When I told my fellow teachers at my new academy in Deagu that I was soon off to Japan for a visa run, I got consistent looks of ‘Poor you!’ and disheartened comments of ‘Ah, the dreaded visa run.” I couldn’t understand the negativity.  My mind was like ‘Whoo-hoo! I get to go to JAPAN and see a country I’ve never visited before!’  I was super excited and instantly on arriving at Fukuoka Airport sought out the Tourist Information centre to find out what there was to do in the city and what day trips I could take.

One particular brochure jumped off the shelf.  It was a picture of a punting boat along a cherry blossom tree-lined waterway with the title ‘Welcome to Yanagawa: The City of Water’. Claiming to be a mere 47 minutes by express train from Fukuoka Tenjin station, I was sold and mapped it into my itinerary for the full day free I had between dropping off and picking up my visa.

I excitedly woke on the Tuesday morning and made my way to Tenjin station and headed for the Nishitetsu Train line on 2F. A lovely English speaking assistant at the ticket office handed me a flyer for a ‘Leisurely Yanagawa Holiday Ticket’, which for a mere 3,170JY (US$28.50) you were issued with a round trip train ticket, a ticket for a 70 minute punting boat trip on the canal waterways, and use of the hot spring facilities at Kanpo-no-Yado.  Sounded just like the chilled out day I was craving.  With the ticket purchased, I had just enough time to grab a juice and a pastry from a bakery in the station before jumping on the train out of town.

The helpful flyer conveniently showed the train station stops, so there was no danger of getting lost despite all signage and announcements being in the undiscernable to me Japanese!  Upon arriving several helpful staff, clearly pegging me as a tourist with my white skin, directed me to a free shuttle bus that delivered me to the Shogetsu Dock for the start of the punting trip. Within 10 minutes of arriving, I was boarded on the wide, low-level boat called a ‘Donko-bune’ heading downstream through peaceful and narrow waterways.

The very cheery and broad-smiled punter gave a running commentary in Japanese, which was lost on me, however, he did helpfully chirp in with a few English words now and again like ‘Right, orange!’  Yep, there on the right was a tree with an orange hanging from it. The trip was still spectacular though.  Wafts of sweet jasmine caressed my nose whilst my eyes were dazzled by the bright pink azaleas hugging the shoreline. Light purple wisteria drooped from the tree branches above.  The tranquility was welcoming after the bustle of a crowded Fukuoka. The ‘Sendo’ (our boatman) frequently broke into listful Japanese tunes to add to the atmosphere and we even had a stop for some green tea ice-cream, which was very welcoming on this blisteringly hot April day.

With perfect timing, our journey came to an end in the historic centre at around lunchtime.  From the canal way, I had spotted a traditional Japanese restaurant that looked picturesque and that I suspected served the local famous dish of ‘unagi no seiro-mushi’, which is dipped and broiled eel on a soy-based sauce flavored with rice and then steamed. The brochure claimed that ‘Once you have it, you’ll never forget it.’  Little did I know at the time, just how embarrassingly true that statement would become!

Those who know me well, know that I like nothing more than trying out a local delicacy and I couldn’t wait to sink my tastebuds into this one.  I was like a giddy school girl as I opened the sliding wooden door into the establishment that revealed a raised room where the floor was covered in bamboo mats and people were seated cross-legged on the floor around low brown lacquered tables.  True Japanese-style!  I took my shoes off at the door and headed in where an elderly lady led me to a table at the back where I unceremoniously plopped uncomfortably onto a blue silk square cushion.  There was a laminated picture of the dish I sought out on the table.  Yippee!  The waitress came over and opened up the menu, which was all in Japanese characters, including the amounts, and then pointed to the picture which showed a couple of items. Would I like 1 and 2 or 1, 2 and 3.  Knowing my cash funds were limited, I sensibly choose just 1 and 2.

Whilst I waited for the food to arrive, I was given a teapot of delicate green tea, but I hardly had time to sip any of it before my bento boxes arrived.  The main dish came in a red lacquered rectangular box with three Japanese characters in black on front.  I lifted off the lid to see four squares of braised eel resting on a bed of soy drenched rice with a ribbon of shredded omelets down the middle. In a small round black bowl was a delicious miso soup which had a distinctive smoky flavor combined with the traditional seaweed floating in the bottom and bright green herbs resting on top. I loved the miso, but sadly I wasn’t overwhelmed with the eel.  It was nice, but nothing so gastronomic that I would be forever remembering its tastes.

That said, I was slightly struggling to enjoy my meal as I had a sinking feeling that the cost was more than I had in cash in my pocket and suspected that they did not take credit cards.  I eyed up some of the other guests as they left.  One lone man catty corner from me withdrew what look liked four 1,000 Japanese Yen blue notes from his wallet.  I thought to myself ‘Surely not.  These meal can not cost more than 3,000 JPY for one person.  He must have ordered a beer and something else.’  Well, I was right to be worried.  The bill was 3,300JPY (Roughly US$30)! More than my whole excursion cost.  I sheepishly pulled out my credit card, knowing full well that she wouldn’t take it.  I then emptied my pockets to show the lady that I didn’t have enough cash.  Some loose change and 2,000 JPY fell out.  I mouthed ‘ATM?’ She gave some directions in Japanese and pointed down the street.  I left my handbag behind as a sign to say ‘I will return!’ and headed off in search of an ATM that I also knew would be pointless as a means to getting cash.

You see, I was already aware that my main debit card wasn’t working.  I had found that out in South Korea, when I learned that the chip had stopped.  I did find an ATM and tried my credit card to withdraw cash.  No luck.  That has been the way with most ATMs I had found in both Korea and Japan, they just didn’t take foreign cards.  I tried the broken debit card out of desparation.  No luck there either.  At this stage I was willing to approach any Westerner and potentially English speaking person I saw and explain the situation and see if they would give me some Yen in exchange for a UK20 pound note I had.  Seriously, I would have done that if I had actually seen a Westerner, but I had not seen another white person since I arrived in Japan two days ago.  I appeared to be the only Non-Asian Tourist in the region.  And no one spoke English good enough to explain my very embracing predicament. 

I went back to the restaurant, head bowed, and tried to explain the situation.  I asked in my best miming way for directions to a bank.  She responded in Japanese and pointed off into a different direction.  I asked her to mark it on a map.  I took off again, not sure how I was going to resolve this issue, but feeling surprisingly calm and reassured that I’d find a way out of this somehow. I’ve learned over my years of traveling that you can’t worry about these things; you just have to trust that it will be alright in the end.  And if all fails, play the dumb tourist card! 

I finally reached the junction the lady circled on the map.  I peered as far as I could see in all directions.  No bank to change my 20pound note in.  Then across the street I spotted a 7 Eleven and remembered that in one of the Fukuoka maps I had picked up there had been an advertisement for ATMs at 7 Elevens that accepted international cards. This was my final hope.  I prayed to the travel gods and crossed the street. Everything rested an STA Cashcard I didn’t know whether or not worked and I hadn’t used in 18 months. 

After my debit card died two days ago, I had desperately searched for alternative ways to get some cash before my payday in one months time.  I didn’t have enough on me to last a month, and not everywhere excepted credit cards.  My bank had first suggested that I try another debit card I had.  A lightening bolt went off in my head.  ‘Why yes, I did have another card with my bank which was linked to another account.’  I had by bank transfer all my funds to that account, but when I went to the ATM realized that that debit card had expired two years ago.  I then remembered an STA Cashcard I had for emergency situations when I went traveling around the world.  I was in luck!  It was still valid, but I had no idea what the pin was or how to get money transferred onto the account as I hadn’t used it since October 2014.  I had tried in vain to transfer over a small amount, but I did something wrong and it never arrived.  After talking to an agent, who walked me through the correct steps to load money onto the card, I had then transferred over all my remaining cash funds to the STA Cashcard.

As I walked into the 7 Eleven, I was unsure if my funds had been successfully transferred over. Moreover, I had no real idea what the pin was.  With fingers and toes crossed, I put the card in to the ATM.  There was a button for English.  Good start.  There was a sign that said international Mastercards accepted.  Fantastic! I punched in my suspected four digit pen and was then asked how much money I wanted.  Positive. Then the dreaded words I had seen so many times before in the last few days came up – processing.  I waited.  And then I heard it.  The unmistakable sound of the machine counting cash!  My card was spit out and the counting sound continued.  And viola! The travel gods must have heard my prayer, as there before me was 6,000 in crisp Japanese notes.

I am not sure what I would have done if that Cashcard didn’t work, but was extremely grateful to be able to walk back into the restaurant this time with my cash in hand.  I sheepishly retrieved my handbag and walked out with my head bowed.  Lessons learned.  Always have more cash than you need and Never order something if you don’t know how much it costs and if you can pay for it!

This was a terrible loss of face.  I only just got away with it because I was a foreign tourist.  The same incident would have caused unbearable shame for a local Japanese I’m sure.  I’ve heard of incidences where Asians would rather face death than loose face.  Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Outliers, tells a true account of a Korean first pilot who was acutely aware that the captain of a commercial airplane was not reading the instruments correctly and if he didn’t change course then the plane would slam into a mountain just ahead.  The first pilot knew this, but felt that he could not tell his boss he was wrong so did nothing.  He choose his own death and killing all 300 passengers on board instead of loosing face.  This is a true story. And it happened more than once. Think about it!

Luckily, I’m Western and I soon forgot about my mishap and headed off down a tree-lined canal path to find the hot spring baths.  Along the canal sat the imposing Kanpo-no-Yado hotel.  I exchanged my ticket at reception and she asked me if I had a towel.  I replied, ‘I don’t have a towel, but I have a swimsuit.’  Her response, ‘No swimsuit allowed.  Need towel.  Must buy.’ Ah, it was one of those kinds of baths.  You go in naked. I purchased a towel and found my way to the ladies dressing room and baths.  At least they were segmented by sexes.  I stripped off and tried to wrap my towel around my waist like I saw the tiny local ladies doing.  It only went about half way around. I thought to myself, ‘Well I guess they are about to see me butt naked soon anyway.’  So held my towel up to my breasts and let it dangle down to provide some modesty.

Before the pools, you had to sit and shower. All the amenities were provided. Still I was feeling quite exposed with no swimsuit on.  When I finally wandered out into the bathing area, I was gratefully the only one there.  I slide into the hot spring bath first and let the stress of the last few hours wash off me.  Before  long three older Japanese ladies arrived.  They seemed surprised to see a Western tourist there.  I got the feeling that I might have genuinely been the first white person to ever venture there! I have to say, it was the first time in my life that I’ve never seen another Western tourist.  There is always at least a few around. Not here!  One older lady from the local region started to talk to me.  She knew enough broken English words for us to have a rough conversation.  She was inquisitive and even invited me to come stay with her one day, when I next came back.  The Japanese are so generous and kind.  Still, it was hard to converse with a stranger when their boobs are floating just above the water line in plain site.  At one point I got too hot and had to walk across to the cold bath.  There was no point in trying to cover anything up.  So I gingerly went over, everything hanging out for all the old ladies to peer out.  I had already lost face today, and I had little shame left in loosing my dignity too!

After a relaxing hour in the baths, I made me way back to the historical centre.  I had one hour to spare before the free shuttle bus back to the train station, so decided to visit the 1738 Ohana villa.  The villa was ordered to be built by Sadayoshi Tachibana, the 5th feudal lord.  It has had several extensions over the years, including the addition of a two story, white, Western style building and a modern Japanese garden in the back. 

As everything was in Japanese I didn’t get much from the tour, but I did like the large display of ‘Sagemon’.  When a girl is born, parents make these hanging colorful mobiles of yarned Mari handballs, lucky cranes, rabbits, and treasure bags as a way to wish for their baby to grow into a beautiful, strong and proud woman, who is blessed with happiness and good luck. 

As I starred at the amazing displays, I couldn’t help but think of my own parents and their probably similar wishes for me when I was just a baby.  I may have lost face and my dignity today, but I still felt I could hold my head high.  I had managed to navigate myself through a foreign country on my own, where English is not really spoken by anyone, apart from a few words.  I was lucky enough to find a resolution to my potentially tricky problem.  And more importantly I maintained my humor throughout.  It was a beautiful day which filled my heart with much happiness.  If only my parents could have witnessed me today and the woman their baby has become. If they had, I hope they’d feel that their similar Sagemon-type wishes for me had come true.