the maze of overpasses highways that led there. Our 31st story room provided a spectacular vantage point. Looking over the rows of houses and high rises, the city don't look much different than the Bay Area, Aimee pointed out. The differences are in the subtle details: round signs indicate speed limits, the bright primary-colored signs run vertically, drivers drive on the left side of the road.

It was only about 6 p.m. Japanese time when we finally settled into our accommodations, so Beth and I decided to go to the gym at the hotel. We changed our minds when we realized it cost about $20 for entry. Instead, we headed outside for a jog, only slightly deterred at the cold blast of wind that greeted us at the door. Our surroundings weren't all that unfamiliar, and Beth commented that we could have been in Modesto. Just after she said that, we rounded a corner to see a shopping center with a Gap store. We were somewhat of a spectacle ourselves as we paused to wait at a light. A group of Japanese giggled at us running in place, one guy kicking up his heels behind him in imitation. Apparently, while going to a gym is customary, jogging outside is not. Waiting for the elevator upon our return, we laughed to think we had just taken a run at about 2 a.m. California time.

We ate dinner on the top floor, in front of windows that ran the length of each wall, with the lights of Osako sparking below us. Since we weren't all that hungary — oh, and full meals at the hotel varied from $30 to $200 — we settled on appetizers. The waitress delivered my soup in a dainty tea-cup sized bowl with a lid. The entertainment that night was a woman on a grand piano singing blues. She could have been American for all the accent that came through the lyrics.

We all fell into bed that night in exhaustion, but all four of the girls woke up at about 2;30 a.m., wide awake and ready to go. We left at 5:30 a.m. for the north, taking a domestic flight to a town called Hanamaki. A whole slew of Japanese Rotarians greeted us when we got off the plane, holding up banners with our pictures on them. From that moment on, we've been treated like rock stars.

More to come.

Lesson learned: I really don't know any Japanese.