California!

Fighting through severe jet lag, exhaustion, etc. to write this, but I'll probably be up all night anyway, so what the hell...

Arrived at LAX at about 10:00 this morning and, at the risk of offending my American friends, I have to say that the process of clearing US customs and immigration must be the slowest and most inefficient in the world. Please, will somebody in the American government go over and see how the Japanese do it? They have a similar fingerprint, photo, anal probe, etc. system, and it's never taken me more than 20-30 minutes to clear customs there. (Bonus for Canadian travelers: the anal probe is optional, no doubt due to the special relationship we have with our American overlords friends.)

Not being a big city guy, it's always a bit of a rush to stumble out of the front doors of the airport of a big city; jet-lagged, exhausted, stinking, and stunned, the sheer magnitude of the apparent chaos that confronts me outside makes it seem as if I've stepped onto the surface of another planet. I like to soak it in for a few moments as I get my bearings (a strategy that I've found prevents me from losing my mind completely when dealing with sensory overload). It always seems to me that I'm the only person there who hasn't got a fucking clue where he's supposed to be going...

Eventually we (I'm traveling with a couple of Japanese staff members) made our way to the shuttle bus that would take us to the car rental place. We had to rent a car and then drive down to Orange, where we're staying. In my somewhat shell-shocked state I didn't really feel like driving, but the looks of terror on my companions' faces told me that maybe I'd better and, with the GPS programmed, we headed out onto the freeway! Here I was, cruising down a California freeway! Now, in my mind I'd always kinda pictured this scene involving a beautiful blond-haired woman, the windows down, The Eagles or something on the radio... You know, the usual crap. In fact, it was more a white-knuckle ride into terror (although my fellow travelers seemed genuinely impressed that a) I had the air of someone who actually had half a clue about what he was doing, b) we neither struck nor were struck by other cars, and c) I didn't make a single wrong turn). We arrived at our hotel in one piece. Mission accomplished...

Each time I come back to North America I seem to experience an increased sense of reverse culture shock. It's really weird how the smallest, most mundane things can momentarily paralyze me, leave me trying to remember how I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to do, in this or that situation. In Japan, for example, there's no tipping anywhere, so I've gotten out of the habit. Now when I find myself in a tipping environment my mind seems to go into some sort of "calculation loop" as I frantically try to figure out how much to give as a tip. This used to be almost second nature to me. Another thing is North American food portions. Tonight, as I was struggling to finish my $10 side of beef and bushel and a half of potatoes it became clear to me why the Japanese are, by and large, a lot slimmer than Westerners.

Of course there's one cultural aspect of North America that trumps pretty much everything else: I can speak English. I can read the signs. I'm not illiterate (in fact here I might be considered an extremely literate fellow, if I do say so myself...). I can get into the background chatter at a bar or restaurant or wherever. I understand what people are saying to me and I understand what the fuck is going on. There's no confusion, and therefore no headaches. I would never say that I'm not able to relax in Japan, but here in North America I can relax in a different way.