Horray for Japanese Toilets!!!

I have a confession to make.  I just spent 10 minutes in the bathroom... and didn't even use the bathroom.  What's more is this:  I spent 10 minutes on the toilet and didn't even use the toilet.  Thank you Japanese person who invented the bidet!  

Now hold on, don't get carried away.  Let me explain the situation before you start to judge.  On the less-often occasion that I decided to study Japanese, the coffee shop, Flore, which I usually hit up on the late night, was closed (being that it's Wednesday here, which for some reason means EVERYTHING is closed).  Needless to say, I chose to venture out to the library, an unfamiliar spot recommended by my study partner.  "I haven't been there since I pretended to study in college," I say, as we walk in.  It's a beautiful building, built in the past five years, equipped with three floors of quiet, study-friendly goodness.  We make our way to the second floor and get down to business.  I get my ipod out, throw on some Dvorak jams and get to it.  

After about 1/2 an hour, it's getting toasty in the building and my nose starts doing this funny thing where it acts like it has a cold and begins running for no good reason.  I'm not sure why it does this because I know I'm not sick.  My mom might tease, "maybe it's because your nose takes up so much mass, that the snot feels inadequate and is just trying to be heard."  I chuckle to myself and since I don't have any tissues, I decide I need a break anyway.  

I see the "male icon" for the bathroom and walk in.  I'd forgotten I was in Japan for a slight moment until I'm immediately reminded when the automatic lights turned on upon my arrival.  They suddenly illuminate the sweet, smelling toilet room as if a beautifully, soothing voice were to say, "welcome Mr. Bobrick to the downstairs library bathroom.  Make yourself at home and please, if you have time, enjoy our multi-faceted seats as they're quite comfortable."  I look around for a tissue, but I don't see one.  I decide to get some tissue paper from inside the stall instead and as soon as I open the door, the toilet opened it's heart to me.... Without touching anything, the seat magically rose as if to greet my awe-inspiring presence.  If I would have known this was going to happen, I would have uttered some commands like, "the great Kyle is here, now rise to show your loyalty.... Ah yes, you are very loyal."

After I blew my nose, I couldn't find a trash can, plus the seat had risen just for me, so I threw it in there.  Then, the deciphering moment came when I was forced to make a choice: either go back to my mundane Japanese studies, or explore the oh-so-welcoming seat, knowing that I would not actually be using it.  Of course we both know what I did.  I looked at all the crazy buttons on the wall, turned to close the door behind me and sat down.  

Of all the things I could do, can you guess what I did first??  If you live here, you have a better chance and getting this question right... Of course I turned on the seat warmer!  Wouldn't you?  After all, if I'm going to be here a while, I might as well get cosy!  Then, after scanning the buttons for kanji characters I knew, I decide to go with the bidet squirt.  Now some of you might question my decision to go with the bidet this early in the game, however, I would disagree.  I knew it was there from previous experiences so I felt comfortable picking it.  It was nice.

Then, after grazing over many other kanji characters I didn't know, I ran across one that caught my attention.  FIRE!  What???  Why do they have fire on here?  What would be the purpose of fire in a toilet??  Of all the things in this world to have near that region of your body, I'm pretty sure fire is number one on most people's lists to NOT have nearby.  Then, I realized this kanji meant water.  Oh, nice.  I'm down with some water.  Although the bidet is water too, this was more of a spray, and plus, you could adjust the temperature!  So that was nice too.  

Then, finally, I decide to simmer down get back to my studies.  As I rise up, I realize out of all these buttons I don't know where "flush" is.  I search around the seat, on the wall, and finally, a giant sign posted with a big red arrow pointing down to it, leads me to believe that this is the one.  I press the button and with a swift, "swoosh" our time came to an end.  I lower the seat and commend it's loyalty once again.  I feel like saying thank you but after realizing that words had no true understanding of the experience, I say goodbye in silence.  However, the memory will live on forever and now my bum feels nice.

The Bento

The infamous Bento Box.  Take a good look because this is the real deal.  A beautifully orchestrated box of assorted Japanese cuisine, waiting to be meticulously pursued.  Though some might think this is merely a box-lunch, I maintain a strong argument against this simple assessment.  The Bento is much more than that, it's, a way of life...well, maybe not that extreme, but if nothing else, it does have an increasingly, intriguing dynamic...

When first being introduced to the Bento Box, it's easy to dive right in, head first and gobble up everything in your path because let's face it, the average situation where you are eating bento boxes is often after a hard morning of work.  Now, in my particular situation, the students and teachers alike eat the school lunch every day.  This usually consists of four food groups: fish or some kind of meat, rice or bread, soup and a side salad... or a side of little fish babies usually eaten by every other teacher, and guiltily thrown away by myself.  Therefore, when we are graced with the presence of the Bento, it's usually on a special occasion where all of the teachers will be eating together.  Thus begins the Bento bonanza... 

Step 1: Don't eat the most delicious thing in the box first.  You're better than that.   When you see a familiar looking food, like the small piece of fried chicken or the tasty, solidified egg that you eat in sushi restaurants, you can't fly in there out of control and knock out all of your best players before the game has even started.  Those are your boys!  And besides, that's poor management.  I cannot stress how important it is to save those go-to pieces for later. They will prove to come in handy when you need to mask the taste of an strange, white pellet that you mistook for a small potato.  

Step 2: Ration your rice.  You will have an abundance of this stuff, but don't be lavish with the amount, as it goes very quickly.  Again, you will inevitably run into tastes that you are unfamiliar with, which may cause gagging and/or spitting up.  You may harken back to your days as a toddler when you simply regurgitated unknown substances into your lap and began to cry.  In this case, you don't have to spit up anything! Instead, simply dive into your rice, and use it as a neutralizer for any unwanted tastes.  

Step 3: Constantly poke and prod.  If you are unsure of what something is, which is mostly everything in front of you, poke at it with your chopsticks.  Sometimes poke it twice.  This way, you can gauge the texture, which is very important in the world of food.  Based on whether or not it's soft, hard or slimy, you can determine how then to proceed.  Plus, if you poke into the middle of something and either gooey stuff or orange fish eggs pour out, then you won't be startled later when that egg sac explodes in your mouth.... Remember, food surprises are usually bad surprises.

And the final step: Try everything.  It really isn't as bad as you might think... I'm referring of course to the eye balls and tails that you would normally cast aside back home.  They may be crunchy, but isn't that why you came here?   To experience the crunchy texture of another culture?!  After all, it's not going to kill you... In fact, it should serve as an opposite effect, seeing as how Japanese people eat this food often and they have the 2nd highest life expectancy rate in the world! (Whereas the United States sits at 30th).  Therefore, crunch on those tentacles, slurp up those eggs and for sushi's sake, don't forget to save your rice!

Now, although this may have taken the shape of a warning, more or less, for Western food connoisseurs, it should be noted that I have grown to love Japanese cuisine, not only for it's petit portions, but also for it's array of flavors and effective use of each essential food group within the Eastern Asian area.  However, my painful breakup with greasy, American food has given me difficulties in adjusting to my new diet, which, don't get me wrong is really nice and has a great personality, but let's face it, she'll never be as hot as the former.  That being said, I'm proud to admit that the Bento Box is happily making it's way into my food love life, one grain at a time.

If you listen to FUJI-SAN

- 2,305m (7,562 ft) Station 5 -

Pitch black midnight.  Head lanterns are synchronized with the movement of each curious glance at unfamiliar surroundings.  Quiet, tranquil.  The chilly air and the fog caught by the lamps suggest an eery existence.  Despite what on-line predictionssay about hiking after climbing season, the parking lot at the bottom of a small hill provides a handful of cars, which infers the mountain won't be alone on this night.  Invisible to the naked eye, the stars hide above the clouds.  The walking begins up the hill toward the onset of the path and nerves slowly arise, as only a four hour car ride can provide.  Your gut whispers faintly, "I'll give you my nerves if you can control them."  You listen and move on.

- 2,400m (7,874 ft) Just past Sation 6 -

Steady conversation with climbing mates keeps the mood light and you're surprised at how quickly the first stage has already come and past.  The excitement is long from worn off and the reality of hiking nearly 1,500m in 5 hours hasn't yet registered.  The air is invigorating and the path is wide.  The incline is apparent but the excitement overrides any negativity.  Body and mind are in the same place and expectations are high.  Trees are scarce and the only sound other than words is the calm, crunching of volcanic rocks beneath your feet.  Left stride, right stride, short step, long.  You take your coat off because your back is sweaty and tell the guys to wait up.  Your feet whisper, "I'll give you balance if you can keep it." You listen, grab your pack and move on.

- 2,700m (8,858 ft) Station 7 -

A slight strain has begun to set in.  The incline, paired with the length of walking (1.2 hours) is getting it's share of attention from your legs.  The darkness provides a fascinating dynamic: there is little visibility and the distance, time and space from one destination to the next is masked.  It becomes a battle not of time, but rather of will and mental distance. There is only the proverbial finish line and the rest is darkness.  However, along with this mysterious identity of space, there is a lingering quintessence from the unknown surroundings.  Constantly facing the mountain and climbing upward, it becomes natural to lose track of everything outside of you, the path and the methodic trudge of your tennis shoes.  However, blessing comes in the realization of the vastness behind you.  It's at that point of realization that your shoes stop shuffling, your head pics up and slowly turns.  The hushed lights in the sleeping town from which you came, glitter dimly below.  Sides of mountains are visible from the town's lights, which show off the night's different shades of black.  The path below is barely recognizable, yet the desire to SEE how much distance you've covered is slowly replaced by the idea that actual distance is irrelevant.  The vastness becomes your reason for being here and your soul whispers, "I'll give you my pride, if you swallow it whole."  You listen and move on.

- 3,020m (9,908 ft) 8th Station (2.5 hours past) - 

The mountain has waged war on your body.  The terrain has changed completely.  What was previously a high incline on a widened path of switch-backs, has become a steep and rugg

ed incline scattered with rocks and boulders. It's clear 

that this portion must be conquered with the accompaniment of hands and arm strength.  Chains and white arrows guide the path above, yet placement for feet and hands have no direction or signs.  You've graduated from walking, which has been replaced by thrusting, pulling and hoisting up onto rocks.  Thighs burn, calfs ache and with each step, your arms realize they are not doing as much work as your legs.  They try to compensate, but with this assistance comes full-body fatigue and you realize pulling and grabbing may overexert your overall energy too much.  Therefore, you go back to relying on just your legs.  You scan your brain and think back on all of the information and advice your friends gave you about the hike before you came and you don't remember hearing a thing about this portion.  Your thighs whisper, "I'll give you more, if you can take it."  You listen, smile and move on. 

- 3,350m (10,990 ft) Past Station 9 -

The infamous sun begins to make it's debut.  As it creeps ever so slowly, the first glint of light can be seen when you

 turn your head and look directly behind you.  It's almost as if the eye of the sky is beginning to open and the light blue shade depicts the top eyelid.  The orange sliver at the horizontal ridge means the giant is awakening and with it's opening, light will spill out over everything.  This introduction to the powerful star is deceitful however, because after being awake all night with the expectation of this one momentous event looming, the slightest introduction to the sun creates a vague reality.  There is still a large portion of the mountain to climb and bodily strain is still imminent.  Not only this, but as you ascend, you begin to see many moving lights above you.  While you were focussing on your body, your mind, your energy and your strength, you completely forgot about the rest of the world.  In doing so, you disregarded the rest of the head lamps that would be making their way to the summit at the very same time.  These other lamps had a different plan.  It seems that they chose to hike up earlier in the night and when they got to the 9th station, they decided to sleep until the perfect time for the last haul.  Sudden panic sets in as you realize you have 45 minutes to get to the top before the sunrise takes place and no more than 10m from where you stand, an enormous queue has formed that follows all the way to the top.  Hurriedly you catch up to the line and your quick, steady pace comes to an unanticipated standstill.  You look back at the sky and shades of black have been effortlessly painted pink and blue.  Control has escaped you and once again you are at the mercy of the mountain.  Your patience whispers, "I'll give your reward, if you exert me." You listen, unmoving.

- 3,776 (12,388 ft) Summit - 10 minutes before sunset -

It's a funny thing trying to put this moment into words.  There aren't many that can do it justice.  Maybe a couple: Awe, Beauty.  These words however, are merely tools that are commonly known in our language, which in this case, are used to express one's feelings.  When you go through a full body experience such as this, it's a big brick wall that you run into when such feelings have no words to be paired with.  All we can do is try to find the essence of what made that moment amazing.  The feeling of satisfaction fills your heart and reminds you of who you are.  The rush of adrenaline surges through you like an orgasm, a runner's high or a straight-A report card.  You have the ability to share it and that allows you to connect and feel satisfaction.  However, when it's stripped of all it's exteriority, it can't be touched, taken or seen by anyone.  This is the most satisfying awareness of all.  No one can touch it because it's yours and it will always be.  Your eyes whisper, "I'll give you this treasure, if you promise to remember." You listen, close them and lock it away.

If you'd like to see all the pictures feel free to copy and paste this link.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/30051362@N07/

The Bobos

September 9, 2008

Okay, so one of my duty's as a new RPA (Regional Prefectural Advisor) was to make a movie about my area (Hida) for all of the new JETs to see upon their arrival. This task was going to be tough because it literally meant we could anything we wanted to. 

The only real guidelines were that we had to 1. Show the area to the new JETs, so that they could get an idea of where they were going to be living, and 2. That we introduce some of the people living around the area. The latter guideline was actually somewhat loose and in reality not even required, but rather recommended.

Therefore, my British friend (Greg) and I, decided what better way to introduce the newbies to the area than to make up a fictitious cover band, and tell their fictitious story. This idea was based on the icon "The SaruBobo doll" which represents our area. 

The short film was a blast to make and everyone who I asked to help out was on-board from the start. An outtake real even developed from it, which is also under my films on YouTube...so take a look. Without further ado, I give you "VH1 Presents: The Bobo's. Hida's Untold Story" 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MgpF6sWaFQ

The Stranger

February 28, 2008

Every day that there is an assembly or some kind of gathering event, I usually find a piece of paper, in Japanese, explaining the details of that day’s events. Yesterday’s paper was yellow and it had what looked like a script written on the front and continued onto the back. I glanced at it unenthusiastically, looked for a few words I might know, and with no luck I put it aside and began to prepare for my classes. 

The bell to end the first period surprised me when it rang 10 minutes earlier than it was supposed to. The same bell rang early again the next period, and when I paired this with the sheet I received on my desk earlier that morning; I deduced that yesterday was going to be different than usual. 

There’s a little, old woman that sits across from my desk and acts as my surrogate Japanese mother. Every morning I’m greeted with a warm, “ohaiyo gozaimasu” and then she offers to get me some coffee. Whenever I have a period off and she is around, I usually try to work on my Japanese because no matter what I blurt out, at the end, she always compliments my abilities. It’s good for morale. 

I get to my desk and I notice on the day’s schedule there’s a big X where 4th period should be. The woman points to my yellow sheet and says something in Japanese. Not sure what’s going on still, I pull aside one of the English teachers, who speaks English pretty well. This is what he tells me, nearly verbatim:

“So today, there will be kind of like a problem. There will be a stranger who comes into the school and we must find him, before he gets to the students. My job is to find him and call down to the teacher’s office to tell them where he is. Hopefully, they will be able to catch him. If he finds me before they do, I might die.”

WHAT!?! You might die? What does that mean? I mean, I know what that means, but what does that mean exactly? I wanted to ask him this but I decide to ask him something more important instead.

“So then this is like a practice, like a fire drill right? But with a stranger, right?” 

“I dunno about that,” he says, “but I have heard about this happening in Nagano prefecture maybe a month ago, and in that case, he took, umm what is the word…. hostages. He took a couple of teachers and a foreigner who worked at the school and stabbed them. So maybe, you should be careful.” He says this with a straight face, grabs the yellow sheet and hurries out of the office. 

He literally said what I just wrote and I focus on trying to figure out the two most important things at this juncture: first, is this is thing real or not? And secondly, why did he have to kill the foreigner? That’s messed up. Thirty seconds later, the bell rings and it begins.

I’m sitting at my desk in the teacher’s office and there are immediately teachers rushing around. Telephones start ringing and one of the office doors slides open. Two police officers enter and then my ears are bombarded with Japanese, coming from all sides. The police officers rush out and two teachers follow them. Everyone’s face looks legitimately concerned, and this, paired with Taka’s “warning” makes me a little concerned myself. 

I watch as everything is going on. One or two teachers run in and out of the room. A teacher quickly gets on the intercom and says something, hangs up and runs out of the room. The lady across from me is now on her cell phone! All the while, I can’t understand a thing and really all I want to know is if this is real or not? Earlier, I was leaning toward it being a drill, but after seeing these serious faces and the police, I’m getting uneasy.

Then, suddenly, the woman from across my desk approaches me, delicately yet deliberately. She’s holding something in her hand but I can’t figure out what it is. With her body language and broken English, she tries to tell me that we have to go find “the stranger”. I remain sitting in my seat, trying to avoid her. I want nothing to do with this. She tells me to get up and thrusts what’s in her hands toward me. In one hand, she is holding a bamboo stick, about as thick as two fingers and as long as my forearm. In the other hand, she pulls out a 12-inch ruler. She gives me the ruler. I slowly realize that this will be my only weapon. 

She then proceeds to get me out of my seat and tell me the plan, all the while, using hand gestures to act out everything. “We must go find. We must hit him and get him.” I now understand the plan. We have to find the stranger, hit him with our bamboo stick and ruler and then capture him. I begin to follow her and right when we get out of the office, she ducks down in a hunched position, keenly looking in every direction. Scaling the wall, she keeps a brisk, yet careful pace and every so often, gestures me to mimic her moves. Every now and then she looks back frustrated, like I’m slowing her down. Finally, I catch up; head ducked and ruler in hand.

It’s hard to keep this pace she’s set and I feel like I’m in a Bond movie. The only difference, and I mean ONLY difference is that I’m following an old Japanese woman, and instead of sweet gadgets, I have a dull, wooden ruler. If this guy pulls a knife, I won’t be safe at all, but at least she can slow him down with her bamboo. I breathe a sigh of relief after thinking that.

We don’t get too far, about halfway up a staircase when we hear a bunch of people running toward us. I get my game face on and hide behind her. The two people who turn the corner are teachers, one of them an English teacher and both of them are out of breath. Wearing a successful grin, he finally manages to get the words out, “we got him.” 

Apparently, this was a drill. Much like a fire drill back in the States, but then again, not at all like that. Of course we don’t do this kind of thing in America, although we should and therefore, the entire process for me was both new and scary. After the drill, they also had an assembly where the police officers talked to the students about what to do in this kind of situation. What they said and the advice they gave was definitely good information to know. I didn’t understand any of it, but it looked like everyone else was listening. 

Anyway, the old woman and I are pretty close now. We talk in broken English/Japanese often and give each other chocolate treats from time to time. I really learned about her character through all of this and now I know in the bottom of my heart, if a bad guy ever rolls into Matskura Junior High School, she’s got my back, and that’s all I need.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

December 7, 2007

It all started last night.

For dinner I made breaded chicken nuggets with soy sauce and ramen noodles because I have BBQ sauce left over from Woody, my predecessor. So I put on season 3 of Entourage (which I received in my last care package from the fam) and I ate like a madman. After about 9 nuggets, out of maybe 20, one was too big so I had to cut it in half. I looked a little closer and I quickly became aware of the situation. I saw pink. I sat there for a moment and thought to myself...

- Flash Forward 12 hours-

Right after morning meeting Kenji, the main English teacher, and a good one at that, approaches me. I can tell he's kind of nervous because for the last week we have been preparing for an open class, where many teachers and other Takayama JETs will come observe our entire class. The open class is tomorrow but we are doing a "dress rehearsal" in another class with the same lesson plan.

I feel okay because I've had breakfast ( a bowl of rice) and I've had my coffee. My goal for the day is to stay on point so Kenji doesn't have to worry about me, he only has to make sure his role is up to par. We get our materials and go up to the room early to set up. I look over the lesson plan and know what I have to do. I feel good.

- Flash Back 3 months & 3 weeks ago-

I'm sitting in a hotel in Gifu city for the first Jet Orientation since we all arrived in Tokyo. The orientation is standard procedure: go over teaching styles, strategies and expectations all told by returning JETs who have experienced what we soon will. Accounts and stories from past experiences fill the 100 + room with laughter and small talk. The comfortable feeling of being accepted and essentially initiated provides a sensation, palpable throughout the room. We enjoy our environment because we are a group of adults who are part of something important enough to be denied from. 

Nancy, a JET in my region, who I still don't know yet, gets up to tell a story as they try to touch on all of the "what to expect in Japan" points. She begins by saying, "So Japanese toilets are different in two ways: Not only do you face the opposite direction when you're doing your business, but instead of sitting on a seat, you squat and try to aim. If you're a guy like my friend, who had an accident once (based on the whole facing the opposite direction) you might want to avoid this problem altogether by just taking off your pants completely."

- Flash Forward 3 months, 3 weeks & 10 minutes later -

The lesson is going well and I'm feeling like I'm doing my job when out of no where a very scary thing happens in my nervous system. The best name for this sensation that I've ever heard is, I got a case of the Bubble Guts. It usually starts in your upper stomach and works quickly and efficiently downward, through the intestines and stops abruptly at the sphincter. This whole journey takes between 3 and 4 seconds. I'm pretty sure Jeff Daniels portrayed this feeling perfectly in Dumb and Dumber, so if you have seen this (which everyone has...hopefully) than you have a good idea of what I'm talking about. Usually its not a problem if I slip out of the class to go to the bathroom, but we are in a dress rehearsal and I have a co-star role in this Lesson/Play. Therefore, the show must go on.

- Flash Forward 20 minutes -

So far I have maintained a calm demeanor and I've kept myself together in the face of this terrible adversity and I've been able to keep everything under control. However, I've recently learned, in the last hour, that one of the worst ways to turn the Bubble Guts against you, is to change your body temperature. Thus, a giant boiling heater in the front of the classroom doesn't bode well for Bubble Guts prevention. In fact, it sucks altogether.

-Flash Forward 10 minutes -

Things are getting pretty serious now. My palms are sweating, I've stopped talking in class and this terrible affliction, paired with the coffee I drank this morning is making me shaky. It's around this time that I'm really, legitimately worried that a humiliating, catastrophic event could occur in this classroom, on this day. I don't want to think of the gory details but at the same time I can't stop.

-Flash Forward 10 minutes - 

When you're moments away from diarrheaing all over yourself, it's important to pay attention to how you walk down stairs. It's not the usual jovial gallop that you've taken for granted so many times before. No. It's more delicate and swift. A gingerly paced effort where each step could set off a land mine, which consequently could end your reputation. While you were once referred to as the kind foreigner, you would now be called, "The Mess Maker," or "The Party Pooper". Such nicknames swirl around my head...much like the swirling I was experiencing in my stomach.

So I finally get to the bathroom and I change shoes, of course, and find that no-one is in there, which I figure is a good thing for everyone. As I reach the stall, I remember Nancy's story and figure I'd rather be a little awkward by myself than have poopy pants. So I take them completely off, squat, and try to aim. I guess I will spare you the details even though I prefer not to. Needless to say, I made it in time. I have to add though, it's quite the humbling experience when you're standing half naked, scared to death you won't get your pants off in time....How many times have you said that at a party?

Yeah, me too, only twice.

- Flash Back 13 hours -

So I put on season 3 of Entourage (which I received in my last care package from the fam) and I ate like a madman. After about 9 nuggets, out of maybe 20, one was too big so I had to cut it in half. I looked a little closer and I quickly became aware of the situation. I saw pink. I sat there for a moment and thought to myself, "I eat raw fish nearly every day, what's the worst that could happen? Damn these are good!"

Thanksgiving... er, the day before, depending on where you're reading this

November 22, 2007

I sit at my desk while morning meeting starts. Teachers take turns giving morning announcements and while I understand about 1 % of all of what is being said (this is even after 2 months of studying nearly every day) I still feel a comfortable sense of peace and tranquility. I'm blissfully ignorant. My desk faces the windows leading outside and while the blinds are closed and everything is shut to preserve what little warmth we have, streaming from an electric heater, there's about a 1x1 ft. area open in one window, where the blinds are barely drawn and daylight can be seen. 

I can see out my window that today is a strange weather day. I see pines in the furthest part of the frame, few that are still changing colors from the fall - tans, browns and late bloomer greens are frosted with the first snow of the winter season. In the sunlight, the flakes that appear are thick and fluffy. They have a unified personality, which is preserved in their calm, Buddhist-like demeanor. A pleasant snow, where flakes float rather than fall and if you were only to look for a moment, they might fool you into thinking they were suspended in air for that moment. 

It's 3 degrees today.... Celsius that is -- still warm, about 31 degrees Fahrenheit, which isn't so bad. Enough to enjoy my scarf and new gloves...I may or may not be a scarf guy now. I'm a Peacoat away from becoming a walking L.L. Bean add in Japan... but that my be a little far off yet. As winter settles in, I realize I need better sox and may think about wearing long underwear every day. When you walk or bike to work in the winter, you need something I guess. 

No wind and heavy snow makes for a good moment. I think about this moment and I break it down: it's 8:25 AM on Thursday, 4:25 PM on Wednesday in Denver, the day before Thanksgiving. The chances of getting a turkey here are 0 and my first real American Holiday away from home has quickly come and will soon be gone. I'm not sad or nostalgic, though I may be tomorrow.

It's a strange and difficult balance being here. It's either a cluster of moments that rush you through train stations, Izakias or lesson plans and those moments take no prisoners. They may get caught if you remember to get your camera or moll skin journal out, amidst all the excitement and lack of understanding. 

This bombardment of fast paced memories is conversely rivaled by these tiny snippets of time, that remind you who and where you are. This particular snippet is representing itself in the form of snow. Each flake, barely moves and in its stillness, almost seems to slow down time. It reminds me that whether here, or at home, this moment will never come again. Therefore it is my job/duty to the better part of my soul, to try to preserve it, simply with a memory and a promise to forever welcome this awareness in the future. And just maybe, hopefully, it will visit me again soon.

This Video Game called "Japan"

October 21, 2007

For Oscar - Without your support, none of this would be possible.

My good friend Sandra said something the first week I was here, "Japan is like a puzzle and everything we do is all about solving the puzzle..." Well, she said it much better than that, but I think you get the idea. Everything this place throws at us is a riddle and our "survival" here depends on decoding every little thing. It's kind of like those situations where you find people proclaiming, "This is just like a video game!" While most of the people who say this are usually on drugs, many such sober people claim this too, and this situation is like that, only no one is brilliant enough to make THIS into a video game...we can only come up with stories and relate them to simple board games......right? Because everyone does that...

Everday is like Pictionary. My first day to work, I was late...as usual. I'm walking down the wrong street for at least 15 minutes and I get the feeling I'm lost. I stop a man and try to ask where my school is, "uh, sumimasen (excuse me)...um...uh...(I stretch my arms out wide) Big um....Esquela? No!....um....(I move my arms up and down)....school?" A blank stare. 
"um....children? (I gesture my hand to my chest as if to say 'yay high')" A blanker stare.
"uh...." Then the name of my school, slips its way into my head, "Matskura?!" A light goes on and he knows exactly what that is....because I'm in Japan and they speak Japanese here. Triple Word Score!!!! I find the school and win Japanese Scrabble!

Of course everyday situations can also feel a lot like Shoots and Latters. Say you prepare for a great Elementary lesson on numbers, go in there and every kid is laughing, loud and jumping on you the entire day. This is like hitting one of those 3 story latters...you climb right up there with success written all over your face. Then, because its Friday, you go celebrating that night with Sushi, sake, go to 3 bars then end up at a Kareoke club singing "Man in the Mirror" until 4am. Next morning....is a shoot. Depending on the amount of Japanese "advil" and green tea you drink the next day, it could be a 2 story shoot or, if its anything like the Monday morning after our first "Magical Sunday" than its equal to that one bastard shoot that sits like 2 squares from the end, and when land on it, it takes you back to square 11! Fuck that shoot! Now that I think about it, I've probably landed on that one shoot every time I've played that dumb game. Anyway, that stupid shoot is like a hangover, and they both suck. I'm done with that analogy.

Finding an injured bat on your balcony and scooping it up with a tuperware container-go back 3 spaces and lose a turn/tuperware container. Getting sick in a country with no Nyquil or Tylonol cold and flu, go to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200....oh and on your way, pick up a "cough mask" to wear in public, so you can be branded like a diseased animal and no one can talk to you for 3 turns. (These things are like wearing the scarlet letter. I hate them.) On a better roll, Pay Day! Take a ride on the Reading Railroad, if you pass Go collect your hefty salary and buy something cool, like a guitar, woohoo!! 

Having your computer break down IS like playing a video game. It's like being on the Oregon Trail and losing Bobby, Sue, Ma and Pa all while trying to forge the river. You're family's gone, you're lonely and bored and the inevitable, looming thought lingers...pretty soon you have to get another wagon. And those new wagons are expensive dammit! But the journey must go on, and you know for damn sure you can't get anywhere these days without a good wagon.

And finally, whenever you're in another country and YOUR TEAM goes to the World Series, that's like playing Poker. Because you're sittin' on a big stack and you keep looking at your sizeable chip count, you're bound to overestimate the guy sitting to your right (who, in this case will be played by the Colorado Rockies). And because the guy on your right has been a shitty player for nearly every year you've known him, you decide to push him all-in. Well, its at this point that he surprises you, along with the rest of the world, by showing you he's been practicing and out of no where he pulls out a historic Royal Flush!! -The likes of which no one has ever seen from HIM of all people! He gives it to you in front of everyone and they instantaniously thank you for his sudden, yet unexpected success, as if you had something to do with it.
And it's hard because you like the guy, after all, you've watched him lose....a lot.....and win too. You can't control but being a little mad at him for his sudden change of luck. 
But, when all is said and done, he is your boy, so you gotta root for him, no matter what......Goddamn Rockies, pulled a Flush on me! Oh well, PURPLE AND BLACK ALL THE WAY!!!!!!!! 

So there it is, life really is a game, and I play it every day. Feel free to add your games, I know not all of these are made in Japan.....come to think of it, none of them are. huh. That's a first.

Lessons I've learned

September 21, 2007

As I sit here in this "unusual" sweltering heat, I think about this place. It is growing on me daily and although it is SO different from where I come from, I am beginning to appreciate the small yet magnificient differences. While it's painstakingly obvious that Japan is different from the US, I have found that many of these are actually opposite customs or at least appear to be backwards from what I'm used to. Please bare with me as I elaborate...

#1 - First and formost, the Japanese drive on the LEFT side of the street and, of course this conversely means they have the steering wheele on the RIGHT side of the car. This simple, yet gigantic difference has caused me to attempt to get into a car on the wrong side at least 10 times and twice just yesterday. Not only this, but when I ride my wicked witch of the west bike, with a basket on the front, I found out that I have been riding on the wrong side of the street, which has caused me to swerve from hitting children and old Japanese people. Plus, once I hit a pole....again. I don't know what it is, I guess I'm drawn to them or something, but either way, it's a love/hate relationship at this point. Anayway, this has caused problems thus far both morally and physically. Lesson #1, people here drive and bike on the LEFT side of the street. 

#2 - The sociological way of dealing with issues is totally different here. I wil use an example to illustrate my point. They place so much emphasis on promptness here its crazy....or I guess its very sane, if I think about it. It's just that if anyone knows me, I have problems with being late...it's pretty bad, but I still get by. Here, however, the approach to dealing with such a fool is different. Rather than having your boss (in this case its my principal: a little old man who tends to make funny faces) tell you "don't be late again," or "the next time you're late, I'm taking it out of your salary," or "You're Fired" he and every other Japanese "head hancho" opts to say nothing. Instead, he shoots evil looks at you accross the staff room, pretending you can't see him and when you catch him doing it, he quickly shifts his face into a smile and dissapears into his office....I think he wants me dead....or back in Colorado, I'm not sure yet. Either way, lesson #2- stop being late...I'll let you know when I learn this.

#3 - A simple, yet noticable difference. In the states when we greet each other, we say "what's up?" and bob our head up. Here, the opposite response is when you greet someone you bow down! And in some cases you keep bowing down until its awekward. The reason they do this is really quite amazing, apparently when they bow down, their intentions are to elevate their counterpart to a status above them. This is a sign of respect through a humbling gesture. This brings me to my next simple but true opposite....In America, there are so many egos. We are cockey as hell, and I'll admit, if you have a reason to be (apparently TO has 250 million of them or something like that. Whatever he's dumb.) than why not show it. However, in Takayama, they are so gentile and humble that bowing is the standard. Sometimes I picture Terrell Owens walking the streets of Takayama and I envision his head actually exploding....lesson #3- Bow a lot here or your head will explode. 

#4 - The language is all backwards here, which is why everytime I try to speak Japanese, I want to punch babbies. First of all, the main subject is in the front of the sentence, the verb is at the end, there are three different alphabets; one of which, Kanji, derived from Chinese characters, is, in its entirety, unbeknownst to most NATIVE SPEAKERS, ANDDDD finally, they don't have the letters R, L or TH. So, everytime I hear them say my name, I want to kick babbies. I guess that's being a little harsh, but you get the idea. This language is redicurousry difficurt. Lesson #4 - Study hard and learn the language quickly, and in the meantime, stay away from nurseries.

#5 - When you're out and night on the weekends trying to meet people, you would think it might be difficult to talk to girls, not knowing how to say anything. Quite the contrary. Even if you don't know the language, and you are literally walking out of a bar, a girl might say hello to you in English. If you're drunk enough, you get so excited that a cute Japanese girl can speak English, that you ask for her phone number in the second sentence of the conversation. That night you will feel proud becuase you got a number without having to speak Japanese. You will also think of "Swingers" and rack your brain as to what the call-back time frame is in Japan. You wonder, is the 3 day call back standard here or should you call the next day? It's an age old debate and you sit and ponder this question on into the night. The next day, around noon, your phone will ring and your questions immediatle end, as she has made your decision for you and called YOU...the NEXT DAY....AT NOON! This, you can't believe. You pick up and she wants to hang out. Wow. Lesson # 5- Women here are preditors and we are prey......being prey Kicks Asss!!

#6 - And finally, the last and most difficult difference I've come accross while being here for nearly 2 months is the whoooole issue dealing with shoes. Yes, shoes. Now bare with me here, they have categorically seperated their shoes so that your day revolves almost entirely around which goddamn pair of shoes you're wearing. Let me explain:
For sanitary reasons (Japan must be one of the cleanest places in the world, especially when you concider the amount of people living here per habitable square foot....its really quite impressive and astounding at the same time) they have divided their shoes into 4 main categories. Indoor shoes, outside shoes, gym shoes and no shoes at all. So, outside shoes are your average, run of the mill, American style sneakers or dress shoes, which we would usually wear all day. The gym shoes are worn by both students and teachers and they all match. Yes, they are all the same brand, type and model. However, the indoor shoes is where its gets tricky.
So these can be sandles or sneakers for boys or dress shoes for girls...now wait a second, you're saying to yourself, "I thought sneakers and dress shoes were used outdoor." EXACTLY. You just read my mind...or did I read yours....either way, this is what I'm dealing with. Apparently, they just took a pair of their "outdoor" shoes, wiped them down, and now they are "indoor" shoes. Can they do that?? I thought there were rules here....And as for the no-shoes policy, I'm convinced this is completely arbitrary. I swear that when they decide to rock no shoes, it is totally at random. They just take 'em off and start walkin' around. I'm lost.

So this is the shoe issue and if you're like me, and you want to play sports, you have to acquire like 14 pairs of shoes. I couldn't play basketball the other day because all I had were 2 pairs of dress shoes, 1 pair of sandles and a pair of outdoor shoes all in my locker at school. Instead, I needed indoor basketball/volleyball sneakers, but not ping pong shoes because those scuff up the floor. 

It has gotten to the point where during "Sports Festival": an all-school field day basically, a student pulled a hamstring and had to be carried off the field and taken to the nurses office. I watched the two teachers carry him in their arms as he was crying out in agony. As they get to the door, the nurse is inside, leaning out to try to help. She tries frantically to take his outside shoes off as he is screaming and the teachers hold this rather large student, whith anguish written all over their faces. All of a sudden, the nurse looks up at the teachers in dissbelief. She cries out "Ni-musubu" ....... "Double Knot!!!" She then avoids the knot and begins tugging at his left shoe, which ofcourse happens to be attatched to the hammy he just pulled. He cries out a painful bellow. At this point, another teacher runs over to them and starts working on the knot. Meanwhile, the two teachers holding him are barking orders to the nurse on how to deactivate the thing and stop pulling off his legs. She's flustered, he's crying, they're angry and all this to keep some dirt out of the room. 

I feel the real culprit here were the indoor shoes. Where the hell were they in all this madness? They could have saved lives....well maybe not lives but at least the inconvienience of a good sweep. Either way, this was an unbelievable scene. 

And, AND...the irony of this entire shoe situation for me, is that they don't even have MY SIZE! I'm an 11 and the cutoff is 10! I have to either get them sent from home or special order them here. Pretty funny really. The truth is, I appreciate the custom but still find the humor in it. I don't know what the lesson is here, but if you have any ideas...please let me know.

My 1st Hair Cut!

Question: What does it mean when you are more nervous to get a Haircut in a foreign country, than you are for your first day of work? Can you associate this with vanity, a case of being scared of scissors near your ears...or just an anxiety condition altogether? Either way, this is me today, when trying to think about the best option for getting a haircut in a barbershop that has probably never s
een the likes of my hair before. 

An interesting aspect of this subject is that not only are there barbershops here, but there are barbershops on nearly every other street corner. They are marked by that red, white and blue spinning pole, which screams desperately for customers....unlike Japan, we got rid of those ugly things in the 80's. So there are many of these, now the question is which barbershop do I let butcher my beautiful, lustrious, brown hair...okay its vanity, I'm okay with that.

The other night, I saw a shop that could have been in Vegas, based on the amount of lights were flashing and the movie-theater looking sign that took up half a block. I soon found out that it was a "barberhsop chain" haha. I thought to myself this might be the way to go because the chance that they speak English is greater I would think, than at a local, community barbershop. However, I also saw a couple intriguiging local barbershops, and like I always say, it's good to support the community. So as I sit on the corner, pondering on whether to turn left (barbershop chain) or right (local), I chose right, because what the hell, it will give me some good material for a blog....I had no idea.

As I ride my bike up street I think about my options. I could go with my boy James' advice and just buzz it all the time, because, hey its safe, I've been doing it lately and its nice during the summer. However, I failed to buy clippers before I left and I haven't found any out here yet. So I think, well, I could have the guy cut it and then if I don't like it, I could have him buzz it. But wait! wouldn't that be a huge insult to a Japanese man, whose entire living is based on his craft and after a half an hour cut, I ask him to erase his entire hair painting!! No way, I can't do this...what a thing to do....On the other hand, I am American and for all I know, for the last 3 weeks I've been an ass-hole nearly every day without even knowing it..either way, I decide against it. So now the decision: do I ask him to cut it, or buzz it? hmm....

I get to the shop, which is up a big hill, and its next to my bank. Now because I mentioned that there are barbershops on every other street corner, you may ask why I picked this particular one. The answer is simple. It has 

 life-sized picture of a black guy with scissors in his hand. His hand moves up and down, which is controlled by a rotating levy. This blew my mind when I saw it. A black dude, with a frow. Whoever this Japanese hair guy is, knows what's going on. So naturally, I chose this one. 

I walk in and the greeting is fucking priceless. Please imagine this if you can because I was speachless at the time. I walk in and see a few barber chairs. I look to my left and there is an old Japanese man sitting down, moments away from eating a delicious looking concoction. He is startled that I'm here, so he says "konichiwa" and stands up. First of all, both his pants and shirt are unbuttoned.... As he speaks to me in Japanese, he puts his clothes together and shows me to the chair. I won't lie to you, I was seconds away from A.) Apologizing and politely excusing myself. B.) Laughing out loud, and looking up in my Japanese phrasebook the words for "teach me everything you know" C.) Shitting my pants and asking if I could borrow his, because I figured he was already half way there...and D.) Laughing my ass off on the inside and because I'm too scared to do anything else, proceeding with this haircut...needless to say, I chose the latter. 

So after he buttons his shirt and pants, I thought it was a kind gesture that he went over to the rusty sink and washed his hands. He sits me down and puts 3 towels all over my head, neck and back. I was draped with towels and instead of a spray bottle, he wet one of them and gave me a good head rub to get my hair nice and damp. Then he proceeded. I'm pretty scared really, just because in the mirror I can see that he's not really holding scissors, instead they really resemble those weed cutters with like 7 inch blades, that make a crunchy, slicing noise, rather than a clean snip...you know what I'm talking about...I love that clean snip, especially when you know the barber has cut American hair before. Call me crazy, but Great Clips scissors sounded pretty damn good at the time, maybe even more than a Chipotle burrito. 

So he's cuttin' away and it's beginning to shape up. He keeps asking me questions and I say, "hi, hi" which means "yes, yes". No idea what he's asking. I figure, the buzz is imminent. He keeps cutting away and it actually isn't looking too bad from where I'm at, and then all of a sudden, this THING swoops right in front of my face. I jump back instinctively and luckily, his weed whackers were in mid-cut, so my head was undammaged. I look up and there is this freakin' bird-like insect. I think it was a dragon fly, but I swear it was like 3 feet long.....It flew in the store through the doorway. So I say "woah" and look at him. He has this look of sheer terror, I think because he knows he almost had one of my ears on his floor. 

Now the Bird Fly is stuck in the shop and it keeps flying around above our heads. The funny thing at this point is that I notice the barber begins to speed up his process. He's more scared than I am, which is tough because if that fucking Pigeon Insect hits one of us, or at least brushes us, my head-area is in serious trouble. He's just scared because if that happens, he's out 3,000 yen. So he's flying through the cut now and its pretty impressive to be honest. 

So he gets done with the 2nd half of my head in record time. I get a nice neck shave with a real razor, which is kind of cool because I've never had that before. Then he gets his mirror and starts showing me the damage. I say this, but really it was okay, other than the thin, feathered, Japanimation look he had going for me. I realized however, when I got home that he only showed me the sides, and didn't let me look at the back. I noticed this because when I get home I take the mirror off my wall and into the bathroom. 

The back lower half of my head looks like Edward Scissorhands got wasted and played a joke on me in my sleep. It's so messed up that I had to learn how to line myself up with my beard trimmer. Doing all this, mind you, with a wall mirror (about 3 feet tall). So other than realizing its gonna be the buzz cut or the barber shop chain from here on out, I did learn how to straighten out the back of my head if I ever need to. So that's good. Quite the experience really. The little things we take for granted in our home country, I tell ya. Next time you get a hair cut, tell the guy what you want in English, for me.

My Darling...

August 14, 2007

She has left a lasting impression on me. I find myself thinking about her daily and even talking to my fellow workers about her, often. The most memorable characteristic I think, is the way she made me feel. Whether or not we were alone, late at night, or if she was fresh in the afternoon, she always gave me a certain....satisfaction, that I never really experienced with anyone but her. 

While there were many others like her, she was unique. Always so unique. So versitile. She would put on one face one day and then a completely different day, she would be something else. Always kept me on my toes, and yet every time I came in contact with her, I was always giddy. Always. 

Why do you torture me so?! I have chosen a path without you and now here I am accross the world, and you're still there, without any regrets. It's okay, you probably wouldn't even fit in here anyways. I can't help but think about her still. Every day. Every day and nearly every night. She haunts my thoughts and leaves my stomach in knots. I will never find her equal, especially not here. She is an incandescent light, that burns so bright and never fades. She is my Jane Gallagher and I her Holden Caulfield...my Juliet, and I her Romeo....she is always in my thoughts and always utterly unattainable. I call her: Chipotle.

Lost in the Wild

August 8, 2007

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMls7fLvLJY
Here is a video I made that should go along with the story.

So one of the biggest events in Japan as some of you may already know, are usually accompanied by amazing fire works displays...most that dwarf any sort of displays that we have in the States. And sometimes, more often than not, the event IS the fire works display. 

This weekend in Gifu City (about a 2 hour non-stop train ride away from my town, Takayama) the biggest fire works display in all of Japan occurs so I made it a point to go down there and meet with the JET group that I met at the orientation in Tokyo, the first weekend of the trip. I know one word of Japanese at this point: Wakarimasen which translates to "I don't understand". So you can imagine the process of buying the right ticket, getting on the right train and getting off at the right stop without knowing any of what anything says. I pack up all the things I need to stay for the night, which includes some books, my ipod, money and whatnot. I put it in a bag and just as I'm walking out the door, I look at my umbrella stash that was left for me by my predisessor, and since its drisling outside today and everyone owns umbrellas here, I decide to take it even though it means carrying something extra the entire time. 

The train station is about 3 blocks away so its nice and close. I ask the man at the counter to help me, who is pretty good with English and I get on the train. The train ride was probably one of the more beautiful things I've ever seen in my life. This place is very similar to Colorado in the sense that there is a lot of green and a lot of mountains, however, I've never seen GREENER mountains, if that makes sense. These mountains are covered with lush, bright, thick trees, rather than pine, like I'm used to. Not only this, but the train and the road, right underneith, follow a river that has both high and low points, so at times, the river will just drop into a magnificient waterfall. Amazing. So I get off the train in GIFU and while its about 80 % humidity in Takayama, based on my meteorology knowledge, I'd say its closer to 1,000,000 % humidity in Gifu. And not only this but the sun is out, which it hasen't been in Takayama for a few days. Thus, I'm wearing Jeans, an undershirt and a dress shirt, carrying a satchel type bag and my umbrella, which I'm not using because it's definitley not raining. I'm dying. After walking about with the group of JETs we decide to begin the walk to the spot alongside a river to watch the firework display. Now, after looking back on it, I was impressed with the fire works display no doubt, but I have to say that I just may be more impressed with the number of people I saw during this excruciating hour long walk. There must have been over 200,000 people for this one event.
It was really incredible. So after the treck to the sitting spot, we get there about an hour late, after all we were about a group of 25 or so, so it took a while to move this many cattle basically. We watch the display which is awesome. Then because I'm staying with my friend Sandra, who lives about 1/2 hour away, we have to leave early to catch her bus. Side note: Sandra was in Gifu last night and got on a bus that USED to go to her town but did not anymore, and she ended up getting stranded. She was given these flash cards by her supervisor that have specific phrases in Japanese written down so she can just show them to someone and they can read it. These really are hilarious because they are so specific. An example of one translates to be "I have an acute pain right now, please take me to the hospital." haha. Anyway, she had to call a taxi and wait with the bus of people waiting there also for 1/2 an hour to take her back to her town. Being lost sucks. 

So anyway, we leave and in the hoards of people, we're rushing to beat the crowd to the street. In our huslte bustle she asks, "shouldn't we be going that way?" She points to the right and I say, "yeah you're right." I begin to go that way and as I look back, she is gone. Gone, gone, lost. This means we've separated from the big group and now we're both all alone. I shift into panic mode because she just got done explaining how she's just glad she's with someone else. I can't find her, even after yelling her name and now that the display is over, thousands of people are coming and going in every direction. I have to say, I haven't felt that feeling since I was around 5 at DisneyWorld with my friend Pete and I was lost for a brief moment. Needless to say, you don't like that feeling. After rushing around, my addreneline pumping trying to find her, I know that the big group is gone now too and the train/bus to my town has already left. It's about 9:00pm. I go back to our sitting spot and wait there for about 25 minutes hopeing that she will do the same thing. She never comes so I decide to huff it back to the train station, where I MIGHT find someone I konw. I have no cell phone and I live 2 hours away. As I'm walking, I am dripping sweat from head to butt crack and I'm looking for anyone. In addition, my  bag and
umbrella are really pissing me off because they are adding to this
treterous walk and I keep accidently hitting Japanese people in the
head (because they're smaller) with my awkward umbrella. I'm sorry, I
don't usually carry these things around.
Somehow, probably because its easy as shit to spot an American in a
group of Asians, I see Kaite, another JET accross this huge street and
yell her name. She is the only one I know who has a cell phone at
this time and so I get the number of a married JET couple who lives
about 15 minutes from the city. As I get to the train station, I call them and luckily they just got off the train. I get a ticket to their
town and crash with them for the night. Wholly balls.
The entire train ride back I'm just dead tired and as I get off the
train in Takayama around 1pm, I step out of the train station and walk
into the downpooring rain. I feel for my umbrella and realize its on
the fucking train. That, my friends is irony. So now I'm soaked in
my apartment, writing this email. Stil haven't talked to Sandra, but
lets hope her flash cards helped her out again. Hope your Saturday
was just as fun. Talk to you guys soon.

First Impressions

August 11, 2007

Okay, first thing's first: it sounds like there's a rat in my bathroom wall. There's these noises that nearly woke me up this morning, a banging noise, followed by scratching, followed by something along the lines of a rat trying to communicate...I talked to the guy that used to live hgere - he said that sound had been here all year and even in the winter. He isn't ruling out the possibility of a ghost...I'll keep you posted.

Going for a run is a great way to get to know a town. It's also a good way to attract attention, from wide-eyed and bushy tailed Japanese people. It's also a good way to lose your inhibitions. No one runs here. No one bikes for recreation; thus I'm the insane foreiner. There were a few times, however, that I wouldn't have traded the run for a millioin bucks....well maybe a million.

A bridge where the main river in town flows, caught me off gaurd as a kind of tree I've never seen before, grew so far over the side, it was nearly hanging completely over the river. I had to stop and thank myself for recognizing it. The other moment was brief but so powerful. I still can't shake it. As I find my way back to my main road, I run past the well known 24 hour market: Lawsons. I glance over and through the window I see a beautiful Japanese girl, maybe my age, maybe younger. And as if someone told her I was looking at her, she looked up from her magazine and we made eye contact for maybe 2 seconds, which would be pushing it. Probably more like 1 1/2 seconds. But it was the way she felt my eyes on her that forced her to look up. I kept running, but looked just long enough for her to know she was worth that extra 1/2 a second. The entire encounter probably lasted 3 seconds total. But I could have sworn it was longer than that.