As opposed to entering into one’s first year, the transition into an ALT’s second year is a breeze; almost all loose ends (cell phone and internet contracts, insurance etc.) have been tied. However, for any ALT that requires a car for getting to and from school there is one factor that looms over the end of the first year like an impending research paper. That is, due to the fact that most international driver’s permits expire within one year all driving ALTs who re-contract must acquire a Japanese driver’s license.
Long, arduous, expensive and stupefying. These are just some of the words that I have heard from the people who have acquired a Japanese license and lived to tell their tale. To be completely honest, I was a bit shaken by these accounts, or should I say survival stories, and the loathing that still lingered in the hearts of the survivors themselves. But I am a good driver, I thought to myself, what could be so bad.
I do not have the best history with departments of licensing. When I went to get my license in Seattle I remember I was turned away because my Mother, who accompanied me to the DOL, did not have any document proving she was my parent-as if our faces weren’t enough proof. In light of my past experiences with the strict DOL, I thought I would take extra precaution in gathering my documentation as to avoid any further disappointment and a huge waste of time; the closest DOL that offers the driver’s test is in the city of Chosa, two hours south of Akune. Having pushed the haunting tales from my friends as far back in my consciousness as possible, I drove down to Chosa with all the confidence in the world. ‘What could really be so bad about the Japanese DOL, I have everything in order anyway, I thought to myself as I headed south on the mountain highways of Kagoshima. I presented my diligently compiled folder of documentation expecting to be able to the test right then and there. To my astonishment I was turned away due to insufficient documentation. What? In the end I learned that I was lacking the document stating the date on which I received my first license (yeah, the one I was almost refused of at the tender age of sixteen). I had no choice but to muster a smile out of my face, twisted with frustration, and tell The Man that I would be taking the proper steps to acquire the now ancient piece of plastic. I had underestimated the beast.
With all my documents gathered and my confidence returned, I took another trip to Chosa to meet my licensing fate. That day I was to take three exams: an eye exam; a written traffic knowledge exam; and the practical driving exam. I wasn’t nervous about the former two, but the latter certainly had me on the edge of my seat. I passed the eye exam. I got 100% on the written exam–granted it was made up of ten true or false questions that could’ve answered in my sleep-, but when it came to the practical test, I couldn’t quite get enough points, or at least that is what the stone faced proctor told me when I finished what I thought was a more than decent run of the course. Oh, the course.
The course is small and designed for failure. When driving the course, one must always: maintain a distance of 30 centimeters away from the white line on the left side of the road; hug the center line when approaching a right turn; do a full check of all mirrors and the appropriate shoulder before signaling and turning and when approaching an unmarked intersection (ie. a majority of the course); and, of course, maintain the speed limit. If one were to abide by the aforementioned rules and take a video of a perfect run of the course it would look like someone got behind the wheel after a bottle of shochu and left their signal on the whole time.
Ironically, as I nursed my sore next from all the shoulder checks I had done, the proctor shared with me how I could do better on my next test: do more shoulder checks. On the drive home from Chosa that day I pondered the three valuable lessons I learned that day. One being, the name practical test should be taken at face value. Also, if you want to pass the test and walk away without a neck-brace, you must be a relative of Gumby. And finally, a majority of the skills that one acquires to successfully navigate the course should immediately be forgotten, lest a tragic accident happen when leaving the DOL parking lot with your brand new license.
In other, navigating-related news, Captain Matsunaga finally finished preparing his boat, the Kamome-maru (The Seagull), for its periodical inspection that had kept it moored for so long. My readers, you must understand, the Captain has been talking about his boat daily for the past eleven months I have been here. So, when he gave me a call at 16:16 (one minute after I finish work) last Wednesday I knew that I needed to get a swimsuit and head to the Akasegawa marina, and fast.
The Captain
It was a beautiful late afternoon, the perfect conditions for Kamome-maru’s first voyage out of the port this year. When I pulled up to the port I saw a glow coming from the inside of the yacht. From the cabin emerged Captain Matsunaga smiling ear-to-ear; there is nothing like the relationship with a man and his boat. Within no time the ocean breeze was rushing against my face as I pulled ropes back and forth, tacking the sail to catch a mild southwest wind. We were heading for Akune Oshima (literally, big island), which sits about two kilometers off of Akune’s shoreline. After I took a short dip in the crystal clear water’s of Oshima’s swimming area, the Captain, totally in his element, decided that we would circumnavigate Oshima before heading back to the marina. As we made our way around Oshima, I saw, for the first time, Akune from the sea and an astonishingly fast flying fish.
Akune from the sea
The Captain out at sea
The northern tip of Akune Oshima, on our way back to Akasegawa
In light of my recent trafficking tribulations I would like to leave you with this Japanese proverb:
既往は咎めず (kiouha, togamezu)
Let bygones be bygones.
Ajisai (Hydrangea)
