One day after school, a few weeks ago, DP and I took the metro to downtown Yokohama to run some errands. We picked up our alien registration cards, spent some quality time (and Yen) shopping in an electronics store with seven (glorious) floors and then spent two hours at the bank. (Where else in the world would a bank teller spend two hours with you? Then again, where else would they need to? But that’s another post.) While we were in the bank, it began to rain so we opted to take a taxi home but the 90 year-old driver did not understand where we lived even though we gave him our address in Japanese. “No worries”, we thought. “It’s Japan. It will all work out.” We had an opportunity to practice Zen Buddhism as the driver pulled over to pore over several maps with a magnifying glass and then (just when we smugly assumed we were home-free) shot past our building. We finally got him to stop the taxi but, in the midst of all the commotion and the grabbing of bags and umbrellas, we left DPs wallet in the taxi. Damn. When DP realized what had happened, he ran after the taxi but the old man was long gone.
Yes – to answer your question – there was a lot of money in the wallet along with DPs credit cards and his brand new alien registration card. Damn.
Our colleagues at work were positive. “It will come back” they said. “Do you know the name of the company?” We remembered only that the driver was ninety (more or less) and that the taxi was red.
“Red? Are you sure it was red?”
“It was red. Or orange. Reddish orange.”
“Hmmm”, they said. I knew that they were thinking something along the lines of, “How do these foreigners survive? They are like little babies.” (It’s true. We are.)
A colleague asked if we had received a receipt from the driver. I wasn’t sure. DP dashed home after his first period class to see if he had slipped a receipt into his shirt pocket. (He definitely had not placed it in his wallet.) Nope. Nothing.
Halfway through the afternoon, I bumped into one of the new teachers who said that DP’s wallet had been found. The taxi company had contacted Immigration and acquired our school’s phone number. The taxi company employee had explained, apologetically, that the company office was quite far away from our neighbourhood and it might not be convenient for us to come and pick up the wallet. Would it be suitable if they send the wallet back to us by courier – COD. Um… yes!
The following day, we received an e-mail from one of the secretaries. DP’s wallet had arrived and the COD charges were 700 Yen or just under 9 USD. Sure enough; all of DP’s ID and credit cards were there along with all of his cash.
Japan, I want to marry you.