A kind reader complimented my last post on trying to get a license to drive in Japan, saying that she was impressed how I managed to make something that was certainly infuriating sound funny.
Well, that wasn't at all what I was going for, so today I'm going to write while the blood is still hot!
WE. GOT. HOSED.
First, a brief explanation of the "practical" test. Officially, it begins right after your practice turn. Unofficially, it begins when your examiner first greets you after you've been waiting for 2-3 hours in a hot, humid room overlooking the course. If you can't muster up enough Japanese and/or enough courtesy under those conditions, that's already a strike against you.
Un-unofficially, it begins when they give you the course map to study, and you're somehow supposed to know that following those big, bold arrows will result in immediate and irrevocable failure within the first fifteen seconds of the course.
That's right: follow the map they tell you to memorize and you fail. That's because the map uses a dotted line to mark the median, while the first stretch of the course uses a dotted line to separate two lanes going in the same direction. Try to turn right from the left-hand lane, thinking the lane next to you is opposing traffic, and you fail right off the bat. Even though the arrows on the map clearly stay to the left of the dotted line the whole time.
Notice, also, that I said the first section of the course uses a dotted line to separate lanes and a solid line to mark oncoming traffic. The rest of the course alternates between using a dotted line for the median and using it to divide lanes again. Apparently, we're just supposed to memorize when the dotted line is the median, because the examiners sure as heck don't tell you. And again: if you follow the lines on the map you were told to study, then you fail, because the map always treats the dotted line as the median.
That was problem number one. Problem number two was even bigger: it seems that some examiners have completely different opinions as to the proper way to complete the course. For example, on Friday, for my first attempt, the examiner stressed how important it was to stay to the far left side of the lane, unless you were about to turn right. This is horribly counter-intuitive, as the safest place to be is the center of the lane, before moving right or left to turn.
Today, I was trying to stay left on the last straight stretch of the course, feeling really good about my chances of having passed (little did I know I had already failed minutes ago--more below), when the examiner opened his mouth for the first time during the test. He started repeating something about "hidari" ("left") which neither I nor my much-more-Japanesially-gifted coworker in the backseat could understand. I could only assume he was telling me to keep left. My instincts were telling me I didn't have much road thataways, but I figured he wouldn't be sitting in the left seat repeating the word "left" if he didn't think I needed to move left. So I inched left, and boom! Off the curb, instant fail.
We can only assume he was trying to tell me "not so far left." That would be the generous assumption.
Now, I'd be really peeved if that was the only thing that had kept me from passing, but it turns out we were doomed from the start. First, you could just tell--the guy had the look. You know that look: pinched mouth, beady eyes, perpetual scowl, an entirely unearned sense of superiority. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go walk into a government office and ask a question within fifteen minutes of closing (that's 4:00 PM, 3:00 PM Fridays).
Second, he believed the complete opposite of everything the previous examiner had told us. We were told to brake in the turn; this guy gave us marks off for breaking in the turn. We were told to slow at a green light; this guy busted us for slowing at a green light. We were told to go slower; this guy busted us for going too slow. We were told to turn into the right-hand lane after a right-hand turn; this guy busted us for not turning wide into the left. We were told to keep left; this guy busted us for not driving in the middle of the lane.
It's hard to stress how demoralizing this is. After Friday's (expected and well-deserved) failure, I took the examiner's words to heart, amended my course map, and on another expat organization's recommendation, wrote out a script of what actions I'd have to take to pass the course. Then I took my bike to a mostly empty parking lot and practiced. I ran the course over and over in my head. At the drivers' center today, I found an empty spot and walked an imaginary course over and over, rehearsing.
And now I learn that none of these requirements are set in stone (except for the obvious). Apparently, the instructor can make a little red swish with his pencil any time he darn well pleases--and as I'm beginning to learn, it only takes one swish to fail.
I hope you can understand how this leaves me dreading the thought of going back. A ninety-minute bike ride (I have no one to drive me tomorrow--see below), possibly in the rain, followed by another vicious raid on my wallet, all for the privilege of waiting two and a half hours in a hot, humid hole for some prissy martinet to decide he doesn't like the look of me.
Then there are the first harrowing seconds of the course: trying to suppress all the instincts a good driver builds up over the years, all the while listening for the swish of a red pencil, the sound of immediate failure--when failure means another four hours of your life wasted and another fifty bucks down the drain.
I'm glad I don't have to get a license. I can quit any time I want to. (Honest.)
But I'd bet even money I'll drag my masochistic behind out there again tomorrow.
*I should give an honorable mention to my coworker Thomas, who is suffering through an added layer of absurdity. Thomas has had a valid international driver's permit since last August; he's trying to convert to a Japanese license before the IDP expires. (I wasn't eligible for an IDP because I came here straight from Edinburgh. Long story.)
That means, not only has he been driving legally and safely in Japan for, oh, ten months now . . . he actually left the building where they told him he was unfit to drive in Japan and legally drove home. Tomorrow, he's heading off to visit family in Matsuyama. That's, like, four hours away. Which is absurd in and of itself, but it also means that he has to spend those eight hours round trip suppressing everything he's been taught by this driver's test, some of which will straight up get people killed on a real road.
**I should also mention that, unlike some of the teeming masses who have found just cause to rail against the Japanese driving licensure process, I don't actually blame the Japanese for it. I've yet to live in a country that doesn't have an equivalent, and most of the Japanese people I've talked to have agreed that they think it's insane. (For a native Japanese driver, the total cost for an initial driving license is in the thousands or even tens of thousands of dollars, plus about a hundred hours of instruction.)
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