Bike, Mobile....Job?

It was my second day in Japan and I had my mobile. But I sorely lacked two things: the job and the bike to get to the job.

Kyoto public transport is expensive and changing lines can cost you twice as much. Hence the bike. Its something which everyone seems to have.

THE BIKE

This mission was swift and successful, like my entire morning. Venturing out with my broken Japanese, I managed to get a second key cut for the apartment and photocopy my passport. On a roll, I decided to catch the subway just two stops and walk the 2km to Kyoto University, without any regard for the humidity. Sweaty but still as bouncy as usual, I met Calle and two other students on the scholarship program: James, the ultimate stereotype of the Oxford undergraduate, and a Swede, Victor, who I want to call Jacob for no apparent reason. (I decided to tell him this to avoid any future embarrassing mistakes by advance preparation).

We lunched and approached a new and second-hand bike store around the corner from the uni. I eyed up the specimens before selecting the biggest beast of them all (from within the price range). I can proudly declare that my bike has 27 inch wheels, not 26 inch wheels like all the other commoners! Sadly bikes in Japan don't seem to have gears. And sadly, my pride was sorely diminished after the events of today. I shall elaborate below.

However, my bike did lead me to this rather fine fellow here:

THE JOBS (and the mini-saga)

Being anxious to find work, I applied to EREV English school who match students with teachers for private one-one lessons. Before I'd even arrived, they hooked me up with three different students. I was to meet the first on Friday.

I also had a group interview session with Berlitz arranged for Thursday. I trekked over an hour to Osaka, and despite waiting longer for my trains than expected, made it with a cool 5 minutes to spare. The four of us were given a presentation, talked through the contracts available, and asked to fill in a post-interview questionnaire.

The trek back became more like an epic quest, a quest in which the protagonist's actions are thwarted at every turn. First, the subway train decided to stop halfway to the station I needed to get to. I had to abandon it and get on the next. Then at the station, the signs to the JR line took me out into the middle of nowhere. I whipped out some broken Japannese and a lady directed me to where I needed to go: 50m down the road, up three flights of stairs, double-back on myself, cross an underpass, go down some stairs, walk for another 10 minutes. Finally I saw steps ascending to the JR line. I came to the barriers - barriers with no ticket machines! Turns out tickets are only sold on the other side of the station. FML. I then hop on the first available train, which I read as a "rapid service". Nope. It was local and it stopped everywhere!

The only good news on my arrival home was that I had got an interview for the next day at the Kyoto language centr. Hurrah! Oh, and Calle cooked me dinner :)

THE SAGA: BIKING TO THE JOBS

Friday morning: Prepared for my interview and for my private lesson, I hoisted my rucksack onto my back. It was far too heavy, but as I don't have access to a printer, my laptop was the next best way of using teaching resources for my student.

One trouser leg rolled up, I glided down the hill, feeling like a じてんしゃひめ (bike princess). However, normally princesses don't have to navigate their way.....so I wasn't paying slightest attention at all to where I was going, I realised I'd turned off before I hit the river. The result: I sweated more than I would have liked to getting to that interview. I then found that the street where Berlitz is located had plague of no bike signs. However, being encouraged by the other bike outside the building, I parked it and rushed on up to the ninth floor.

The interview could have started better. It could have started without me knocking three books off the shelf as the interviewers walked into the room. However, I felt like it went really well and quite enjoyed myself (where did my nerves go?) As I was leaving, however, they gave me a warning about the council who go around impounding bikes. Under no circumstances should I leave the bike outside this building, especially as the owner of the building is a big wig in the local Shijo community and always campaigning against the bikes.

I bade them goodbye rather too hastily and ran to my bike. It had a notice stuck to it. Praying it wasn't a fine, I ripped it off and spun my bike round. CRACK. The bottom of the saddle snapped, leaving it only attached by one spring. My fearsome beast had failed me already. Still in a panic, I mounted my bike and kicked the stand back, slicing my ankle open in the process. Bleeding, and sweating again, I focussed any sense of direction on making it to my next engagement without cycling down a narrow side street full of temples.

Target: located. But where the hell do I put my bike? Yet again, the roads were filled with anti-bike signs. I ended up detouring down a side street and parking it outside someone's house like it belonged to them. With 15 minutes to spare, I entered the station in search of the Lotteria burger bar, and through some more broken Japanese, I found my student and launched into a "Getting To Know You"-style lesson.

The saga continued however. I received a call from Calle, who had neither a bike nore the money to get the train into town. He has had a rather unfortunate accident with his credit card which means that it doesn't give him money now it's snapped in half. He had to walk. For over an hour in the pouring rain.

Nevertheless, he made it and we returned to the bike store, where they replaced my saddle without any fuss. Phew.

We then had to walk home. In even heavier rain. Then Berlitz rang whilst I was walking down a very busy street in very heavy rain. So we stood in a doorway. Which apparently greatly offended the man who worked inside. He decided to shoo us, then drag a heavy sign out to where we were standing and finally resorted to trying to sweep us away with a broom, at the precise moment when I finished my phonecall. No love and shelter thy neighbour there.

But that doesn't matter. BECAUSE I HAVE A JOB. (If I do the unpaid 9.15 - 5.30 training in Osaka next week. There's always catch, isn't there?)