Last weekend was Moving Day for both Robin and myself, as we moved all of her things from Ibaraki to Tokyo, and my furniture and things from Odawara to Tokyo.
Grossly underestimating the volume of things to take, we figured packing everything into Turbo Tim, a Toyota Starlet, would be fine- after all, how much stuff can you accumulate in six months, especially when you aren’t taking any of your furniture?
Quite a lot, apparently. So much so, that we discovered
I found myself, the erstwhile navigator, with plenty of room in the front left seat. Plenty of room, once I had manouvered myself over the aluminium bar blocking the doorway, and sat in the seat, I had almost a complete centimetre to spare between my forehead and the corner of the windscreen, and almost another complete centimetre between the top of my head and the roof of the car! This position rendered me completely unable to move, for even the remaining floorspace behind my feet was filled with a backpack, and my own backpack was relegated to sitting on my lap the entire journey.
Sitting like this would have made it difficult to read a map, but thankfully we didn’t have such luxuries as maps anyway. What I was navigating from was a series of landmarks I had written on paper that morning while following the route on Google Maps.
Thankfully it was merely a 65km trip, most of which would be driven on Highway 6, a national route, so it only took us three and a half hours. I’d hate to think how long it would have taken on back roads, for Highway 6 seems to have traffic lights every three to four hundred metres, and traffic dense enough to walk the length of the highway without ever touching asphalt. The real estate agent, the ever-thoughtful Obara san, reneged on her plans to meet us at the new apartment to hand over keys, and instead gave us some rather creative driving directions to her office, which resulted in us travelling down a road that we suspect was not intended for vehicle traffic (and a minor incident involving a bicycle), yet somehow we managed to get to the right place, then on to the apartment.
Unloading Tim was quite rapid, much more so than loading him that morning, due in part to the fact that the rain had stopped, and of course its much easier to unload than to load. The boxes piled up in the new apartment, but we couldn’t stop to rest just yet.
Phase two was moving the car seats back to a more comfortable position, and driving out of Tokyo to Odawara. A 75km drive this time, so naturally there was much trepidation, but at that hour of night we were sure the roads would be much quieter. At the very least, there were less turns to make this time, and we were comparitively far more comfortable in the car. Indeed it was much quicker, getting us to Odawara in only three hours out of Tokyo, and had the added bonus of taking us reasonably close to Hiratsuka, my Friday school. I noticed that it took only 45 minutes to get home from Hiratsuka, a journey that takes about an hour using public transport. Even so, it was after 11 at night when we finally pulled into Odawara, so after parking Turbo Tim at the Lawson around the corner, it was bedtime.
The following morning, one of my former colleagues from Odawara who had foolishly volunteered to help us move, turned up with his Land Cruiser, and we loaded as much furniture, appliances and other bulky things from my Odawara apartment into the two vehicles, agreed on a route, and set off, driving in convoy back to the apartment in Tokyo. My task as navigator was reasonably simple this time, having found an even easier route to get into the city, but poor Robin driving had to constantly be checking in the rear-view mirrors to make sure the white Land Cruiser was still behind us. This would have been easy enough but for the apparent lack of engine power in the big car. I don’t want to think of the amount of missed overtaking opportunities and potentially gained distance we had to pass up on because the Land Cruiser was dawdling hundreds of metres behind, but what’s done is done, and we finally made it – four hours after departure.
We really did appreciate his help, but we felt so very very bad for this poor teacher who volunteered his time to help us out. Four hours in heavy traffic is no fun for anyone. At that point, we ourselves were ready to flake out and give up – but we still had one final return trip to Odawara to make. Deciding enough was enough, it was time to bite the bullet and elect to drive on the Tomei Expressway. A toll road, for sure, but the time and frustration that the regular highways had given us was at our limits. However much the toll cost, it surely couldn’t be worse than that stress, could it?
The nearest onramp was an hour away, so off we go, gradually drawing closer to the raised beacon that was the expressway. Once up the ramp and on the road, we experienced a feeling that I liken to taking off the twenty-kilogram backpack you have been hiking with for the past five hours, shedding the weight, and being free. The Tomei Expressway was, at its thinnest, three lanes in each direction. Traffic was light, very light, and for the first time we saw hope and joy. With smooth black asphalt under the tyres, Tim leaped forward, and the scenery was positively whizzing by. Settling into a groove, we discussed how exhilarating it felt to be finally travelling at a such high speed. Then we looked at the speedometer: 70km/h.
Something isnt quite right when that speed on the expressway feels fast. This is an example of relative speed – because it was so much faster than what we were used to, it felt very fast. Yet, I am pleased to say, taking Tim up to a hundred not only worked, but pretty soon began to feel comfortable too.
We were on the expressway for less than an hour. Total time door to door, two hours. Tolls came to about $20 one way, but so incredibly worth it! Feeling rejuvenated, it was time for a coffee in Odawara before packing the remaining things into Tim and setting off for Tokyo once again.
Yes, tollways again this time, and we were back within two hours. A lot of time spent in the car, not all of it comfortable. By the time Tim was returned to the company offices (another saga in of itself), the whole episode of moving two apartments into Tokyo had clocked up five hundred kilometres in the car. Good boy, Tim!
The only things left in Odawara by this point were the cardboard boxes and bags of rubbish I needed to throw out once I cleaned and washed the apartment. This was for the next day.
Tuesday dawned, day three of this moving extravaganza. I took the trains back to Odawara, and in less than two hours and for about $10, I was there. Why, oh why do people drive at all in this country?
I had arranged to have the apartment ready for hand-over at 4pm, so with plenty of time to spare I wasn’t worried that I had left it in quite a state the previous night. Imagine my surprise when, on opening the door to my soon-to-be-vacated apartment, I discovered a pair of slippers inside the door, many cardboard boxes flattened and removed, and the floor swept.
That whomever it was had actually helped and made my job easier was the only thing that stopped me from calling the police. Someone had broken into my apartment (though as there was no sign of forced entry, they most likely used a key) – someone had unlawfully entered my apartment – which was, until 4pm, my apartment, and even in this country, to enter without permission is the tort of trespass, a criminal offence. I suspect it was my landlord – the slippers looked like something she’d wear. As I mentioned, the fact that whoever it was was actually a help stopped me from calling the police. I was still furious, though, at the landlord (or whomever) for such a violation of my security and safety. Trouble is, the police would see any complaint as “Foreigner vs Japanese Person” and immediately side with the Japanese person. I’d have been wasting my time anyway.
Not only that, but if it was the landlord, and they thought I was already out and vacated, then I wouldn’t put it past them to claim that I left the place full of cardboard boxes and rubbish, along with a dirty floor.
I did make sure, once I had tidied up and properly cleaned the place (before 4pm), to take some photographs of the place in the state in which I left it. Just in case…
Oh, and the owner of the slippers hadn’t returned by 4 o’clock to claim them, so, despite them being rather nice, expensive looking slippers, they went out with the rubbish too!
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