Kanpai! (Cheers!)

Woah, almost two weeks without an update–you all must be starving for something new to read! Well, I might be able to help, because I’ve got almost two week’s worth of stuff to talk about! Ikimasyou! (Let’s go!)

Last Friday I had class from 3:15 until 5:30, but at least it’s Japanese Culture and Art I, which is going to be quite interesting, especially considering the professor started off by showing bits of Godzilla. He does things in a roundabout way, but makes interesting points (Japanese special effects were renowned for a time, but the majority of the technology came from America–the professor attributes this to the way the Japanese are able to arrange things and engineer things). Afterward, I headed to the Welcome Party that the International Friendship Club was throwing. Since it started at four, I was a little late, but was just in time to witness a lively game of Fruits Basket. What is that, you ask? Good question! It’s a game very much like musical chairs, but groups of people are assigned a particular fruit (see where this is going?) One person stands in the middle (the chairs were arranged in a circle), and calls out a group of fruit, or says minna! (everyone!). Much scrambling ensues, and when the dust settles one slowpoke is left standing in the middle. This person calls the next group of fruit, etc. In this case, the last gaijin standing when the game finally ended (I’m guessing you could also use elimination to end the game, but this session was massive) won a prize.

Thankfully, a ton of delicious snacks were present, and there were still some left by the time I arrived. I became addicted to these little glazed cookie-like snacks whose package had Obaachan (the familiar term for Grandmother, the closest translation would probably be “Grandma”) written on it. I think they were puffed rice patties, but thanks to the glaze they didn’t taste like cardboard or packaged air like some rice crackers in the States. These were also solid, and not individual grains of puffed rice stuck together. I think. At any rate, Obaachan’s snacks are delicious. I am also fond of C.C. Lemon, which is a soft drink that at first makes you think “Hmm, a little heavy on the carbonation, not so much on the lemon,” but it’s actually much better that way, because it isn’t quite so sour, simply tasty. This makes it quite easy to drink a lot of it, and I had to limit myself so I wouldn’t steal a whole bottle. Not easy to do after a full day of classes, but I managed. Next up was bingo, and I won a round! With two or three rows one number away from completion, I would’ve been crushed if I didn’t get something. I got to pick a prize from a box full of plastic bags, and I came up with this:

Awesome! I didn’t know the Japanese were into shrunken heads!

Actually, it’s a charm that you can hang from your keitai denwa (cell phone). Cell phone charms are huge over here, and you can even buy one of Nanzan’s President from a shop in the Copain Student Union Building. That charm is a miniature of his whole body, though. Some Japanese students’ cell phones clack and clang with any number of these little charms strapped to them. I suppose that’s something of a Cultural Note, seeing as how people in the States generally just want to talk to one another. Ah well, I’ll be proud to hang this little bugger from my phone when I get it, so I can finally talk to people on campus when I’m not on campus. That’ll be nice–hooray for communication! Not to mention I’ll look dead sexy talking on a phone with a head hanging from it–don’t mess! Or something like that.

After bingo, I was mingling with Paris from Dickinson and other people I’ve met so far when I was approached by three Japanese students (whose names I regretfully can’t remember at the moment) who are members of the International Friendship Club. We talked about what the IFC does (arranges field trips with international students, have parties with international students, go bowling with international students–generally a lot of cool things I want to be a part of), and then the conversation turned to the usual introductory small talk. As it turns out, these guys are into grunge rock, with Nirvana topping the list. I took out my iPod and ran down the list of things I’ve got on there, and another in the group lit up when I passed Audioslave, and another is into Radiohead-style electronica rock, and Green Day and Maroon 5 are really popular in Japan. Quite simply, we talked about music almost the entire time. They asked what kind of Japanese foods I like (one of the students also hates umeboshi), and I asked them what kinds of movies they like (action and adventure, with the Die Hard and Indiana Jones franchises scoring points among this particular group). They asked where I had been (Sakae) and where I was planning to go (Kamimaezu on this fine evening). Ah, Kamimaezu wa ii tokoro da (Ah, Kamimaezu’s a good place) came the response. Yuumei na fashon ga arimasu (It’s famous for its fashion) came the explanation. “YES!” I thought, “More stores selling clothes that will never fit!” Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have a whole lot of time there anyway, as the party was to wrap at 7, and I planned on returning home around nine or nine-thirty. So after the party wrapped and I agreed to receive IFC e-mail, I headed for the subway station.

Upon arriving in Kamimaezu (which is two subway stops before Sakae, where I’ve been spending weekends lately), I decided to take subway exit 10 of 12 and see what was around. Kamimaezu eki (station) appears to have a few shops (which were closed at the time), but it’s not the sprawling underground salute to capitalism that is Sakae eki’s Flower Mall. Since Satoko had suggested Kamimaezu in my quest to find an internet cafe, I was a little confused when I emerged from Exit 10. No bright lights. No huge department stores looming overhead. Not a whole lot going on in general. “Crap,” I thought, “I picked the exit that dumps unsuspecting gaijin into the back alleys to be robbed.” Pressing on, I headed toward the more busy street to my right. There were now more people, as well as cars, so at least there would be witnesses to the mugging. As it turns out, Kamimaezu is a pretty happening place, but I didn’t have time to explore much this evening, so I headed home after walking around a bit. I had a nice chat with Satoko about the day, and then headed to bed.

Saturday, it was back to Sakae, with another (longer) stop in Kamimaezu on the way home. I planned to meet Katie there, as she was looking into the whole keitai denwa business, and I offered to show her around a bit. We planned to meet at Sakae eki (mistake one), and then head into town. She said she would e-mail if she couldn’t make it (mistake two, I realized–I don’t have internet, and neither does her host family). As I’ve mentioned before, Sakae eki is HUGE. So big, it gets italics and caps. Katie came in on the yellow subway line (I forget what it’s called), and I come in on the blue Tsurumai Line. Needless to say, we didn’t see each other right away. Or at all, for that matter, because in attempting to canvas the station I took a different route than in previous weeks, and ended up in a totally different underground shopping complex (!!). In passing a window that was actually at ground level, I saw that it probably wasn’t the best day to be in Sakae, because it was raining. So much for outdoor concerts! I finally made my way out of the mall and onto the street–except I was way way down the line from where I’d exited before. Frankly, I had no idea where I was. After consulting a map or two and generally getting my bearings (thank god for tall buildings with ads that don’t change), I managed to work my way back to the same plaza where Abnormal Voltage played a week earlier. Okay. I walked to SoftBank, where they sell a boatload of phones, and tried to find Katie. No dice (though as it turns out, I may not have looked hard enough and just missed her). So I canvassed the streets a bit, but this proved (predictably) fruitless, despite the perceived ease of picking out someone who doesn’t look like 99.9% of the rest of the people in the city.

So I put plan B into action, and went to one of the internet cafes to check my e-mail.

Where the magic happens–the Manboo Internet Cafe.

The place was divided into cubicles, each with its own computer, TV, plush leather chair and matching ottoman crammed inside. It’s also a pretty dark place, meaning I nearly went headfirst into the computer monitor upon entering and stumbling over the ottoman. Overall, this cafe earns an 8/10 on the Seediness Meter I’ve just created. It was comfortable, but it wasn’t a place that gave off that “Ooo, this is a really nice, clean place!” feeling. Not that you need that for internet, but it beats the “Wonder why it’s so dark…what do people do in here?” feeling. Oh, and it smelled like cancer. Again, loose smoking restrictions rear their ugly heads. I turned on the desk lamp and checked my mail–no word from Katie. I’d also purchased a half hour, the minimum amount of time, and didn’t really know what to do with it. Someone had what sounded like an oxygen machine in another booth. Only after listening carefully did I realize it was the sound of someone snoring. I guess Satoko was right: weird people really do come and sleep in internet cafes!

After the cafe, I pretty much gave up on finding Katie in this massive city and instead wandered around taking pictures. Here’s a shot of the ferris wheel attached to Sunshine Sakae, a collection of clothing shops and restaurants. It’s where Sakae Guy was putting on a little show for people last week.

That looks like fun!

By this time, though it doesn’t necessarily look it in the last picture, the clouds were breaking, and as it turns out, Spyair was setting up for a show! Spyair was the band that played last week that my merry band of gaijin missed. They were just starting the setup, however, so I looked for something to do to kill some time. I considered wandering back down the way I had come from the new subway exit, but that would take a lot of time if I got sucked into something. That’s when I saw what was right in front of me:

I think we’re going in…

I didn’t take the full tour (it was really expensive), but I plan on doing so soon. I walked around the museum gift shop, which was full of interesting pieces (lamps made from old scooter headlights and handlebars, sculptures that appear to be made from scrap pieces of metal) and consumer items (tiny radio controlled helicopters, Gundam and Neon Genesis Evangelion action figures). All the interesting little trinkets made me happy inside, because I’m a sucker for gadgets and little electronic things that fly.

After that brief distraction, I wandered around town some more, snapping photos and waiting for Spyair to get cranking. The sun was now out in force, and the rain was quickly drying. I came across an odd structre that flashes temperature info and what appear to be environmental tips:

See that van between the two passing cars? Some guy was ranting through loudspeakers attached to the van. Something about “America’s War.” And the structure is NOT part of the Coke truck, though that would be amusing.

Spyair was STILL setting up, so I worked my way back to Sunshine Sakae to see if anything was underway there. Lo and behold, there was!

REAL musicians wear pink. And sing really lightweight pop songs.

This guy was singing in a really sugary tone, and everyone was right there with him:

These gigs sure do draw the crowds.

Sadly, this was his last number. “Dang,” I thought, “Missed another one!” Nay! Another solo act came out; living proof that “cloying” and “overly saccharine” translate into any language:

Here he is, whether in mid “La la” or “Sunshine!” I can’t remember.

Again, this time in mid “La la”–I think. That was about all he said.

So I wandered back over to the plaza, where Spyair was finally getting underway. They played a short 12-minute set (video forthcoming, as I’ve found a way to upload larger-than-100MB files–expect a video dump post soon), said something about how the weather was going to be bad (it was sunny the rest of the day), and hit the road. It was good enough to make my buy their CD though, which has all the songs they played in their little set. The songs all have random English words thrown in as well, meaning I have to translate the rest of the album to see if they’re up to speed on their English. Anal retentive? Maybe. English majorly? Definitely.

After the show I set to walking around town, taking in the sights and sounds and looking for more fun things to do. Along the way, I bumped into an old friend–Pierre. I met Pierre the last time I was in Sakae, with Guy, Susanne, and Miako. Pierre comes from France. I know this because his greeting for all people, especially gaijin, is “Hello, my name is Pierre, I come from France. Where do you come from?” If you’re not too freaked out by his white suit, white pants, old-school-carny-barker-straight brim straw hat (complete with red band above the brim!) and bow-tie combo, you might respond, “I come from America.” At this point, Pierre pulled out a new question for me (he cornered Guy last time), “Are you Catholic?” Thrown by this departure from the script I knew so well (the one introductory line, anyhow), I was taken aback. “No, but I have a friend who is.” “Ah, well here, take this.” With that, I received this:

Pierre comes from France. Pierre is a Jehovah’s Witness. Pierre scares me. I mean come on, he looks like he walked out of a Porky Pig cartoon. He’d be the huckster selling magical rain-making capsules you shoot into the sky. Except in this case, he’s pitching pristine log cabins somewhere in rural New England where moose, donkeys, horses and humans can all peacefully coexist while sharing a bounteous harvest of pumpkins, apples and flowers on their gorgeous yellow lawn. It is also perpetually fall, apparently. Anyway, Pierre began his little spiel, and I graciously listened while looking for an exit route. I felt like Jason Bourne, minus the immediate danger of possibly being killed if I made the wrong move. Eventually he finished mid-way across the crosswalk, I promised to look at his pamphlet, and he said “I hope we will meet again.” About 10 minutes later, I thought of the witty retort “We already have.” I continued to walk around Sakae and ate a nice plate of curry udon for dinner. I’d never really had curry before coming to Japan, but I’ve been told that it tastes just like curry from India, and I like it. It’s spicy, sure, but tasty. Especially when coupled with that all-time favorite of mine, Japanese udon noodles. Yum. I decided it was getting to be time to head over to Kamimaezu to see what was going on there, but before I got to the eki I noticed that band with the female lead singer (who go by the name Eve’s Captive) were setting up for a show. So I waited for them to start and snapped another pic of the massive fountain. There were two schoolgirls eating food from a conbini (convenience store), and they were feeding the pigeons. One was terrified of the little creatures.

Ohmigod! They have, like, claws and stuff!

I recorded some of the performance (again, coming soon), and a little more when I was inside the eki and heard music coming from an unknown exit–turns out they were still going even after breaking down from the first show! They had lights up and everything. But it was finally time to get back to Kamimaezu or go home. Jaa, ikou! (VERY casual way of saying “Let’s go!”)

I arrived in Kamimaezu and headed back to the area where I had been the night before. There was a huuuuuuge line of shops extending between the space of two buildings, and I wanted to check it out. Since words failed me on that description, here’s a picture:

No, I can’t read that yet.

See, the Japanese know what they’re doing. A car or two could fit down here. But why do that when you can just make it one giant strip-mall? That’s what I call efficient use of space, people.

This mall is home to many, many interesting things. First up is the leather dealer, which is trying SO hard to capture that American frontier spirit we’ve all lost. It achieves moderate success, as you will see:

This is what they think of us, people. Giant mounted heads and signs reading “Cowboys, leave your guns at the door.” Not heard: The Jay-Z and Linkin Park MTV Mash-Up DVD they had on a constant loop on the TV you can see if you squint and look just under the mounted bull head. Seriously. Nothing goes together like Nu-Metal, Rap and Leather-Loving Cowboys!

Moving on down the line, I saw nothing but stores selling crazy clothes that won’t fit me in a million years. There was, however, a pimped-out Homer Simpson. And yes, I have seen The Simpsons on DVD for sale in Japan. It’s surreal to see it written in Katakana. But let’s make with the pictures, shall we?

Aw, yeah. The fact that he looks high makes it worth double points for “Oddly implemented cultural import.”

Continuing down the line, I took a slight detour to the right, where there was a wing I hadn’t seen before when I wandered through here the night before. There were several game stores and pachinko parlors, but then I stumbled upon this:

“Whaaaaaaa?” I said in my best Jon Stewart impression. In the middle of this shopping complex?? Believe it. There was even a guy inside practicing his Tai Chi (video coming soon–I appear to have forgotten the whole “put it on the laptop first” step). I was taken aback. Japan truly is a place that can’t decide what it wants to be, even in a place as thoroughly modern and urban as Kamimaezu. The history will never die in this place, and sometimes that’s part of the problem–more on that later. The temple was obviously now a part of this massive sprawl, but it was still pretty serene inside, despite having no doors. Sure the sounds of the giant Jumbo-Tron advertisement for pachinko were still blaring away and blasting a wall of light into your retina, but you could definitely take a bit of a breather there without feeling too overwhelmed. It was a pleasant surprise.

I walked to the far end of the mall, where I discovered that the creepy sign I filmed in Sakae is actually a brand mascot for a chain of restaurants called Sugakiya. It appears to be a fast-food-esque chain, more akin to a Friendly’s, however, as they also serve ice cream. Here’s a pic of the full logo:

Look kids, she has food! But don’t be fooled, she’s still creepy looking. “Come play with me!” I can hear her say, right before “Heeeeeeeere’s JOHNNY!”

So, with a strip mall full of clothes that don’t fit and money I didn’t want to spend too much of anyway, I began working my way back to the front of the mall. Along the way, I saw this banner:

“Oh great,” you’re thinking. “Here he goes with more wacked-out pictures about how crazy the Japanese think America is, and then he’ll imply that it’s our fault because of the image we project.” NAY! I saw the banner, moved my eyes down and to the left, and saw THIS:

Why is a store called ZAP U.S. Market selling shrink-wrapped “Lovely Babies”? Why are there flying fish? Who the hell is Grampus? These are all valid questions, but I decided that the first would be best left unanswered, because the best answer is probably “You don’t want to know.” Seriously though, I think it was a store something like Spencer’s. Or not. I’ll go back and check soon.

I made my way back out of the mall and took a stroll down the main drag. I found a pachinko parlor, and walked in for approximately .5 seconds. Good lord, the NOISE. It will haunt me for some time. The sound of thousands of metal balls clanging toward their destinations as eager Japanese gamblers suck nervously at their cigarettes was deafening. This is compounded by the fact that the idea of a pachinko parlor, like a casino, is to get the maximum number of people into the parlor as possible. In America this takes efficiency with slot machines, putting them all next to each other. In Japan, the same holds true, but in a smaller space. Thus, the pachinko parlor is designed to create maximum profit, but also a wall of sound that bludgeons you as you walk in the door. Prolonged exposure might render you unable to eat a hamburger, like David Hasselhoff on a bender. Anything over that will simply make your ears bleed as you pray for the end. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to play pachinko, because I can’t take the noise. Maybe there’s a quiet parlor somewhere (crosses fingers). I’d like to try once, because I am unclear as to the official goal of the game, and would like to share it with you all. Here’s hoping I don’t go broke figuring that out.

So after leaving the parlor, I continued down the street, where I found a little something for all the Flight of the Conchords fans reading this blog. Those of you that just went “What?” need to start watching this show. I’ll give you a break if you don’t have HBO, but look it up when it hits DVD. That’s my plug for this entry. On to the hilarity!

Let’s get in a cab. Unfortunately, I was unable to share one with “the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen with a kebab.”

As I wandered around, I thought, “I’m getting quite hungry.” I thought about hitting up Yoshinoya (where I had my meat-and-onion-on-rice bowl), but then I thought jokingly “I’ll go to Mega Kebab,” which turned into “Why not Mega Kebab? It’s here, it’s reasonably priced, and it’s a restaurant called the freaking Mega Kebab!” So in I went, and had a Chicken Kebab, served in half a pita roll’s pouch (only shish kebabs are on sticks). It was quite good, and it appeared that Indian TV was being piped into the store via satellite. Sweet. I walked the streets a bit more, but because I rolled into town rather late, I decided to head back home before the Shimozawas concluded the Yakuza had killed me.

Sunday was the Nisshin City Matsuri (Festival). Shogo said he would take me, and also stop to see one of Satoko’s pieces in an art expo. The rain, however, put the festival in jeopardy. Nevertheless, we headed over to Nisshin City Hall, where the art expo was taking place. One (very wet) bike ride later, we were at the expo, which also had works by local students on display. Shogo showed me the placard for Nagoya’s sister city (Owensboro, Kentucky for those keeping score at home–how’s that for random?), and asked about the matsuri. It was still being held! So we planned to ride over to Nisshin eki, and I looked forward to my first authentic Japanese matsuri. In the meantime, Shogo took my picture in front of city hall. Why? Because he could.

Thank god for waterproof shoes. It rained HARD.

The Nisshin City Hall also has a crazy stone structure artistically placed out front:

They even have a nicely manicured tree and garden. This country has a knack for isolated pockets of beauty in urban spaces.

With that, it was off to the matsuri! Man, can the Japanese throw a party!

There’s food…

A LOT of food…

Performers in pretty coordinated dre–FOOD!

And MORE food. Pick out something tasty, Shogo!

Oh yeah, and they have games for the kids.

This one involved getting the ball into a certain slot on that rotating circular board.

There were also a lot of performances on the giant stage.

A full Big Band suite–made up of kids!

They also had my all-time favorite Japanese instrument–TAIKO DRUMS.

The drums are bigger than the kids. Gotta love it.

Video of both will hit the blog soon. A LOT of people come to this shindig:

Today’s word is “crowded,” boys and girls. Can you say “Don’t move, you’ll bump into someone”?

Of course, this is a party for adults as well:

It’s not a festival until Kirin Beer shows up!

Afterward, we returned home, and I got ready for a full week of classes.

The first week of classes was rough, and IJ 400 is no joke. We have a quiz just about every other day, and the grammar is a mix of stuff I know and stuff I really need to pay attention to in order to figure out. Quizzes are frequent, as is homework. So far, so good, however, and the first full week passed without too much event. My first quiz grades were not as good as I would’ve liked, but I’m working to improve that. I’ve become strangely addicted to sumo wrestling, which is usually on about 4 PM for roughly two hours, so I watch it while I’m working on homework. It’s perfect, because it’s usually a couple seconds of action followed by about five minutes of ritualistic squatting, belt-slapping and salt throwing. This means I can work, catch the two seconds of fat men slapping and pushing each other, and then go back to work without missing anything. I don’t know what the appeal of watching two fat men in (let’s be honest) diaper-thongs is, and honestly I still don’t know why I watch, but on some weird level, I get it. That, and the referee person sounds like he’s saying “Humina-humina-humina-ha!” which makes it sound like the sight of two obese men crashing into each other is more exciting than it actually is in some cases. Maybe it’s enough like watching a small, controlled football play involving only two linemen and no pads that I can deal. Then again, it’s entirely different. At any rate, it’s on just about every day now because the season is in full swing. File this interest under “Things that make you go ‘Hmmmm…’”

The week went by without much hoopla because I was working on stuff, but Thursday was Shogo’s birthday! He’s 77. Kanpai!

The picture’s a little dark, but I did all I could to lighten it up without washing it out. This also marks the first appearance of Satoko! This is the woman who makes all of the dishes we use to serve food and eat it. She is also NOT the stereotypical Japanese housewife. She is NOT quiet, NOT always submissive, and will frequently challenge Shogo, if not smack him several times on the arm, for telling the same story twice or excessively using English. It makes for an interesting show at mealtime. We had a special cake for Shogo’s birthday, and a whole plate of various sushi rolls and sashimi. Mmmmmmm, tasty!

This past weekend was a little bit low-key because of homework and the fact that I decided to use the internet at Nanzan without worrying about when my next class started. After closing Nanzan out at 5 PM on Saturday, I took a little jaunt up to Motoyama to see what it’s like. There are several really neat little shops and boutiques, and one section of the city reminds me of good old Haddonfield, New Jersey in a way. It’s nothing like King’s Highway, mind you, but it’s got a lot of nice specialty stores lining the street. One particularly interesting shop is called Supaa Kyatto (Super Cat), and sells a number of different cat-related products, both domestic and imported. More importantly, however, is Geo, the local game store/video and music rental shop (Yes, you can rent CDs in Japan. No, they do not appear to crap themselves over the thought that someone might possibly copy said CDs. Are you listening, RIAA?). They have more movies per square inch in this place than any Blockbuster I have ever seen. It’s insanely efficient, and they pack not only Japanese movies, but anime and foreign movies from around the world as well. I’ll definitely be stopping by here to check out the latest in Japanese film on a rainy day. I might even tell you all what the movies are like, if that’s what you’re into. I stopped at Mister Donut (The Japanese equivalent to Dunkin’ Donuts, with the main difference being it’s actually got nice cafe style seating, so you might actually want to buy and consume your purchase in the same place) and got a donut and some tea for a nice little evening snack. I walked around some more, seeing several groups of kids wandering about and even 4 (!) gaijin! They looked American as well, but I was exploring, and they didn’t stop to chat. I also had my first successful encounter with the Japanese public toilet, which I will from here on out dub “The Squatter.” I survived, obviously, and thankfully there was toilet paper (I have heard tell that on some models of Squatter, this feature does not come standard. You just get six airbags in case you crash). That was pretty much it for Saturday, and Sunday was spent doing all the homework I should’ve done Friday and Saturday night.

Now, FINALLY, we’re up to speed on this week. Quizzes are going MUCH better, I’m getting a feel for how IJ 400 works (head down, power through, have a quiz every day but Tuesday, and homework is due up until Wednesday, when you get all of next week’s homework–hooray!), and Dickinson’s money should soon be arriving in my account–in fact, it should have arrived yesterday (Tuesday), so I should check and see if it’s there already. Hooray, I can get a phone now and actually coordinate weekend things with people! Score! On the amusing story front, I was waiting in the chikatetsu (subway) station (I won’t use eki here since I’ve just introduced a new word) on Monday, listening to my iPod. I was leaning against the wall in a little alcove, and a Japanese girl lined up with some other people along the wall proper. We were on the same corner, but I was listening to music and she was working on a message on her phone. Three of her friends soon arrived, noticed our close proximity, and looked at me, then at her, then at me again, until finally one asked “Tomodachi?” (A friend?). I took off my headphones to further clear up the situation, and was asked if I was an international student. When I replied in Japanese, they were all stunned at how jouzu (skillful) I was. This is a typical response to anyone with the stones to speak Japanese, and I’d heard it many times before. I have quiz scores that say otherwise. At any rate I got to talking, and we went through all the usual introductory stuff: Name, Where I’m From, Their Names (there were four of them, and I have trouble remembering Japanese names as it is–give me a break), Do I Like Japan, Do I Like Japanese Foods, Oh Yeah? Which ones, etc. In the midst of this, we boarded the Meijo Line train, and continued chatting. Then came a question that will live on in infamy: “Where do you get off?” “Akaike,” I said, “I transfer at Yagoto and get off at Akaike.” Surprised and confused looks all around. “Really? Because this is Yago–” With that, the subway doors shut, and I watched Yagoto slowly pass by. D’oh! I was distracted by actually holding a conversation in Japanese (quite fluently if I do say so myself, even if it was small talk), and yes, it was with four ladies, but that has little to do with it (anyone who’s actually managed to master enough of a foreign language to have an entire conversation would agree, I should hope). So I got off at the next stop and caught a train headed back in the other direction, with calls of “Gomen, ne! Ganbatte! Bai bai!” (Sorry! Give it your all! Bye bye!) at my back.

That, in a nutshell, is the beauty of the Japanese subway system (didn’t see THAT one coming, did you?). You can hop off a train, hop on the next one, and still get home without having to stop, turn around, buy another ticket, transfer back onto the line you were on, etc. It’s only calculating cost at the destination station when you put your ticket or commuter pass through the wicket, so you can do whatever you please as far as seeing the various stations (if you’re a hardcore trainspotter, this is excellent news). So I managed to get home alright, just a little bit later than I would have originally.

That night at dinner, Satoko had a little something on her face, and Shogo kindly pointed it out by literally pointing at her face and asking what was on it. She got up, looked in the mirror, and responded “gosu, gosu” (Later explained to me as “Paint, paint”). Shogo made a funny face, and then cracked up laughing. Satoko said “dosu ja nai!” (Not dosu!), and asked if I understood. Um, no. She explained that a dosu is a knife used by the Japanese mafia, and so Shogo thought she’d been cut by a Yakuza or something. You probably had to be there, but it was funny at the time.

And that’s about it for now. It’s Wednesday, class is over, and I’m about ready to go home and do some laundry, because I need pants. Hooray pants!

Jaa, Mata!

Jeff