September 2009 Archives

I had chosen the window seat, for the view, you see.  Of course, the window was at least foot past my chair, meaning I had to bend forward whenever I actually wanted to look out of the window.  I was squished against the wall, with two other people next to me.  The man on the aisle never spoke during the thirteen hour ordeal, but then again, he didn't have to.  Over the course of the flight, it was like watching a zombie outbreak occur in the plane.  That only left the girl in the middle, Yuna.

I'll break down the flight with an easy to understand ratio.  As it gets increasing more awkward between Yuna and myself, the rest of the plane slowly succumbs to the rage virus or some kind of mobile bird flu of some sort.

Yuna: Getting to know each other.      
Man on the aisle: Healthy

The girl next to me was named Yuna Kanai.  She had just finished a study abroad over in America  and was finally being shipped back to Japan.  We made small talk at first, listed our universities and why we were on the plane.  It was then that Yuna (the first of many people) asked me why I was going to Japan.  After mumbling through an answer, she gave me some great advice.

"Don't go to Japan.  It's boring.  You should stay in America"

Off to a great start.

Yuna and I: Reading teenage girl fashion magazines (awkward)    
Man on the aisle: Has a blanket wrapped up to his neck

Yuna then asked me if I could read Japanese.  I told her I had only studied the language for about eight weeks.  This was apparently code for, "hey let me test you by reading this teenage girl magazine!  That's all in Japanese!"  As I miserably tried to make my way through the magazine, Yuna stared at me with wonder, as if I was some kind of animal that had lumbered its way onto the plane.  She then asked me, "Do you like Japanese women?  Do you think they hot?"

Yuna and I: Having a conversation about my tastes in Asian women...while I'm talking to an Asian woman.
Man on the aisle: Has a sleep mask on, the blanket around his neck, and is beginning to cough.

I was dumbfounded at her question.  Regaining my composure, I told her, "I love all kinds of women.  Problem is, they don't really dig me."  She shook her head knowingly and told me, "I don't like Japanese men.  They're too small and skinny."  It was at this point that she eyed me up and then said, "I like bigger guys.  I like American guys."  She smiled at me.  Which leads me to...

Yuna and I: No longer talking but in the midst of some kind of verbal non-romantic/romantic tango (and I only do the robot).
Man on the aisle:  Blanket, check. Sleep mask, check.  Surgical face mask, check.  Wait, what?

The whole plane was like the man on the aisle.  Most were bundled up in some kind of comatose state, with every orifice covered.  Yuna and I were, well, I'm not quite sure of what was going on.  What bothered me was, at this point in my trip It looked like Gray was right about my superstar sexual idol status in Japan.  I was going to be worshiped, have golden statues built in my name, the works. 

Yuna got up to stretch her legs and I decided to dodge the awkward bullet my watching a wonderful in-flight movie.  My choices were:  Terminator Salvation (pretty bad), Night at the Museum 2 (surprisingly good, the first two and a half times...), Angels and Demons (blandy Mcbland bland), and X-Men Origins: Wolverine (horrible).  I put on Night at the Museum and pretended to be deeply engrossed by the moving storyline and pretty decent jokes, mixed with great acting and--SPONSORED BY 20TH CENTURY FOX AND MOUNTAIN DEW!  DEW THE DEW!

Ahem, let's continue.

Yuna and I: watching mediocre movies to avoid conversation
Man on the aisle: Died and came back to life as zombie.  He took a bite out of a flight attendant.  I was forced to use my plastic butter knife to pierce his skull.

Eventually, Yuna and I stopped talking altogether.  I made some kind of halfhearted attempt to keep up the conversation, but her once lusty eyes turned the color of custard apathy.  I was trying to make some kind of food analogy, but that didn't work out, did it? 

We exchanged information and made the dullest of non-friend promises, to facebook each other (which we have since done).  Oh, and during the second half of the flight, the man next to me bit me (maybe) and I developed a pretty horrendous migraine.  Either way, sleeping on a plane is like mixing Nyquil, Dayquil, Pop Rocks, Mentos, and Coke all together.  I spent most of it in some kind of feverish dream state, waking up every eleven minutes to find Yuna starting at me with evil glee (okay she didn't but it makes for a more interesting blog entry).

When the plane landed, Yuna left without saying anything.  I watched as she grabbed her carry on and march off the plane.  Gray was only a few people away from her and I found it funny that these two people that had both shared parts of themselves with me were so close to each other, and yet had no idea of their shared connection.  Neither traveler said goodbye when they left, and in a way, that made me feel an old loneliness: the brevity and anonymity of being a true traveler.  These people, these memories were fleeting, passing by quickly and without meaning, unless I assigned some meaning to them.

Obviously, I did.  Gray and Yuna were two sides of a coin.  Gray, the womanizer who only loved Asian women, and Yuna, who found Japanese men undesirable and longed to return to America and it's men.  Each was in a place they didn't belong, for one reason or another, and I knew that neither one of them might end up where they wanted.

I wondered where it was that I was going to end up, and if I would be happy when I arrived.  With these thoughts weighing heavily on my mind, I eased into the hard back, plastic chair and waited in the Narita Airport Terminal in Tokyo and waited for my final flight to Osaka to board.

At the Chicago airport, a Russian woman changes my dollars into yen.  Her accent is thick and I pass her my money without knowing exactly what I'm doing.  This does not bode well.  I'm now carrying 30,000 Yen (around 300 dollars) on me.  I didn't know if it would be enough, but at the time, I was numb by how fate had catapulted me out of my home country without protest.

I still had 1.37 in American cash on me and I decided to stop by the airport McDonalds to drown my insecurities in the dollar menu.  Unbeknownst to me, there is no such thing as the dollar menu in the airport.  Because of their monopoly on overpriced, artery clogging cuisine, there is only the 3.00 menu, consisting of a hamburger and cheeseburger.  In that moment, I realized that I would not be eating until I got on the plane.  The nightmare was real...I was going to have to rely on airplane food.  My insides were not going to go quietly on this one, I knew.

As if my nerves were not shaken enough , fate kicked me in the ol' bag of marbles as a voice called out to me.  "Hey, where you headed?"  From a small cafe table where I had stashed my carry ons, I turned to face a young looking, Asian dude.  I told him I was headed to the Narita airport, but my final destination was--

"Yeah, me too.  So, this your first time to Japan?"  It indeed was.  I'd always wanted--  "I teach English there."  I asked him if he was from the JET (Japanese Exchange Teaching) program but-- "I work at a private school.  Been doing that for three years." 

Now it was my turn to cut him off (and it felt satisfying).  Rather than reproduce our entire, mostly one sided conversation, let me tell you more about the man I would come to call Gray.

We never gave/exchanged names.  I wanted to be polite, but something about him struck me in such a way that the more we talked, the less I wanted to know about him. The only clue to his real name was found in a garbled transmission over the airport's PA system when he was called to confirm his ticket.  The only part I could make out sounded like...well, you get the picture.

Gray was twenty-nine and was what we call in the life biz as an arrogant poopy pants.  This is not opinion, but fact.  He had used to be a stock broker during the fat years in which the housing bubble had yet to burst.  Gray had made a fortune and then decided the life wasn't for him.  He then had lived off his savings and traveled the world, taking fourteen months to backpack across Europe.  He had many trysts with various European women.

After this, he journeyed to Africa where he met up with a Danish guy and Scotsman who were randomly looking for traveling partners.  He saw a cute, lost Japanese girl and invited her along.  Many physical encounters were had by all, or at least between Gray and the girl.  He would later go on to date this girl and eventually followed her back to Japan to stay with her.  That's why he was teaching there.

Or until they broke up.  Then he dated a Korean girl, moved to Korea and taught for a year or so there.  Until....you guessed it.

He was currently dating another Japanese girl and was, Bueller?  Bueller?  Anyone?  Tariffs?  I digress. 
f
Gray told me about his first night in Tokyo, finding a nightclub in Roppongi (Tokyo's infamous red light district), stumbling into a private party, and because a guest found him attractive, he was in.  He would later go into great detail on what the rest of the night entailed, however, I'll spare you those details.  Lets just say I finally discovered where babies come from (booze and low self esteem, it seems).

Gray asked me if I was dating someone and by that he meant if it was a Western woman.  I was indeed, but he ignored that and told me it wouldn't matter, I was going to "sample" all of what Japan had to offer.  When I again brought up that I was already happily taken (if you're reading this, Kid.  If not, all you ladies can contact me at...) he told me that it was only natural to "stray" as he had...

He assured me the epiphany I would undergo was not cheating, but he said it in the same way any liar who tries to convince themselves of anything--with eyes that look past you, guilty eyes that look back at a past self that no longer exists.

I asked him about his current girlfriend but he waved his hand dismissively, explaining that he couldn't see it working out, but he was okay for staying in Japan for a few more years.  At this point, I think he realized he had told a complete stranger far more about his ugliness than he first realized.  His garbled name blared over the loudspeaker and he got up, and did not look at me again when we saw each other on the flight.

My meeting with the man named Gray only left me with questions, as it might you, my wonderful readers.  Why did I even writer this post about someone other than myself?  Why am I still not writing about Japan yet?  The reason I write this is because in so many ways, Gray was a reflection of myself, or at least one possible self that I could become. 

I love traveling, women (in theory, of course.  never had a chance to try it out), and I dream of a financially secure future, thought about teaching, etc.  If the small shred of goodness inside me were to whither, and if seven years from now I was sitting in an airport looking at a younger man who was in my same position--would I tell him the advice I would have wanted to hear, or would I tell him something that would only alleviate my own guilt, my own choices?

I don't know.  I pondered who was the man leaving on that plane, and what kind of person was going to return in December.  Who I even recognize him?  In seven years would anyone recognize me?

We all really wonder just who exactly we all will be when we return from our journeys.  Whether it's from a four year stay in college, tours of duty, new jobs, relationships, etc.

In the end, I walked onto the plane that would finally realize my dream of getting to Japan.  But what I hadn't discovered yet was: what do you do when you've realized your dream?  What was my purpose of being in Japan? 

That, my readers, is something I still don't know.

Next time on the Concrete Rainbow, we travel on the flight from hell and meet a second character on the long journey to Japan, Yuna, the girl who wished she was American.

 

It's been eight days since my last entry.  Too long, my dear readers.  To make amends, I offer you a multi-part sequence of entries that focus on my event filled journey to the land of the rising sun.  These next group of entries are all parts of a story I call, "Jet Lag Momentum," and explore the nature of making plans, and the sadness and happiness that comes from their fruition.  While they may be a little less comical than my previous entries, I hope you enjoy.


Rick and Elsa stare longingly into each others eyes.  A small airplane's propeller begins to start up.  Their faces are lit in moonlight and shadow.  The Germans are on their way, but on the tarmac, for that moment, it doesn't matter.  Their history, the world's history, all of it just stops, but only for a moment.

Several S.W.A.T teams move in, launch tear gas canisters and form a perimeter with riot shields, like hungry sharks circling prey.  Helicopters fly overhead, news crews armed with boom mics and hair pieces are pushed back by the dead, emotionless eyes of a government mouth piece.  They order Rick and Elsa onto the ground.  Put their hands over their heads and get on their stomachs.  Rick tries to pull a strand of her hair out of her face and they open fire.  This is the beginning of a beautiful--

So as you can see by my heavy handed analogy, airports have become an altogether different place in the last fifty years.  The airport used to be a place of connection and separation.  Families and loved ones gathered, reminisced, and watched as their friends and relatives board their planes and drift away into tomorrow.  One can only imagine the amount of paperwork and interrogation Rick and Elsa would have to endure had their final scene been in a modern, American airport.

My point is, airports have since become scary, impersonal, and lonely places.  For me, I said goodbye to my parents outside of the security station in the Pittsburgh airport.  I waited another ninety mintues for my flight to seat.  That's the thing about modern airports, they give one a lot of time to think.

I imagined my flight getting grounded by sudden, inexplicable blizzards, or tornadoes, blamed on global warming or some such.  I imagined turning back and telling everyone that I was leaving behind for four months that it was all just a mix up, and the proper paperwork had never been filed.  I imagined all of this because I was scared, but also because I never imagined every conceivable event would align in favor of me.

But when I boarded the plane and the pilot was not drunk, but cheery, and when I watched it rocket down the runway without abandon, when I felt the sick pull of gravity and fear pull in the pit of my stomach, and then suddenly up, up up, I realized--

I was really going.

Let's just jump in today, shall we?

In the Summer of 2006, I heard about a trip to Northampton, England.  It was a five week study abroad opportunity which would help take care of a few of the general education credits I'd need to eventually graduate late.  So, in the spirit of positive life decisions, I decided to embark upon this trip with one goal in mind: to help save a horribly broken relationship.  I know, dear readers, your hearts weep for me.  But cry not, for this sweet prince recovered. 

In the spirit of list making, let me give a few examples of what a horrible study abroad can be like:

1. The person you're traveling with loathes your existence and wishes ill will upon your being.

Okay, well, that's a pretty heavy point there.  Don't really know what to add to that, besides advising to sleep with one eye open if you don't trust your travel companion.

2.  No one wants to anything besides drink.

Okay, okay, I get it.  College students love booze, and I can understand the allure, but when you're in London and you choose to spend your money on a pint of murky Guiness rather than admission into a museum where the crown jewels are kept (for example...thrilling, I know), I have to ask: why did you choose to embark upon a study abroad in the first place?

3. The food in your designated country is freakin horrible.

English food, in the words of Comedian Jim Gaffigan (who came to Behrend - We Are Penn State [shameless self promotion completed]) is the only kind of food that uses vinegar to make it taste better.  Just sit back and process that.  I once had a full English breakfast which includes: eggs, pork n beans, blood sausage, ham/bacon, and some other delightful surprises.  The point is, be prepared to make a lot of PB&J sammiches (that's right, I said it) if your study abroad country has food that borders on inedible.

And the grand finale of our brief tour of my 2006 Northampton study abroad adventure...

4.  HORRIBLE THINGS HAPPEN...that you may or may not deserve

a. On the flight back home a stewardess spills cranberry juice on your crotch.  You then proceed to queue in the bathroom line for 20 minutes until the girl in front of you, suffering from severe air sickness, projectile vomits, sealing off all of the bathrooms in the front of the plane.  This, in turn, forces you to use the bathroom in the opposite end of the plane.  The only problem is, you know have to face hundreds of bored people with a large, dark stain, the size of a grapefruit, on the front of your pants.  Besides looking like you may have lost full bowel control during the flight, you'll come to realize that it doesn't matter what nationality or language you speak because all people know what peeing yourself looks like.

b. After you return home, you promptly break up with said traveling companion.  Sure, it'll make a great story for some kind of future, paid, self promotion activity, but when it's happening, all you can do is put on Kenny G and pray that the pain can be drowned out by copious amounts of Nesquik.

c. Your dream was to travel to a different country and not the one you chose to go to based on what you thought would make your then girlfriend happy.  Wow, we just took a dark turn down emo alley, but fear not!  As you can see, I have since traveled to the country I dreamed of going to, Japan!

Whew, lots of drama in today's entry.  I know it's been a long and winding road, a bridge over troubled water, if I may.  But, the journey is over and now that you know a little backstory on just the kind of guy I am, it's time we get this blog past the prologue and move into the juicy...first act.

Next time on the Concrete Rainbow, I finally achieve another one of my dreams...time travel!   

Dear readers,

During my stay at Penn State Behrend, I established a number of goals to complete before graduation, and while I may never star in a movie with superstar Bill Murray, traveling to Europe and Asia...well you know the rest.

Speaking of, today we're going to talk about my trip to...anyone?  Anyone?  That's right...my trip to Europe.  Don't worry, we're going to get to Japan.  Just imagine you're watching an episode of LOST, or How I Met Your Mother; it's the journey that's important, not the destination.

Now, as a Penn State student, you may be wondering how to embark upon your own study abroad. As an experienced traveler and reknown liar, I can certainly help out.  Here's a list of basic preparations you should make before you embark on your trip abroad.

 

1.  Pick a place to go (FOR THE RIGHT REASONS)

While studying abroad can be filled with nonstop parties with beautiful, young, and more importantly, foreign students, make sure you choose a location where you can get the necessary credits to graduate, and perhaps party a little.  Devin, you may ask, how do I find out what classes will transfer?  Well, listen, voice in my head, you might want to:  ASK SOMEONE! 

There are a lot of smart people at Behrend to talk to about studying abroad.  You first will want to talk to Ruth Plfueger at the Learning Resource Center to find out what programs are available.  After you've picked out your program...

2.  Kiss up to your department head or adviser

Listen, you're going to have to sell your adviser of someone in your major's department that whatever program you're going to attend is worth it, or at least, the classes you're taking there will count towards your major.  Don't do what I did and take classes that won't really help you graduate.  Now, how do you kiss up to your professors?  Really?  You haven't figured this out by now?  Bribe, threaten, or lie is what I'm told...you shouldn't do.  Instead, sit down and just lay out your hopes and dreams and pray they don't crush them under the heel of their own disappointment and rage.  But honestly, your professors are there to help you out, or at least will if you whine enough.

3. Plan out your trip (or not)

If you remember my initial entry, I told you not to get bogged down in the details of your study abroad, and I still stick by that.  However, if you're a control freak that is intent on ruining the fun of everyone around you and will leave you a hollow shell of a man...I mean, if you want to get all you can get out of your trip, look at travel guides or at least make a list of places you want to visit.  That way, when you do inevitably have free time, you'll know exactly what to do.

4. Mooch, borrow, beg

Things like train passes, and uhh..other stuff, should be purchased before your trip as you won't be able to pick up discount rail passes after you enter the country.  The reasoning behind this is that if any citizen could buy discount/student rail passes, then no one would buy the overpriced ones they're currently forced to buy.  Long story short, look up anything you can get for cheaper over here.  THIS INCLUDES SALAD DRESSING.  I kid you not.  England doesn't know what dressing is and has only one variety called "salad cream" which is basically mayo and cream or something.

In conclusion, uhh, talk to Ruth Plfueger, your professor, or your high school guidance counselor.

Next time, my Europe trip adventures.

 

Signing off from the Concrete Rainbow,

Devin

PS - If any students have any questions they'd seriously like to ask me about doing a study abroad, being in the Humanities department, or college questions in general, leave a comment on the blog or send me an email at dmf259@gmail.com

Dear diary--err...readers.  I'm back once again, so put away your torches and stop sending me poorly written death threats to my old house (see my forwarding address below).  The last time we had our little wondrous, one sided chat, I rambled on about...what was it again? 

Sidenote:  If a journalist (that's right, I'm calling myself that because due to increasingly declining standards in American educations, I'm pretty much the only hope Western literature now has.  Oh, yes, I was saying--in Journalism, if a reporter forgets the other articles they've written, they're allowed to look them up again, as a sort of Mulligan or "do over" type thing (that's what I'm doing now).

Oh yeah, we had a brief flashback of my life story.  While I could just copy and paste that old article here as a means of earning a second famous news award (that's their official name), in the interests of luring you, my faithful audience back for an additional serving of delicious (insert metaphor), I will continue my story (it's a long one).

When I was asked to write a blog about my journey to Japan and the adventures thereafter, I first thought a six figure deal might be a little low.  After an intense negotiation session, I ended up with a substantially lower figure but, I have toy and movie rights, so who's laughing now?  But honestly, my main question was:  what do I call a travel blog that is concerned about Japan and Japanese culture?

After a bout of meditation and a few clove cigarettes, I came upon the name "Concrete Rainbow."  Why?  Besides sounding mysterious and a little pretentious, it also embodies the duality of the Japanese society and of the country itself.  Japan's metropolitan centers are jammed together as close as they can, and due to space limitations, they're built upwards, rather than wide, like most American buildings.  Also, unlike America, most of their buildings are lit up with a kaleidoscope of blinking and scrolling signs, creating beautiful, monolithic structures.

This image completes the image of the concrete rainbow, the fabled Japanese metropolis all lovers of Japan hope for.  It is this second idea that is the true focus of my blog.  What lies at the end of the so called rainbow?  In mythology, some claim gold, while others believe it is a fool's errand to embark on such a sojourn.  For those that love Japan from afar, I wanted to see what assumptions would turn out to be true, and what was just myth.  I want to find out what lies at the end of the concrete rainbow.  All the hopes and dreams of a million otaku (fans of Japanese animation that use this term, even though it is considered a very negative label in Japan) and so called Japanophiles (those obsessed with Japanese culture, so much so that they cannot see the inherent flaws in it) now lie with me.

The final reason of the title is more personal and self serving.  My dream, thus far in my life, has been traveling to Japan.  This was all I focused on for a long, long time.  I didn't plan out a career after Penn State, look towards a future in which I would finally be an adult, enter into the "real world," my only thoughts were of Japan.  But, now that I'm here, what do I do now?  Where does one go from here?  What lies at the end of my rainbow?

Okay, enough emo-ness, shall we?  Now that I've established my journalistic, historical, and sensitive credibility, the next entry will be focused on...can you guess?  Finally talking about my adventures in Japan? 

No.

For the next time, dear and supremely patient readers, you will get the story of another international trip I took and how Penn State helped me and prepared me for my time abroad, and how, "a broad" (see what I did there?) [side note: it's always a broad, am I right? Just kidding, of course] messed it all up. 

Next time on Welcome to the Concrete Rainbow, it's:

Study Abroad Gone Wrong or Fish, Chips, and Sass - To Go!

Signing off from the Concrete Rainbow,

Devin

As you might know, dear readers, my name is Devin Faulhaber and I'm a student from Penn State Behrend.  I'm currently living in Osaka, Japan, specifically in Hirakata City.  I realize that in my last entry, I threw you into the jumbled mess that was my mind without properly introducing myself and my situation.  Well, today, I shall remedy that!  Let's take a trip into the dark recesses of my subconscious, shall we?

*cue flashback*

I was a wee lad when I decided to go to Penn State Behrend.  At the time, I decided based on a variety of reasons, some based on the killer Creative Writing program, and others were more personal (close to home, staff discount, stay close to the girlfriend of the time, etc.).  But no matter what school I looked at, one goal was always a constant:  visiting Japan.

You're told a bunch of things about what college will be like, but the only truth is, it goes fast.  The friends you make, the classes you love or trudge through, the crazy nights partying, the all nighters studying...this too shall pass, the Buddhists say, and it does, remarkably fast.

For me, college flew by and I was suddenly in my final year and still desperately needing my 12 language credits to graduate.  Behrend, while a wonderful school, doesn't teach any Asian languages, and so, I made the intelligent decision and just blew off fulfilling that requirement until it was practically too late.

It was only when I discovered the study abroad program to Kansai Gaidai University in Osaka, Japan that I knew I had to do something.  You see, in order to go to Japan through this program, I had to have at least two semesters of Japanese under my belt.  I also needed a langjuage of some kind in order to graduate, and voila! 

After an eight week session at State College (Japanese class five days a week, four hours a day...), I had just enough Japanese to go on this wonderful trip.

Now I'm leaving a lot of personal backstory out of this, but think of this blog as a mystery that we slowly unravel.  Some of the best stories are told out of order, and while this blog is in no way one of these "best stories" ...well, I really don't have anything to counter that.

Don't worry, fair readers!  We're nearly through with my complicated backstory (SPOILER ALERT: my secret, identical, half brother is the main villain.) and next time, I'll let you know less about me, and more about how the amazing Ruth Pflueger from the Learning Resource Center saved my proverbial bacon, and also how you can find and choose a study abroad program.

 Signing off from the Concrete Rainbow,

Devin

It's Wednesday night and you're still shopping for clothes, getting paperwork together, and saying goodbye to everyone you won't see for the next four months.  There are two problems:  one, you leave Friday for a study abroad in Japan, and two, you're staring into an empty suitcase.

Hello.  I'm Devin Faulhaber, and this is exactly what I do before any big trip.  It's all part of my carefully skilled traveling strategy.  It's a complex, five step program.  However, if followed, it can lead to wonderful memories, and by that I mean, extra packages sent from home to cover what you forgot to pack, embarrassing shopping tales as you hunt for elusive and exotic items such as...bath towels.  Whew, I know I'm just as excited as you, dear readers must be!

Step one:  Don't suffer from...OVER PREPARATION!

A common ailment any potential traveler faces is stress.  I alleviate this by not stressing at all about any aspect of my trip and how unprepared I might be.  Instead of writing a checklist of everything I might need for a trip, I might get a Swedish, deep tissue massage because, gosh darn it, I deserve it.  This way, when I'm sitting next to some basket case on the flight who is desperately checking and rechecking that he or she has packed everything, I can sit back, relax and sleep easy knowing that I have no idea what's in my luggage.

Step two:  Don't pack your own suitcase.  

Hey, I know what you might be thinking here.  "But Devin, isn't it illegal not to pack/or know what's in your own suitcase?  Well, readers, you'd be right, however, due to a loophole of not being asked that at the airport, I can travel conscience free.  As for the suitcase/packing issue, if you can find a friend or relative that you can somewhat trust, why not "delegate" the responsibility of folding and rolling all of your essentials into two boxes on wheels?  Besides, if anything isn't packed, that's one less Christmas card you have to send this year!

Step three: Don't get weighed down by the details.

After landing at the Kansai International Airport in Osaka, Japan, I found myself wondering how to get to my new school, Kansai Gaidai University.  I knew I had the instructions somewhere, but alas, I could not seem to find them.  Instead of freaking out that I was 8000 miles away (let's be real, I have no real idea how far away I am), I simply found some other confused Westerners, identified them as fellow students and then tagged along with them. 

Step four:  Use your weaknesses (stupidity) to your advantage.

Most people will mistake my own idiocy for jet lag after traveling for 20+ hours nonstop.  They'd be wrong.  Feeling exhausted and not having a clue of where to go, where to find money, or if you have all the necessary documents to not be deported out of the country are two...well a couple of different things altogether.  And don't be afraid to use jet lag as an excuse even four or five days into the trip.  Hell, with the time difference you might be able to milk a full week out of the nice people around you.

Step five: don't get bogged down by the details...wait, wasn't that step--

Aha!  See what I did there? 

By now, you're probably wondering why I haven't become rich or famous before now.  Well, Mr. "All of my relatives and friends," it's because I knew how revolutionary and dangerous this information could be in the wrong hands and I chose to disseminate it to you now, when I'm safely abroad, so I can escape retribution. 

Honestly though, in my next informative article, I'll properly introduce myself and will let you all in on what the deuce is happening to me and where and why I'm exactly in Japan.  (SPOILER ALERT: Devin Faulhaber, Penn State Behrend Creative Writing Major/Hirakata City Japan/Too much time on my hands)

Any comments would be greatly appreciated (especially if my unpaid intern made any mistakes while typing), or cookie baskets if you know my address.  Chocolate chip or better, kudasai.

Signing off from the Concrete Rainbow,

Devin