- - - - - - - - - - T A B L E_T A L K Riders share their experiences and thoughts on traveling by motorcycle in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y Figure skating shocker By Jonathan Broder Lipinski upsets Kwan to take the gold. What happened? Skating expert Christine Brennan analyzes events on -- and off -- the ice in Nagano. (02/20/98) Flying away By Cintra Wilson I sold my soul to the scalpers to watch mechanized super-teens Michelle and Tara kiss ass? (02/20/98) Flying away By Gary Kamiya Triumph on the slopes -- and parties all night long (02/19/98) Scalpers, skiers and cultural schizophrenia By Cintra Wilson Our woman in Nagano checks out deluxe slopeside port-o-lets, "child hornet" snacks and other Olympic oddities (02/19/98) Cold war By Gary Kamiya The Czechs battle the Russians on ice (02/18/98) Browse the Feature archives		____________Lost in Nagano OUR CORRESPONDENT'S INNOCENT SEARCH FOR THE MEN'S SLALOM TURNS INTO AN AMAZING HALF-DAY ODYSSEY. Alberto Tomba of Italy falls during the men's giant slalom Thursday. Hermann Maier of Austria won the gold medal. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - BY CINTRA WILSON | NAGANO, Japan -- I have a few tips for the aspiring Nagano traveler. No. 1: It is imperative that you learn fluent Japanese because, it is important to remember, even the designated English-speaking people here have only the most cursory and remedial grip on the language, so when you say things like, "If you don't help me find the right shuttle bus, first I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to kill myself," they invariably say, "OK! Thank you." The men's giant slalom tipped me off to this, more clearly than ever before. In order to get to Nagano from Sakudaira, the locale of our little non-English-speaking hotel, you must first take a taxi to the train station, then take the astonishing Shinkansen, the swan's-head-shaped bullet train. The bullet train is always exactly on time, and very comfortable when you can sit down, but lately there are so many legions of folk pouring into Nagano from Tokyo, there is invariably nowhere to sit and the train is wall-to-wall people with huge shoulder bags. Still, the ride is smooth, and over in about 20 minutes. From Nagano Station yesterday, I walked three minutes to the shuttle bus station for a ride up the mountain for the ski event. At the shuttle bus ticket counter I was informed that there was no shuttle bus; I would need to take a wholly different train, one down under the Nagano station. My rail pass was invalid on this line, and therefore the ride would cost me 2,000 yen, ensuing shuttle bus ride not included. OK. So I went down into the train station, where there was no information in English whatsoever. I finally found a sign that said something like "Men's Skiing" and went to that window, where the kindly ticket seller tried to painstakingly explain to me where I needed to go, in Japanese. There's a lot of that on both ends -- me and whoever I'm talking to saying very slowly and carefully whatever it is we're trying to get across, as if clarity was the key to a totally foreign language. Maybe one of us will understand, both of us think, if I enunciate PER-fectly. I did end up on a little train that wound through the feet of the Alps for a half hour, through strange, poor little parts of town with rusty old swing sets in the backyards. An older Japanese couple could see I was confused and took pity on me. "Olympics?" they asked. I said "Hai!" which means yes. They motioned for me to follow them when I got off the train. From the train, we were directed to walk five minutes to a parking lot, where shuttle buses would take us to the event. The bus drivers looked at our tickets and said, "OK!" and we got on. There was a fabulous and astonishing view, which stretched all the way to New Zealand, it seemed. The sun was sharp and snow was melting off of the trees and falling in great bright boulders off the boughs. We were taken to what appeared to be an expensive ski resort area and dropped off at the foot of a large slalom course, where we were instructed to walk five minutes uphill to the finish line to spectate. When I arrived at the security gate, the English-designated girls looked at my ticket and apologetically said, "This ticket no good. This for men slalom." "This isn't the men's slalom?" "Nooooooooo." "How do I get to the men's slalom?" "Shuttle bus. Fifteen minute." OK. A mistake. I still had time to see most of the race. So, I went back to the parking lot. I asked the English speaker there how to get to the men's slalom event. "Oooooh," she said. "Moment." After five minutes of panicky conference with several of her other security team members, she came back. "You can take local bus, but it cost money." That's when I started acting more American. "Wait! I just paid to get on the wrong bus! No!" "Moment." She got a cop to sneak me into the back of the local bus, which was filled entirely with Japanese resort-goers in incredibly expensive and complicated fluorescent ski wear, and their skis, tangled like pick-up sticks all through the aisle. The bus went about 20 feet and I chickened out -- I knew that there would be NO English spoken on this bus, and I figured I'd be better off with the people with the arm bands. So I bailed as soon as it stopped. When I got out, it was clear that there were several other people with my problem, shuffling around, confused. After many arguments between the security team and another bus driver, we were finally allowed on a different bus. This guy was going to take us to the men's slalom event. OK. N E X T+P A G E+| Trouble on the bus PHOTOGRAPH BY CLIVE BRUNSKILL/ALLSPORT Archived images are provided by Allsport Photography USA, Inc. all rights reserved, any redistribution, resale, re-print or other use is strictly prohibited without written consent from Allsport Photography USA, Inc. directly.