What a day.

First, I woke up with a cold. Same one I've had for three days. Took the same medicine I've been taking for three days - a nice hearty dose of 12-Hour Sudafed. Weeeeeee...
[I found out today how to say "runny nose" in Japanese. Turns out it's "hanamizu ga deru" which literally means "nose water is exiting"]

At work, I had my usual Nippori Nightmare Kids. But something must be in the water this week, because the kids were unusually out-of-control across the board:

The "Mini Kids" - Three kids and their moms showed up. Hiromi and Kazuya spent the whole class laughing hysterically while running around/rolling on the floor/throwing things. Their moms spent the whole class attempting to get them in order, which was of course impossible. Meanwhile, Mikoto stood there like a little statue, completely unfazed by the chaos around her, focusing on the flash cards and repeating "train" "ticket" "platform" etc. like a good little Asian Robot Child.

The Eight-Year-Olds - Chiharu spent the whole class YELLING in Japanese and bossing the other kids around, which is to be expected. Hirokazu spent most of the class either riding Akinobu like a horse, or attempting to mount him. When not being mounted by Hirokazu, Akinobu was generally making a mess of the room. When I asked what kind of game we should play, Tatsuya suggested a "kicking game."

The Ten-Year-Olds - You know how the bartenders at Drunky are always teaching me dirty words in Japanese? Well, this class is where I get to hear these words. Besides the non-stop flow of dirty talk and mean comments directed at each other, which is what I deal with every week, the kids seemed especially keen to piss me off today. Tetsuhiro wouldn't stop cracking his knuckles. Takumi mocked everything I said. Toru was just plain rude, disruptive, and demanding. Kazuki was okay...I guess I should be counting my blessings that he stuffs everything down his shirt now and not his pants. And poor Gi, the only girl in the class and the most ostracized, just sat in the corner and scowled. To top it off, someone in the class was farting freely about every ten minutes, it reeked like the devil, and it was too cold to open the window.

After the kids' classes, I had only ten minutes in which to either blow my nose or stab myself with safety scissors (I chose the former). Then I strolled into my first adult class of the day. Four students, and NONE of them had ANYTHING to say. They just stared at me. My best efforts to come up with topics would be answered with a "nothing special" or an abrupt answer then a look back at me. At this point, I did not have the energy to be Super Entertainment Power White Girl, after spending close to three hours threatening kids with "time-outs." Ugh.

So yeah, today was particularly bad.

The few not-so-bad things about today: I ate a sweet BLT sandwich for lunch, had a nice relaxing dinner at the Excelsior Cafe after work, rented a couple movies on the way home, watched horrible TV with Liza (Ripley's Believe It Or Not, so easy to make fun of), and had a phatty Chopin jam session on my keyboard.

Now I'm sitting here in my Relaxation Hat and the Temple sweatshirt I "borrowed" from Tom, and it's 2:20, and I'm not tired.

Yup.

"MOROZOFF WILL NEVER CEASE CREATING SOMETHING NEW. BATHED IN GENTLE SEA BREEZES, FRESH AIR, AND THE BRIGHT COLORS OF A LIVELY, MODERN CITY. THE ETERNALLY BEAUTIFUL CITY OF KOBE, BIRTHPLACE OF MOROZOFF. THE FINEST CHOCOLATE, THE FINEST CAKES."
-from a box of Valentine's Day chocolates I received.

After an inspirational bar conversation I had last night with a British stranger named Nick, I decided that today would be the day when I would finally go out and buy a keyboard. The piano kind. I've been meaning to take it back up for years, and I need a hobby over here other than Nintendo DS and nosepicking.
So I bought the cheapest keyboard at the local music store ($150, not bad), brought it home, and within fifteen minutes had tripped over the power cord and broken a little piece of plastic off the back. At first, I thought I had rendered the power adapter unusable, and had this conversation with myself as I struggled to salvage the situation:
"AWWWWWW awww AWWWWWW SHIT NO oh motherfucker ugggggh you have got to be kidding me oh. okay."
I bent that motha back into place. It's fine now.
I wonder what my roommates are gonna say when they get home. There's a friggin' piano taking up half the dining table.

Addendum: My roommates have come home. We've been layin' down phat beats for the last hour (read: playing with the demos and the "percussion" setting). All is well.

The Australian man who is currently sleeping on our living room floor is dashingly handsome, tall, and charming, but he has dirty feet and has flesh-eating bacteria on his legs.
I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Yesterday, I was teaching a class of four Level 4 students. I looked at their "passports" and saw that the only lesson all four of them hadn't taken was one called "Going to the Doctor." Lame.
So of course I had to teach it, and of course it contained the word "diarrhea" in the vocabulary list, and if you know anything about me you know I'm ten years old. Needless to say, I cracked up every time someone said "diarrhea," and the students continued to ask me what was funny. Jeez.

Tonight at my favorite dive bar "Drunky," the following exchange occurred:
*Japanese people chattering away about something while I chill, too tired to deal with the language barrier at the moment*
*All stop and look at me*
Ken: "Christine!"
Me: "Yeah?"
Ken: "Chikubi wa nani iro?"
Me: "Huh?"
Ken: "Chikubi wa nani iro?"
Me: *shrug* "What color is...chikubi? What's a chikubi?"
Ken: *points to his nipple*
Hide: "What color nipple?"
Me: "...Black."
All four Japanese people: "ahhhhhh Really?"
Me: "psssshNo!"
Ken: "Pink nipple?"
Me: "I'm not telling you!"
Hide: "Ahhhh Is secret!"
*Japanese people launch into a heated discussion about how their nipples are brown and only babies have pink nipples*

A little while after that, they all lined up to touch my face, after the girl sitting next to me insisted that my white skin had some magical quality. At least that's what her tone and facial expression conveyed. I had no idea what she said.

Also, Ken was wearing a white t-shirt with red lettering across the front that said "IF YOU DONT LIKE THIS MOTORCYCLES, YOU ARE 100 PERCENT GAY" [sic]

Here it is. The big poster.

When I whipped this out at Luke's party (I had received it at work that day), all thirty-or-so people there burst into thunderous applause. Well, the white people burst into thunderous applause. The Japanese people were too busy whipping their cell phones out of their pockets faster than the speed of light so that they could take pictures of the "ECC poster girl."

So I guess this thing's riding the Yamanote Line (and others?) around Tokyo till April, but I haven't been down there enough to see it yet. It's also supposed to be in Osaka and Nagoya. Not much is confirmed except that my fifteen minutes of fame have come, and that the Japanese guy in charge of this ad campaign is terrible at English.

Christine's Supreme Birthday Weekend of Doom

Wednesday Night: Students from Kawagoe School took me out for birthday drinks after work.
Thursday Night: Official birthday celebration. Went to Roppongi with Joe and met some crazy people. Club Vanilla. Still recovering.
Friday Night: Unofficial birthday celebration. Small party at Tom's apartment.
Saturday Night: Henry's birthday. In a tiny packed bar located in the heart of whoretown. Weather: partly rowdy (what?)
And tonight was Luke's birthday. By this point, Christine is running on very little food and sleep but decides that maintaining her social connections in the fast-paced, dog-eat-dog world we live in is, well, more important.
But I'm glad I went, as it was pretty ridiculous. It was in an izakaya called "Big," out in Kamifukuoka which is essentially in the middle of nowhere. There, I had a 50-year-old stranger say to me "you are beautiful," and "I love you," which also happened to be the only five English words he knows. Kozue passed out, something she can always be counted on to do. Oh, and my jacket and scarf had some brown shit spilled on them. Must kill Graham.



Oh, crap, I just remembered that I promised students I'd go out with them tomorrow night "to celebrate my birthday" after work.

Japan is toxic.



Oh, that 50-year-old guy. I forgot to mention that NO ONE had any idea who he was. And that he snuck into our party by buying us bottles of sake until we felt obligated to invite him. And then he got super red-faced drunk. And at the end of the night, he gave Robert five pairs of brand-new socks that he just happened to have on him. Then it took him like half an hour to leave, because he wouldn't stop dropping to the floor and bowing profusely to everyone in the party, who would then bow back, which would cause him to bow again.
Hah.

I WAS WOKEN UP FROM MY NAP AND NOW THERE ARE TWO JAPANESE MEN EXCHANGING BUSINESS CARDS IN MY LIVING ROOM.
GET OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT.

Today, we were playing a nice game of charades in my 7-year-olds class. One kid would mime playing a musical instrument, and the others would try to guess what it was. When Ryoga's turn came up, I called him to the front of the class. He stood up from his cushion and started walking toward the whiteboard, then thought better of it, beelined off to the right, crouched down, and determinedly thrust his hand between Hiroya's legs.
WTF.

--------------------------------------------------

On my way home tonight, I was waiting at the crosswalk when a short white-looking guy walked up to me and said something to me in Japanese:

Him: "mumblemumblemumble."
Me: "What?"
Him: "Asobi ni itte mo ii desu ka?" ("Can I go hang out with you?")
Me: (pretending I don't speak Japanese) "I'm going home, sorry."
Him: "Eigo wakarimasen." ("I don't understand English.")
Me: "Huh? I don't understand."
Him: "Hoteru ni ikitain desu ka?" ("Would you like to go to a hotel with me?")
Me: "I don't know what you're talking about."
Him: "Hoteru."
Me: "Sorry."

The light changed, so I crossed the street, ducked into a convenience store, and pretended to shop for a while until the coast was clear.
That guy was either really forward, or he thought I was a Russian prostitute. Either way, it was gross.
I should also add that soon after my run-in with Creepy Short Guy, I was checking my reflection in a store window (to see if I looked like a Russian prostitute) when I was almost mowed down by a speeding bicycle.

Oh, Japan.

Alistair was here for the past week. To make a long story short, we did the following things:

*Saw the Grand Sumo Tournament in Ryogoku
*Hit up Ginza for a kabuki play ("Kinkakuji: The Golden Pavilion")
*Visited Kamakura to see some sweet temples and the Great Buddha statue
*Checked out the view from the top of Tokyo Tower at night
*Had a nice dinner at Fujimama's in Harajuku (yay English-speaking staff!)
*Had a not-so-nice dinner in Roppongi (Mexican food as interpreted by Japanese people - yikes)
*Went to an "English Pub" where we drank pints of Kirin Ichiban until we were entirely unreasonable
*Took a stroll through Shinjuku's Kabuki-cho red light district and gawked at the yakuza and their cars.
*Got terrifically lost late at night trying to find my friends in Shinjuku's gayborhood
*Fought through crowds in Shibuya, twice
*Pumped too many 100-yen coins into arcade games like "Lets Go Jungle!" and "Taiko something-or-other"
*Izakaya, izakaya, izakaya

Now that I'm back in Japan and on my own again, I feel like the new year has really begun. Today I threw my 5-yen coin into the shrine with a vague prayer for happiness, then decided to go for a walk to clear my head. I walked past Hikawa Shrine, through Omiya Park, and continued around the lake, farther than I've ever gone before. Past the lake, I found museums and a library, and a huge state-of-the-art swimming pool surrounded by tall bleachers. Everything was cold and empty.
On the way back, the shrine was closing to the rhythmic echo of a massive drum. I stood on the bright red bridge over the carp pond and listened until the beats became further between and finally stopped altogether.

It's my year. The Year of the Boar.
Let's get this shit started.

After you've lived in Japan for a while, things like NOT HAVING ANYTHING DECORATIVE DANGLING FROM YOUR CELL PHONE can make you feel really ON EDGE.

I'm pretty sure I befriended a yakuza (Japanese mafia) tonight at the bar.
How else would you explain a 21-year-old Japanese guy owning a shiny black Cadillac with tinted windows and having a $2500 full back tattoo?
He's a nice guy, though. His name is Masaru.

Three Tidbits from Christine's BizarroLife

A typical Sunday morning.
Christine wakes up in a world of hurt. One foot onto the floor, then the other.
Stops.

Remembers that there was a strange Australian man in her house the night before, and realizes that he might still be here. Hopes against all odds that he isn't. Being awake right now is hell, babysitting a near-stranger and going through the motions of awkward conversation at 9am in the midst of a hangover is worse.

Damn my drunken kindness. Damn coworkers who miss their trains.
Damn Sunday morning work.

After the daily ritual of mentally damning at least three things within the first five minutes of consciousness, she scampers in and out of the shower the way people do when they're afraid of being seen.
Sure enough, a knock on the bedroom door. A male voice.
"Christayne? Christayne?"
...Shit.
Not a good start to a day.

----------------------------------------------

My body is rejecting Japan.

It started with the legs, a few weeks ago. Every day, a searing itch that runs from the insides of the thigs, to the backs of the knees, down the sides of the calves.
This itch has defeated everything I've thrown at it, and frankly, I'm tired of buying expensive lotions.

Now, for the past eight days, the skin under my left eye has been red, swollen and scaly. Looking at me, one could assume one of three things:
1) I somehow offended my abusive trailer-trash boyfriend (but he loves me!)
2) I got in a bar fight (you should see the other guy!)
3) I've been doing meth (ever seen those before-and-after photos?)

Eight days of the tried-and-true Christine method of Ignore-It-Till-It-Goes-Away, and it's now spread to my eyebrow. So I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, this shit having shown up the day after I got slathered with professional (and communal) makeup, well that might not be a coincidence.
Oh, hooray.
Now excuse me while I furiously scratch my legs.

--------------------------------------------------

Today at work, I was giving a private lesson to a middle-aged businessman named Fumihiro, and we were discussing my impending fifteen-hour flight. He assured me that he is experienced in air travel to places like Amsterdam, and being that, is concerned that if I don't get up and walk around during the flight, I will get a blood clot in my brain and die.
The actual explanation was more like this, actually:
Fumihiro: "You need to training in airplane." *gestures stretching and moving his legs* "You sit for long time, your..." *points to the veins in his wrist*
Me: "Blood?"
Fumihiro: "Yes, blood it will..."
*gestures to indicate a small thing, then moves it up his arm into his head*
"...and dead."
Me: "Are you sure?"
Fumihiro: "Yes."

After hearing the prophecy of my own death from a man in a red-and-blue striped tie and bifocals, I went on to my next lesson, in which I discovered that one of the other English teachers had crossed out the vocabulary word "the devil" in the teachers' manual and replaced it with "the prince of darkness."

I couldn't possibly explain to Jiro why I burst out laughing in the middle of "Word Power."

Christine's 15 Minutes of Fame

When I heard that I would be modeling for some company posters, I expected some rinky-dink operation (*cough*GoGoEigo*cough*). Upon arrival at the studio with fellow "chosen ones" Adam and Dallas, this is what we found:

A crew of about fifteen serious artsy-looking people, snack and drink service, full makeup and wardrobe, and state-of-the-art equipment. I was dazzled.
But THEN...we were led to the table in the foreground and shown last years posters with the proposed changes, and told that our posters would be on the insides of trains. Lots of trains. Yamanote Line trains and Chou Line trains and Toyoko Line trains and Tokyo Metro trains and more trains and at this point I wasn't listening because I was shocked almost to tears.

Me (post-makeup) and Adam. The makeup girl managed to make foundation for me by taking regular foundation and dropping a big ol' blob of white into it. She did an amazing job, though. Among all the weird things done to my face, this was the first time I've ever had my eyelashes combed (the makeup girl had to stop and ask me if I was okay on account of my twitchiness). But hey, I bet Paris Hilton gets her eyelashes combed all the time. I am so famous.

Anyway, moving on...

If the wardrobe girl wasn't obscured by Random Useless Crew Guy #7, you could get the full effect of how tiny she is. I didn't find out her name, but I did find out that her boots cost $700 (a fact she quickly divulged to me after I complimented them).

That "wholesome American English teacher" look.

I'm adorable.

If you look to your left, you will see: forever frozen in time, a crew member taking a spill.

Dallas was a natural. Look at that motherfucker.

This is what happens when you take a flash photograph in a white room. On the left, Dallas with clipped jacket a la Bill Murray. On the right, crew members struggle to make Adam presentable by first hemming his raggedy cuffs for him, then making him take off his raggedy shoes and wear Dallas', then giving him a belt (Dallas') to hold up his saggedy pants.
If "saggedy" isn't a word, it should be.

Hour 4: We take off our jackets and do shoulders-up shots. They wanted "fun" and "happy face" pictures, and they wouldn't be pleased until they had close-up pictures of laughing faces. I drew my inspiration from the fact that there was a Japanese photographer in my face saying things like "ah! zat nice! it beautiful!" while frantically snapping and changing angles. Easy.

As I was being photographed, there were four or five people standing around this monitor, looking serious and making unintelligible comments in Japanese.



They blew through the last set of pictures pretty fast, and sent us on our way with a flurry of bowing. Not wanting to get caught up in the Traditional Japanese Bow-Off (usually awkward and always hilarious to watch), we kinda booked it out of there.

The posters should be up from January to April, which means that I have until January to stalker-proof the internet before my full name is riding around Tokyo for all to see.

Sweet.

Last night, the train was really crowded on my way home. Why? Oh, just because a middle-aged businessman in a suit was sprawled out on the floor unconscious.
No one tried to wake him up or move him, in fact no one said anything at all. On occasion, someone would give him a quizzical look before stepping over him, but for the most part, the public's attitude suggested that this is a run-of-the-mill occurrence. Well, I had to stick around after getting off at the last stop to watch him get woken up by train staff. Because, you know, plastered salarymen are oh-so-fun to watch (especially on long train-station staircases).

Speaking of salarymen, as I was exiting the same station, I noticed an older gentleman juggling his teeth. His full set of upper dentures seemed to have escaped his mouth, and he was struggling to stick them back in before anyone noticed. He also seemed to be drunk. After an awkward amount of time, he finally won the battle, got his teeth under control, reached into his pocket and lit up a cigarette.

Latest news:

I got a random-ass call today from headquarters, saying that they want my picture to be on posters for our company's next national ad campaign. Apparently they picked me out of all the female teachers in the region. Of course I agreed. So they're pulling me out of work on Sunday to do a photo shoot in Tokyo.

WTF.

Great Moments in English Teaching:

Noticing that Toyo had a bandage on his hand:
Me: "Hey, Toyo, what happened to your hand?"
Toyo: "I have an artificial arm from a traffic accident in college."
Me: "...Oh."
Why I never noticed this, and secondly why he had BANDAGES on a FAKE HAND is beyond me.

Takashi: "My granddaughter, she has mumps. Hahahahahaha."
Me: "Takashi, did anyone ever tell you that you have a tendency to laugh inappropriately?"
Takashi: "HAHAHAHAHA."
This came after weeks of Takashi laughing about his visiting his father's grave, his tennis elbow, natural disasters, etc.

Me: "Did you get along with your parents when you were little?"
Kazue: "My father used to hit me with a kendo sword."

I teach English to Japanese kids.
Hearing this, you might assume I stand in front of a classroom, facing neat rows of desks. At each desk sits an attentive Asian child holding a book, in awe of the American and eager to learn from her.

Nope.
It's a freakin' zoo. I sit on the floor of a small unfurnished room, yelling "sit down" to kids who aren't listening because they're too busy hitting each other.

The conclusion I've arrived at is that Japanese kids have issues. Not that I ever really spent any time with kids before I came here...

Here are some examples of what I deal with on Mondays and Tuesdays:

* Takumi was humping Kazuki from behind today, apparently out of happiness that I had paired them up together.

* Tatsuya makes at least one reference to "hip gas" every class, and more if he can find anything in the lesson that is vaguely reminiscent of things coming out of the asses of animals or people. Lately, it's progressed to Supaa Hippu Gas, and occasionally Ultra Hippu Gas.

* Tatsuya also likes to punch Akinobu in the crotch, which causes Akinobu to rub himself for the next five minutes while moaning "itaiiii" repeatedly.

* Hirokazu didn't have a name for his fish during the Pets lesson, so he named him Hirokazu 2 Fish.

* When I let the eight-year-olds play a lame little game of balloon volleyball, they literally screamed with excitement the whole time. I don't think they get out much.

* Ryoga's three favorite things to do: put his face two inches from mine and make a funny face, put his face two inches from mine and scream as loud as he can, and hit me with found objects.

* I taught the kids the word "hug" the other day. What happened next made me a little uncomfortable.

* Miku tags "okay baby!" onto the end of almost every English sentence. It's just what she does.

* Every time I say "What are these?" to the class, Hiroya echoes me with "Wasabiiiis!"

* I had to beg Aoi to stop wiggling her loose tooth. I'm not at the point yet where I can accept teeth jumping out of mouths when I'm the supervising adult.

* Takumi and Kazuki like to put balls in their shirts and strut around like women (well, their versions of women).

* One of my eight-year-olds has RANK feet, and I highly suspect that it's Akinobu. After class, I was able to communicate this to the staff in Japanese "Heya no naka ni ashi no niyoi ga aru no! Oide. Kusai, ne?" ("The room smells like feet. Come in here. Doesn't it reek?") So I opened the window, and the very next class someone threw a ball out of it (seven stories). That was the end of that.

* Kazuki's "ghost" costume looked strikingly like a Klan outfit.

* I sing the ABC song every week in the four-year-olds' class, dancing and having a great time with it, and every class they sing their hearts out with me...while standing perfectly straight and still and staring at the wall. It's kinda spooky.

* None of the kids in any age group are able to remember or say the word "Christine," so they all call me "Teeechaaa" (okay, it's kinda cute).

* And finally, there's the babies-and-moms class. Five kids, between 1.5 and 3 years old, who follow a set pattern of behavior. Hiromi detaches herself from her mom and dances and sings (well, yells stuff that kinda vaguely sounds like the song) right up in my face. Toshiki smiles at me and jumps up and down continuously. Mikoto looks dazed and uninterested, and wanders around the classroom touching everything. Kazuya either lies on the floor whining and kicking, or stares at me with contempt. And Maika just clings to her mom, barely old enough to do anything but shit herself.

I, of course, keep on dancing.

This is my life.

I accept a last-minute assignment from headquarters that sounds like the kind of thing that will inch me one step closer to fame. Something about Panasonic and software and recording my lovely female American voice. I didn't really need to hear any more.

[MEET MR. KADO AT SHINAGAWA SEASIDE STATION AT 10:30 AM. WEAR BUSINESS CLOTHES AND DON'T BE LATE]

It's 10:40, and Zach and I are standing in the station watching the babies go by. The strollers are out in force, but there's no Mr. Kado to be seen. Finally at around 10:45, a short young guy shows up who appears to have just rolled out of bed and fallen into a business suit.

So much for Japanese punctuality.

We spend the next fifteen minutes following a flustered and squirrely Mr. Kado (nicknamed "JohnJohn") through the Shinagawa business district as he turns his photocopied map around and around in his hands.

There are signs with area maps on every corner. JohnJohn needs to chill out.

...

We arrive in the cavernous lobby of the Panasonic building and are greeted by three receptionists in matching yellow plaid outfits.

I cannot for the life of me figure out how to attach my visitor tag to my suitjacket. Zach helps me just in time so that my awkwardness will not be spotted by the two salarymen who have just walked into the lobby.

Between Mr. Kado and the two strangers, a flurry of bowing and business cards. They take each others' cards with both hands and continue to hold them like treasured objects. The two men turn to me.

"Hi, I'm Christine. Nice to meet you." I take the business cards in both hands like Mr. Kado had done, then instinctually go for the handshake. But my hands are full, so I switch the cards to one hand and weakly shake with the other. And now they're bowing at me and "yoroshiku onegaishimasu" so am I supposed to bow back? Not wanting to offend, I give it a shot, but only manage to spasm above the shoulders.

I'm not the bowing type.

...

We're in the elevator. Total silence. I'm fighting the snort with every fiber of my being.
"Don'tlaughdon'tlaughdon'tlaughJesusChristdon'tyoudarelaughChristine."
From the looks of him, Zach seems to be going through the same mental process.

We make it to the seventh floor, go through a futuristic security door, and are led into a conference room at the end of the hall. On the table is a laptop and a headset. JohnJohn stands there like an idiot, staring into space, while the two men give us instructions in Japanese. We're going to go into separate rooms, each with a computer, and read sports terms into a microphone. Easy enough.

Occasionally in one's life, there are moments when one takes a step back and says to oneself, "What the hell is going on?"
I'm now sitting at a table next to a nerdy Japanese man in a suit, who is taking notes while I say "Red Card...Yellow Card...Push Pass...Indirect Free Kick..." The computer program is showing a video of Paris for some reason, and the second hand of the clock on the wall is wiggling but not going anywhere.

...

We're almost done. I have recited somewhere around 1,100 terms into the computer, most of which I've never heard in my life. In the meantime, our friend JohnJohn has vanished. Zach comes into the room, already finished, and I start to re-record a few words that hadn't come out right.
But I'm soon interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a bizarre song blasting out of every loudspeaker in the building at the stroke of 1:00.

"Oh, they always play that at 1:00. We sing the company song when we get back from lunch every day."

Zach and I just look at each other.

...

I try to make it out of the building without having to bow again. Doesn't work. The two men go through all the formalities all over again, and see us off by standing there in the lobby side-by-side, straight-backed and serious, bowing intermittently. Zach and I walk through the giant double glass door into the sunlight, and immediately lose it.

After we had walked and laughed for about fifty feet, Zach asks "Do you think they're still standing there?"
I turn around to look.

The salarymen are still standing there, in the same exact position. They see me looking at them, and simultaneously bow in response.

Oh, Japan.

So here we are.

I'm feeling better now. I gave myself a few pep talks, took some walks, got some sun, etc. I think one of the problems has been that my job is already getting monotonous. I've never had a real job like this, and it's been years since I've taken a class that lasted more than a few months. It's like I keep expecting change to happen, and I'm getting the opposite. The reality of settling into a routine as a college graduate is a little weird. But the truth is, I'm having a good time. Life is sweet. And I'm finally starting to get off my ass and get proactive about learning Japanese, which can be really rewarding. I realized today that I am now able to say things like: "Someone in this apartment is using too much toilet paper, and I'm going to get to the bottom of this." (Kono apaato no naka ni dare ka toire peepaa o tsukaisugite irun dakara, minuku tsumori.)

Anyway, here's a rant:
Tokyo is one of the most famously crowded cities in the world, but for some reason people do not know how to freakin' walk. It's really ridiculous. There are many types of people who interfere with my ability to get from one place to another. Usually it's your average run-of-the-mill situation where the street is a river of people, and a person or group of people will just arbitrarily stop and look around. Or the girls walking through Tokyo in three-inch stiletto heels, wobbling along at less than half my normal speed. What can be really obnoxious is that bicycles share sidewalk space with pedestrians, yet there's no system in place whatsoever. Say I'm walking on the right side of the sidewalk. A bike comes up behind me ringing its bell, so I switch to walking on the left side. *ring ring* Another bike. Oops, better move to the right side again. *ring ring* Sorry, let me get out of your way. *ring ring* WHAT THE FUCK.
Another WTF has to do with the retarded way that couples NEED TO BE TOUCHING EACH OTHER AT ALL TIMES. I'm in the center of the center of Tokyo at a major clothing store, and I cannot get through the doorway because each couple holding hands forms an impenitrable wall of PDA. Large groups of schoolkids are the same way, completely oblivious to the fact that there are other people trying to get by. Omiya has gigantic sidewalks by Japanese standards, and I still can't get around the armies of uniformed teens.
I also get annoyed when people are walking in the opposite direction at a crowded time, and, seemingly oblivious to my presence, will leave absolutely no space for me to get by. The arrows on the floor of the train station are there for a reason, assholes. So it becomes a war of sorts, wherein I tell myself I absolutely will not suffer the indignity of turning sideways and squeezing by people who refuse to do the same for me. So we bump into each other. And I assume that they spend the rest of the day after that thinking about their "encounter with the rude foreigner."

Alright, that's done.

Anyway, yeah. Teaching English is either really fun or really horrible. It all depends on the students. I cannot teach anyone social skills, nor can I come up with a hundred topics of conversation when you've answered ninety-nine questions with a short sentence and an expectant look at me.
I fail to understand why it is so difficult for people to figure out a reasonable flow of conversation in English, when they're perfectly fine conversationalists in Japanese. A typical example (this occurred today):
Me: "So, Hiroko, what are you going to do today?"
Hiroko: "I'm going to iron some clothes."
*awkward pause*
Me: "Satoshi, let's ask Hiroko another question. Remember: 'What else...'"
Satoshi: "How long are you going to iron?"

I also seem to get a lot of people wandering into English school in a state of near-coma, who plop down and proceed to engage me in a thrilling conversation that goes somewhat like this:
Me: "Nobusato, good to see you again. How are you today?"
Nobusato: "I am tired."
Me: "Tired? Why?"
Nobusato: "I work today."
Me: "What do you do?"
Nobusato: "I am office worker."
*awkward pause*
Me: "Well, what do you like to do in your free time?"
Nobusato: "I sleep."
*awkward pause*
Me: "Well, have you seen any movies recently? Done anything interesting?"
Nobusato: "Nothing special."

Having fifteen to twenty minutes of free-talk time built into each lesson plan, you can imagine how awesome this can be.

And sometimes it's just unpredictable. Like this one from a low-level lesson I taught today:
Me: "Okay, today we're going to learn about buying things in America, using dollars and cents. Has anyone been to America?"
Yoko: "No."
Miyuki: "No."
Yoshikazu: "I hate America."
Me: "Uhhhhh OKAY! Let's turn to page 34."

But I do get a good amount of fun people who are actually interested in learning and have something to say, and that can be great. It's pretty funny when people hang onto every word I say like it's gold. It's really made me aware of how much bullshit I spout in everyday conversation (a lot).

So between classes today, I was making small-talk in simple English by the desk of the sole staff member working at my school (nicknamed "Ellen," I have no idea what her Japanese name is). I told her I thought that my previous student Daisuke was cute and nice, and she looked up at me with an innocent smile and said, "You should attack!"
Stuff like this is becoming commonplace.

So here I am, drinking a Kirin Ichiban of questionable age that I found in the back of the fridge. I don't particularly want to write in my blog, but it's been a while and the guilt is building up. So here we go.

Today was a particularly difficult and homesick day. I started out early in the morning (10ish) by waking up into a state of half-consciousness to hear a male voice speaking formal Japanese IN MY HOUSE. I stayed awake just long enough to think to myself "It is surely the cops, and they are surely coming to get me," and immediately fell back asleep. I would be told later that a random guy came and stood in our doorway, asked Melissa a whole bunch of unintelligible questions, then proceeded to drop to his knees and pray and sing at her in Japanese. Oh, Japan.
After I woke up for real (12:30ish), I proceeded to spend the better part of my pre-work period moping around the apartment feeling sorry for myself that a) omg college is over, and b) I no longer have access to a Putnam Street sandwich on wheat bread.
I then threw on some dress clothes (dirty) and dragged myself to work, where my seven classes in a row were mostly awkward and I wanted nothing more than to leave. Finally, 9:30 came and I had to run to catch my train back home, because the Saikyo line only runs every twenty minutes. Back in Omiya, I looked around for ages for something to eat other than Japanese Crap (difficult to do at 10pm), and had to settle on a pack of passable mini-pizzas from the 24-hour grocery store. And the grocery store was OUT OF BREAD. How does that happen?!
So here I am now, post-mini-pizza-but-still-hungry, drinking this skanky ass old beer because my soda is still warm, with a persistent nagging feeling that I'm not doing such a good job at this whole "growing up" thing.

In short, my shiny new Japan life is not always fun. Most days, I really don't do anything but wake up, go to work, come home, and sit on the computer until I go to bed.

But I've got big plans for this weekend. Tomorrow, I'm visiting TUJ and seeing Joe for the first time in a year and a half. Friday, I'm going to a concert in Shibuya. And Saturday, Adam's coming in from Toyama to spend the night.

Nevermind that I have to work Saturday and Sunday morning. That's gonna be a laugh riot.

I'll keep you posted...maybe.

Oh, and here's a new Christine Scavenger Hunt for you: see if you can find me here and here.