Japan, so far at least

My first blog and first post! What to write?
Ok.. I’m now in Nagoya, cental Honshu. Roughly four months have passed since i booked my one-way ticket to Japan and my aim is simply to write about what’s gone on inbetween, and then try to keep it up to date from then on.
[edit since writing this post]
So I’m now back in Osaka after the 5 week trip back up North you’ll read about later. I’ve just decided to channel more creativitey into this blog by presenting it as a book written essentialy in the quick and easy blog format. So as you’ll see if you stick with it, its basically a blog from a journal, turned into a rough book in a blogging style! No editing out, no emphasis on correct spelling, and best of all you can read it as i write it. [sorry if this ruined any continuity?!.]

So from Heathrow to Frankfurt, and from Frankfurt to Tokyo, I arrived at Narita airport customs desk:

C-Customs guy
M=Me

C”Your passport please. [i hand it over]. Thankyou”
C: “How long will you stay in Japan?”
M: “err….. Hmm… Maybe 3 months?”
C: [changes　body language and tone] I see. What is your purpose in Japan?
M: Tourism
C: What is your itinerary?
M: Sorry… i havent thought that far ahead. I have a guide book though. i’ll use that.
C: [nice and long pause, worried look, and puzzled smile] Where do you stay in Tokyo?
M: [i hand over a printed website] Here… Minami senju youth hostel

At this point, he presses a buzzer and calls his mate. They stand behind the desk periodically glancing at the naiive gaijin whilst talking. 15 minutes pass and I’m now the only one still not passed through customs. All the time im thinking, ‘Shit me, im gonna have to go back. All my mates are gonna love this! Typical comical Chris… At least he tried!’

All of a sudden my daydream is interrupted with smiles and signals to pass. My passport is stamped.
Fuck!! I’m in Japan? Not yet, first a detour to the cupboard where im searched and asked stupid questions: “Do you have any pornograpy with you?” At this point, im emptying my pockets and glance at the screen on my ipod. In the perfect timing, typical only to myself, its donning a colour image of some girl, pussy spread wide. He sees my shocked reaction.. think fast Chris. “flat battery”, i say. Nice one Chris, he’s convinced: A flat battery is a bitch afterall.
Then he points to a list of some common drugs with clumsy pictures and asks me if i’ve taken any of them: A difficult No, but i’ve got this guy my pocket. He wants no smiles, no body movement and solid but quick eye contact.
Anyhow, after the cupboard and its complete disruption of my carefully packed rucksack, i wave goodbye and walk on. Where’s the smoking room? I’m dying for a fag. It’s my last Embassy No1. I really miss them. One the plus, cigarretts are only a quid over here, some nice ones too.