The horror…the horror…
It should be noted that as of now I am no longer in Ogura, nor alone for that matter. Since leaving my flat for the final time yesterday, I am temporarily based in Naga town, staying at the home of generously hospitable fellow ALT Sarah, ahead of my return to England’s green and pleasant lands next Monday.
This temporary homestay is mainly intended to give me a chance to properly appreciate the fact that I’m leaving after two years, and allow me to see friends and do things out here for the last time without constantly thinking about the stress involved in sorting out my place, arranging final bills and all the other horrifically complicated and tedious things anyone has to do before they permanently move away from somewhere. All that’s done now and finally, I can afford to relax a little.
What stress it was though…with four generations of JET behind me and no one new coming to take over, it was up to me to dispose of everything in my small two bedroom flat and Wakayama High to pick up anything I couldn’t get rid of myself. A combination of lack of forward planning, two years of laziness and Japan’s restrictive waste disposal laws meant that yesterday caused me levels of stress and frustration the likes of which I never want to experience ever again. Don’t be fooled by the diminutive size of my former dwelling, it boasts an interior of TARDIS-esque proportions containing dizzying quantities of crap that filled bin liner after bin liner in the absence of anyone else wanting it. Anything usable went into cardboard boxes that I soon ran out of, everything small went into bags and several cupboards had to remain full. I fully anticipate an irate phonecall from Wakayama High’s head of administration any day now.
And all that was just the stuff I was leaving behind – there was still the issue of everything else that was coming back with me. Having packed a suitcase, a backpack, a small rucksack, a guitar case and laptop shoulder bag with all my worldly possessions it quickly became apparent just how optimistic it was to think that I could get it all on a plane. I was to find out just how optimistic when nihonjin buddy Daisuke came over in the morning, ostensibly just to pick up the oven I was giving away for his mother, bringing with him at my request a set of weighing scales. The horrible truth soon became clear – the combined weight of my baggage came to 46 kilos, exceeding my 20 kilos allowance by more than double.
(Brief note – if anyone can explain to me why it is that residents of Canada and the US are given 32 kilos baggage allowance on international flights while the rest of us mere mortals have to make do with 20, I’d love to know).
Bitterness aside, I was left with a rather large problem to say the least – if I wanted to avoid crippling excess baggage costs at the airport, a radical solution was called for. I decided to try and send my suitcase home through the post. An insane idea, admittedly, but I didn’t have much of an alternative.
So, to my profuse thanks, Daisuke agreed to come with me to the local post office and act as interpreter. Driving there on his father’s open-top pick up truck with me hanging on for dear life in the back we entered and endured an interminable ten minutes or so while we waited to be seen, another fifteen for the young guy behind the counter to say whether it was possible to do what I had in mind (it required two phonecalls and a lengthy perusal of his Post Office employees user manual – to be honest I’m not certain whether he actually worked there, such was his level of ignorance and nervousness) and another thirty for me to do the weighing and filling in of the relevant forms once we were given the go-ahead. Standard shipping costs applied, which meant fifty quid on surface delivery, expected time of arrival at destination roughly 4-6 weeks. Furthermore, I was unable to lock the case, nor insure the contents – something that could only be done at a larger branch in the next town over. Hopefully I won’t have clapped eyes on that case for last time – time will tell…
Daisuke and I then went for a pleasant lunch at the local Chinese (the owner of which had been the happy recipient of my oversized Sony television) before he had to dash off to work at a private tuition school. That left me to clean, pack and tidy for about six hours solid until the arrival of Gemma around 8pm, after which time I was all but spent.
So, here I am in Sarah’s scrupulously tidy and well cared for abode which has flowers on the balcony outside and everything. All mine had was an overflowing bucket for the water pumped out by my temperamental A/C unit. Later today I should be dropping in on the family of Morimoto Sensei for dinner, perhaps kicking back by the river tomorrow afternoon and with any luck hooking up once more if possible with a couple more erstwhile colleagues by the end of the week. Let the home straight begin…
This temporary homestay is mainly intended to give me a chance to properly appreciate the fact that I’m leaving after two years, and allow me to see friends and do things out here for the last time without constantly thinking about the stress involved in sorting out my place, arranging final bills and all the other horrifically complicated and tedious things anyone has to do before they permanently move away from somewhere. All that’s done now and finally, I can afford to relax a little.
What stress it was though…with four generations of JET behind me and no one new coming to take over, it was up to me to dispose of everything in my small two bedroom flat and Wakayama High to pick up anything I couldn’t get rid of myself. A combination of lack of forward planning, two years of laziness and Japan’s restrictive waste disposal laws meant that yesterday caused me levels of stress and frustration the likes of which I never want to experience ever again. Don’t be fooled by the diminutive size of my former dwelling, it boasts an interior of TARDIS-esque proportions containing dizzying quantities of crap that filled bin liner after bin liner in the absence of anyone else wanting it. Anything usable went into cardboard boxes that I soon ran out of, everything small went into bags and several cupboards had to remain full. I fully anticipate an irate phonecall from Wakayama High’s head of administration any day now.
And all that was just the stuff I was leaving behind – there was still the issue of everything else that was coming back with me. Having packed a suitcase, a backpack, a small rucksack, a guitar case and laptop shoulder bag with all my worldly possessions it quickly became apparent just how optimistic it was to think that I could get it all on a plane. I was to find out just how optimistic when nihonjin buddy Daisuke came over in the morning, ostensibly just to pick up the oven I was giving away for his mother, bringing with him at my request a set of weighing scales. The horrible truth soon became clear – the combined weight of my baggage came to 46 kilos, exceeding my 20 kilos allowance by more than double.
(Brief note – if anyone can explain to me why it is that residents of Canada and the US are given 32 kilos baggage allowance on international flights while the rest of us mere mortals have to make do with 20, I’d love to know).
Bitterness aside, I was left with a rather large problem to say the least – if I wanted to avoid crippling excess baggage costs at the airport, a radical solution was called for. I decided to try and send my suitcase home through the post. An insane idea, admittedly, but I didn’t have much of an alternative.
So, to my profuse thanks, Daisuke agreed to come with me to the local post office and act as interpreter. Driving there on his father’s open-top pick up truck with me hanging on for dear life in the back we entered and endured an interminable ten minutes or so while we waited to be seen, another fifteen for the young guy behind the counter to say whether it was possible to do what I had in mind (it required two phonecalls and a lengthy perusal of his Post Office employees user manual – to be honest I’m not certain whether he actually worked there, such was his level of ignorance and nervousness) and another thirty for me to do the weighing and filling in of the relevant forms once we were given the go-ahead. Standard shipping costs applied, which meant fifty quid on surface delivery, expected time of arrival at destination roughly 4-6 weeks. Furthermore, I was unable to lock the case, nor insure the contents – something that could only be done at a larger branch in the next town over. Hopefully I won’t have clapped eyes on that case for last time – time will tell…
Daisuke and I then went for a pleasant lunch at the local Chinese (the owner of which had been the happy recipient of my oversized Sony television) before he had to dash off to work at a private tuition school. That left me to clean, pack and tidy for about six hours solid until the arrival of Gemma around 8pm, after which time I was all but spent.
So, here I am in Sarah’s scrupulously tidy and well cared for abode which has flowers on the balcony outside and everything. All mine had was an overflowing bucket for the water pumped out by my temperamental A/C unit. Later today I should be dropping in on the family of Morimoto Sensei for dinner, perhaps kicking back by the river tomorrow afternoon and with any luck hooking up once more if possible with a couple more erstwhile colleagues by the end of the week. Let the home straight begin…
posted by Callum | 3:31 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home