With Backpack

One World in One Lifetime

Back Home in Japan

Posted by Heliocentrism on August 8, 2014

Sunday May 5, 2013

This time I knew I was not in Japan!

Late (for reals this time!)

Vera and I both had morning flights about half an hour apart. She was heading to South Korea and I to Japan. We got on an airport limousine and were zooming down the highway. Then we hit traffic. There was nothing we could do.

I made it just in time to catch my flight. They let me jump the line at the security check and I ran to my gate. I was the last person to get on the plane. I took my seat and caught my breath.

This time when we stopped in Qingdao I was aware of it. There was no mistaking any city in China for any city in Japan.

This is all I have.

Are you sure you don’t mean South Korea?

When I got to the airport in Fukuoka there was a blue bin with my name on it going around the carousel. I knew that it meant that my bag was lost. Although I made the flight from China, my bag did not. I took the bin over to a counter and started filing a report. The airline officials asked me to describe my bag and its contents.

It was a new bag and I could not quite remember what it looked like. It was blue and it was a backpack… “Where did you come from?” the uniformed man asked me. “China,” I said. “You were in China the whole time?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “I was in China for about 3 days total. The rest of the time I was in North Korea.”

“You were in South Korea,” he corrected me.

“No sir. I was in North Korea.”

“Are you American?” he asked looking at my passport.

“I am.”

“Then you can’t go to North Korea. Are you sure you weren’t in Seoul?”

“I lived in Seoul for 2 years. If I were there just now, I would not have mistaken it for anywhere else. I was in Pyongyang, North Korea. The bag should have a sticker on it saying as much.” Then I pulled out a copy of the Pyongyang Times I had on me and handed it to the official. I might not know the Qingdao airport from the Beijing airport, but I know the difference between Seoul and Pyongyang.

I don’t think Seoul is spelled with a P.

He took the newspaper and said the Japanese equivalent to “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! This is North Korea!”

“I know.”

“It’s dangerous!”

“I know.”

“You were there!?”

“I was.”

He turned to a colleague and told her what was going on in Japanese. She shook her head in disbelief. He handed her the newspaper. She took the paper and looked at the photos. She asked him something and he then asked me, “Why is the newspaper in English?”

“For westerners to read and see how wonderful North Korea is,” I responded.

“Is it really wonderful?” Both he and the lady seemed to have stopped breathing waiting for my response. Maybe they thought I was brainwashed or something.

“No. It’s a crazy place where nothing normal happens. It’s a lot of things, but wonderful is not one of them.”

They seemed satisfied with that answer and finished filling out the form for my bag. It was still in China and would be delivered to my apartment in a few days.

That was great for me since I had to take public transportation from Fukuoka to Oita. Not having a big bag to carry made my life easier and China Eastern paid the delivery charges.

An anonymous co-worker and me

You’re back, wow!

The reactions from my co-workers when I got back was a little surprising. Before I left I found several treats left on my desk while I was in class. It was a bit more than the usual amount of surprise candy one can expect to find on one’s desk if one works in Japan. It was around the end of May when the big teacher mix-up happens so, I figured that was the reason.

At the end of the school year, which in Japan is around May, teachers get reassigned schools. A teacher can expect to work about 3 years at any given school and after the 3 years, the teacher can be moved to any other school in the prefecture. People get weepy and nostalgic and they tend to give each other gifts to say goodbye and thanks.

I did get more stuff than the other teachers, but it was my last year so I didn’t give it anymore thought. When I entered the teachers’ office on my first day back I heard a sigh of relief from some of my co-workers. One even came up to me and said, “Oh you’re back, wow! We were worried about your trip.”

Some of them thought I was not coming back!?

In China Vera and I found a shop that sold the same fruit candy stuff the twins had. We bought some for our co-workers. They were a big hit with the teachers. They would take one and walk over to my desk and ask questions about my trip and thank me for the candy. The treats I brought them from North Korea did not get eaten so quickly. I teach at two schools and the Chinese candies disappeared quickly at both schools, but the North Korean candy just sat there.

Sweets from a tea ceremony done at one of my schools.

I had one more meeting with the principal. He wanted to hear all about my trip. He remembered the questions I had about North Korea when I spoke in previous meetings. “So, what is North Korea like?” he asked through a translator.

“It’s a weird place filled with contradictions and propaganda. People have to appear to hold facts in their hearts that do not stand up to any scrutiny. Some of them seem very curious about the world outside North Korea.”

“What do North Koreans look like?”

“They are very slim. The only non-skinny person I saw there was the Dear Guide. He was quite an anomaly. Other than that, they look just like South Koreans or the Chinese only slimmer and shorter.”

“What do they eat?”

“North Korea’s food is like South Korean food, only not as spicy or flavorful. I much rather the food in South Korea, China, or Japan to the food in North Korea. Their pizza, however, is great!”

“Do they have chocolate over there?”

“No! That stuff is not chocolate!”

“Do they have Chinese or Russian friends?”


“What kind of music do they listen to?”

“State sanctioned music. But, if they are giving tours to westerners one may belt out a verse of Edelweiss.”



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