Gee gee gee gee

Baby Baby (Recap from last blog.)

I looked at my stats on the blog and realized that I was averaging 1 blog post per month this year...if that. So I want to remedy that, but all I have is snippets, so make do.

A few weeks ago, I was skyping my grandparents. I told them their camera wasn't working; it was a big ordeal to figure out where the little camera button was that they had to press. Finally, they got it--and there sat my shirtless and unshaven grandpa, with my grandma standing next to him in her underpants. Sometimes I wonder if technology is really the blessing we think it is.

An interesting part of Japanese life is the comments/compliments I get from Japanese people. Being a foreigner, I am aware that my level of attractiveness goes up about two points (I heard this is a similar experience for women in the army--a point made by my ROTC friend). A result from this is that anytime I alter my appearance--even minimally--I can expect feedback. This happened the other day when I wore my hair in not one, but TWO buns (extravagant!!!). In every single class, someone made a comment on this (except for my kids classes--but the moms made comments when they came to pick up their kids, so technically, still applicable)--and fortunately, it was all positive, or at least neutral (one of my students in her 40s told me I looked younger--seeing as I am only 24, how old do I look like normally?). At the end of the day, a (male) coworker told me, "Hey Jillian--just in case anyone said something, I think your hair looks good." I had been collecting the trash, but I stopped what I was doing to sputter, "Wait, what? Did...someone say something?" It turned out that he meant to say that in case no one said anything, he thought I should know it looked good--he just has a way of giving left-handed compliments. Yesterday, I wore what I thought was a classy, all black belted outfit with my hair down (a first in a long time since the summer began), and I got told that I looked "slick" and "wild". I'm fairly sure both were meant to be taken as compliments, but I often wonder what students are really trying to get at when they say these things.

Earthquake Break

It's been about 6 months now; I feel like I need to move onto another topic. So 3/11 will have to take a backseat for now.

My dad, stepmom, and little sister came to visit in August during my week off. Having people come out here is such a surreal experience, because despite having been to Japan 3 times and living here for over a year, there's this weird feeling that comes from seeing people from a different place where you've never seen them before. Like having your teacher over for dinner (which was another experience that I had, but in reverse, since I was the teacher). All in all; I think Japan was too humid and requires too much walking for the typical visitor, but it was still great to have them come. I got to have a few sleepovers with my sister, and I was deeply unnerved by how few snacks she wanted to eat. Kids these days.

I said "Sayonara" to the folks on Wednesday night, and early Wednesday afternoon I saddled myself up and left for the west--which, ironically, was not to America, but to Korea. I was going to meet Hera "Potter" Yoon, who was finishing off her 6-or-so week long traverse of Asia. On my (thunderstorm delayed) plane ride, I had visions of Korean BBQ and cosmetics dancing through my head (when I asked my students what they recommended in Korea, that was the answer I received: food and cosmetics--and apparently only women visit Korea from Japan).

After grabbing my luggage and exchanging my yen, my first thought was, "Korea is awesome!" I had originally tried to exchange my money in Japan, but when I asked the advisor hanging around the exchange booth about the rate for Korean won, he leaned over and whispered, "Excuse me, miss, but actually; I've heard the rates are better in Korea." I took his advice, and didn't regret it--coming ahead about $70. And everything in Korea is so cheap! Taking the 45 minute or so bus ride into Seoul was only around $1o (train being about $3--but at that point, I wanted to take the least stressful option possible).

Seoul seemed to better fit my original image of what Tokyo was like--busy, bright lights, constant activity. And while Tokyo is like that; absolutely, Seoul felt a bit more vibrant; more approachable. It was like a dirtier, louder, and friendlier version of Tokyo.

The next morning, I was finally reunited with one H. Yoon, who immediately took me to the cosmetic section of Seoul, where we spent the rest of the day. The streets were overflowing with cosmetic stores, and I mean that quite realistically--salesgirls stood outside every entrance, a pile of baskets with samples inside for anyone who came into browse (usually the sample was a free face mask, which I admit I have grown quite fond of). But after living in Japan, where docile salesgirls stand smiling at a comfortable distance, I was definitely feeling my personal space continuously invaded as cosmetic girls hovered within arm's reach, waiting to assist or drag us to the register. No sooner would I pick up a tube before the girl would comment, "That's lipstick." Thanks for the translation.

Hera thought it would be a nice trick to tell one of the multi-lingual salesgirls that I only spoke Japanese girls. Not only did the girl play along with the trick, but she continued with the ruse the entire time we were there. She tried to get me to buy a serum that looked like an injection needle, I believe called B-tox (guess what that's supposed to simulate). At around $50, it was a bit expensive for my taste, and I told her as much. In Japanese, she agreed, but told me it was cheaper than real botox and would help with the lines around my eyes. At the elderly age of 24, I decided that I didn't need any form injections, be it Botox or Faux-tox.

Soon, however, the bad weather I had tried to shake off in Tokyo caught up, and we rushed into Forever 21 to avoid the rain. When we left, I was handed a brochure advertising 1 hour massages for $20. As I have never had a professional massage, I decided to jump at the offer, and Hera acquiesced to join, having just come from a trip full of $3 massages. After arriving at the place and trying to enter the unmarked, though clearly under construction elevator, we debated the ghetto-ness factor of the place as we trudged up the 5 flights of stairs. When we arrived and they gave us outfits for during the massage that looked like junior high gym clothes, I decided that the place was definitely tinged with ghetto. After entering the massage room and seeing about 4 of the 8 tables that were already occupied, my mind was completely decided: ghetto massage central. But we already paid, and I figured a massage was a massage. Which I was clearly wrong about, because what I experienced was about 3/4ths forced yoga (try and say 3/4ths forced four times fast) and about 1/4th elbow massage. In the end, good enough.

After shopping around all day; we finally settled into a dinner of Yum Yum Chicken (not sure what the actual name is, but it sounds like that, basically). Seeing as they have to kill about 10 chickens for the meal, I felt sufficiently stuffed at the end of the meal. When we walked outside, it was pouring rain--so when stuffed full of chicken with the threat of immediate soaking, there is only one option, really: Korean Karaoke. After shopping around for prices, we settled on the place that gave us the cheapest (though universal price)--the only place that offered us the low price from the get-go (we rewarded honesty). We did, however, discover Japanese karaoke is about the same price, but usually some kind of refreshment is included--so in my mind, Japan wins the karaoke contest. But still--one of the highlights of the trip for me was a heartfelt rendition of Spice Girl's "2 Become 1". And a warning: unless you never want to take yourself seriously again, don't watch that music video.

During the trip, I felt a bit bad because I kept feeling sickly--mentally, I wanted to eat all the goodies Korea had to offer, but physically, my stomach kept saying, "Meh. You don't really need food." Then I would get a headache, or I would have cramps, or something ridiculous. But being able to reconnect with a friend whose presence was (is) very much missed was a great salve to the soul for me (if not necessarily for the body, apparently)(not that I expected Hera to be a salve for the body...awkward).

With that awkward moment, and not getting past the first day of my trip, I'll wrap it up. But I'll leave on a nice Korean note, in the chord of "Gee."

四番 Yonban

Did you know that there is a guy who just goes around filming Tegan and Sara concerts all around the world? He doesn't get paid or anything; he just does it because he loves them so much. And fortunately, I get to live vicariously through him on these bloody hot nights when I'm trying to refrain from using the air conditioner to conserve energy, because apparently Tokyo is just gonna blackout one day if I don't. So I decided that I might as well talk about the last part of EW and just get-er done.

Wednesday woke us with aftershocks, and I'm sure cracks such as "Aw, Hera, was that you?" were made (as of course we were sharing a futon at that point; isn't that cutie-cute?--but the point being, someone plausibly could have ripped one and disguised it as an earthquake). While still in a half-slumber, Hera received a phone call, and the tone of her voice freaked me out--but since some of it was in Korean, I didn't have a solid grip on what was being said, though I did know enough Korean to understand she was saying, "Mom!" in a bit of an anxious tone. My thoughts immediately went to the power plant situation, and my heart started racing as I wondered what it could be. She paused and turned to me and said, "My mom bought me a ticket to Korea." Recap: apparently Hera's mom had truly taken it to heart when she said she'd go if her mom bought the ticket; telling her, "Okay, I bought you the ticket; you're leaving this afternoon." I began to panic as I realized I would be alone.

While she began packing, I skyped my mom. Her radiation indifferent demeanor had fa

ded; when I told her Hera was leaving for Korea, she in turn told me she thought I needed to leave Tokyo. I told her I would look into places to go, after I got back to my own apartment. I decided it would be better to leave sooner rather than later; Hera told me she would come back when the situation blew over, whenever that would be. So as I left her place, I wondered when the next time I would see her would be. That was probably one of the scariest moments of the time; realizing that the situation was serious enough that people I knew where leaving.

Had it been any other spring day, the beautiful sunshine would have felt like a wonderful reprieve from the previous cold days of winter; but with the situation at hand, it just felt threatening. There was also an intensely forceful gust that would have been a threat to the Santa Ana winds; I struggled with keeping my rolling suitcase straight on the ground. The wind itself seemed terrifying; I wondered if it was carrying with it radioactive particles. When I got to my transfer station, I discovered that my next train line was shut down, so again I trudged towards my place with my suitcase in tow. On the way, I got a text from Beth, a friend who had been in training with Hera--she told me they were planning to leave Tokyo, and that I join them.

At my apartment, I decided to call my mom as soon as possible just to get an idea of where she recommended we go. However, her advice was limited--she told me that my uncle, who has had experience with nuclear weapons in the army, had strongly recommended that I leave the area. She reiterated the idea that the Japanese government might not be revealing everything about the situation; she told me that I had to leave, and that I had to leave soon. She added that I should take my computer and passport with me. After that, I packed in a heightened state of fear--I threw some stuff in my backpack, and tore up my apartment in an attempt to find my passport. After a mini breakdown, I finally found it, and I took off.

This time, as I hurried down the street, there was a greater urgency in my pace. The train itself was going about 1/3 the speed of normal--what should have been a 20 minute train ride took at least twice the time, which might have irritated me in normal conditions, but now sent m

y mind in an anxious flurry, as I literally felt as if I was racing against time to get out of town. I remember looking around my fellow train companions, wondering who was in the same state as me behind the stoic faces.

I finally arrived at Jamie's house to discover that Russell hadn't arrived yet, and so we waited to hear about his ETA with current train situation. Jamie apparently thought it would be a good idea to take the biggest suitcase on earth on our little evac-getaway, and he labored over whether to bring bathing suits and cans of tuna. He decided on both, and I told him I might have to borrow a shirt, as I realized I had only packed one pair of pants and some pajamas. That's when I discovered that the majority of his clothing happens to be plaid. Finally, after a tortuous waiting period, we decided that it would just be better to meet Russell at Tokyo station, and then all hop on a Shinkansen together to wherever seemed to be the cheapest and most affordable.

After arriving at the station and meeting with Russell, we decided that location would

be Kyoto. Mainly, this was due to the fact that not all of us had been there, and I knew a family friend lived nearby who might be willing to let us stay (though after a few very confusing phone calls to the woman, I realized I might have made a poor decision). Nevertheless, on the train ride there, Jamie found us a hotel room for the night for a reasonable price next to the station, and I felt a bit of tension slip away--really, just being on the train itself made me breathe easier, and I began to look forward to visiting the ancient city.

When we arrived in Kyoto, it almost felt like arriving in a foreign country. The city was much colder than Tokyo; in fact, as we began our walk to the hotel, it began to snow. It was a peaceful envelopment; and while I still felt uncertain of our current situation, it felt good to be away from the drama and on (quite literally) sturdy ground. The evening felt relaxing and almost carefree; considering none of us knew when we would return to our places or work.

That night, as we all settled in our hotel room, we began talking to family. That evening, we each contacted families in four different countries, and we all got the same reply--get out of Japan. I had been one of the last to talk to my family members, and therefore I didn't speak with my mom until just after 1, right before I was about to fall asleep. While I tried to reassure that I was entirely removed from the situation at the power plants, her information from my uncle was chilling: "They (the US army) think this is bigger than Japan. They think it's going to take 100 years to clean up. You really need to leave the country." The rest of the details of the conversation are a bit foggy to me. I remember hanging up the phone, then starting to shake. Beth asked what my mom had said; I kept trying to say something, but the words wouldn't really come out right. I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in anxiety, uncertain about what I should do, and where I would be tomorrow.

P.S. This is not the end of the saga, as I had originally predicted. Good grief, I will be writing about this forever.

3.5

(Sub-Title: Worst Day of Work Ever)

The atmosphere in the school felt heavy and uncertain. The topic of the radiation came up, and when I reiterated what I had read in the news, Yoda said, "Naw, we are going to die a slow and painful death." Though Yoda is known for having a flair for the pessimistic dramatic, I head Mimi echo from next to him, "Slow and painful death." Not as reassuring. Gaijin Guy had come in, but had left to stockpile supplies, and I began to wonder if I should have done the same instead of traipsing around Tokyo having photo picnics. Soon, it was announced that lessons would be cancelled for the rest of the week, so we spent the first part of the morning calling students to cancel class. The rest of the time was spent on the internet tracking the power plant situation. Things like, "There's been another explosion at the plant" and "Radiation levels in Saitama are 40 times the normal amount" were tossed around every few minutes (though I would often reply, "40 times compared to what?" All the scientific jargon just seemed like arbitrary measurements).

By lunch time, I felt anxious and jittery; I had looked up foods high in iodide to counteract the abnormal doses of radiation and went on a shopping spree (or as much of one as I could when faced with increasing emptying shelves)(and in case you are wondering, here are some examples of what I bought: seaweed, wakame, cheesecake, and cheese--definitely not bananas). The longer I stayed there reading the news and talking to my coworkers, the more anxious I felt. We received word from Head Office that foreign teachers didn't have to come in for the rest of the week, but Japanese staff would have to work until Thursday. I remember seeing Mimi's face at the announcement; she looked so anxious that she would have to stick around in a radiation laden environment. Finally, we gathered around for the last time of the day, and our manager told us to try and stay indoors as much as possible, and if we left the city, to let her know first. With that, I threw on my rain jacket, mask, and gloves to keep out as much radiation as possible. As soon as I got home, I took a quick shower, because I heard removing radiation from your skin is as simple as washing with water and soap.

However, Hera called and invited me over, so I packed up and headed over. As soon as I reached her place, I could regain a lot of my composure and laugh about the day with her. Being in an environment that feeds fear really does have a strong impact on your thought process; how you take in the current situation and make decisions. I once again went to sleep rocked by aftershocks, with the knowledge that the power plant was still far away.

三番 Sanban

Well, I guess it's time to tell the next part of the story.

The night of the earthquake, the ground was in constant motion, but I somehow managed to sleep quite thoroughly (perhaps the knowledge that friends and colleagues were stuck at offices and schools around Tokyo helped me to be appreciative of my own futon). I chatted online with Hera(one of the many stuck at work) and made plans to meet in the morning if/when the trains started running. We decided it was better not to be alone; because although the earthquake had been a bit scary, we were still kind of excited to have a Saturday off.

The trains started up, slowly and uncertainly; riding the train the next morning was a little spooky. Japanese trains are normally pretty quiet, but the air was clearly different now. Therewas a moment when a man's bag dropped from his lap, and all eyes sharply turned at the sudden movement. We hadn't even realized we were all on edge. I got to Hera's, where it was promptly decided that we would actually spend the night at Jamie's.

Once everyone was together, however, the mood was light, and we actually began to have a pretty good time drinking wine and eating take out from Pizza Hut. Jamie invited his Belgium friend over, and we stayed up until the wee hours drinking wine and watching L'Auberge Espagnole.

The next day was actually wonderful weather; only a few weeks earlier it had been snowing, but it had begun to look like spring. That being the case, we decided to make our way over to Yoyogi Park; taking the scenic route by walking from Shinjuku to Harajuku. Surprisingly (or maybe not? I'm not really sure what usually happens in these kinds of situations), the park was full of peopl

e in high spirits. So we joined them; climbing trees, hula-hooping, and the like.

Our merry-making prompted other foreigners to head our way, one woman bringing a batch of hula-hoops along with sexy instructions on how to use them (and she was very willing to give Jamie some helpful hints). We started a chat with some other people who wandered over. Two gaijin told us that they were planning on leaving Japan that week. They told us that they didn't believe the Japanese were being completely forthright in the situation at the power plant. That was the first moment that I felt the uncomfortable feeling of fear dropping in my stomach. Of course I had heard some information about what was happening at the power plant; but honestly, it hadn't seemed like that big of a deal. Still, I brushed it off and decided to have a fun day. That night, Hera came over, because I told her that I had cleaned my apartment after the earthquake in the possibility that my coworkers had to spend the night. She said that sight of my clean apartment was an occasion to come over, but when she got there, her reply was, "You were going to let your coworkers stay here like this??"

The next morning, I began looking at more information, but by all logical accounts, the situation was far removed from me. I remember thinking how far Fukushima seemed at 250 kilometers; one of my friends from training worked there, and he had only come down to Tokyo once since going up there. When I talked with my mom that morning, the power plant situation came up; however, even though I began with the reassurances of distance, she didn't seem to be worried. That in turn made me feel relieved as well, and I even felt a little proud of my mom--Hera's mom was beyond worried and had asked Hera to come home--to which Hera replied, "Sure, if you want to buy the ticket."

After that, Hera and I decided to get try and get kaitensushi that afternoon (try being the key word, as so many places were still closed).Because of the unreliability of the trains, we decided to walk to a nearby train station instead of transferring trains. But when we got there, the other line was closed off completely--I didn't even know they could close up the station in the way they did.

So we decided to try walking to the sushi place--though I should mention that we were dressed

a little fancy due to my desire to have a bit of a photo safari to add excitement to the day. We definitely got a few stares; one very, very old truck driver saw us me lift the hem of my dress to take pictures, and motioned his encouragement for me to go farther with my lifting. Finally, we made it to our destination--and it was open!! The lights were half off, and the sushi selection was limited, but everything we wanted was available, so we clapped our hands in glee and ate!

After our meal, we took the bus back to Shiki. On the bus, I got a call from manager asking, "Can you come into work tomorrow?" I assured her I would be there; Hera had likewise received a call from her manager; however, her manager had informed her that wh

ile we had to come in, lessons were cancelled for the day.

We had been trying to decide where we would spend the afternoon when we arrived back in Shiki, knowing that where ever we ended up would be where we spent the night. With the possibility of a group larger than 3 people, we decided the best place would be to go back to Jamie's, so we headed to Akabane.

We met our friend Beth at the station, and we headed to Seiyu

(Japan's Wal-Mart) for supplies. However, the sight of the store was fairly shocking--while it was crowded with people, it definitely was not crowded with food. Empty shelves wrapped around the store, barren except for a strange green tea. After we left the store, I had some bad luck--my camera fell out of my backpack, and my lens broke. I felt like a gloomy mood had begun to settle.

The next day, I left Jamie's early to ensure that if train schedules were wonky, I could still make it in time. I didn't need to worry, though--even though the platform across from me had a line way beyond the staircase leading up to it (for those going in the direction of Tokyo), mine was clear and a train came fast. I had just enough time to change into some clothes and head in, barely having time to read the news that radiation had made its way to Tokyo and Saitama, though at levels that were said not to be harmful to humans.

二番 Niban

Fictional Names of real people:

Mimi: Head Teacher

Yoda: Kids' Head Teacher

Gaijin Guy: Other foreign teacher (and that makes me Gaijin Girl, technically)

Meowmy: Assistant Manager (this comes from an inside joke about a completely different person with the same name)

Lady Student: Self-Explanatory

Mainly, these names are similar to the originals because I'm crap at keeping things straight.

Like I mentioned in the previous post, I wasn't entirely enthused about the week of work ahead of me--after arriving at 5 a.m. in Tokyo, I would start work at 12--followed by a 6 day work week (as I was scheduled for Sunday Open; every so often, one teacher will have extra classes on a Sunday). Still, I felt like I had planned well--I slept fairly well on the plane, then went home for a brief nap, and I was pretty successful. I actually managed to have an international plane excursion without getting jet-lagged.

Still, I was relieved when Friday rolled around with a light load. I usually have 7 classes on Thursday, followed by an easy Friday, though lately I've had classes piling on. I was originally supposed to have 6 classes, but my private lesson at 2 cancelled, which meant that I had an office hour followed by a lunch hour. As it turned out, all of us teachers had a prep class that hour, and we only had one student doing a brief counseling with our assistant manager.

I was alone in the office when I felt the shaking, though it wasn't major at first. I even stepped into the counter area of our lobby (or rather, the door frame of it--I know my earthquake safety tips) and asked, "Is this an earthquake?" Gaijin Guy semi-shouted, "Yes, it is!" at which point the shaking seemed to amplify, and my impression was that it was as if someone had actually turned up the volume dial--and suddenly, Yoda took off outside; immediately, Gaijin Guy vaults over the counter (which is at least 4 1/2 feet tall), and the rest of us followed down the 3 flights of stairs. Outside, many more people were poring onto the street, and we moved further down near a parking lot. I looked up and realized some kind of water tower next to an apartment was gushing water. The ground was still shaking, and I remember thinking, "What is this?" Actually, with my paranoid mind, I began to sensationalize that this had to be more than an earthquake, and I was certain there was going to be some kind of alien attack or something (I have a very active imagination! It can be a good thing sometimes!).

Finally, the ground seemed to hold still, and we meandered around for a few minutes before heading back inside. Only a few minutes later, however, the ground began heaving about again, and we once more resumed the flight down the stairs. We did this up-and-down the stairs dance a few times before we finally realized that the ground was probably going to have the wiggles for awhile, and we decided to just ride it out by staying put in the school. Mimi read a news bulletin about a tsunami warning, and I started to freak out--the way she phrased it made it sound like it could hit us, and there was nothing we could do about it. Once she clarified about the location, I calmed down a bit.

About 15 minutes or so after the earthquake, Yoda and Gaijin Guy (GG from this point out; not to be confused with Gossip Girl) went out to lunch, and I decided to try and get a spare key made during my lunch break.

As I walked outside, I began to realize some of the more unpredictable effects of the earthquake. For example, the Pachinko parlour near the station had emptied out, and the pavilion outside was crowded with people who looked like they don't usually come out in the light of day (for those of you who don't know: Pachinko is this weird gambling type game that is insanely popular with the gambling addicted of people in Japan). Besides that crowd, there was actually a large amount of people milling around the station in general, and I realized that the trains had stopped running; as the ground was still shaking every so often, I decided to skip the key making and just panic-bought candy instead. This was a good call, because candy is always a good call.

Back at the office, I relayed the news of the stopped trains, and on the inside, I was gleefully realizing that classes would probably be cancelled for the day, since students wouldn't be able to get there. Not long after this thought, we got the official call that classes were cancelled--though that didn't stop a lot of students from trying. The mother of my student from my next class of the day rushed in to apologize for her daughter's absence, as she was stuck at her school--an interesting gesture that struck me as completely Japanese. We waited around for a few hours before I got restless and said I was going home. I let my coworkers know they were welcome to come to my place if the trains weren't running; my main reason for leaving before everyone else was that I wanted to clean my apartment, because I thought that having guests would be a real possibility. However, after a little debate between Mimi and Yoda (of which I was updated on via Facebook), they decided to walk home--a journey that took Mimi at least 3 hours. After I began hearing others' experiences, I realized that this was quite a common thread--I had one student in her 70s who walked 15 km home after the earthquake. Another common situation was sleeping at the office--the majority of my salarymen students did this, as well as Hera and her coworkers.

That night, a friend convinced me to go buy supplies, and as I walked around my city, I couldn't help but look at the people around me and think, "We all have this in common. We all have the same thing on our minds right now." It was a strange experience; the last time I remembered feeling that way was on September 11th--you think, "Things are different now," but you can't really predict how.

But I did predict that I would have the day off on Saturday, and I figured that meant one thing: sleepover!

Well, oy.

I guess it's been a bit two months now since I updated. Mainly it was because I was lazy, and things were crazy busy. But then things actually just went crazy. So if this is to be done, it should be done in parts.

1. Ichiban 一番

On March 3rd, I was finishing my day with a student, and I asked him what he was doing after class. He said he would just go home, and I told him I was going to America. He wasn't high level enough to get it right away, but he wasn't low-level enough to miss it completely, which made for an excellent double take. So after his lesson, I hopped in my hot pants and jumped on the monorail with Hera to Haneda Airport.

Honestly, it didn't quite feel like reality; I had a hard time getting it into my head that we were actually going to America, even though

the week leading up to it was the most excited I had felt since...some time past. And the plane ride itself was amazing--anyone who has ever been on a plane with me knows that I will scare the crap out of not just myself, but a

nyone within earshot of my terrified gasps--because I had not one but SEvEN seats to myself. That's right; I had two aisles to my lonesome.

When we got to the Americas, Hera and I jumped in the airport bus and basically started giggling--yes, like usual, we were in a vehicle full of Asians, but this time we were in

our territory, and we could act anyway we wanted. On the bus, I even asked Hera, "Do you think we are the only white people on the bus?" Hera looked at me and said, "Well, you might

be."

In many ways, it felt like I hadn't really left, until obvious things peeked in: the complete reconstruction of the shop

s by my house, the reconstruction in my own house, not having my room anymore, KNOW life goes on no matter what, but somehow you think you know (or at least expect) how things will play out--and even though I knew about these things, it's still a strange sensation.

The wedding itself was a completely lovely occasion, and I'm so so glad I had the opportunity to see Kelsey and Andy together in person. I know they'll probably already have a baby or a dog or at least ridiculous pet names for each other when I get back, so at least I could see them when it was just them starting off.

There really is so much I could say about that weekend. And yet I can't, so you'll have to settle for that. So with much ado,

we returned to Japan.

At 6 or so in the morning, Hera and I got back on the monorail. It was a really lovely morning in Tokyo, but I wasn't completely thrilled about the prospects of returning to work in 6 hours. I mentioned to Hera about how my coworker was always saying things like, "Oh, there's going to by a typhoon, and it will flood the trains and they'll have to cancel school" or "It's supposed to snow, and since they don't really know how to deal with snow in Tokyo, it will stop the trains and they'll have to cancel school." So I remarked to Hera that he was making all these false-promises, and I was still waiting for something to happen that would stop the trains and cancel school.

Then came Friday.

I'm sorry I can't afford a Ferrari

But that don't mean that I can't get you there (heheheh...Glee. And/or Cee-Lo).

Today I decided I would either update my blog or clean my disgustingly messy apartment, and if you are reading this now, you clearly know the choice I made--so for the two of you who read my blog and made my Facebook wall look like this----->

---this one's for you.

Today is (I actually typed "was" to begin with, and that left me feeling quite philosophical for a moment) Saturday, the end of the week, which usually brings some interesting occurrence. One such event occurred in my second class, which is an upper-intermediate class with only one middle-aged gentleman. The last portion of class consists of a "freer" conversation period, where the students practice using the structure in a natural (?) style conversation. Today, we were using present perfect to describe a problem that lead to another problem. Since we are supposed to be having a natural sounding conversation, I find that it's better to ease into the structure without just straight out saying it, so I demonstrated by going, "Oh no!" so that he could follow with "What's the matter?" Then, when it was his turn, he began with, "G0dd@mmit!" I have to admit, that was a first in my classroom.

Gosh...I don't really know why I went with the post idea. I have nothing to say, really. Ummm...I had a Pepsi Strong Shot yesterday. There's even a warning on the label, probably saying not to drink it or something. The Japanese part that I can read says that it has MEGA CAFFEINE. However, I don't really feel the effects of caffeine, so warning ignored. It didn't taste as delicious as normal Pepsi...or even PepsiNex. Here's a picture. Also, after being unlazy and actually reading the can, I see now that it reads Cola x Caffeine. Also, what happened to "I before E except after C and in cases of 'eigh' as in 'neighbor' and 'weigh'"? So from now on, I will now be pronouncing it "caff-ay-n." No joke, sometimes English a really obnoxious little pissant, isn't it? Sometimes I want to knock it around a little and teach it a lesson. Instead, I knock it around a little when I teach it in lessons.

Oy...

I realized that the majority of the pictures I post on here are of me holding up food to my mouth. But I find this strangely accurate of my character. So here's a few more for fun.

Santa Cookie from Mem!

My fave KitKat--Lemon flavored! Wish it

didn't come with blagh cola flavor.

There's no place like Japan for the LOLidays.

Memily made me Christmas cookies, then mailed them to Japan!! I was soooer excited when I discovered them. I've eaten about 3 so far, and each one has been utterly fantastic. I don't think I realized it before, but one of my favorite foods is apparently Christmas cookies. Actually, anything Christmas or Birthday flavored is my favorite--fudge, stuffing, Princess Cake, cookie dough, etc. Which makes it clear why "Chubs McGee" has been a nickname that has followed me around like I follow around the ever-changing KitKat collection, or Mew, or Tegan & Sara.

But hennyways, this post was originally supposed to be about how mature and suave I have become since coming to Japan, something which was proven quite thoroughly this week by my ability to keep my shiz together under tremendous pressure (and by tremendous pressure, I mean holding in the desire to spout out, "That's what she said!"--but we'll get there. That's what she said).

The first incident occurred last night in one of my highest level classes. We were discussing the differences between humans and robots (yeah...it's too much work to explain), and I asked what the core differences are. My one student said that humans [edit: again, a very crucial mistake; this should read robot, NOT humans] don't have hearts; and since they lack the ability to have feelings, she said, "They can't make love." Usually I correct such mistakes by explaining the differences in what they have said and what they are trying to say, but I didn't really feel like explaining to a 30-something woman about this particular idiom. Also, I couldn't talk anyways--had to let someone else run with the topic as I tried to keep from laughing.

The second incident occurred this morning with a college student in our second most advanced class. She has a book of self-study that includes many different phrases that are useful in daily lives; I approached as she read it and laughed. When I asked to see what amused her, she showed me the phrase, "I've been waiting for a raise." Considering how nuts she was going over the brief sentence, I actually thought that she was pulling the same meaning from it as I was--but no, it turns out that she was just imagining someone waiting around to get a pay raise, which is apparently very funny in Japan.

The last incident (and yes, I am specifically using the word "incident" because it reminds me of LOST) did not come from student interaction, but instead was brought on by a listening activity in a class. Two of the characters in this textbook are visiting Vietnam, and I learned something from their trip: the Vietnamese currency is the dong. Yup. But even better than that, the female character tells her male coworker that she forgot to exchange currency, and asked him if he had enough dong for the night. He replied

that he had more than enough for the whole trip. Of course, everyone should know why this made me LOL--yup; because it reminded me of Long Duck Dong, everyone's favorite Chinaman from Sixteen Candles.

Mind and Body at odds

So, right now my mind and my body are hating each other a bit, because my mind is like, "You need to go to sleep before 2 a.m.! You need to wake up before 10 and go to the gym and be healthy!" And my body's all like, "Yo, nah, whatevs, I'm not gonna shut down for another 3 hours or so, so I might as well drink this cheese (nope, nope, supposed to be eat but too lazy to delete) and eat this acerole drink (and yeah, that was on purpose actually, because i can't really say i'm going to drink this cheese AND this drink; i at least need to be consistent in mixing up verbs) and check out Tegan and Sara interviews." The last part is actually more of my brain being like, "Well, if you're gonna stay awake, then food has to stop, but T&S can continue." It's a compromise. Also, I recently discovered that to be like t&s stylistically, all I have to do with wear red vans and a striped black&white shirt. So someone get on that for combo christmas/birthday gift.

That's all. I guess I'm back at the stage where all I do is talk about t&s.

I'm piteously slow at updating; of this I am aware.

During a leisurely stroll through my neighborhood tonight, I found not one, but two condom vending machines (though this was not the strangest vending machine I discovered on my walk--that prize goes to the battery vending machine). People kept telling me when I first moved here that the city was really safe, but that's not exactly what I had imagined. I'm not entirely surprised; on my walk, I basically passed one vending machine per minute; I'm actually surprised I didn't pass more unusual ones. I do have to admit that many of the drink dispensers have some fascinating choices--hot red bean soup and coffee jelly drinks being some examples. And while I haven't tried either of those things, I admit I am very pleased to have the option of having them.

Corn Choco!

More dericious than it sounds.

So I have to post this little anecdote because it is redonkulous. Yesterday, biking on my way to the gym, I saw one of the humongi crows of Japan poking around someone's garbage net (as it was burnable garbage--i.e. food waste--day). Last year, one of the Nav staff told me the story of crows scattering her garbage, and how the garbage knocked on her door and gave her a scolding because of it. I decided to save someone the trouble, so I scared the crow off by riding close to it, but not before it took off with what looked like a large meatball. I turned the corner and had gone about 2 meters when I saw something drop from the sky before smacking me in the knee. I could tell from the weight and the leftover bits on my leg that it was a large pit of some kind of fruit. While riding, I looked over my shoulder to see the crow staring at me, and I have to admit, I was pretty impressed with the bird. I nodded to him as if to say, "Touche."

[Edit: Hera informed me of my mistake by saying, "Did you mean to say that the garbage knocked on her door?" And as wonderfully magical as that sounds, no; I didn't. Twas in fact the garbage man (which, if you think about it, really just sounds like pile of garbage that has taken the form of man and become animated. Like Frosty the Snowman...Maybe...Dusty the Garbageman.]

I had a philly steak yesterday. It was dericious.

Also, I was going to write a blog entry, but now I think I will ride my bike to the 100 yen Lawson and buy some juice and breakfast for tomorrow. Sorry for the tease!

Things that happened that were minutely funny

At dinner with my coworkers, talking about our coworker to be:

Me: He might be one of those guys who goes to Akihabara (the place where nerds go--known also as Electric Town); I don't know.

Shota: Ok. I will take him fishing. And hunting.

Mika: In Akihabara?

Also, earlier in the evening--while anxiously awaiting pizza curry buffet-- I had taken off my new shoes in the teacher's room, and I was wondering if they would smell funny because they are those plasticky type shoes, so I held them up and smelled them. My other foreign coworker was in the room too, so I was struck with an idea, that went something like this:

Me: Wow! My shoes smell like pizza.

Him: What? Really?

Me: Yeah, check it out!

And though I've heard of this joke probably a million times, I've never had anyone fall for it (and I won't count the time Rory told me to 'go see how cute Tuna is sleeping in the bathtub!'), so I was pretty pleased with myself. Yes, yes; I'm 12.

Ok, that's all!

Beautiful beautiful chill!

Finally finally finally, my memories of hot hot summer are fading like a bad tan (poor simile, because as we all know, there's no such thing as a bad tan! Unless it comes with skin cancer...).

Now, to add to the magical Kit Kat kreations, I will present Hera's find: the milk tea Kit Kat! I had one tonight while, coincidentally, drinking milk tea. It was not the overwhelming combination that you might expect; it was really a pleasant mixture of liquid and candy. Also, you might notice that I am holding a kit kat while wearing a kimono. Also, you might have observed (if you have seen any pics of me in my apartment or have talked to me via skype) that I wear this kimono quite often. That's mainly because I just leave it on the chair as a covering (because I inherited the chair from the previous teacher, and who knows whose hiney it's touched), and it inevitably ends up on my shoulders.

Since I've been sick this week, I have picked up some new Japanese words from my clever children--actually, the words they used are combinations of words I knew, so I am translating them from previous knowledge. The first, and more pleasant one, is 'hanamizu'--which I have translated to mean 'nose water' (or, depending on your inflection, 'flower water')--and you have to admit, that sounds almost pleasant compared with the English "snot". The second, and 'how-say' (as one of my high-level Chinese students says) less...refined version is 'hanakuso'--which, from my understanding, is translated as basically 'nose shit'. Think about that next time you reach for a tissue.

Okay, I need sleep, because I am sickly and weak and I have to wake up at the buttcrack of dawn tomorrow (8:45 a.m.).

Re: Disappointment

"your blog disappoints me.
this is either because you are too busy doing important shtuff or you are lame like me and do nothing all the time
i miss you, gillnels!"

-Es Dolce

It's only been a week since my last update, but apparently that just isn't enough for some people, AKA

<---This one.

The problem is, I can never think about anything exciting when I'm on the computer. Usually I just think something like, "Mmm, this sashimi is delicious, but it is filling." I also think about how I should get off the computer and clean my apartment, but we all have our pipe dreams. Which reminds me of another dream I have, one of the few things I desperately desire here (I know, the heat passes and I am already on to the next thing that I need so very much); a desire which partially came to fruition this weekend (or as I like to say after a couple rounds of sushi, 'fruitation').

This dream is so much simpler than my last wish, but unlike my other dream (the end of heat, which I knew would eventually come), this one shows no promise of coming true. You see, in Japan, they have lots of adorable little shoes, and often on sale for cheap (you should see some of the affordable, stylish boots they have! Just adorable!)--however, because my feet are apparently humongous at a size 25.5 (or, okay; 26 cm), I can't find anything that even pretends to fit my feet--and I can't even glance at the shoes without my feet cramping. And so I search shoe store after shoe store hoping to find some miraculous pair that will ensconce my weary feet; and low and behold, this weekend I kind of had that happen! I found a pair of rainboots (sure, not my ideal footwear) for 1300 yen (about $13.30 or so for you 'mericans), and I snatched those puppies up so fast that you couldn't even sneeze out a 'kutsu' before I bought them (kutsu=shoes). Actually, that's a lie; I had the shoe lady show me 3 different sizes before I settled on a pair--but that's only because one of the pairs was put in the wrong size box.

Anyways, I'm started to bore myself with this post, so here's one more post of La Dolce Orso for the road from that time we went to the gay bar in Denmark (which, by the way, I'm still bitter about, Erin. Because you know that it is my dream to find a Danish man to marry and have blue eyed, brown haired children with, and you insisted on going to the one place in CPH that my dream was guaranteed not to happen in)(but you know I still less than 3 you --I put it that way because actually doing the symbol is not possible, as the blog recognizes it as a broken html code).

To add to the list of things I didn't expect to do, then did...

...biking in a thunderstorm. In a dress. For the sake of going shopping.

Actually, the shopping part I can kind of imagine, as well as the dress. It's the bike part that threw me for a loop. Something else that threw me off: the sheer magnitude of the mall I went to; a shopping behemoth of such power that it requires it's own train station. Clearly, it was worth having to ring out my dress and pedal home with my hood covering my eyes at random moments.

Damn it. Damnation. Damnable. Damned.

I had to explain the definition of those words to a student in class today. Thanks, textbook, for including "darn" in your extra info section. Unfortunately, my student wasn't settling for it just being "a bad word." She wanted context, darn it. She got more context than she bargained for, I imagine. Also confusion.