“One night to be confused; one night to speed up truth.”

I’m attempting to write a blog now, but I’m not sure how far it will progress.  This is mainly due to the fact that I’m not seeing things quite as soberly as I normally would, which is strange, as I’ve only had 3 drinks in the past 5 hours.*

Tonight–and this week as a whole, really–have been fairly interesting.  Yesterday, I played Truth or Dare during my English Challenge class, and the range of questions posed were between, “Can you speak Chinese?” to “Do you play the piano?”  The most popular dare was definitely to sing and dance (with some dares being just singing; others just dancing).  Today, we played “Two truths and a lie,” and let’s just leave it at that I one.  However, one of my student’s “truths” was that her sister is “really old;” i.e. she is 26.

We went to a fascinating beer garden tonight that had dressed itself up as best it could to look like a South East Asian establishment (shame it didn’t dress up it’s prices to match).  It was actually quite charming (I took a picture, but it basically looks like a building under construction), and my mayo-ebi salad(ish) was delicious.  However, my stomach started to feel a bit weird later, and I’m pretty sure it’s because they don’t de-poop their shrimp in Japan, and we all know I have a weak stomach. So my co-worker M and I broke away before the others to head back early, but on the way to the station, M said, “”Shall we do purikura?”  which I just can’t say no to.

We followed the suggested pose for…well, all of them.

Finally, I caught the train, and as luck would have it, I caught a seat as well.  Since I knew the terminal station was Shiki, I put my headphones in and fell asleep.  The next thing I know, I’m being roused by a security guard to let me know the train was empty, and I abruptly jumped up and ran off the train.  Tonight was the first time I’ve ever fallen asleep like that; I may have been sleeping with my head tllted back and my mouth open; but who can tell?

I waited for the next train to come, and it seemed to take forever.  As it pulled in, I began to wish it had–in the compartment of the oncoming train that I was in queue for was one of my students.  I would hesitate to say she is my worst, so let’s just say she’s not my star student.  Which is not to say I don’t like her–she makes an effort and all, but in today’s two person class…well, I was glad when it ended.  But she is so fashionable; she’s probably my best dressed student.

In my head I was thinking, “Now what is she up to so late at night?”  Then I checked my watch and discovered it was only 10:30, which made me feel pretty old.  As the doors opened and she got off, I wasn’t sure if she would see me; and for a moment, it looked like I might be in the clear, but then she suddenly looked to her side and said, “Jillian!”  (because who am I kidding?  I must be the only blonde in a mile radius).  Now, my mind went through a panic about which language to go with, and in the end, I pointed down the tracks and said, “Tsuruse!”  (my station), followed by, “Have a good niiiiight!”  I have no idea if she replied or not, but I imagine Monday should be interesting.

*Not saying I had those drinks spread out over 5 hours…

Week 7ish: Not keeping up

I know I said I would write once a week (or did I??  Maybe I just told people that my aim was to write once a week, who knows?  Well, whoever I told, obviously), but I’ve slipped up.  And it’s not even because I didn’t get a seat on the train; I sat down multiple times this week, compared with zero last week on the way too work (this is in reference to a blog I’ve half-written that I haven’t posted yet).

But the point of this week is to lament that my time here is more than halfway over, which is a lot sadder than I thought it would be.  Which is strange, since I’m a very emotional person; you probably would have expected me to account for more emotions than I did.  So I admit, I have under-anticipated my emotional commitment.  And the real main point is that I will write a real, truly committed post sometime in the very near future.  But not right now, as I feel like I am typing with my head very far away from the actual screen, with my face doing a bit of a snobby grimace.  This is directly correlated with  umeshu, but that should be discussed at a later date.  

So, what this boils down to is…see you next time!

Week Halfway Point: Not quite counting anymore

(First half–written Sunday morning)

I’ve noticed that my blogging is often directly related to my ability to find a seat on the morning train.  This week left me with tired limbs and no blog notes, so I’m making up for it on my Sunday ride to Kawasaki.  I’m joining a BBQ on a beautiful day that is just begging for people to spend it outside.

Yesterday, I was supposed to meet some friends for a day trip to Kamakura, but due to my miscommunication and a lack of a phone, I was unable to meet up with the group.  Truth be told, I wasnt that psyched to go, since i have already gone multiple times, and everyone wanted to do the touristy thing.  So I went shopping instead, and decided to have a relaxing night after, since I pretty much do something every other day of the week.  

However, about 20 minutes into Brave, my doorbell rang.  I thought it might have been one of my co-workers in the area, and I scrambled to find pants to put on (let’s not pretend that those of us who live alone spend their time at home clothed).  It wasn’t my co-worker, but the two other guys from my company in the same building.  They expressed their regret at not having had a neighborhood hang out yet (well, they might not have, but there are a few of us in the neighborhood who do see each other quite frequently), and went on to say they would like to amend that immediately with a trip to Abbey Road, a Beatles inspired bar down the street.  They gave me a half an hour, and went on to invite others. After some time passed, I deemed it an appropriate interval to go knock on my neighbor’s door.  As I walked in,  he informed me that everyone either was out or not interested.  And as I followed him in and saw the two Japanese girls behind him, I inwardly though, “Ohhhhh, shiiiiiiiiitsu” (there’s some Japanese for you), because I realized that the neighborhood get-together I was joining looked more like a double-date.  

In general, this isn’t sobad; but I always feel like I’m third-wheeling or fifth-wheeling (or in really crap situations, 7th-wheeling).  But I swallowed my worries and headed out.  In the end, it wasn’t so bad; one of the girlfriends got sick and left early–which of course is not a good thing, but it made me feel less like a party crasher; plus live music in an 8 person bar doesn’t really encourage a chatty atmosphere.  

However, one thing of note is that when I got to the bar, I discovered the second transgendered woman I had seen in Japan–the first one being a lady I saw at the station with some friends.  And unlike some of the really heinous men who look like done-wrong hookers (honestly, I saw one guy with a crooked wig, smeared lipstick, hairy legs in a tiny skirt, and a shirt hanging very open to reveal a clearly unnecessary bra), these were legit ladies-post-lads.  

(Second half–written Sunday night)

Please–like you guys were going to look at anyone else.

The next day, at the BBQ, we had a very interesting little situation that shows my disdain for a certain part of Japanese life.  As a foreigner, it can be a bit frustrating for me about how much Japanese people adhere to rules, especially when the reasons for them seem a bit illogical.  But a bit of context: we arrived at the riverside BBQ area to find a large queue, which we were ushered into as rules were hollered at us through a megaphone.  We lucky English speakers got our very own copy to peruse during the barrage of do’s and dont’s, and we giggled about the “breast etc. should stick” (if you don’t speak Engrish, they meant we should wear the “I paid” sticker on our chest or somewhere visible).  After we exchanged our 500 yen for our breast sticker, we met up with the group, many who had camped out early to get a good spot.  They were still trying to get the fire starting when we arrived, and the rest of us started enjoying the easy-access food and drink.  

Now, a friend of mine and her Japanese boyfriend had brought along an iPod stereo, and they started to play a little music.  Very quickly after, a riverside official (what do you call a temporary camp employee?) rushed over to tell us to turn off the music.  After a few back and forths, my friend’s boyfriend grudgingly obliged.  About 20 minutes later, when all was said and forgotten, our friend who organized the event came up and said us, “They told us we need to move our camp because we played music.”  After a few dumbfounded moments when we realized it wasn’t a joke, we started grabbing everything and made our way to a new area.  So, we had to move about 20 feet away long after we had already turned off the music.  Now, I know that rules are important to Japanese people, and that’s probably a major contributing factor as to why Japan is so safe to live in.  HOWEVER, there clearly were SEVERAL camps with blatant underage drunkenness, and yet the group that gets punished (however pathetically) is the one that played music for 5 minutes.  Way to pick and choose.  My friend and her boyfriend were so offended they left; which to be honest, really only felt like a punishment to us as their friends.  But then, it’s kind of nice to see a Japanese person who thinks about rules that are practical vs. ridiculous.

After tempers cooled and the humidity rose, we started settling in and having fun.  Kelly’s boyfriend and I had an interesting chat about my- for lack of a better term- love life.  He seemd very concerned that some guy would lie to me and take advantage of my kind nature, and he told me he was going to make a “memo” so we could have a “serious discussion” next time.  I know my…er…”situation” can be difficult for some to understand, and even though her boyfriend and I talked at length about it, I don’t think he quite understood me.  I’m not sure it was a language barrier either.  Living in a foreign country has taught me that just because you speak the same language as someone by no means guarantees that you understand each other. 

My take on BBQs in Tokyo is this: go to someplace that isn’t regulated, like the Arakawa River (good places can be reached via Akabane station or Yanasegawa).  Futakotamagawa, where we went, does have some beautiful riversides, but I would recommend going on the free side and just having a picnic over paying the 500 yen fee to have a BBQ on rocks and rules.  

Week 5ish: Japanature

Last Saturday, some of us decided a little bit of nature was in order, so we packed up our bags (the smallest ones we had) and headed to the wilderness of tokyo for a day hike.  I imagine you are probably thinking, “What!  I didn’t know Tokyo had wilderness!”  To which I would reply, “Ha!  You are right!”  But only in a sense.

For those of you who have been to Tokyo, you might have been struck by the numerous patches of green sprouting up around the city.  For those who haven’t, let me inform you that there are in fact numerous patches of green, which seem almost like someone dropped bombs around the city that exploded into mini, dense forests.  We did not, however, go hiking in these.  That would have been ridiculous;  the hike would have lasted 5 minutes, and on top of that, there are probably huge spiders in there.

So instead, we jumped on the Ome line, which departs from the happening ‘burb of Tachikawa and slowly crawls into more rural landscapes, gradually transforming into the Chichibu national forest. Suddenly those patches of green take over mountains, spewing out a river from between them, winding below as you watch from the train tracks above.  Apartments are replaced by the wooden houses of a slightly more bygone era, and the large and pervasive advertisements of tokyo that follow you like Mona Lisa’s eyes are replaced by more homey handwritten signs, which don’t feel half as aggressive and demanding.

When we alighted and looked at a map, we discovered that we could either take a bus to the base of our intended, mt. Mitake (or as my iPad tried to get me to say, Mt. Mistake) or walk 45 minutes. We also had the option of taking a tram to the top or hike an hour.  We pounded out chests and said, “We are mountain women!”  Plus, it’s kind of ridiculous to go all that way for a day in nature just to end up being chauffered around the whole time.  However, we were apparently the only ones to feel this way, as we found ourselves alone on the roadside, walking and watching our fellow train passengers line up for their next public transport.

Having seen the size of some Japanese spiders, this is as far in as I dared to go.

 We arrived in the estimated time at the foot of Mitake, and found ourselves looking…at more paved road, reaching precarious angles up the mountain. But we figured this was just the start, and we would get past it soon enough.  We never did.  The entire way was steep pavement.   Since I know that this was not a one off; since takao, tokyo’s most famous day hike, is the same way; I came to the conclusion that I was not impressed with the hiking trails of T-town.

Still, there is a sense of relieved euphoria when you reach the top of any mountain; this time was no exception.  Even though the top was home to a tiny town rather than a few rocks that you can perch yourself on to contemplate existence, we still felt rather proud of ourselves.  There was shrine at the top that housed a “power spot,” and was also dedicated to any dogs whose owners dragged them along (long live our four-footed friends).  After we visited there (and Nanako purchased what turned out to be the worst fortune ever), we headed to a restaurant for some fantastic tempura soba, followed by green tea ice cream.  And any trip that ends in ice cream equals success to me.