It was a dark and stormy night. Well, almost. It was foggy and shivery and grey and was drizzling with the kind of rain that sneaks under your umbrella (should you have an umbrella, which I didn't). I had trekked through all of Shibuya station trying to find the elusive Rinkai line, and had finally found it and had to wait ten minutes, which is a long time by Tokyo railway standards, but anyway, I digress. I arrived at a glossy new station and was all hopeful that things would work out well.
This favourable impression faded somewhat as I walked across a bridge next to a motorway onto an island that had been reclaimed from the sea. I'm still new enough in Japan to think that this concept is quite exciting, but judging from today's experience, the main consequence of reclaiming land from the sea is that the weather just whips right in and gets you as if you were on a small boat mid-ocean. I was trotting along the road, following the map round - it wasn't a Google map, which made me nervous, as this often means they just forget unimportant details like roads and buildings. The road curved round to the left, skirting a hulking power station as it did so. I kept walking and reassured myself that, although my only landmarks were the aforementioned (fossil fuel) power station and various less than scenic shipping depots, complete with several lorries almost driving into me, I was en route. After all, I reasoned, who would put the central immigration office somewhere that was hard to find, when so many clueless foreigners would need to find it?
When they put the office on the side of the immigration prison, of course! Silly me. I eventually found the godforsaken place and walked in to hear a slightly menacing orchestral rendition of
I Vow to Thee, My Country playing on a loop. Just the atmosphere you want in a place full of foreigners: make sure they know where they stand. Trembling somewhat - I'm sure that was the intention - I went up to Zone D, the re-entry permit area.
(I should interject here to explain that, if you're in Japan on anything other than the basic tourist stamp in the passport, as I am with my pre-college student visa, despite the fact that I have four years of a degree behind me, you have to apply for permission to leave the country at any point during the visa. Failing to do so means no more school until you get a new visa - potentially months later - and all manner of other hideous complications.)
Being the gadabout that you all know and love, I was plumping for the multiple re-entry option, which operates on the 'buy two trips' worth and travel as much as you like' principle. Seemed a good deal (relatively) to me: pay my forty quid and be done with the whole process. I settled down in front of the widescreen golf (??) to wait for my turn at the counter. Forty minutes passed and then my number came up on the LED screen. I duly got up, put my jacket on and walked the ten metres from the chairs to the desk, taking up a valuable ten to fifteen seconds. By then, the desk lady had moved on to the number after me. When I brandished my ticket in protest, she rattled off some fast Japanese at me which was, almost certainly, along the lines of 'if you choose to be lazy and not queue up five numbers before yours is called, what do you expect? Stand there and I'll call you up when I'm good and ready, and not before.'
Eventually my time came. I meekly put all my documents on the counter, making sure she could see them all. She took one bit of paper and ignored the others. She made me cross out where the school had stamped the sheet to say they'd approved it - weird, but up to her, I suppose, though why was she incapable of crossing it out herself? Maybe she couldn't write. That must be it. She then shrilly said 'gakuseisho!' (student card) at me, which was on the desk, as before. I did a mini-bow (I can't help myself) and passed it over. Then she pointed to the box where I had ticked 'multiple re-entry', and mimed a crossing action. At this, I took umbrage.
'Pre-college student!' she proclaimed. I thought for a second and failed the grasp the significance of this. Eventually, I discerned that pre-college students are apparently not allowed multiple re-entries, only single re-entries. This means I have to get the school to issue me a studentship certificate - which involves my filling out a form, getting it stamped by my teacher, the fees office and the admin office, as well as paying them 300 yen), fill out the long and complex main application form, pay 3000 yen for a stamp and put it all together, then go to the immigration office next to the detention centre, miles from anywhere I would normally go, each time I plan to go abroad. Kind of kills spontenaiety. What got me more than anything, though, was that this was the first I had heard of this rule.
'Is there a leaflet or website that explains the rules?' I asked. 'I would like to understand the rules for the future.'
She looked at me with a bemused glare. I said it again, slowly (I should confess I was speaking English here - there is no way at all I could attempt this kind of assertiveness in Japanese yet). She continued to look puzzled and angry. Eventually, she said 'leaflet?' with a suspicious tone. 'Yes, or a website,' I replied. She jabbed a finger downwards and said 'information!' in a final-sounding voice. 'On the first floor?' I asked, pushing my luck. 'Yes!' she proclaimed as she pushed the button to summon the next lamb to the slaughter.
The woman at the information desk had at least been on the customer care course, or at least the 'don't be aggressive to people' section. She too was perplexed by the request to see rules in writing, though. She suggested going back to see the ogres in Section D, and was flummoxed when I said they had told me to talk to her. Eventually, after repeating the word 'website' about six more times, she wrote down the department's website. 'I have no idea whether they talk about re-entry permits there, though,' she cautioned. A slight shame that she didn't know, given that she was on the information desk and was therefore meant to be giving information, but at least she tried.
Having looked through the website, they've cunningly put the re-entry section as 'under construction'. I can't find mention anywhere on the internet of the rule that says pre-college students may not have multiple re-entry permits. For all I know, ogre at Desk D was making it all up as she went along, just for kicks. Anyway, they're grudgingly letting me come home for Christmas, but other trips might be a different story.
Sorry for all that anger; I had to vent somewhere! It brings back memories of my five trips to the Oficina de Extranjeros in Murcia trying to register myself as a foreigner. Why is it that this kind of thing is so hard to achieve? Surely if you make it too user-unfriendly and complicated then people will be less inclined to bother with the legal way of doing things at all... Or is that just the latent anarchist in me talking?
