sayounara jitensha.

Last night I had such an adventure (not a good one this time). I went to karaoke with some pals, and all was good until we left. It was midnight, some friends were kicking on but I was going to head home since I was tired. We spilled out of the karaoke place and I headed to where I had left my bike whilst rummaging through my bag for my keys. Those who have seen the disarray of my bag would know how awful it can be, so it can take me a good while to find my keys. Last night, however, something was different – my keys were, in fact, not in my bag. This meant I had either lost them or left them on my bike (you need a key to use your bike). Unfortunately the truth became evident when I looked around and realised my bicycle was nowhere to be seen.

Whilst this entire situation was entirely my fault, it was also fairly bad luck. I have never before left my keys on my bike, whilst friends have done so on multiple occasions with no repercussions. Japan is notoriously safe and many people in the past 24 hours have told me this is the first time they have heard of a bike being stolen.

In any case, my pal Kengo proceeded to take me to the police station to report my bike was missing. Two people sat and spoke to Kengo and I for a good hour about the matter, asking minute details about the situation, including but not limited to the nature of the bicycle, where it was left, the direction in which it was facing when I left it, and what my keys looked like (I was required to draw a picture for the final point). The whole thing seemed more reminiscent of a missing person’s report than a stolen bicycle.

The real low point came when we reached the paperwork I was required to fill out. The first line was my address. I carry a copy of my address with me on the back on my resident’s card, scrawled by a Japanese person at city hall in the smallest kanji I have ever seen and about 14 or 15 kanji. “Can you write it?” I was asked. “I can not.” “Perhaps if you practice first”, I was urged. Feeling troublesome, I began painstakingly attempting to copy out the kanji, looking to Kengo for affirmation. Ten minutes and two and a half kanji later, it was deemed acceptable for me to write my address in English instead. I stamped everything with a finger print feeling like a criminal, since I didn’t have my inkan with me. Eventually at around 2am we made it out and headed back to the university where Julie had been waiting up to give me the master key so that I could at least access my room.

Really it was not so bad; I don’t know how long I will be without a bike for and I will have to pay for my room lock to be changed and for a new bicycle, which will not be cheap, but these things happen. Mostly I feel so bad for the people who had to help me last night, particularly Kengo. I feel as though so many of my posts I end by saying how grateful I am to various people, but here is another. Being in Japan, I have learnt so much about the value of generosity, and how greatly appreciated it can be by a lost soul with a stolen bicycle. Thank you Kengo!