Sarah asked about my weekend, and I told her that I might get a radio show hour come October.
"That's way better than what I've got," she says. "They're making me talk over our town PA."
Sarah tells me that her town has huge loudspeakers rigged up all over the place; 6:AM announcement, daily, a song at half past, and regular announcements throughout the day. I told her I couldn't tell if it sounded more like prison or M*A*S*H. "How long do you have to go on for?"
"I don't know, three or five minutes. It's every Tuesday afternoon."
"What are you supposed to say?"
"That's the worst part: no one in my town speaks English; it's not like they're even going to understand what I'm saying!"
I ask her if she knows any other languages.
"Sign Language," she tells me, and then we both burst into laughter.
"Catholic Sign Language."
"What?"
"I went to a Deaf Catholic School." We are laughing so hard we're making the Japanese professors at our lunch table excuse themselves for more tea. "And I'm not even Catholic."
We're almost squealing now.
"Or deaf," I say, and then we each upset our lunch trays, thrashing around with something like a profound awe at our own stupidity. "But that's not really what I meant anyway."

Today's a mixed bag; there hasn't been as much of it as I'd thought there would be and It's been mostly half-hearted chore work. I stayed up a bit later than I wanted last night (as in several hours) reading through Howl's Moving Castle, which I'm liking more as I go along and which I'll send home to Ellie when I'm done with it. It's by one of our favorite YA-Fantasy authors and was the inspiration for the new Miyazaki film of the same name, which someone should see and tell me how it is. "But you're in Japan," you say. "Can't you just see it yourself?" Au contraire. True, I'm in Japan: here's where the anime comes from, here's where the Kurosawa films come from, here's where a bevy of good martial arts and action movies come from, my favorite TV show Abarenbo Shogun, a whole world of manga, haiku, art films. But I can't see any of them. I'm in Japan, where everything's in JAPANESE. It's one of those forehead-slapping moments of realization, something that should have been blindingly obvious all along but only dawned on you in a video store two nights ago as you considered renting "Ran." On the same token, I'm denied access to French or Spanish or Chinese films too: they're subtitled alright, but not in friendly friendly English. As Pepe Le Peu would say, "Le sigh!"

But a trip to the video store means that I must have got my gaijin card, my alien registration card, and now the world of points-cards and store accounts is at my greedy fingertips. The first day I got my gaijin card I raced right to the Tsutaya, the rental place a few blocks away, and walked out the proud leasor of Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. Haven't seen it in years, and it was hysterical. Made all the funnier by a surprising cultural relevance: "Bill," says Keanu, "Strange things are afoot at the Circle K." Although they apparently have them in San Demas, CA, the Circle K convienience store is a stranger to the East Coast ... but not to Japan! Here it's one of the most common conbini chains, the sight of many a microwave gyoza or late-night beer run and the hang-out for neighborhood highschoolers ditching cerfew. An interesting picture, Bill & Ted, very American in ways that must not be totally obvious to Japanese viewers -- things like the California surfer-dude accents probably don't call up any immediate connotative markers like they do for us, and even the film's marked vocabulary probably doesn't transfer: they didn't seem to have any way to consistantly subtitle any of the key phrases in the movie: "excellent," "dude," or "party on!" But on top of all the cultural baloney, it was also just a great movie to watch. Its stupidity is almost sheer genius, especially the parts with Napoleon eating the little kid's ice cream and cheating at bowling.

My more recent rental experience was not as satisfactory: after being assured that both the Road to Perdition and 12 Monkeys (minkeys?) were both going to be in English I ended up with a 50-50 split ... or maybe a 60-40 split, since the previews on the Road to Perdition tape were in English, even though the movie wasn't. Decievers!

But the movie-watching highlight of my life in Japan came earlier this week with two girls in Matsuyama, my friend Miyuki and her friend Ayako. You want internationalization? Two words: Mary Poppins. They made dinner and we rented Mary Poppins. We're coasting along watching it, sitting on the floor in Miyuki's sparse apartment and eating a full course of tofuey misoey soup, rice, a weird chicken-wings-and-veggies-cooked-in-ketchup kind of dish and a yummy canned fruit served in juice, soda, and italian ice desserty dish, and none of us are really too into the movie. On the one hand it was at least a break from belabored quasi-lingual conversation we'd been working at all night, which itself is fun and real but exhausting for everyone. On the other hand it's really not a very exciting movie in a lot of ways, and the otherwise engaging quaintness and subtlety of the movie's victoriana worldview seems to be lost on both Miyuki and Ayako; and you can't even commisserate about Dick van Dyke's abominable cockney accent, it's just lost on them. So we're all just barely staying with it, and then they jump into the chalk. And it's lovely. Once Dick van Dyke shuts up and just starts dancing with those Penguins, the whole movie's suddenly exciting again. And then the magic happens, or should I say, the magic word: IIIIIIIIIIIT'S......

Supercalifrajelisticexpialedocious!
Even though the sound it makes it something quite atrocious!
If you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious:
Supercalifrajelisticexpialedocious!

Super california expedition syrup lolly osis? Suupa colly fraggle whistle jingle halitosis? Supra curly frashelipstick ....? It was hysterical. After about fifteen minutes and several rounds of back and forth transliteration, me writing it in English and them writing in Katakana and us comparing, and rewinding and pausing it so we could see the katakana subtitle, and lots of singing and shouting and laughing so hard we were all almost shooting fruit juice out of our noses, Ayako could get it if she squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists and sang it at lightning speed at the top of her lungs, and Miyuki was completely hopeless: "santa claus's frijjle lissik...." I told them I remember having the same hysterical conversation with my sister every week or so for maybe the three years before I turned 7. I also told them it was one of the most famous songs in America, which is probably true, and that any time they met an American or almost any other English speaking native, they could always make them laugh by singing it, which is definately true. Who would have thought? Internationalization in a word: "ssssssupercalifrajelisticexpialedocious!" Dumm diddle iddle iddle dum diddle ay!

Just got back from a night of "jazz" at a neat hidden kind of ritzy club on the outskirts of Imabari. It was a trio of drums, guitar and a vocalist, and if they were kind of a one-trick pony they still sounded pretty great. The singer had a great voice, she really did what she did really well, but it wouldn't have been that captivating without the free-drink vouchers that came with entry (and amongst their ten kinds of liquor they had Bailey's to make me very happy and classy feeling). But it was a really fun night. Shalini, my downstairs neighbor, and I got picked up by Hiroka, a woman we met at the Imabari-shi gaijin welcome party last week. She knows Neil pretty well - he's my new Irish friend - because he does a radio show, and she helps run the station. So I told Neil how cool I thought it would be to do a radio show, and he passed it on to Hiroka, and it looks like come October I might have my very own block of broadcast time! If knowledge is a virus then suddenly I'm transmissible by airwave my friends. Who knows what kind of trouble I can get myself in now. I'll try to record the shows onto MD so I can send them home. Hey, maybe I can do a podcast! The opportunities for mischief go fractile.

The club was neat and hidden in a darkened hillside near a school and behind a project, and was super classy and filled with all kinds of trendstery people, most of them 30's or later 20's, but because we were with Hiroka everyone was excited to meet us and really happy to have us there. Right as we were handing in our tickets at the door a guy with a TV or high-style video cam came up and said "Camera! Ok? Ok!?! Please!" Sure! Of course it's okay! So he pulls the ticket reciept and drink stubs out of my hand and gives them back to the woman at the table and gives my ticket back to me, and pointing the camera at our hands, says "Ok! DOZO! GO!" And we hand in our tickets again. And get our stubs and vouchers. And wave once at the camera. But the cameraman was really happy.

A good time with Neil, who may well become my close friend in JAPAN. A cool guy, very relaxed but smart and interested in things, and funny and raucous without being a gaijin party-kid like a lot of folks seem to be that I meet. Our best moment tonight came when the singer lady took up one of those little egg-shaped maraca shakers to accompany a song and held it facing her body, with the back of her hand and three fingers turned out towards the crowd and her pinkey and thumb totally hidden behind the egg. After the first minute of the song, I lean over to Neil and say, "She looks kind of like a velociraptor." He almost breaks down laughing, and says he was thinking the same thing but never imagined anyone else in the world would agree with him. Velociraptors remained a discussion point for the rest of the evening. Did I mention how classy this place was? Very classy.

Allison gets not one but two honorable mentions this evening, first for calling me from the street in Himeji while I was in the Jazz club and shouting, "Can you hear this??" It was the Mario Brothers music, being played in what may have been a spontaneous outburst from a street performance trio. Second for telling me when I'd gotten home and was feeling kind of at a loss for myself to go take a bath and read a book, which is what I'm about to do; the bathwater's been filling while I've been writing and now it's probably nice 'n' steamy. I'm going to be especially naughty tonight and just go right for the bath, barbarian style, instead of scrubbing down first. Take that civilization! I can bathe like a barbarian!

Okay, I go bathtime now

All that Jazz...

Going out tonight with Shalini and my new friend Neil, a second-year JET in Imabari, to the first night of the Imabari Jazz festival. Festibal! Woo! Wearing a newly purchased cowboy shirt from a Matsuyama second-hand shop ... thrilled with myself, only 900 yen. Cowboy shirts and a Japanese Jazz Festival; ain't nothin' wrong with this picture.

“Atsui!” says Mami-chan as she comes into the office.

She’s not kidding; today’s a scorcher, and the ride in this morning was grueling enough that Taeko-san saw me and brought me to the showers before I even had a chance to step into the office (why didn’t they show me there were showers before? I’ve spent the last two weeks sopping the sweat off me with a grody towel and trying to get as much of my body as possible to fit into the tiny wind-tunnel automatic hand dryer in the men’s bathroom). The shower was fantastic–actually my first one in a few days–and by this point it’s several hours later and I’ve reached a nicely air-conditioned level of general equilibrium comfort, but I agree, letting the first syllable roll around in the gravelly bottom of my throat for emphasis: “Atsui neh!” I add, “and tired,” with a short smile.

“Taiyado?”

I nod yes. It’s been a long weekend, coming back from Matsuyama orientation in poor shape and then helping with the O-Bon festival in town, and a surprise drinking party and a missed fishing trip to really bring me well past that critical exhaustion point. Mami asks me a question in Japanese that I don’t understand, so she translates: “but yesterday, many many sleep desu yo?” “Yes,” I tell her, “but today I need many many more.”
Even after the mingled raucusness and irrelaxation of the past few days I’m happy to be at work again. Today and tomorrow are likely to be my last two days at GreenPier, the Board of Ed office. I know it can’t really be called that, but whatever it is called sounds just like GreenPier when I hear it so that’s what it’s called for me; it’s probably Kyurinpiyaa or Gurinpiyaa, but I hear GreenPier and when I say it to someone they know what I’m talking about, and that’s good enough for me. Wednesday I go back to Matsuyama to begin a language course that lasts until the end of the month, and after that is September and teaching, so I’ll be based in the schools: no more GreenPier. And TEACHING! Aah! Aahh!

I’m sure it will all be great, but I’ll miss it in this office; especially Taeko-san, who has totally been becoming my mother-away-from-mother. It’s unbelievable to me and completely endearing how much she is taking me under her wing. We totally bonded doing the dancing lessons from school to school leading up to the Bondori. I think that especially because I’m her son’s age she feels really inclined to looking after me. Almost every day she’ll give me some new food to try, and she always tells me what it is in Japanese and she’s always really proud of me when I can write it down correctly, and she gets especially happy when I like it, which I do almost all the time. I wish I could describe stuff more than “oishii,” which is what almost everything is. “Delicious!”
Today’s treat is called Ichi-roku Taruto. It’s a really sweet yummy cake thing like a bit of sponge cake wrapped around some very sweet and kind of minty/spicy red bean paste. It’s exactly the right kind of yummy to go perfectly with tea. These should get shipped to England to be the new afternoon tea craze; they’d be perfect with some Earl Grey. Gray? Grey? Got me. But these little cakes are scrumptious.

My favorite so far has been the Tetsumaimo (I think it was called that) which was a spicy warm purple-on-the-outside/yellow-on-the-inside sweet potato. Taeko san makes me repeat the names of things a lot, and then later she’ll point to it and say, “what is it?” and when I say “Tetsumaimo!” she just glows, proud and content and motherly. It’s like she’s taught me how to tie my shoes or do my multiplication tables. She’ll even tell other people about my daily accomplishments, and then make me tell them too. “Kacho-san! Joshu-san tried a new food today! Joshu-san, tell Kacho-san what you tried. Did you like it? Kacho san, ask Joshu-san if he liked it. Was it the first time you had it?” “Abe-san, Joshu-san and I went and taught dancing today at two different schools. Joshu-san, tell Abe-san which schools we went to. Abe san, ask Joshu if he’s good at the dancing. Oh, he’s just being shy, he’s very good at the dancing.” It is completely awesome. I am her four year old child. I can’t wait to learn more Japanese so I can be like her ten-year old child, and then she can take me to little league practice and things. Once there was a really delicious thing that someone else had grown and prepared that Taeko san gave me to eat, and I wrote the other person a thank-you note for it, and Taeko san showed everyone in the office, who were all obliged to admire me as they would any child of a proud mother.
I like being especially gentlemanly to Taeko san to keep some sense of equilibrium in the relationship; give and take. Of this she is always a mixture of delighted and scandalized and proud. Today she came with Takatomo-san and I on the lunch run and I held the car door open for her; as I came around to my door I looked to see her leaning over to Takatomo to explain: very confidential she tells him, “ladies first!,” and nods once as she says it, smiling ever so much and only to herself. Once I get my place set up I’ll invite her over for some kind of American food I can figure out how to cook up here. I think that would be really nice. There’s a place called Baron’s that sells imported foodstuffs (and lots of imported alki) and if they have Bisquick there then I’ll be in business big time. Otherwise omelletts or french toast, grilled cheese and milkshakes, who knows.

I'll miss Takatomo san too. He’s been the designated “take Josh to buy lunch at the grocery” guy for the last week or so, and it’s been a fun daily routine. We go to the A-Coop (pronounced Cope) and get soba or yogurt or a croque (which is exactly like a knish, and has totally become New Yorky comfort food since I figured it out), and we always have a really good time. He drives a really cool Jeepy kind of car that’s loaded with tiny stuffed animals which he says are for his brother’s daughter (but I know better). Takatomo san seems like he’d be fun to go hit the town with; I think he’d be a fun wingman for bar hopping or other otherwise funning it up.He’s single too so I bet I could bring him to have fun with some some of the gaijin girls I’ve met; they’re all complaining that Japanese guys are not only less available but way less attractive than the J-girls are, and Takatomo’s both so everyone should be happy. When I asked him if he had a girlfriend he blushed bright red and said “no no no” in his sheepish voiceless whisper. Hazakashi, I guess.

Good week so far. I really like being part of this office, I’ll be sad to leave it come September. But there’s exciting things happening outside the office soon – tomorrow I go to Matsuyama for the new-JETs orientation and I’ll get to see the other Ehime JETs I met in Tokyo and hopefully learn some job skills (oh please god). That’s for tomorrow and Friday, and Friday night we’ll have an enkai (2 hour all you can eat/drink party … it’ll be like 3,000 yen but I think it’ll be worth it for the enormous meal and imbibing and people time … and I’m supposed to get payed today so it should be okay to blow a bit of it too quickly, but they haven’t said anything really about it in a while; still, they’re kind of amazing at keeping stuff in mind without actively prioritizing it, like a super-attuned compartmentalization sense: on one of my first days here I asked Katcho san if I could take October 13^th off (Yom Kippor) and he kind of said “maybe,” and then almost two weeks later came over to my desk and told me it was okay) so there’s some fun to be had in Matsuyama. I get to take my first train trip and first foray into Matsuyama and see friends and learn things about my job, so I’m pretty excited about it. Ooo, also, there’s the big Matsuyama summer festival over Thursday, Friday and Saturday, so I’ll be able to be there for some of that.

BUT! I have to be back on Saturday FOR the BON FESTA!!! That’s the annual Festival of the Dead, and in Tamagawa it’s a big deal. We’ve been doing all kinds of preperations for it, and I’ve gotten to do a lot of stuff to help. Last Tuesday morning was the most utterly dull clock-ticking morning I’ve ever had, just sitting at my desk trying desperately not to look like I was sleeping with open eyes. On the same page in my japanese textbook for an hour and the whole office was dead, no conversation and no activity, and then suddenly there’s a whipcrack burst of life and everyone in the office is crowded around my chair in a kind of excited and hopeful, unintelligable frenzy: they want me to do something. Is it okay? Will I do this thing? With Taeko san? Will I go with Taeko san to do something? Is it okay?

Yes, of course I will do whatever the thing is you want me to do. I’d be happy to. With Taeko san? Wonderful. Iiii desu yo!

I get in the car with Taeko san and we drive to pick up another teacher named Keiko from one of the elementary schools, Kambei, and then we drive to a different school, Kua. The car is a Fa-mi-rii-caa, a Family Car, what the japanese call anything bigger than a coup, and it’s cool as hell. It looks like a slim sliver box, tall and narrow like a half a Zippo lighter stood on its side, but inside it’s like being in one of the shuttles from Star Trek. It doesn’t look or feel big or bulky in any way but there’s tons of room inside; several rows of collapsable cushy bench seats, curtains to screen the windows and separate the rows of seats from the cockpit, lots of visibility and more leg and head room than I had on the flight to Tokyo. And Taeko san and I have a nice time talking in the front while we wait for Keiko san; she’s apparently got a son my age in Osaka and a 19 year old daughter at school somewhere else, and she was reverantly surprised like everyone at my parents’ age (I think there’s a general idea here to have some kids pumped out by the time you’re 30 or so), and she thought Ellia was a pretty name for my sister who lives in the unheard of and mysterious Brooklyn, somehow like New York but somehow different. Taeko san speaks no English really; I guess she understands a lot of the vocabulary I use to describe things or she follows my gestures really well but she’s a joy to talk to, and has totally taken to mothering me while I’m in the office; largely a result of this trip.

Keiko san gets to the car and I get out to let her have the front seat – it’s very weird feeling not only like the foreigner, but still so much like a kid in a world of adults, and all my etiquette instincts kick in and overlap in overdrive sometimes. But I get out and Keiko san blushed as bright as she has in all her 60 years I’m sure, and she and Taeko san start talking about how nice of a boy I am and tittering to each other in the front while I lounge in the back of the shuttlecraft. When we get to the school we have a little while to wait before whatever it is we’re there for starts, and we sit in green folding chairs in the shade next to the gym. Taeko san and Keiko san commisserate for a while and then turn to me with a question, Taeko san leaning forward to ask in English while Keiko waits with her hand hiding her mouth: “Joshua san.

“Is it true that in America, it is ‘ladies first’?”

Keiko seems not to notice the fact that I speak no real Japanese and she owns not a single word of English; with Taeko san as a go-between she’s making me converse as rapidly and deeply as if we could understand each other perfectly. And thank god for Taeko san, who not only helped translate Keiko’s questions, but somehow helped me find the best answers for most of them to keep the conversation running until it was go time.

Go time: when the kids who were in the gym emptied out and a new crowd of them showed up from nowhere, a whole mess of kids of all ages, each in a drab little uniform and a bright sunburst-yellow hat, fishing hats for the girls and ones with little blue brims for the boys, and they all made a messy straight line in front of me so that each one could introduce him and herself before running into the gym to play. They were the cutest things I have ever seen. I particularly liked the group of shy boys who started to pool at the front of the line like a small tributary broken off from the main current, each pushing the others to go first and all squealing when I waved at them, and also the tiniest little girl I have ever seen. They would all walk up and would giggle or squeal or sometimes reply when I say “hi!” and when I asked, “what is your name?” they would all say something like:

"Myyyyy naaaamu iiiiis ...…… mastubayarashimanashigirichoshakuchan!"

And I’d say, “what? Could you tell me again?”

And they’d say,

"Myyyyyyyyyyyy naaaaaaaaaaamu iiiiiiiiiiiiiiis ...……”

And then we’re all in the gym together and I have to make my self-introduction to the group, and Taeko and Keiko say that we’re there to teach them something together: we are their three sensei for today. And we get the kids in a big circle around us and Taeko san tells me to stand behind Keiko. Who begins to dance. Not terribly slowly, but with a fair amount of repition and instruction in Japanese; and then we’re up and dancing! We came, apparently, to teach the kids the special tradtional local dance for the Bon Festa, where they will compete against other dance groups in a gigantic dance off I can’t even begin to visualize. Especially since after we taught them the basic pattern in a circle, we got them into lines behind each of us and paraded around the gym to music from a PA, around and around and around again. I was brought along to help teach a huge group of Japanese kids the tradtional dance of their local annual festival: and the next day we did it again. At a different school! And the next day too! Me and Taeko san and Keiko all together, and pretty soon I was a pro. The story that deserves more fleshing out is how I got to be part of a team myself, but I am, I’m part of the Tamagawa town office team and that’s why I have to be back from Matsuyama on Saturday, so that I can dance the dance of the dead in Tamagawa town for my first Bon festival in Japan, and a milestone in this new life.

Everyone is super nice, even if sometimes it feels like I’m only part of the furniture and not part of the staff. This week I’ve gotten some busy work handed to me though, which was awesome: today I got to fold posters for the upcoming town festival and stuff them into envelopes, and Monday I got to do a lot of rubber stamping on record books. Neat, huh?

Taeko san seems like she does the most work out of anybody, but that could just be an illusion based on the fact that I sit next to her so I can see her being busy, while everyone else is mostly blocked by a wall of mid-desk books.

Whew! It’s ten past two on what I have now finally realized is Wednesday and not Tuesday afternoon, and I’m ‘at the office’ on Mami-chan’s computer. Her internet’s down but it only means I can type more innocuously over here and I’ll later pull it over to Takatomo’s computer with my thumb-drive and upload it to the world outside. So, there are two clusters of desks in a long room that makes up the office. One’s for the bosses: Katcho san, Kakaricho san (which means Boss Jr), and someone I’ve never met called Katcho-Hosa san, who as far as I can tell is maybe the school cook? Or something? Then the second cluster, with six desks: Kancho san, which means like community-activity-boss, Taeko san and I make up the row close to the windows, and Takatomo san, Naofumi san and Mami chan face us.

Kancho-san, Taeko and Mami are women, about 60, 48 and 28 respectively and the rest are men in their 30’s-50’s. Takatomo’s the youngest, but like many people I’m meeting, he’s probably ten years older than I think he is; maybe 30ish? Naofumi san was telling everyone today that some youngster passing him in the street today called him “ojiisan” or ‘grandfather’ and sighing as Kacho san commiserated with him; I think that puts Naofumi san in his 40’s or 50’s and the salt in Kacho san’s hair reads about 50 as well. Mami chan is 28, which I couldn’t believe when I first found out since she’s got the hyperactive bubbliness of a Japanese teen. Kakaricho san’s a mystery, but not a very interesting one; 40? 35? More on their office hyjinks and personae later!

It’s really a nice place. Lots of laughter and a good working atmosphere, and lots of low key work. There’s a window to the lobby and any time anyone comes up to it they say 'good morning' or 'good afternoon' and bows, and the whole office responds together and bows back to whoever it is, and in the space of time before someone jogs up to the window to help them, i can always see that whoever it is is very suprised to see me there bowing along with everyone else. Whenever anyone comes or goes from the door there’s a round of communal call/response: itterasshai! ittekimasu!; i'm going! i see you're going! It’s really quite nice, like everyone keeping up with each other and checking in with where everyone else is in their day. I’m learning which things to say for when but I haven’t gotten a chance to unleash our house favorite, ‘okaerinasae,’ or as we like to say it, OCARINA OF TIIIIIIME!

Every once in a while (I’m sure according to some schedule I’ll never have an intrinsic understanding of) Taeko san or Mami will bring around a tray of drinks for everyone, sometimes coffee, o-cha (green tea), or Calpis, a milky/watery yummy refreshing kind of drink (I think we’ve got in the states but it’s called called Calpico, since when you say it out loud, Cow-Piss isn’t a great seller Stateside). Yesteday I made a funny feaux-pa (someone help me spell this) trying to bus Taeko-san’s mug for her when I was bringing mine to the kitchen. The whole office got in a big whirlwind of giggles and outright disbelief; at first they didn’t know what I was even trying to do and then when they finally figured out I was trying to take her cup for her it was such a shock that they actually tried to stop me; I couldn’t possibly know what I was doing. It was like a warning that the stick I was reaching for was actually a poisonous snake. When I finally just took it to the kitchen all of us were laughing ourselves to pieces and most of us were blushing (Katcho san came in half way through and they had to tell him about it, with the air of surprise appropriate for “Joshu-san just discovered cold fusion!” and he was laughing and blushing too). Taeko san didn’t stop bowing and thanking me until after I was done drying the dishes. I can’t wait to try offering to bring someone else a drink; it may be something they’ve never even thought of!

After work today was a whole world of fun.

A list, five items:

1

Got let off early so picked a new way to bike home (you know, in the same direction as home). Found another set of stone steps with markers coming up from the roadside, but this one was so foreboding by the top of the climb that I turned tail and headed back for my bike. You may know how bewildering it is to be surrounded by people speaking a language you don’t understand, but I doubt you have any idea the terrifying effect of being swallowed by a natural wilderness whose signs you can’t read and whose sounds aren’t meant for you. I have no idea what animals or trees or bugs were out there screaming to me or what they were trying to say, but it scared me, and I ran.

2

Dropped my shirts off at the Kureenaas (cleaners), and had an adventuresome fun time trying to figure out the rates and everything with the young woman behind the counter. It ended up being like 1500 yen (give or take?) for like 8 shirts, I think? I think that most of them were 110 yen, and a few were mysteriously 330. I have no idea at all. They had a chart up on the wall with three columns and a picture at the top of each one, but instead of pictures of shirts, pants, suits, blouses or even different kinds of fabrics, they were headed by a stork in flight wearing a postman’s hat and bag, a baby in a businessman’s hat and tie, and finally, what may have been something like a shrimp (or “ebi” as I learned at the conveyer belt sushi place last night (kaiten-sushi)). I think that before I go back with more I should arm myself with a short lexicon of 'words for the cleaners.’ No starch!, I can shout at the hapless woman. Cotton! All cotton! No! Poly-blend!

3

Hard-Off. An example of a Japanese brand name that echoes an English language taboo innocently and, in this case, even incorrectly; Hard-Off is the name of a chain of recycled goods stores, junks shops, thrift stores, second hand emporia, whatever you want to call them. Mine, on two expansive floors, is divided into Book-Off, Off-House and a third section for their music and tech stuff (game-cube calls to me with its siren’s song … only 80 bucks or so, but then I’d need games and a 2nd controller and Chris, and that gets tricksy). Off-House was the best thing in the entire world. They had kimono, clothes, games, chairs, tables, desks, stoves, heat fans, pocket books, air rifles, Gundam models, stuffed animals, dishes, towels, futon, watches, everything your heart desires. And mostly for rediculously cheap. I got mostly presents for people so I can’t say everything I got, but I can tell you a few things, like a small wall clock with a red face and a picture of a cutesy skull-headed boy and coffin; a large red polyester or silk scarf/bandana that says Fire Bomber! in blue cursive across the middle; a two piece Snoopy tea-towel set to use as dish towels; and two adorable round terrycloth drink coasters that say WOOKY WORLD around the edges and have a bear’s face (a panda a ‘teddy’ variety) smiling a cute calvin and hobbes kind of smile. These and my many presents, under 1300 yen. I decided to wait a night on the larger purchases I was considering, two items: a semi comfy chair with arms and a cushion for 500 yen, and what must be a child’s desk that would be the perfect, and I mean perfect thing for my room. It’s too short for a chair and just just too tall for sitting cross legged to type on, but I think that a small cushion or a seiza bench would make it just 100% right. 3000 yen. Tomorrow, it’s mine.

Interlude:

It’s hot enough here even at 10PM that my beer has become wretchedly warm from sitting on the table for the last fifteen minutes that I’ve been drinking it. I need a haircut.

4

Hyaku-en Shopu. Hyaku is hundred, en is yen: the dollar store. I’d heard stories, but oh lord god a’mercy I did not believe till I witnessed it with mine own eyes. Now, our dollar stores have a lot of crap in them, but that’s just it; it’s crap. It’s crap no one wants, and it’s lots of the same kinds of interchangable junky garbagy stuff that you wonder why they made in the first place. A dollar store with even more crap, you ask? Oh no not so good sir. A dollar store with a HORN O PLENTY AWAITING YOUR FINGERS TO COME A-PICKIN!! PICK AWAY! GO! RUN! GET TO THE HORN O PLENTY!!!! This place was filled with a million different kinds of things and they were all things that were well made, useful, desirable, and interesting. I was the purchaseur of many a nicety. Fans, pencils, a comb, tape, wrapping paper, batteries, cards, scissors, tacks, oil face wipes (yo, it’s a sweaty life here and I’m already breaking out worse than I have since I was a teenager) (which is a weird phrase to use, and a first) and other sundries besides. All at a steal.

5

Success in the supaa (supermarket; although supaa-man is still the one from krypton and not the patron saint of buddist green grocers, however cool that would be). Not only expertly shopped the sale items, my London-born spendthrift skills gliding smoothly back into action, but found a few comfort food items (like kiwi fruit! Kiwi fruit! Nature’s ice cream!!) and had a lovely conversation about the two major kinds of soy sauce with a new mom who had a shy son and who spoke very lovely english (“that one is, how should I tell you, maybe, not as sweet? Stronger?” god bless you, lady, it was the best english I’ve heard out of anybody in a week). And her hazakashi (shy) son was cute as hell. Earlier today at the bank a different mom was trying to get her little boy with the cutest pudgy toddler pouty spigot lips to say “hello” to me and he said very loudly looking down at the ground “hazakashi desu!” and I almost died it was so cute (it means, I guess, “I’m shy!”). Anyway, at the supaa I’d arrived just in time to hawk the end-of-the-day sales and walked away with several ready made meals at more than half-off the already low supaa price (low compared to the conbini or convinience stores where they kinda gouge you), two of which said meals I consumed happily this evening while watching A Different World on the VHS, and at least one of which I shall have for lunch tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I plan to start like today, stopping on my way to work to buy two bananas from the old fruit seller as she opens up her shop on the side of the road. So it should start fine, and should end up just grand.

where to begin?

it's been a tremendous few days with lots and lots of surprise and fun and adventure, but I'm pretty drained from all the newness of things and I got really homesick last night to finish the weekend. I miss Robin. And the fam, and anything being straightforward. And Robin. So last night, after a really fun and adventurous day, had its downslide. Fortunately however, left behind in my predecessor's collection of VHS tapes was one with some random rerun TV, so I got to watch an episode each of That 70's Show and Seinfeld (and Girlfriends, but dude, shut up, it was the first unexhausting linguistic interaction I've had in days) and that cheered me up a lot. I never thought I'd miss American TV so much (ie: at all) but man, a little familiarity and ease can be just priceless. If anyone wants to tape and send me some TV shows, I'll so be your best friend. Seinfeld, Simpsons, 70's Show, Mash, anything anything anything (although I draw the line at Dawson's Creek, which is where I stopped watching the tape last night). Cheap yard-sale VHS movies are also highly desirable items, and almost anything's a winner. You can even M-Bag them from the post office, at a dollar a pound for printed or viewable media. Anyhow, enough fishing: on to adventure!

The last few days have been, as I've said, tremendous, and I think I'd better start at the start or I'll forget everything; and this one starts with my bike-ride home from work on Thursday. It gets to be about a thousand degrees out in the afternoon here and the air is thick like warm soup; it comes to a full boil at about noon time and spends the rest of the day simmering and spittering, not cooler but maybe quieter, until suddenly it's past nine and the sky and the air realize that their pot must be all boiled bone dry by now so they take it off the flame and the sun goes down Whoomp! and then it's nighttime and balmy and just a touch hotter than a summer night could be back home but still, it's night time and a gift, if only till tomorrow.

But it wasn't yet past five-thirty when I was roaring downhill on my way home from work, or at least doing my best to be roaring downhill when the most my bike can really manage is a hoarse kind of half-hearted growl ... I've heard that a bike and rider can get to be like a married couple, closer than merely night time lovers like a car and driver should get to be, and now I can understand first hand the long deep unhappiness that an arranged marriage-as this romantic project with my bike surely is-reifies anew with each slope and hill... and it was hot. Not, again, the blazing kind of sun-scorched hot you think of when you think of hot, but the thick whelming heat that runs just one step behind you waiting until you stop moving: and then slaps you across the back like a God on the battlefield to knock the fight right out of you but not quite finish you off (you are only my third killer, so Patroklus says to Hektor). I stopped only for a moment when something caught my eye and then it was too late; the second I stopped moving it was like a dam broke beneath my skin and I found myself suddenly drenched with sweat already near to boiling itself off my face and body. And so, stopped and stymied, I looked upto see what I could see.

The old stones steps started right at the edge of the bike path, crowned with a shinto-style torii-gate, but they remained invisible until you were right on top of them, looking right at them. You couldn't see them until you noticed them first, a paradox of placement.
Fucking fuckitty fuck fuck fuck, I just lost the whole big rest-of story that I'd written and now I'm really upset about it, and I lost it cuz i don't read stupid japanese and i hit teh wrong choice when the stupid popup window came up on this stupid japanese computer and i really liked it all and it was super cool and now i totally don't have enough energy to try to re-write it or write something new and that just sucks, and I can't even indulge in being upset about it because there's no one to share it with since no one understands my stupid language anyway. And now there's all just verbose preamble and no story to make it worthwhile and that sucks, and i guess i'll just have to try again tomorrow but it's going to be totally half-hearted now cuz i really like what i wrote and now this just sucks. Boo!