I guess I spoke too soon.
Today, I woke up bright and early and everything seemed like a normal Wednesday—I got up at 7:30, made some breakfast, showered, and got ready to go tutor one of my students. After I arrived at the subway station, I parked my bike against the outside wall of the building (like I have been doing for two weeks and like everyone else does). As you may already know from our previous blogs, absolutely EVERYONE has a bike here, which means there is a lack of space for bicycle parking. Apparently, you’re not technically supposed to park your bike outside the subway (for who knows what reason), but regardless, everyone still does.
In Japan, everyone hates the “bike police.” They are people employed by the ward offices (municipal government) and their job consists solely of taking bikes that are parked outside the subway and other illegal areas. There are about two days a month where they do a mass exodus of bikes—and today was my lucky day.
At about 10:30, I waltzed out of subway, Starbucks latte in hand. What could be better? Coffee and a sunny morning—a perfect combination. The station walls looked a little vacant as I turned the corner and as I approached the spot where I had parked my bike, I started panicking inside. One of the bike dudes (clad in a green and yellow getup) was patrolling the area looking as cocky as ever. He was eyeing me. I started to scan the parking sections nearby, but still no bike. So finally, I went up to the guy and asked where my bike was in broken Japanese. Just as I had suspected, he didn’t speak an inkling of English and replied in a long-winded Japanese sentence that was just too far over my head. What’s more, he proceeded to laugh. He probably thought it was funny that a gaijin didn’t know the complex rules about parking bikes. Or maybe he was just happy he could use/abuse his “bike police” power.
At this point, I was panicking. I had heard stories about bikes being taken away for good, with no warning or reason. Normally, when you park in an illegal spot, you get one warning. They put a red tag on your bike saying something like “you better move it or else...” I hadn’t received one in previous days, so I wasn’t worried. Anyway, the bike guy confirmed it was gone. As for where—I had no freaking clue.
So to tie this all in with my little preface, I started crying in public as hundreds of salarymen whizzed past me. The bike snatcher continued to look at me as if to say “I’ve done my job.” Naturally, I was upset and confused. I didn’t understand this bicycle snatching part of Japanese culture in the least. But I was about to.
A random passer-by approached me and started speaking in broken, but comprehendible English. I was semi-relieved. He explained that I had to call a number (that was on a piece of paper taped to the ground where the bike had been). He called it for me and started mumbling some words in Japanese. After he got off the phone, he told me where to go to pick up the bike and I pulled out my subway map to make sure I was going in the right direction. I guess he felt bad for the state I was in and he offered to come with me. I told him he didn’t have to and I could find my way, but he insisted.
We walked to another nearby subway line and began our journey to the Southern-most part of Osaka. He explained that they keep all the snatched bikes in an industrial area near Nanko Port. Although our encounter was extremely random, we chatted on the way to get the bike. He explained that he was studying for the TOEIC test (English proficiency test) and I guess he loved getting some conversation practise. I briefly thought about the dangers of venturing off with a complete stranger before we left, but it never seemed like a big problem. For some reason, I felt completely safe and at ease. His random act of kindness overshadowed everything. In the middle of the whole situation, I phoned Scott and told him what was going on. Basically, I was pressed for time and needed to get my bike back before work. When we got to our stop, we finally introduced ourselves. I had been so wrapped up in this whirlwind of unanticipated fury that I had completely forgotten. Kuni, he told me.
When Kuni and I arrived at the bike place, I had to go in and fill out a form to get my bike back. Thankfully, Kuni did the talking and sorted everything out for me. Then, I ventured though an enormous enclosed parking lot full of confiscated bicycles with a man who worked there. And of course, consistent with Japanese style, they were all arranged and sorted by the date and time which they were taken. I was relieved when I saw my bike amongst a crowd of others and unlocked it before wheeling it to the gate.
The not-so-great thing about having your bike confiscated is the fine that accompanies it. 2500 yen later, Kuni and I left. On our ride to Nanko, we had discussed shipping the bike back by taxi, but the taxi driver refused to squeeze the granny-style ride into his trunk. So, there was only one other option. We both rode the bike back to our home station, Japanese-style. This meant I had to ride on the back sideways (picture riding a horse with both legs on one side) and he pedalled. Although it might seem awkward, it wasn’t...we chatted the whole way home and tried to dodge the police on the way (riding like that is illegal and two fines in one day would just be too much). I felt sorry for him though, as he was probably getting a really good workout. After all, I’m nowhere near the size of a Japanese girl. Haha.
About forty minutes later when we got back to the station, I figured I should return his act of kindness in some way, so we exchanged emails and I told him I wanted to take him and his girlfriend out for drinks and introduce them to Scott. Needless to say, he was pretty interested in meeting a gaijin guy!
I honestly don’t think I’ve experienced anything more random in Japan, but it worked out for the best and I got my “gaij” ride back in time for work. It’s amazing what a random act of kindness can do and how much it made me realize that the world is not as bad as we sometimes make it out to be. And hey, I made a really cool Japanese friend too.
On a completely unrelated note, Scott and I made our second trip to Kyoto on Sunday. We visited two temples that Laura and Colin recommended to us—Kiyomizu and Kinkakuji (also known as the Golden Temple). Yes, these places do exsist! I don’t think words can come close to describing their beauty, so pictures will have to do for now!
Talk to you later! Miss you!
Jo & Scott
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