Arriving at Changi Terminal 3 at around 8:00 am on November 3, early enough for the flight, I
proceeded to the SIA check-in counter. “Do you have visa?” a Filipina staff
asked me. I thought she was asking me to show her my Singapore ID. No, she was
talking about the visa required to enter the US. “You must have it.”
Oh yes, I don’t remember when it was but I do remember that I translated an SIA
article about this rule of visa requirement. She walked with me in the
departure area to find someone “in a pink uniform” who would be able to assist me. We couldn’t find anyone in pink. Then she asked me to get the visa online with my laptop. I tried to access the “esta” website, but the screen showed that timed-out message again and again. I
decided this would be futile and went back to the counter to show what was happening on the laptop screen. Two other SIA staff, a man and
a woman apparently also from the Philippines, came over to help me. When did
the Philippines take over the SIA check-in counter? One of them even tried to
access the site with her smart phone. That’s when my laptop managed to open the
website for our relief. They navigated me through the site smoothly and she with her phone in her hand said, “You are lucky.” I got the visa with the cost of US$14.00. By then all passengers had been gone. Lucky maybe, but I felt
very troubled.
My old watch had been
found broken (“spoiled”) some weeks before. A new battery failed to wake it up.
I wanted to buy a cheap Swatch again at the airport. As I had to spend so much
time at the counter, I rushed to the gate. No time to browse through shops to
buy anything. I was hearing the final call for the flight, SQ016.
I didn’t see any
vacant seat around me. What makes so many people think about flying from Singapore to San Francisco on
this 9:25 am flight? In about six hours, the place landed at Incheon. After a
transit process, I moved to from the
arrival gate to the departing one and quickly bought a cheap Swatch (US$107.00). Luggage check was very strict for boarding. Every passenger
was required to open their carry-in bags. Only an hour at Incheon.
From Incheon to San
Francisco, it took more than 10 hours. Yes, incredibly boring
and almost sleepless 10 hours. Sitting on the same seat, my butt hurt so badly.
Turning my head this way and that, there was no way for sound sleep. A tiny
nice thing was that as the back-seat screen for the passenger sitting right
next to me was not working all the way from Singapore, she was moved to a
vacant seat somewhere, I had some more space for myself.
It was about noon,
November 3, when I came out to the arrival hall of San Francisco International.
Soon I entered the small café there to have Anchor Steam.
There would be many
hours waiting for my client who would arrive late afternoon by a flight from Tokyo. In the meantime, I was walking up and down between
the arrival and departure lobbies. I bought a small bottle of water for
US$3.29. And the “Vegetable Tempura Roll (US$5.36)” I had at “Ebisu” on the
departure floor for early dinner was very weird stuff. What’s that fluorescent green thing that was wrapping the
rice?
As soon as my client
came out to the arrival area, I found him. More than three years ago I met him in Tokyo. We went to the Hertz counter to get a car.
He had arranged car rental. We drove to Sheraton San Jose with no big problems. I found my room large enough with a bedroom and a
living space. Each part had a TV set though the one in the
living room was not responding. The hotel didn’t seem very new, reminding me of
something from the 80s. After my 18-hour move from Singapore, I concluded this
Saturday night with him at the hotel bar with calamari, Sam Adams and a
generous pour of Wild Turkey on the rocks.
The next day, Sunday,
I stayed in bed trying to get some sleep but failed. I had had long flights
before, but I think this was my fist real experience of
jet lag. We went out for dinner and came to “Great Mall” where we found many
shops but didn’t feel like eating at any of the few restaurants there. We ended
up at its food court. At the Japanese-looking shop, I ordered a bowl of
vegetable ramen, which disappointed me deeply. I’ll never have it again if even given another chance. The bowl had chopped vegetables, including
broccoli, carrot and a few kinds of mushrooms. The noodle itself was a very
thick whitish thing. The soup was probably chicken-based and tasted very unrefined. It was certainly not any kind of ramen. But then, I believe I had eaten something
similar during my previous stays to America. He had a very similar
(identical?) thing from the Korean shop right next to the Japanese one. A
“Subway” sandwich would have been better. After dinner, we drove a little and
found “Me-Kong Supermarket” at 777 East Capital Ave., where I bought some
apples, bananas for my breakfast and 12 bottles of Heineken. It was an
old-fashioned shop to which some renovation work probably would bring more
customers. Coming back to the hotel, a front desk staff, who welcomed us on
Saturday, said, “A lot of beer! For me?” “Would you like to join me?” was my
answer. I finished seven bottles this night alone.
Monday morning,
November 5. Cool weather with blue sky! Pleasant. Simply blue with no clouds to
be found. So refreshing. The schedule said the training would begin at 8:30 am. We arrived at the company building, which
stands next to the hotel, early enough at 8:15 am. We said good morning to the
security guy at the entrance desk who replied “ohayogozaimasu” and he, perhaps
half Japanese, told us the person we expected to see was not there yet because
it was still “very early.” He called her but received no answer. He said he
would give her another call again at 8:30. “Do you mean 9:30?” That’s when he told me about the
daylight saving time which came into effect the previous day. “You guys may
want to go for breakfast because it is still early.” We went back to the hotel
for breakfast.
After “Chef’s Omelet”
and coffee, we went back to the building and were brought to the classroom by
we didn’t know who. He turned out to be a trainer himself of another system and
a participant of this training course. There were two
other men in the classroom and one of them after short greeting started
explaining the course. I had been told that the course would be taught by a different,
well woman, trainer. During the break in the morning session, J, the trainer, told me that she had resigned after
she came back from China where she has a course to teach (after all, that’s because
of this training course in Shanghai that I came to California). And he
didn’t know what had happened to her there. Anyway, our training course started
with a tight schedule ahead. We had lunch at the cafeteria,
which at around US$8.00 to 9.00 or even a little more I thought was quite
expensive. In any case, we continued to eat there on all the training days
except the final day, November 14.
After our first day or
work, my client and I had dinner at the same hotel restaurant. I selected a
dish I don’t remember (it must be chicken). I almost chose New York steak. But
when the waiter said it was 12 oz., I changed my mind thinking I wouldn’t be
able to finish it. America being America, the dish was also too big for me and it tasted very bland. The waiter was a Japanese American
from Hawaii. Wearing an over-sized white shirt, he misheard when I said “A*****” and thought
I said “Apple.” “That’s the biggest company in the world” was what he said. I corrected the error
For Tuesday dinner, we
went to “Max’s,” a Filipino restaurant, at Seafood City Supermarket, Landess
Ave. I ordered a dish of fried fish, two fried eggs and garlic rice. It was
only OK to my taste. Around the car park of this dark
place, we also found a Korean restaurant, a “Kopitiam” (!), a Vietnamese noodle
shop and a dingy pizza restaurant. In this part of California, it seemed that
there was a sizable Vietnamese community as I saw signs with Vietnamese names.
Right next to the noodle shop was a dentist office also with a Vietnamese name
though I don’t remember if it was Nguyen or what else.
On Wednesday, the boss
of the trainers took the whole class to a group dinner at a Japanese restaurant
called “Izaka-Ya” in North 1st Street, San Jose, with nice staple izakaya food
and a funnily translated menu listing dishes like “fried squid legs.” Does a
squid have legs?
Thursday night, we
went back to the hotel restaurant for dinner as we couldn’t think about any
other place. I had a plate of roasted chicken breast and couldn’t finish all.
This day, the temperature dropped. It was fine and cold rather than fine and
cool. Standing outside in a long-sleeved shirt, my body was shaking.
For our Friday dinner,
my client friend and I went to “Pho Saigon Noodle House,”
the Vietnamese noodle shop I had set eyes on when we ate at “Max’s.” Each of us had a large bowl of pho ga and it tasted nice and was satisfying to me. Then we tried Target supermarket across the street. Again, I bought
apples, bananas and 12 bottles of Miller Lite for the total of US$18.22. I had
to produce my ID for the beer. “Oh, you look young.”
We hit the road to San
Francisco on Saturday! On Friday, P gave us the Caltrain schedule and a navigation guide to San Jose Diridon Station. Our plan was to ride the
10:35 express but I was too lazy to check the step-by-step navigation guide and
we simply started. The GPS asked us to enter the station’s street name and zip code, which we had no idea of. We only knew the name
of the station. We got lost and made a few U-turns and I enjoyed it. This is
certainly part of the fun of visiting an unfamiliar place. By the time we
arrived at the station located
near HP Pavilion, the
express had been long gone and the 11:00 local was
about to depart. We didn’t try to catch it. We had to wait for the next train,
also local, departing at noon. During an hour before the local train, I,
feeling hungry, had a turkey sandwich and a cup of hot coffee bought at the
station kiosk.
It was a smooth ride
on the train. I found no roof above the stations on the way, except probably
one for which a freeway above was working as a partial roof. The local arrived
at San Francisco Station about 10 minutes late, perhaps because the train
stopped at Stanford as it was a football day. On Friday, Paul told us the
station was near AT&T Park.
I was anxious of
seeing the ballpark, the home of the SF Giants, which had won the World
Series 4-0 against Detroit 13 days before. My client friend
agreed gladly to my suggestion to have a look. The park was really near the
station and easy to find. There was a crowd outside though the baseball season
was over. They gathered to see what I later learned as “Red Bull
Flugtag.” With too many people, we couldn’t
see much of the event and entered the Dugout souvenir shop. I wanted to get a
grey visitor jersey that shows “SAN FRANCISCO” proudly. I only found 2X and XX
sizes, too large for me. And a guy at the shop was not very helpful, who basically said, “If you don’t find it there, we don’t have
it,” a Singaporean attitude.
Not wanting to waste
our time, we moved to the bus terminal to go to the city end of the Golden Gate
Bridge. We found that the terminal had been demolished for
redevelopment. We followed the arrow signs to find the temporary terminal. To
get there, it required some walk and the bus stop for the Bridge was not in the terminal but on the side road (Beale
Street), a small stop with nobody waiting for any bus, except us and a woman
who was soliciting small changes. We waited for about 20 minutes before the bus
came. I believe that the one we took was the 3:15 #70
bus. To the Bridge, it cost US$8.00 per person. Too expensive! I had to ask the
driver when I boarded if this was for one person or two. I now wonder if it was a whole-day pass? I didn’t know how long it would take to the Bridge. I
only knew it shouldn’t take very long. The only street I remember along the
route is Van Ness Ave.
We had decided to walk
over to the other side of the Bridge and back. Going over, a woman, of course a
perfect stranger, offered to take photos of us (so nice of you!), and after a
short photo session, we moved on. It will take just a few minutes by car, but I
think walking is the best way to feel this Bridge. The sun was going down quickly while we were walking back to the city side. The sunset was beautiful, definitely. And it was almost cold, something I had not experienced for so many
years.
Beside the Bridge souvenir
shop, there was a bus stop only for #28 to 19th Avenue. It came soon and got
pretty crowded. Our
intention was to go near Fisherman’s Wharf, where we would
have our dinner. Having
no idea of where the bus was running, we got off at the stop where most people
did. In front of us was Safeway market and on the other side was a car park and
sea. Now I think it was the Marina Blvd. & Laguna St. stop. We began walking from the
stop to Fisherman’s Wharf, quite unsure of how to reach there. With the help from his guidebook, we were just walking on. On our way,
we accidentally found Ghirardelli Square and Chocolate Factory. We walked down
Laguna Street, turned to the left at Bay Street and turned left again to Van
Ness Ave. and found the beach. We saw
Fisherman’s Wharf some blocks away. Walking along the beach, we passed a
building which I now know was the Sala Burton Building and, walking up the
slope, half surrounding the building, came out to
Beach Street. The large roof sign of “Ghirardelli” appeared before us.
After only 15 minutes
or so at Ghirardelli, we came out to Beach Street and to the beach again. We
must have been walking down Jefferson Street to the east. Turning to the left
at Taylor Street, we arrived at the Wharf. As he told me he had dinner here on
his previous visit to San Francisco, we decided to have our dinner at Pier 39.
We had a look at the
restaurants in Pier 39 and decided to settle down at “Wipeout Bar & Grill.”
Apparently with a similar concept, the restaurant just next to Wipeout had very
few diners. We chose the more crowded one. We ordered beer, “House Salad,” “Wipeout
Fried Combo” and “Shrimp & Steak Bowl” for two of us, almost knowing we wouldn’t be able to clean the plates. The smiling young
waitress who took our order was very welcoming.
Not lingering for long
at Wipeout, we started our trekking again, this time to find a Cable Car
station to return to the Caltrain station. With his guidebook, my
client friend worked as the navigator to the station. At Taylor St. and Bay St. we rode the
Powell & Mason line to Union Square (US$6.00 for one ride) , from which we
walked to San Francisco Station, where we were to take the 10:15 Caltrain. We
were back at San Jose around midnight, me with a slight pain in my left knee
because of the long walk. Why only in the left knee?
Sadly not much of the
scenery in San Francisco remains with me. I believe that is because we were
just walking on and on to our destinations or because my sense is inherently
blunt to remember and describe scenes. I hope they will come back to me.
During the day on
Sunday, I stayed in the room, reading “A Gun for Sale,” which I started on SQ016. Every night since I arrived, I had been trying to read more but not very successfully. I had a room-service “Traditional Turkey Club
Sandwich.” I stored the sandwich into my stomach but not much of the French
fries. I’m not a lover of fries. For dinner, I suggested the Vietnamese restaurant
we had eaten at the previous week. This time, I ordered a small bowl of pho bo and a plate of spring rolls. Satisfying.
On Monday, the
training moved on to talk about another, older, machine, the inside of which I had never seen. The structure, however, seemed
much simpler, making things easier for me. For our dinner, we drove to a
different direction to Santa Clara. His guidebook listed “Yo Yo Sushi” close to
AMC IMAX Theaters in Mission College Boulevard. We took a look at the restaurant. It was basically a sushi-on-conveyor and
ala-carte-dishes place, which didn’t trouble me at all, but the menu pasted on
the window looked not very appetizing. Instead, we went to “tomatina,” an Italian restaurant. He had “Tortelloni
Carbonara” while I “Fusilli Gorgonzola” and a glass of red California wine. We
also ordered “Caesar” salad for us to share. The gorgonzola pasta was really
filling but I liked it.
On Tuesday, the
temperature went up, and it continued on Wednesday. J told me that this year
Indian summer was short in the area.
We went out to San
Jose for dinner, thinking that we might find some other places except
“Izaka-Ya.” We didn’t find much and thought about having dinner at the sushi
restaurant right next to “Izaka-Ya.” We decided not to, looking for a wider variety. And as I assumed that “Genji Japanese Steak
House,” located on the other side of “Izaka-Ya,” and “Jade Cathay” were under the same management,
probably Chinese, after all we decided to have our dinner at “Izaka-Ya” again.
Almost soon after we placed our order, J and O, his old boss who treated us the
previous Wednesday, appeared, unexpectedly. Shaking hands, O told us he was
pleased to find us back at the restaurant, which should mean it is kind of
authentic. After dinner, we dropped by 7-Eleven nearby, me to buy a 6-pack of MGD
(US$6.99). As I was paying, a man with an incoherent speech came in and started
talking to the 7-Eleven man at the counter.
The last day of training
– Wednesday, November 14. The whole class went out for lunch at Pepper Lunch
USA, a Japanese restaurant which seems not related at all to the Japanese chain
of the same name. In the afternoon, we had a factory tour. Not only the
production area, we had a look at the repair shop as well. This I definitely
enjoyed. Located near was the R&D area, which we didn’t go into because
“there is one who’s not employed,” which was me. The day was concluded with the usual answer checking of the examination.
That was it. My 8-day work in California was over. I believe that I did at
least an OK job without any fatal errors though I had not seen one of the two
machines for more than three years and had never looked closely at the other. It was a training course that came to its end very
quickly. It was a great opportunity for me not only because I learned more from
it but also because it reminded me of what it feels like to be in the U.S.
Dinner for the last
night. My client friend and I decided to go to “Kubota,”
which his guidebook called the “best Japanese restaurant in San Jose.” The book said it was in Japan Town. We drove around the area for some time taking more than a few
U-turns to find the place. We couldn’t. In any case, Japan Town seemed quite dark without much vigor that night. After finding a parking slot with a bit of difficulty
(not much vigor but a lot of parked cars), we thought about choosing a
restaurant with a dinner-set menu or a ramen shop, which had a sign of urgent
staff hiring. We decided to try the set-menu “Gonbei.” He ordered salmon
teriyaki, an American invention and also a common Japanese dish found at
locally managed Japanese restaurants in Singapore, while I went for yosenabe
with rice, miso soup and a side dish of mashed potato and hijiki. This yosenabe
was not a sophisticated stuff but who could have asked for more there. And
behind the chopstick bag, I found the branches of the restaurant, one of them “Kubota.”
I still don’t know where it is.
Throughout my trip, everyone was helpful, and I ate a lot and consumed
much beer, with no exercise at all except much walking in San Francisco.
Thursday morning at around 10:00 am, we
started driving toSFO. In less than an hour, we arrived. I said good bye to my
client friend with whom I spent much time during these days, and went straight
to the check-in counter. There was already a line of some length.
I found a line that was so much longer
with people who were entering the immigration area. A few officers were
checking their passports. Holding up my passport above the eye level as of
trying to see a watermark, she asked my full name. I gave it to her and she
said “Arigato.” I went on to the X-ray area. Everyone was taking off their
shoes to place them in those plastic trays. And when my turn came to go through
the metal detector, I was asked to remove my belt, also destined to go to a
tray. And it was not a usual detector. It was shaped like a transparent capsule
with a door in which I had to raise up my hands. It was not a pleasant
experience.
With the immigration process cleared, I
had little time to relax and look at the shops though I arrived early enough at
the airport. I only managed to buy two small Cable Car toys. Sometime after I reached
Gate 101, it was announced that the boarding time for SQ015 would be delayed
half an hour and the gate would be changed to 98, giving me just enough time to
grab a sandwich and a foam cup of coffee at “Deli-Up Café.”
Explaining the delay, the captain told
us, the passengers, that departing flights were clogged at the airport. When
SQ015 departed, originally scheduled at 12:50 pm, it was more than an hour
late. It took the northern route, along the Pacific coast and up to Alaska. During
this painfully long flight, seeing icy scenes helped me, though a very little.
Alaska, Siberia and Sakhalin. Those were views that can be described truly amazing.
Sleepless flight again.
The flight arrived at Changi at about
2:20 am, Saturday, November 17.
At the arrival lobby, I withdrew some
cash and asked the information counter where a mailbox was located. As
instructed, I went up the departure area to find it. I threw an envelope with a
check inside to pay to a government agency into the mailbox I found. Inside my
bag, the check travelled with me between Singapore and Milpitas. I had planned
to send it before I departed Changi.
It was almost 4:00 am when I reached this familiar but miserable apartment.
I hadn’t forgotten to buy a small can of beer at the nearby eating place.
Having beer, I turned on my mobile phone and found a few SMS
messages. One of them asked me to contact a person who wanted my interpretation
service. I replied the messenger saying that I would get back to the inquirer very soon. And I also
found the inquirer herself had called me a
few times too. Because it was still very early morning, I e-mailed
her, explaining why it was not possible for me to contact her immediately.
Then, I had sleep for a few hours. My
buzzing phone woke me up. The message from the same person was asking me if I
could be available for interpretation job of the day. I jumped up and called
her. It turned out that the message had been sent to me a few days before. I
apologized.
When I opened my
eyes half asleep at
about 5:00 am of the 18th, I didn’t know if this was
still the hotel room or this abject place. I totally mixed up the two. The
place looked glossed over, and very confused, I was thinking that the two places had the
exactly same layout. I didn’t know in which place I was.
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