With Backpack

One World in One Lifetime

Let’s Go Around the World, But First…

Posted by Heliocentrism on April 1, 2017

March 23rd – 30th, 2017

Mark and I were very busy during our final week in Japan. My last day of work was on Thursday the 23rd of March. The next day we went to the hospital to get some vaccinations. That took half a day. The shots themselves, four of them, took a few seconds to be administered with 4 hours of paperwork and preamble.

First we had to fill out some questionnaires that were completely in Japanese, but we were given a translator with an electronic dictionary in hand and another helper with a never-ending portfolio of forms to fill out. In situations like this you always hope that your answer is the sort with no follow-up questions.

“Have you ever had a heart attack?” the lady translated.

“No,” Mark and I said.

“No,” usually had no addition accompanying questions.

Then they asked, “Have you ever gotten sick after getting a vaccination?”

“No,” Mark replied. “Yes,” I answered. Mark looked at me with a “Now you’ve done it” stare. “Well, I have!” I told him.

When I was 16, I was enrolled in a Florida state high school. My mother had lost my immunization card, so we had no proof that I was vaccinated. Before I could attend classes, I had to get all my shots again. It took a few days as I got shot after shot after shot. It caused me to run a high fever. The doctor at the clinic said it was nothing to worry about; it happens sometimes. I was told to rest, which I did and after a few days I was fine.

“What shot was it?” the lady asked.

“I don’t remember. There were many. You know, the usual… for an American?”

Follow up questions came pouring in. “What year?” “How old were you?” “What it a combo shot?”

Mark looked at the paper. “Can she change it to, ‘no’ for that one and we just move on?” But the two hospital employees were deep into discussing what other questions I needed to be asked. They stopped some nurses who made the mistake of walking by at that very moment and dragged a few more questions for me out of them.

“Sorry,” I said to Mark. He just rubbed his eyes. “Just try to say, ‘no’ from now on. That’s the best answer.”

This is not actually City Hall; it’s the winery. I just assumed that you won’t care either way.

In the afternoon we stopped by City Hall. One cannot just pack up and leave Japan. First, one’s weight in paperwork must be filled out. We asked for the forms needed to leave Japan.

“When are you coming back?” the nice lady smiled and asked in Japanese.

“No.” My Japanese is not so good.

“No?” She was astonished. “You live in Japan now?”


“At which schools do you work?”

I listed my schools and Mark’s one school.

“And, you’re not coming back to work?”


She seemed to not be very satisfied with my answer. I turned to Mark and whispered, “They can’t refuse to let us leave, can they?”

The lady was carrying on a conversation with herself which I could not fully understand. She was definitely listing things. I got the dreaded feeling we would be there all afternoon. Another lady came by and led us to a cubical around the corner.

She asked us the same questions. “So, let me get this straight. You two, the both of you, are leaving Japan for good?”


“And you’re not coming back?”

“Yes.” Sometimes, you have to answer “yes” in Japanese when you would answer “no” in English.



“Never, ever?”


“For realses?”

“Yes. For realses.”

She asked us a couple more times. I think that she was not sure we understood Japanese too well. She might have just been checking so that the city hall workers weren’t starting our “leaving Japan” paperwork, only to find out what we really wanted were directions to the bathroom.

The weekend we packed and repacked our backpacks making them lighter with each re-pack.

We also started throwing away all of our possessions no one wanted to buy or take. This was a lot harder than you would think. Most of the difficulty had nothing to do with any emotional connections we felt towards our stuff. In Japan you can’t just throw something away.

There are color-coded bags that need to be used. Everything goes into some bag. You have to put everything in the right bag or the garbage man won’t take it… We actually had a Homer Simpson-like stand-off with the garbage men once, where they just refused to take our trash. Unlike Homer, it was not because of our stubbornness. We just had no idea what we were doing wrong.

Me: “Did they take the bag of glass bottles this time?”

Mark: “No. And, I don’t know why.”

Me: “Did you use a blue #4 bag?”

Mark: “Yes!”

Me: “Is there only glass in that bag? No plastic bottles posing as glass.”

Mark: “No. Those pesky plastic bottle didn’t get passed me this time.”

Me: “Did you wash all the glass bottles and remove all the labels?”

Mark: “We have the cleanest trash in this whole neighborhood!”

Me: “Did you put it out on the correct day?”

Mark: “Yes. The 3rd Wednesday of the month.”

Me: “And, you took the caps off and put them in either a blue and yellow #6 bag for soft plastic, a red #3 bag for hard plastic, or a different red #3 bag for metal?”

Mark: “Yes.”

Me: “I’m out of ideas…”

The problem was that Mark had the audacity to put clear glass bottles in the same blue #4 bag as green and brown glass bottles. If you ever hear of a Japanese person lighting his own house on fire, it might not be for insurance fraud purposes. He might just have gotten tired of sorting through the maze that is the recycling/ trash process in Japan.

Who will take our dead computers off our hands?

Adding to our stress was that on Sunday I came down with a really bad cold, then Mark caught it. We would get up, take some Day-quil. Pack. Nap. Take ibuprofen for our fevers. Throw away stuff. Nap. Take NyQuil. Throw more stuff away. Then fall asleep once the NyQuil kicked in.

On Monday we had to drive all the way down to Hiroshima City. My US driver’s license expires in April and I’m not too confident that I can get it renewed in the mail. I did all the paperwork and stuff, but I feel like something will go wrong. So I renewed my Japanese driver’s license, which expires in May, just in case. Mark and I also got international driver’s licenses for the trip.

By Wednesday evening we had a completely empty apartment. The gas man came over, gave us our last gas bill, and turned the gas off. The water man came by and did the same. The electric man also came by, collected the last payment, and told me to turn off the switch the next day before we left.

With no heaters in the apartment it was very cold. Mark and I walked to the nearest mall, which is also a community center, to waste some time and drink coffee. I felt ill at ease.

“I’m a bit nervous, but I don’t know why,” I told Mark. “I thought you would love not working for a year,” he teased. “Well, yes,” I said. “That’s the part I’m most looking forward to.”

I sighed, “Maybe it’s knowing that I will no longer have health insurance.”

“We HAVE health insurance; the travel insurance,” Mark corrected me.

“Then I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s not like I’ve never done something kind of like this before.”

Mark leaned in and asked, “Do you think something bad will happen?”

“I’m sure something bad will happen. Something bad always happens. But I think it will be more entertainingly bad that will make my blog more interesting and not some like, ‘And they were never heard from again Dot Dot Dot.’”

A little apprehensive.

“Well then just relax,” Mark said. “You’re on vacation.”

I tried. But, my stomach hurt.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: