Speaking of cankles* (the cranky part)...

 Exactly how did I get them?  Let's recap.

Wednesday (times PDT)

0700 - I woke up in San Jose.  (Yeah, I know the way...)
1030 - Wonderful brother dropped me off at SFO
1330 - I was seated in a wonderfully empty row in Premium Economy on JAL 057
1335 - We took off; I fell asleep.
1530 - I awoke in time to have a meal

Let's chat about that.  I believe in trying the local food when possible and within reason. 

Choosing reheated tempura, reheated on a bed of rice, no longer qualifies as within reason.  Mushy is an understatement.  Ketchup?  NOOOO!  (We'll be delving into the joy of "kecap" later on this trip.  Man, the Brits outdid themselves with the "emblandishmentification" on that one!)

The soba noodles were ... unremarkable? 
The salad was ... iceberg lettuce?  (Ranch dressing??? That's not Japanese.  Especially if it's Heinz!) 
The garbanzo and cuke salad was bland but a blast to succeed in eating with chop sticks.  (Yup, I can handle 'em pretty fly, for a white guy.)   
The fresh fruit was surprisingly OK.
The Hagen Daz required putting down the chop sticks.

Hours and hours on end - I looked out the electrochromatic porthole and saw sunshine.  I read some of James Burke's Connections.  That's good stuff.  A bit dated but presciently so.  I love the concept but it can be a bit confusing to have so much non-linear time travel.

I closed my eyes a bit and cursed that the sun would not set and the portholes could not darken completely.

My feet started to get sore.

Turbulence ensued for several hours.  When?  Dunno.  Near the International dateline.  Where?  Well, near the point that 

West became East,
today became tomorrow,
the sun still shone,
and, they announced that 2 of the 4 lavs for economy were "Out of Service"

So, that place where stuff can get ugly.  Those last 2 lavs sure did.

The obsequious FAs were ever so apologetic about it.  But that didn't change the fact that it was not good.  JAL is nice but not in the same league as Cathay Pacific, Asiana, or Singapore airlines.


Thursday (still daylight, still in the air, now times are JST (GMT +9))

1400ish - they served the afternoon snack.  No east v. west choice this time.  Pizza.  Huh.  Really.  With a nice arugula salad (Heinz Ranch is soooo good.)  And, something else that I can't remember.

1600ish - we land at Narita. 

Then, a  wonderful thing happened.  I saw my name on a hand held sign on the jetway!  Hmmm, could I be about to get an upgrade?  No.  Just sent to the (nearly in Korea) Transfer Desk 

The Transfer Desk said: "Oh, you already have your boarding pass?  It's all good.  Go on your merry way."  Implied: Walk back to the furthest corner of the concourse (Gate 97) and all will be well.

Let's bitch about that.  It wasn't all well

Narita sucks.  Really.  It's a mess.  It's a bad shopping mall - one without a news stand.  It's shockingly humid.  It's big.  It's my least favorite airport in Asia.  (OK, maybe MNL isn't so wonderful either.)  It's full of stained carpets.

The Cathay lounge does not have a noodle bar of any type - no Dan Dan noodles for you. 

The Sakura lounge (like the Cathay lounge) is absurdly hard to find.  The shower in the lounge was nice though - even if their automated process to sign up for it was completely screwed on my phone.  The Bibim Bop (wait, is that really local?  No, but it's what looked best.) was decent.  

Night fell.  My eyes (electrochromatic portholes and daylight flights are a bad pairing) and feet hurt.  I'll just wait by the gate.  Oh, Gate 97 was another very long walk.

I'm just sitting there and I hear my name paged.  Huh, they actually pronounced it correctly.  First and last.  It's not uncommon to have my last name mauled at home (the "a" trips 'em up.) It's universal that the "J" sound in any other language trips up non-native English speakers, even if fluent.  That was ear catching.  But, they just said it as part of a list of names.  Notably not as part of a series of names and directions.  Huh, well, I'll trudge to the most logical place.  The dreaded Transfer Desk.  A long trudge revealed that it was closed.

A long trudge back out to Gate 97.  Still nobody at the gate.  I'll just sit and sweat away that shower. 

Then they page me again.  This time they tell me to go to the Transfer Desk.  Third times a charm, right?

Nope.  Still closed.  FTW.  I really am not having fun.  I hate Narita.  I'm pretty unhappy with JAL.

I'm confused.  My feet hurt.  I walk across the expanse to look at a brochure about the terminal - maybe it's more current than the terminal maps.  Nope.  Maybe there's another Transfer Desk.  Nope.

They page me again!  I turn around and look at the Transfer Desk.  Standing under all the monitors that proclaim "Closed" and behind one of the many placards on the counter that reiterate that they're "Closed" is a young lady whose lips seem to be saying the words on the PA.  I walk across the expanse.

She's so happy to see me!  Why, I still dunno.  She said "Oh, you have your boarding pass..." 

She scanned my passport.  She explained enough that I think she was at the gate when I was at the Transfer Desk and vice versa.  She nicely told me I "made her day."  I politely said "Gracias, I mean Danke, shit I mean Arrigato."  I smiled.  

And, no snark attached, a sincere congrats to her for being able to pronounce "James" flawlessly.  That was actually pretty cool.

I'm pleased that I did not melt down in the least.  Or get snotty in any way.  I'm pretty proud of that.

I trudged back to Gate 97.  Hating all of Narita all of the way.

A few hours by the gate.  My feet were really sore at this point.

I was in NRT for 6 hours.  It's the only place I was on my feet at all.  I walked 5.71 miles.  My usual sedentary lifestyle yields less than 5,000 steps a day - I logged 13,014.  My feet fucking hurt, OK?

Fitbit tells me that my resting heart rate is usually ~58bpm (the right hypertension Rx helps!).  I logged a reading of 131 BPM.  

I didn't melt down.  I didn't get snarky or nasty with anybody.  I'm happy about that.  I could have lost it just from being so damn tired.  Or, just because my feet hurt.

2230 - I planed (if one "de-planes", surely they must have "planed" previously, no?)  Another empty row.  Regular economy as Malaysia Airlines does not offer premium economy.  But for less than 100 MYR I had upgraded to extra leg room for the  NRT-KUL-NRT legs.  Well worth it.  (That's less than $25.)

2231 - I took an Ambien.

2235 - I fell asleep for the flight. Even though my feet hurt.


Friday (Times are now Malaysian Time (GMT +8))

That's the happy time...it deserves a separate post so as to not be tarnished by...sore feet?  No, by Narita.

And, I'm exhausted.  Sunset is 3.5 hours away.  I don't care.  A shower and an Ambien will get me through the night, literally.  I sense a long sleep a comin'.


NB, in spite of all the bitching I am very happy to be here.  Travel can be ugly at times.  This was not ugly.  It was just sore feet and cankles.  (And, truthfully, the swelling isn't that bad.  Wear your compression hose on those long flights - they work.) 

The journey is part of the purpose and reward - hassles included.





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Mansplaining it - to the dude and bros (not my literal Bro) out there!  Cankles = Calf + Ankles 

As in this Google result:  

"Cankle" (a combination of "calf" and "ankle") is a nonmedical term that describes the appearance of the calf and ankle being one unit instead of clearly defined.