Departure!

It feels somehow surreal to pack up your life and move to the opposite side of the world. Or at least it did on Wednesday the 13th of September, which was my last day in Ireland. As I walked home after saying my final goodbyes to my friends I felt somehow numb. I thought back on all the little random chances and happenings that combined together to lead me to this junction in my life and how easily, if one of them had been missing, I might be doing something completely different. As these thoughts raced through my head I finished off the last of my packing and tried to get some rest.

Myself and the other volunteers waiting to get on the huge plane which you can see in the reflection of the glass.

The day of departure wasn't at all like the weeks of worry and excitement that had come before hand. I wasn't focusing on going away for a year I was simply getting to the airport on time, checking in, transferring flights and so on. I was merely completing a set of tasks that required most if not all of my attention so I didn't have time to contemplate or worry. It was oddly calming. Of course everything went well except for one small hitch.

Fuck you Will Smith...

 As I was passing through security the woman behind the desk took interest in my bag. I, like many other people, manage to convince myself, as I go through the metal detector, that I actually do have a kilogram of heroin safely hidden up my ass. So when she put the bag back through I was feeling quite uncomfortable. While the security guards we're talking I was racing through the packing procedure in my head making sure that I couldn't possibly have anything unusual in my bag. It was at this moment when I remembered the small butcher knife that had been resting next to my bag while it was being packed. One of my relatives must have been having a snack that required a certain degree of precision cutting that your garden variety butter knife can't provide. About 3 seconds after this thought entered my head I could see a small grey object that had been illuminated on the screen of the x-ray machine. The possibility that a family member accidentally threw the knife in while packing suddenly became very real. My heart started racing as the security guard asked me to open the bag. I proceeded to do so and as I lifted up the first layer of shirts, there it was, my grandparents butcher knife, shinning with pride as it displayed it's potential as a lethal weapon. I imagine that if the knife had somehow had a face at that moment it would have had the same facial expression as Will Smith in the poster for that god awful movie. It was in this moment where I had horrible flashes in my mind, of being led into some airport security back room where a fat hairy man nicknamed barry-the-plumber was waiting with gloved fingers ready to probe me. Fortunately, this didn't happen. They we're quite understanding about it in fact and I continued on my merry way silently wishing horrible things upon my family.

Barry-The-Plumber.

3 uneventful plane rides later I stepped off in Tokyo. The first bit of culture shock that hit me was when we were getting on the bus to take us from the airport to our accommodation. Three young employees of the bus service took our bags from us and all bowed in a line as the bus pulled away. It was a small gesture and one I knew I'd encounter but it was still odd to see three grown men who contribute to the nations GDP bowing to some sweaty student on his gap year. Let alone being bow worthy, I'm still wondering when did I become a Mr. Brendan Scally. Nevertheless though I had made it to Tokyo and my gap year was about begin.......YAY CHEESY CLIFFHANGER :D

Scramble crossing in Tokyo.