My Unforgettable Yet Threatening
Osaka Experience
Going to a strange foreign land without a clear geographical and cultural knowledge is definitely alarming and seemingly threatening. It’s culture shocking! Particularly, if you have no idea of the place you are into, it makes you impatiently restless while holding your breath with incessant awe and wonder. Even though you have a little information about the place, still, a little knowledge will not suffice. Unclear perception is stranger to reality. I remember Hayakawa, a Japanese writer, who said, “The map is not the territory.” You look at the map, but you cannot really be sure on the ground, on the place where it is situated. Some appearances are infrequently deceiving and somewhat confusing.
It is said that, “Experience is the best teacher.” I know that most educators who believe in empiricism will agree with me. All things that we experience will undoubtedly teach a lesson one way or another. Some experiences are regular and usual, but others are quite irregular; hence a bit unusual. The teacher in me, I find that a rare but death-defying experience should be brought out in the open and be shared, so that those who read this will not suffer what I had badly experienced. Let me digress.
At the end of 2016, I was invited by my daughter and my son-in-law to visit them, particularly my two grand children in Osaka, Japan where the husband (son-in-law) is posted as consul, a government agent residing in a foreign state and discharging certain administrative duties (Macquarie Dictionary), in the Department of Foreign Affairs Consular Embassy, with jurisdiction covering Osaka and Kobe, Japan.
As researched, Osaka is Japan’s third largest city, a longtime capital of Commerce. It is filled with down-to-earth citizens speaking colorful Kansai dialect. Ultra urban, their homes are like an endless expanse of concrete boxes, with parlors, elevated highways and modern underground subways. At night it comes into its own: this is when the streets come alive with flashing neon lights and beckoning residents as well as hundreds or maybe thousands of tourists, fill the city with promises of tasty foods and good times. Kita (North) is the center of gravity at day with the eye-catching Omeda Sky Building, the Osaka Museum, and other sky scrapers (Discover Japan, 2016). I left the Philippines on January 1, 2017, a New Year at that. My stay in Osaka should have only been until January 7th because my airplane ticket stated so. But my visa was for 15 days. Excitement and wonderment engulfed me the moment I heard and felt the plane touched down at the Kansai Airport. The Japanese people are very strict when it comes to security. Riding on the train that would bring us to a separate building of the Japanese Immigration, I was being bodily whisked and the luggage spread-out as if something were suspicious. I thought a thing was amiss because I saw the passenger after me passed through easily. I was asked questions unceasingly, but I could not understand. Surmising that perhaps, he could not get to understand me in English, he let me pass through the door without any further question. Not far, I saw and heard my daughter, loudly calling me, “Papa”. That was when I felt relief of my restlessness inside the Immigration office.
The climate temperature was extremely cold at about 3 to 4 degrees Celsius. It was quite good that our abode had a room heater. But no one could just get out of the house without a four- layered clothing to keep one’s body warm and comfortable. On the 5th day of my stay in Osaka, my harrowing experience started.
On that freezing afternoon at about 5 to 6 o’clock, I volunteered to buy pepper corns (pamintang buo) from the store. My daughter was telling me that she wanted to have “nilagang baka” (boiled beef) for our meal. The problem was that she had no pepper. Since there was no one in the house to run the errand, so there, I obliged. The Japanese people are used to walking despite the distance. Unlike in our country, Osaka has no jeeps or tricycles around that would transport people to places of destination.
On my way to a “711” store (many found in Osaka), I found out that there was only grounded (powdered) pepper, not whole seeds or peppercorns. My daughter specifically insisted only whole (seed) peppercorns. So I proceeded to search in the other three “711” stores; unluckily I found nothing. On my last stretch, I proceeded to the Koyo Supermarket, and alas, I saw some and bought it. Going home hurriedly, I felt weak and terribly shaking. I fell down on the pavement outside the market. And that was all I could remember.
For some ten hours, I was unconscious. Upon waking up, I was told by the “good Samaritans” who found me, that I was asleep in long slumber. Then they started narrating what transpired after I unconsciously fell on the pavement outside the Supermarket. They (Japanese couple who stayed in the Philippines for two years because of the husband’s work) told me that the burly husband carried me to their home. I was chilling intermittently, very pale and could not move, until I became unconscious and slept for ten hours.
When I woke up, it was already 5 o’clock in the morning. I said, “I am a Filipino and only visiting my relatives.” When they asked me where they could send me home, I said that I forgot the location, and told them instead to just accompany me to the nearest Police station. But before I left, I was offered food. When I told them I was diabetic, I was given a bigger bottle of water and some candy. They said that my diabetes could have triggered my unconsciousness, with my sugar level dropping (hypo-glycemia), exacerbated by the extreme cold penetrating my body. They accompanied me to the Police station, but told me that they had to leave immediately because they had work to do. But I forgot to say, “Thank you,” and also to ask for their identities.
They hurriedly left me at the gate of the Tagashi Police station. I was still feeling the penetrating cold because the temperature was really freezing at seven in the morning. I was surprised why the station was seemingly closed. In front of the door, I saw a microphone and I started talking, thinking that I could be heard at the other end of the line. A policeman appeared who brought me inside the station, and I was given a cloak to keep me warm. I could not understand what they were asking, but I only said, “I am from the Philippines and please contact my son-in-law at the Philippine Consular Office in Osaka to fetch me.” Although they could hardly understand English, they were able to ring the Consular office. After an hour, my son-in-law came and he brought me home.
At my daughter’s house, my grandchild Ono said that their Mom was sobbing, and he also cried. Gerry, my son-in law, explained that my picture was already flashed on the city’s TV screen labeled as “Missing.” Furthermore, he said that he, on his bicycle, looked for me around the vicinity where I told him that I fell unconscious. But he could not find me anywhere. The staff of the Consular office also helped in searching for me. Thanks to all of them.
Reflecting on what happened, I thought I would have died in Osaka, Japan. In a strange land of busy people, who would have thought that there were still people who could come out from their comfort zone and willingly extend their helping hands to a person (stranger at that) in danger. Was it the hand of God that directs these people? I am indeed happy that God still wants me to live. To you, Good Samaritans, thank you very much, and may your tribe increase!
