The night was completely clear for once. Nagasaki is supposed to have the second best night view in the world. So before we left for Kyoto, I was determined to get up to Mount Inasa. Tonight was that night.
I asked the hotel front desk for walking directions to the ropeway that would take us up the mountain. I did this a couple years ago; I knew it could be done.
But when I asked the concierge, I don't think she understood what I was asking, and I don't think I fully understood her response. She told me we needed a bus reservation to go up, but it was too late tonight. But she said we could take a taxi to get up there. This was at least a five minute conversation, exchanging several confused looks with explanations ending in ellipses.
I was tempted to try again to get directions to walk to the ropeway, or just try to remember the route from my previous visit but that may take a lot of time...
NO TIME! I decided. Off we went to get a cab. There was no way I was going to miss Mount Inasa.
No. Way.
The concierge gave me a flyer, all in Japanese, about Mount Inasa. So, predicting that we would not be able to fully communicate with the driver, I whipped out the flyer, "Mount Inasa."
Driver: (pointing at the flyer) "Inasa?"
Me: "Hai!"
Driver: (mumbling something, then looked at me) "Inasa??"
Me: (resolutely) "Hai."
He gave me the flyer back and started driving. He was speaking in the clearest Japanese possible. We understand not even a syllable of what he's saying.
"Nani?" I ask cautiously.
Then he did something that I thought only Americans did: he spoke to us in Japanese louder. He was definitely trying to explain a concern he had about our ride, but we couldn't understand. At stoplights on the way, he continued to help us understand.
I started to get a bad feeling. This man was trying so hard to help us get up a mountain and we were sitting in the backseat thinking, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. WHAT DO WE DO NOW?!" The inconvenience for him was too much for our consciences to handle. And it is not okay in any way to tip in Japan, so we couldn't pay him extra for his effort. I forgot all of my small gifts at the hotel, so I had nothing to give him as thanks.
But the ride didn't stop there because then he CALLED A FRIEND to ask for directions and possibly to find out if he can, in fact, drive us up a mountain.
After a few minutes he hung up, and halfway up the mountain, he pulled over asking for the flyer back. Then he started explaining something to us again. He pointed at a time table on the paper, then waited for us to respond.
Perry: "What should we do?"
Me: (as calmly as possible) "I don't know what our options are." (Translation: "I am flipping out inside too f@$#ing much right now to make that decision.")
Perry calmly explained to me the options because he understood.
Me: "That's what he said?"
Perry: "I don't know but it sounds right."
Me: "It sounds right?"
Perry: "Well I don't know either!"
Me: "I thought you understood him?"
Perry: "I never said that."
Me: "Ugh...." (to the driver) "...gomenasai, gomenasai." (Translates to: "I'm sorry, we are young and stupid; we thought we could do anything.")
The driver repeated what seem to be the same options.
We got wrapped up in a short irritated back and forth in hushed whispers, with frequent "gomenasai" and "I'm sorry" to the driver.
Finally, it was said.
Perry: "Should we just go back to the hotel?"
Me: "...fine."
Perry told the driver to go back to the hotel.
Driver: "JR Hotel?"
Perry: "Hai."
Me: "GOMENASAAAIIIIII!" I was fighting back tears.
The driver laughed and said something in Japanese that sounded like I don't need to apologize. He turned the car around and headed back down the mountain.
But he didn't take us back to the hotel. He dropped us off at the bus station that takes people to Mount Inasa. He laughed some more. We got out of the taxi and went to look at a time table that was completely in Japanese. After a minute:
Me: "Is he gone yet?"
Perry: "Yes, but it's not a big deal. He still got paid and now he has a good story to tell his friends. Let's go back."
We headed back, but Perry stopped, "Let's go the other way so we don't have to see him again and embarrass ourselves more."
It cost us $18 to go halfway up a mountain.
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