I'm back!

Long story short (well, I'll write about it later and make it longer), I've been without internet for a while. But I finally got it hooked up and I'm ready to start letting the world know once again what it's like for a whitey like me to live among the land of rice eaters and katana-makers.

Well, enough words. Enjoy this video

Updates coming soon. Promise.

Blame Karma.

America has Walmart, Target, swap meets, Craiglist, and



Japan has 100 yen stores.



And no, it's not the same thing as an American 99 cent store filled with defective crap made 15 years ago. This is high quality, real stuff you can actually USE. I made a trip to a local 100 yen store Saturday looking to get something for my keychain; I came back out with 16 other things.


But at least I took pictures to show everybody!

A nifty washing rag thingy. I haven't been here long enough to have accrued old shirts for rags, so I broke down and spent a hundred big ones on this pretty piece of cloth.


It might be difficult to see what the three items are in this picture, but for 300 yen, I was able to buy myself a photo album. The black item at the top is the folder, and the two clear items are transparent plastic sleeves that fit inside the folder.


An ice cube tray? That has a lid?! For 100 yen?!!?. Oh yes. It's true.



I only realized how creepy it looked to stuff my hand in the basket after taking the picture, but I was trying to give some perspective of how big the basket is. That basket now houses all of my gadgets; mp3 player, cell phone, Nintendo DS, camera, etc.


Not only was the tape measure 100 yen, but it's ORANGE. Can't beat that.


Hooks! Now I have something to hang my 'coons from when I go huntin' with my Beagles.


More hooks. I have these up and am using them as a makeshift hat rack.

Spray bottle. It's getting pretty cold, so I decided that dousing my head in ice-cold water isn't the most pleasant way to wake up in the morning. A few sprays applied to the fuzz on my head works great.


My bathroom no longer smells like a bathroom. Now it smells like a bathroom that took a breath mint.


What can I say? I love baskets.



More hooks. It's 'coon season.


If I need to tell you what these are, you shouldn't be reading my blog.



Ruler to measure how big my 'coons are.

Riddle!

Is there anything weird with this paragraph? What if i said a very crucial letter in the alphabet will remain unused during the entirety of this passage? Can ya believe dat?! Usually in any letter, magazine, text, etc, this letter WILL be used, but I've carefully muted this letter.

..But i did make a single mistake (and by accident! but I figure this makes the riddle quite difficult with the added challenge. It is a very small, and if this passage is hastily read, it will be easily missed.) Where is it?

One man's trash is another mans treasure. So who wants my treasure?

Every time I throw something away, I have to pause and think about way more many things than I should have to:

• Would it be easier if I just ran down to the convenience store and threw it away there instead of it sitting in my house for about a month?
• Should I bother waiting to recycle the light bulb, or should I take the lazy way out and smash it into a million glistening pieces with my frying pan?
• Is this going to start rotting and attracting flies before the next Unburnables trash day comes along?
• How in the hell am I supposed to take this apart and clean it?

I completely understand the need for an efficient trash system. With 127 million folk inhabiting a few islands the size of California, there isn't much room for landfills. But when I have to look at the same beer can for 23 days, I start to get pretty damned peeved.


So I have an idea. I'm going to start chucking all of my trash in this empty lot a couple blocks from my house. But of course I can't just throw it all in a bag and dump it; they'll open the bags and figure out who I am. So, in order to this, I should probably sort all of my paper from the rest of my trash; a good chunk of it has my name on it. After that, I need to take each piece of trash, wash it clean until my fingerprints are gone, and throw each piece away in separate bags so it'll be more difficult to piece together. So, in order to pull this off, I'm going to have to clean, sort, and organize all of my trash into separate bags.


Shit.


Nevermind.

I Want a Magical Scarf

It's mandatory for Japanese students to wear uniforms. The boys and girls start off wearing the same thing in grade school; sweat pants, a cute shirt, and a cap. Yes, the kids have to wear a freaking cap when they go to school. I think through the whole process of uniforms making, someone was laughing furiously at the thought of kids wearing the most ridiculous things.

Come middle school, the types of uniforms for girls and boys start to diverge. The boys wear black pants, a button-up white shirt, and if it's cold, a button-up black jacket. The girls wear a dress/skirt that goes below their knees, a shirt that is almost the same as the boys, except they have to wear a bow. The girls aren't allowed to wear makeup, dye their hair, or wear jewelry.

High school is where things get ridiculous. The boys pretty much look the same, but the girls start to look pretty skanky. It's no longer a dress/skirt, but simply a skirt that they hike up half way until the bottom half of their thigh is showing. They are also allowed to dye their hair (to an extent, and it also depends on the high school), apply light makeup, and can wear jewelry (no piercings). Girls start to realize that they can garner a LOT of attention from the boys, and do whatever they can do do this.

This is where my motivation for this post comes in. Wednesday, it was COLD. And by cold, I don't mean brrr I should probably put on a jacket California cold, I mean holy hell if I don't put on at least three layers of clothing I'm going to die of hypothermia the second I step out of the door cold. This Wednesday morning, I put on a couple pairs of boxers, my work pants, an undershirt, my long-sleeved work shirt, and a jacket. I made my way to the train station, expecting everyone to be dressed in the same cozy fashion as I am. And for the most part, everyone was.


Except for the high school girls.


They were still wearing the same "I'm for sale" skirts pulled half way up their asses. I couldn't believe it. Practically anyone could have gone right up to them and gave them a nice pinch on the arse because their legs HAD to have been completely numb. The only item of clothing they wore to make them a bit warmer was a single scarf. That was it.


A scarf.


Maybe Japan sells magical scarfs, and I haven't caught on to them yet. They certianly must warm your legs, make you think happy thoughts, and make you not care what everyone else is thinking about you.


I want one!

What a shitty week.


I'll say why it's been shitty, and then try to put a positive spin on all of the mentioned times:


The shit: My city is on fire. Over 500,000 people have been displaced from their homes, and a good chunk of them have lost their home. My friends and family are in danger.

Why it's not so bad: So far there has only been one fatality, when last year there was 12. As like last time, people will rebuild, and nature will heal.



The shit: My favorite website got shut down. Albeit being on the slightly illegal side (mp3s), it had a strong community, amazing collection of rare songs, and overall just one of the best websites ever to grace the web. It will sorely be missed by me and the other 120,000 people that were members.

Why it's not so bad: The reason why it was so popular and stellar was because it filled a void that needed to be filled; the website had a tight-nit community, high quality music, and a clean interface. I'm sure it didn't go unnoticed, and other websites like it will soon follow.

There were other things to bitch about, but the clock is telling me to sleep.

I'm white! Do I look like I know Japanese?

The great majority of the time, it's quite annoying to have most Japanese assume that I understand as much Japanese as a dog would. Despite me speaking something that resmbles fluency, I still quite often get responses in English with their bastardized way of pronouncing my language: aa.. baasuroomu izu on za refuto~ (ah, the bathroom is on the left!). In fact, I could have been born here and speak as good as Japanese as any other narrow-eyed citizen, but I would still get the same treatment. But this isn't what this post is about; I've already come to terms with the fact that I'll always be initially treated like that mentally-retarded step brother that everyone wish would just go away.


This post is about taking full advantage of people thinking I don't speak a word of Japanese.


Me and my Austrailian friend, who is probably on par with what a Japanese dog would understand, headed to this family-run Itailan place to get some Monday night grub. We both ordered the "American pasta" - it being American because the pasta has bacon in it.

Shortly after we sit down, a young Japanese couple sit to the right of us; their conversation is well within hearing distance. I'm not paying too much attention to them, but at some point the guy says (In Japanese).. "Pfft, I can speak English".

I didn't hear the previous conversation, but I'm sure the girl made note of the fact that my friend and I were conversing in English and was fascinated by it.

So she responds with "Oooh really? You can speak English? Okay. Do a self introduction."

"...Why?"

"Why? You said you can speak English, right? Go on! Try to do a self introduction"

"....."

"It's easy! like this: Haaii... mai neemu izz Hiromi Takada. Naisu tooo meet yuu"

"...."

"Okay. Tell me how to say shumi in English

"..Hobby"

"Good! Now c'mon, say something else in English!"

"No way. Those two over there can hear us."

"No they can't! Don't worry about them"


So as this conversation is going, I start laughing hysterically at this guy's girlfriend calling him out on being able to speak English. They obviously assume that I'm laughing at something my friend said because they continued this charade for quite a while. So I thought at this point I would have some fun with it.


I saw a chef past by, and asked him in my best, speediest, crystal-clear accent where the bathroom was. I stood up as I asked him to start heading the direction of the bathroom and noticed two heads with very wide eyes dart up at me. I go to the bathroom, and when I come back out, there is just complete silence from the both of them.


"Yeah, they didn't say a word after you went into the bathroom", said my friend.


After I got back, they got up, said something about going to Starbucks, and took off.


So there are advantages to having a big-ass nose, curly hair and wide eyes. I'm incognito as long as I don't speak any Japanese!

The second story will also come soon. (Sometime when it's not past midnight on a weekday)

I don't keep this blog updated because I feel that my life is mundane and somewhat boring; even though I know that what I'm doing is completey different than what mots people are doing my age, it still feels like it's boring, average, and mediocre. Here's a rundown of my week after work:

Monday: Go to the gym. Either come home and make dinner or eat out. Get home, watch a half hour of TV (which is more of a chore than anything. I don't like TV, but I watch for listening practice). Practice guitar for a half an hour. Clean up my apartment. Check my email. Take a shower. Meditate. Sleep.

Tuesday: Same as Monday, minus the workout, plus a couple hours of Japanese study at Starbucks.

Wednesday: Go directly to gym, eat out, then go to "club konnichiwa" - a group of Japanese folk who have been kind enough to teach Japanese for free. Come home, TV, guitar, clean, shower, email, meditation, sleep.

Thursday: Go home to pick up guitar, then go to guitar lesson. Go to Starbucks to study Japanese for an hour or two.Rinse, wash and repeat events that usually follow me getting home

Friday: Gym. Afterwards it varies. Usually I go out with friends to eat, drink, or a combination of the two.


Saturday/Sunday: Always different, and usually fun. Last weekend I went to Kyoto and Osaka to visit a few friends. This weekend I'm going to some small village to help put on a Halloween event. Weekend after next I'm going to Tokyo to visit some more friends. Weekend before last I went to another tiny village of 800 and helped put on a cultural event at their bi-annual sports day.


The weekends are spontaneous enough to make my life break from the ordinary and keep from getting stuck doing the same static activities, but my weekdays have enough regularity to them that I feel my life is finally gaining a sense of direction and control.


I'm content. And that's all you can really ask for. "Happiness comes in small doses", said Dennis Leary. And my small doses usually come in the form of weekends.

If human beings could be defined by one word, and one world, alone, it would be that they are social. We are social creatures, and this is the force behind everything that we do. Because of this, we are also seeking one thing: validation from others. Men seek validation from women by mating with them. If they mate, they are validated. Women seek validation from men by growing their hair long, wearing makeup, putting on heels, wearing dresses, etc. to garner attention. If they are noticed by men, then they know they are validated. Students go to school to be validated by their parents, friends, and their community; it is the social norm. Even I, on some level, am learning Japanese to be validated and accepted by the Japanese population.


Different cultures have different ways of validating each other. In the United States, it is best to show independence, creativity, and outgoingness to show that you are an American. In Japan, to be validated by your peers, what you do is quite different. You join the group. You work as part of the group. You live, eat, think, and interact as a group. This never became apparent to me until I went to my school's cultural festival on Friday, which will be written about Wednesday.


Check in two days!

Seein' Red

Sunday morning came, and I was dead asleep when my alarm went off; I forgot to turn my weekly alarm off that rousts me from bed at 6:30 every morning to catch the 7:15 bus. I opened my eyes, well, one of them, anyway. The other one was still shut; I thought nothing of it, I slung the gunk out of the corners of my eye, pried it open, and promptly fell back asleep.


This is why you shouldn't fall asleep with your contacts in.


I woke up again a few hours later to remove the plastic discs from my eyes. The right eye that would only open with my prying fingers resembled a red grapefruit, that's really really red. My eye was beyond bloodshot, it was like someone took red dye and injected it straight into my eyeball so you can see every tiny, intricate vessel that carries blood and oxygen to and from your windows to the world. Thinking it would go away, I ignored it until lunchtime, when I thought going to the pharmacy to get some sort of eye drops would do the trick. No go; the eye stayed its super-bloodshot red color until night.


Recently I have started going to the gym, and I ventured off to tear up my muscles that night also. After doing a couple sets of curls, I noticed that everything I was seeing through my right eye was tinted red. I hurried off to the gym bathroom to look; I found out the hard way that working out doesn't do much in the way of fixing an infected eye. I called it a day and went home, hoping my fruit-eye would sort itself out in the morning.


No luck.


I woke up with the eye still red as ever. There is a small hospital about 5 minutes away from my house, so I walked over there, told them my idiotic self forgot to take out his contacts, and pointed at my infected eye. Because it was Sunday, there were no optometrists there. They drew me a map to go to the larger hospital in the city. Me, having no sense of direction, helplessly nodded and took their illy-drawn map. After walking about 20 minutes, I got into the viscinity of the hospital. I literally stood staring at the map whilst scratching my head, when a toothless Japanese bum on a bike came up to me and asked if I was lost. He had a beanie, looked like he hadn't showered in a fortnight, and was damned near impossible to understand because it looked like he was losing his teeth by the hour. Although he was the most kind Japanese person I have met to date. We chatted (kinda. I did a a lot of nodding and smiling as he rambled about things I couldn't make out) while he took me to the hospital. I thanked him profusely and headed in.


Again I was forced to explain my stupidly to the clerk and show them my eye. I sat down and waited about 20 minutes until the doctor called my name. Basically, he did a lot of scolding and lecturing on how I need to clean my contacts and clean them out. Then he handed me a prescription and a bill. There are a lot of things to criticize about how Japan runs their country, but I was happier than an overweight quadruple bypass surgery patient in a McDonalds; 600 yen for the medication and 2000 yen for the checkup!


The medication worked like a charm; after about 12 hours my eye was completely cleared up. I no longer looked like Rudolf the red-eyed reindeer.


I suppose I should take out my contacts before I hit the sack to night.


...nah. Too much work.

I'm Famous

Not just famous, but I'm the most popular guy in town. Girls have crushes on me. The guys all think I'm cooler than a genetically created cross of Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp and Ed Norton. Nevermind that there are only 550 of them, and they're all between the ages of 11 and 14. But damn I feel cool when I'm eating school lunch and teaching kids how to say "fart" and "booger" in English.

Why couldn't it have been like this when I was a student myself? Nevermind the fact that I was a small nerdy kid who rushed home after school every day to try and get past the next level of Doom on my computer. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that I couldn't grow facial hair when I was 12.


Everyday a few of the same kids have their own little rituals they've formed with me. Every time a 6th grader sees me he wants to do techou, which is doing a handshake, but squeezing as hard as you can as a type of game. (I always win. Damn I feel masculine being able to crush an 11 yr old's hand!). A 7th grade girl sees me, greets me, and proceeds to start petting my hair. This usually prompts all of her other girl friends to start playing with my hair, until I have about 10 tiny Japanese hands tugging, stroking, and touching my curls. Another girl always asks me sensei, hima? (are you bored sensei?). Still haven't figured that one out yet. Last Friday I answered cho hima!, "I'm really freakin' bored!", to which she replied casually yappari, "I thought so".

Now I just need to figure out how to make this fame and girls touching my hair transcend into the rest of my life.

An Update and a Promise

I think even as children we are aware of our faults and shortcomings, but it is only as we reach adulthood that we are able to consciously admit them. The older you get, the more you are able to clearly define your own personality, traits, and views of the world. Conversely, the older you get, the less willing you are to change any of this personal attributes. Being in your early 20s is a pivotal time in your life; you aren't old enough to have all of your thoughts and ways of life permanently fixed into your brain, but you are old enough to begin to understand yourself. It's the time of your life where you really have the chance to grow up. And I say "have the chance" because I believe many adults don't take this opportunity to properly give themselves a good looking over to see what areas in their life they can improve on. They usually turn out to work fast-food for a career, become shitty parents, start to stink because the whole shower thing never became habitual.


This is my flaw: I will become very interested and fixated upon something for a short time, and then stop doing it. With the exception of Japanese, this has ruled in all areas of my life: learning guitar, working out, relationships, school work, and of course, updating this damned blog.


So here's my promise. I will, without fail, update every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Three times a week. These days were inspired by my favorite webcomic, XKCD, which consistently updates these three days.

So here's to changing my bad habits. And here's to keeping everyone else partially interested in my blog updated with my Japanesey life.

Sleepless in Nagano

I have to be up in about five hours, but instead I'm giving my blog a long overdue update.


Why?


Because of this damned cough. So I scoured the net for a quick remedy. (Drug stores close at around 8pm here, and convenience stores aren't allowed to sell any drugs.. not even Advil) I read that gargling warm salt water gets rid of a cough pretty quickly. One problem; I have no salt in my apartment. But what is pretty salty?


Shoyu sauce!


I took a cup of that, threw it in my microwave, and warmed it up a bit. I picked up the cup, put about half in my mouth, and tilted my head to gargle. The moment the shoyu reached my thoat, it caused an involuntary coughing reaction. The sauce spat out of my mouth and into the sink.


Okay... a bit too strong.


This time, learning from my mistake, poured about 20% shoyu and filled the rest up with water. I warmed it up and tried again. Drinking diluted shoyu is still pretty damned disgusting, but I gargled away, and my cough isn't gone, but it's certainly muted.

Three points for creativity.


But negative four for making my throat worse that it was by abruptly coughing up shoyu.

My first meal

And yes, it's as delicious as it looks.

-Udon noodles
-Mixed veggies
-sliced bacon
-garlic
-soy sauce


Throw all in a frying pan, swoosh around, eat.


Not to shabby for my first meal eh?

Cribz - Japan style

Yoyoyo I want all y'all to check out my crib. It's off the HOOK, yo.


Yo!

My Saturday Night Wasted

No, not wasted on a Saturday night.


There was a great sunset when I was out today, so I snapped a few shots and played with in Photoshop


(Click to enlarge)

All the Small Things

• At this point in time, having a cell phone is the most Japanese thing you can do. The defining moment was seeing a Japanese businessman in his mid 30s whizzing down the street on his bike, wearing a full suit while precariously steering with his left hand and talking to his boss on his cell phone with his right
  
• Listening to Blink 182 makes me slightly homesick. (But not The format, Motion City Soundtrack, The Beatles, etc. Weird)
• An unexpected cool breeze feels infinitely better in Japan than it does in San Diego. You can appreciate it more
• You don't realize how much of our cultural development and upbringing comes from education until you walk down the halls of a school in foreign country
  
• All the Japanese desks and chairs at the school I visited today had tennis balls on the legs. I burst out in laughter when walking into the a classroom for the first time to see a whole roomed turned into old-man walkers
  

LONG of Charges!

To go anywhere remotely interesting in this city, I have to walk a half mile north, cross a bridge for pedestrian traffic, go through the train station, and then finally enter the real part of the city; it's about a ten minute walk from my apartment. Going back and forth so many times I spot a lot of interesting (read strange, crazy, cute and obscenely fashionable) folk.


Going to the train station to get some curry, somebody was standing around on the pedestrian bridge. I couldn't make out if this Japanese person was male or female: the hair was short and spiked, but it was wearing a semi-short dress and overalls. Upon further inspection it turned it to be a she (Japanese females have less broad noses than males. She also had makeup on).


So I went and ate my curry.


Came back.


Girl was still there. She greeted me with a smile, said something I didn't pick up, and then handed me this.


I received not only one flyer to get my nails and hair done, but two!

So, considering I didn't understand her, what could have she said to me?

"Hi, your nails look horrific, have a couple flyers. One for each hand."

"I wish my hair actually looked like this, but it all got burned off in a fire."

"It's trendy to look like the opposite sex these days. Look at me! You'd look amazing as a Japanese girl"


The world may never know. But I DO know if I go in and get my nails all done and purty, it'll be LONG of charges! Yay!

A quick thought

Why is it '0' (zero) is plural but 1 (one) isn't?

For example:

0 comments

or

1 comment


1 is greater than 0, yes? But Zero gets pluralized while 1 is treated like a lonesome redheaded stepchild.. NO PLURAL FOR YOU! (Seinfeld reference. Anyone? Anyone?)



Alright.. so today was a slow day.

Tip 48: Not all Japanese people are friendly

Me: Knocks on neighbor's door

Neighbor: opens door after about 2 minutes, peers only his head out

Me: Uh, hi. I'm your new neighbor.. I just moved in upstairs

Neighbor: ....

Me: So anyway, I just thought I'd come by and introduce myself

Neighbor: Oh.

Me: Yeah, so my name is Grant.

Neighbor: Puts on fake smiley face. Oh, nice to meet you!

Me: Nice to meet you too

Neighbor: Shuts door



I suppose I won't be asking for a cup of sugar any time soon.

The washing machine from hell

Who knew washing clothes could ever be so complex? I'm sure people older than me would tell me that they had to do them by hand and also had to walk uphill both ways for 18 miles just to get water to wash their clothes with, which froze in the freezing weather if they didn't sprint those 18 miles, but this is the most complex washing machine I've ever seen. Hell, it might be easier if I did do them by hand.


So this is the process (I think. I'll probably end up setting my clothes on fire once I actually try to wash them)


Step 1: Fill up left side with hot water. Insert clothes and detergent

Step 2: Let clothes do their washy thing for 15-20 minutes

Step 3: Take clothes out of left side, insert in right; more washy stuff for 10 minutes

Step 4: Drain left side

Step 5: Put clothes back in left side, let it do more washy stuff.


Now as for all of those knobs and switches, I have no idea what they do. Maybe it's not a washing machine at all, but an inter-dimensional time and space traveler that lets me traverse galaxies and visit parallel universes and unknown worlds.


Or maybe it's just a really old washing machine.

C'est le moment ou jamais

On Tuesday I went out looking for some cheap ramen. Instead I ended up kissing two French girls.


I suppose this requires an explanation.


Having no sense of direction, I double and triple checked the location of the train station on town. Right next to it are a slew of ramen shops, fast food places, book stores, and everything else that makes a city a city. I couldn't bear to eat anything else that came from the local Circle K, so I made sure I knew north from south, threw on some pants and a shirt and headed out.


The place was easy enough to find. I headed into the ramen shop and had a seat. On the other side of where I was sitting were three young Caucasians, one male and two female, speaking a language I didn't understand. Looking to make some friends, I tried English in hopes that they would understand.


"Hi.. where are you guys from?"

The guy, whom later I would find out his name is Antoine, answered back in moderately decent English.

"We're from France... you?"


I talked to the three of them for a couple minutes exchanging pleasantries until I asked if I could sit with them. They were sitting at a table that sat four, so it seemed natural that I should fill the empty space. I found out they were doing a study/work abroad thing for two months; their trip was free, but they had to work it off as they went. So they would travel, study, and then work various different jobs. Right now they're working at a hotel doing anything from scrubbing toilets to waiting tables. The three just arrived at Nagano City so they could visit a famous shrine, Zenkouji. Having nothing to do that afternoon, I gladly accepted their invitation.


We hopped on a bus to the temple, which was only about 10 minutes away. The temple was absolutely amazing; the entrance was so big it was impossible to get the whole thing in the frame of a camera. The road to the temple was lined with many shops selling Zenkouji souvenirs, icecream, restaurants, and anything else that would suck the money out of tourists' pockets.


A couple hours were spent exploring the temple's grounds, taking pictures, and shopping for souvenirs. The temple itself was massive (unfortunately they don't allow pictures of it). We paid the 500 yen admission and wandered in. At the very back, there is a pitch black tunnel that runs underneath the altar. Not knowing the tunnel was pitch black, I wandered in, wondering why it was getting so damned dark. I blindly felt my way through, having nothing but the voices of those ahead of me to guide me. (I found out later that the point of the tunnel is to find a"key to paradice", which, if touched leads to enlightment and eternal salvation. I hope all of that isn't too true, because I couldn't ever find the damned key)


I eventually worked my way out with the rest of my group. We headed back down to the bus and to the train station so they could get back to their hotel, which was 3 hours away. I shook Antoine's hand, telling him it was a pleasure to meet him (it was. He was an awesome guy). Next I stuck my hand out at Oihana, one of the girls, but instead she just pushed her face out in front of me. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I gave her some sort of awkward hug.

"Oh, you don't want to? Okay..."

Then it hit me: They do that whole kissing on the cheek thing for greetings and farewells in France. I pecked her on both cheeks, as she did the same, and then did the same for the other girl in the group.


You would think that the only "internationalizing" I would be doing is that with the Japanese community, but you never know who you will run into, or who you'll kiss.

Honesty (doesn't?) pay(s)

When I was about 10 years old I would frequently go to my friend Nick's house on the other edge of town. My mom would drive me up and we'd spend the day together. One of the things we never failed to do was make a trip to Circle K, which was a 5 minute walk from his house. We'd scrounge up a few bucks we'd received from our allowance and blow it on candy, chili dogs, Dr. Pepper, and anything else that brought the sugar levels in our bodies to incredible new highs. I'd like to say my life is completely different here in Japan, but 13 years later I find myself doing the exact same thing.


There is a Circle K about a 5 minute walk from my apartment (the company expanded into Japan in 1979 and did extremely well; I've seen more Circle K stores in Japan than I have in the US), which is a blessing because the next closest store of any kind is a good 15-20 minute commute by foot. As I've not yet been able to get my apartment in order, I've been making quite a few trips there for meals. Luckily convenience stores in Japan cater to having more full meals than their US counterparts; decent sandwiches, microwavable meals, a plethora of microwavable ramen and other random odds and end that technically count as a "meal"


I went down Wednesday evening, the day I arrived, to get some sort of food. I grabbed some sandwiches with filings unknown to me, pizza & squid flavored Dorritos, and some other crap that I've never heard of. After going up to the counter, I noticed the cashier wasn't putting all of his money away he was collecting; after taking a customer's cash he'd lay it in front of the register without putting it inside. He rang up my food, stuffed it in a bag, and said arigatougozaimashita (thank you very much). I headed back to my apartment and opened up my bag.


Squid flavored chips? Check.

Sandwiches with wasabi in them? Check

Lemon-flavored soda? Check

1000 yen bill (about 10 bucks)? Chec...what?


I checked my pocket to make sure that I didn't accidentally drop any money in the bag during my exchange; I had the correct amount of cash in my pocket. Then it hit me; the cashier must have accidentally grabbed the money with my food and unknowingly put it in my bag.

I'm not one to take money that doesn't belong to me; it's not a matter of doing what's "right", but when I hold money that's not mine, it's like holding a child that doesn't belong to me: it's not my child and I sure as hell don't want it. I marched back down to the store and waited in line to try and give him back his money. I think my Japanese was clear enough, but he wasn't getting it in the beginning.


Me: "Um, when I opened my bag there was a 1000 yen bill in it?"

Cashier: "I'm sorry?"

Me: "Remember when you had money laying out earlier? I think when you grabbed my food, you also grabbed this bill on accident"

I could see understanding hit him like a ton of bricks. His eys widened, eyebrows furrowed and flushed a bit; the universal "oh shit" expression that transcends language and cultural barriers.

Cashier: "Oh, thank you very much!" (and then other Japanese I didn't pick up)

I know Japan is all about saving face, so I hope I didn't embarrass him too much, but after weighing the pros and cons, being a bit embarrassed is a hell of a lot better than losing your job, or, losing more face in front of your boss when he realizes the drawer is short.


I'm not a believer in karma; I think at the most is that if you do something bad, your subconscious keeps that in mind and you do something later on to ease that guilt and weigh out the bad thing that you did. But karma or no karma, I damned near lost 500 dollars today while going to the bank to turn it into yen.


I was walking to the bank and had the money in a big yellow envelope. Half way down, I hear this old lady faintly say "gomennasai" (I'm sorry... but). She said it once so I figured she was talking to someone else, but after a second time I turned around make sure she was talking to me. She was off of her bike (and yes, the fact that an 80 year old lady is riding a bike is cool in itself) pointing to some papers on the ground. Those papers were five $100 bills that somehow fell out of my envelope. I quickly scooped them up before the wind could have its way with them, thanked her profusely and bowed so deeply I looked like a boomerang.


If you're a believer in karma, the first thing that would come out of your mouth would be "duh"; nonbelievers would state that it's "nothing but a coincidence". Now I usually like to think that we are all in control of our own fate, and to believe that a concept as abstract as karma rules over all of us would run contrary to my belief. But when things like this happen, you have to wonder what forces are at play outside of what we can see.


I really wish I got a picture of the grandma on the bike though.

Arrival at its Hottest

So I'm finally in this rising sun land. Maybe they decided to call it land of the rising sun because it's closest to the sun, this being one of the hottest damned places on earth. But alas, I can't even blame it on the heat; it honestly is the humidity. So let me backtrack a bit on my journey. It comprised of doing three things:

1. WaitingThis is post arrival at Narita airport. Before this there was even more waiting.. the 11 1/2 hour plane ride wasn't exactly 'fun', but at least there were a lot of people to talk to. This is waiting in line for the buses to take us to Tokyo.. another two hour ride.

2. More waiting


Orientation was long and drawn out. It was nice that we had three days in Tokyo, but unnecessary. Monday morning consisted of sitting and listening to a lot of people speak about things most of us would forget the next day. There were some funny anecdotes, but most of what was said wasn't new information.

Though during those three days I got to explore a bit of Tokyo. Tokyo is divided up into major districts; I visited the interesting ones. Harajuku is where girls dress themselves up like little dolls.
Well.. little dolls that mommy probably didn't let you play with. The most surprising thing about Tokyo are the masses of people that inhabit it. This city is crowded. Very, very crowded. The main crosswalk in Shibuya has hundreds of people crossing it at a time; this is certainly one city that I would never drive in.


3. And even more waiting.

Wednesday morning we head out to our prefectures. If was only going by myself, it would only take about an hour and a half by bullet train, but unfortunately everyone in my prefecture had to get dropped off at different locations, so it took about 3 or so hours to get from Tokyo to Nagano City.

But I'm finally here. Luckily some neighbor has their wifi connection on free use, so I can use the internet right from my apartment. I would be waiting about a month otherwise; I need to obtain my foreigner card in order to do things like set up my bank account, get a cell phone, and of course, get some internet in this place. I suppose it's good karma at play; at my house in San Diego I always left my internet connection open for anybody else to use. Now I'm finally on the receiving end of the deal.

Well, of course there's a lot more to write about, so I suppose I'll get to that. There's a storm a'brewing, so there isn't all that much I can do outside.

I just wish it wasn't so damned hot!

Prologue

In 100 hours and 20 minutes I'll be sitting on an enormous Boeing 747 airliner, listening to the bilingual stewardess tell us what to do in case the plane decides to fall out of the sky, where the emergency exits are, and where those handy barf bags are located in the event my stomach decides to abandon ship (or would that be abandon plane?). Fast forward another handful of hours, I'll be standing on Japanese soil for the third time in my life, wiping the sweat off my brow from the inevitable summer-swelter that will wrap me up with its insufferable heat and humidity.

100 hours left in America. At the very least, it'll be 8,760 hours until I have the chance to sink my imperfect teeth into a heart-stopping In-N-Out burger. But I'm still here. And I'll be making as much as I can out of those 100 hours. Suitcases to fill. Friends to visit. Girlfriends (okay, girlfriend. But being polygamous would really help with making this sentence properly parallel) to kiss. Fatty foods to be eaten. Last minute planning to fret about.

But most of all, I have C hours to mentally prepare myself for the fact that I'll be away from everything I've known for a decent percentage of my life. Granted I will be coming back, but a year doing anything is substantial. And as cliché as it is, this is an entire new chapter in my life. I'm finally done with being a student after almost 20 years and am ready to slap on a suit to start digging my way out of debt. And for the first time I'll finally be out on my own. But I suppose that type of mental change can't really happen until I'm actually there.