Ben ben ben ben bento?!

Sitting in class right now with a bit of downtime. We're researching possible field trips for Friday--Intermediate Level is almost entirely field work and speaking with each other and locals, and for that I'm grateful. I have my on days and my off days.

Jin-san and I have been gunning for a week or so now to get the teachers to teach us the Osaka-ben dialect, which, to be honest, sounds hilarious. It's actually a prestige/comic dialect in Japan, and comedians use it often; people in Kansai (the region of which Osaka is a subset) are considered by the Japanese to be funnier, more personable, and wittier than the average Joe-san. It actually does sound great, and you can't help but grin when you hear it. It really just sounds awesome, to be blunt.

So Jin-san and I kept asking Tabata-sensei, our favorite teacher, to teach us Osaka-ben. She taught us one or two words, but otherwise held out--until today, when she brought in an actual TEXTBOOK on how to speak Osaka-ben. Jin-san went through the roof with joy. He's been poring over it all day.

Now truth be told, I always wanted to learn Hiroshima-ben dialect. It's just odd-sounding. It's SOMEWHAT recognizable as Japanese, but to be honest, most people from Tokyo wouldn't be able to distinguish it. (It's almost as removed as the relationship between English and Welsh... almost.) Again, though, the sound of it is just unbelievable. It's got this sort of slurred twang to it. D's turn to J's. (darou, "I guess," turns to jarou and the effect is great.) So I went to look it up, learned a few words and phrases, got the basic accent down, and started speaking to my teacher in it.

She nearly collapsed laughing.

She could barely understand what I was saying, it turns out, but she knew immediately it was Hiroshima-ben, so I guess that's a start. She did, however, comment that I sound like a yakuza, and pointed out that's where a lot of the yakuza come from. So I will bear in mind to use Hiroshima-ben only with caution. Osaka-ben, on the other hand, I'm falling in love with, and I've been told that as a foreigner, responding to an Osaka native in their own dialect always gets a surprised smile.

Jin and I now have a plan to give our presentations in Osaka-ben and Hiroshima-ben, respectively.

Wish me luck!

Apartment! Woo!

(7/25)

YOSH’. So I finally finished moving into our apartment for the next six weeks (and, I think, mine alone for the last two I’m here). The entrance/kitchen area REEKS, and when we made the mistake of opening the refrigerator, it’s really apparent that something was rotting in there. The whole entry smells awful. Luckily between the entry/kitchen and living area, there’s a door. Right now we’re sitting in the living area, with the air conditioning cranked up.

I say “now” subjectively, as there’s no internet access in the apartment. “Now” for me means about 6 p.m. Okazaki time, Tuesday afternoon. This will undoubtedly be posted about 18 hours from now. Until then, I shall write a running narrative of our move. For now, though, we need to write a grocery list and go out and get food for dinner. Word.

(A few hours later)

It’s 11 p.m. and Sarah and I JUST finished dinner. About 8,000 yen later (which we’re splitting even) we made a trip to the 100-yen store and grocery store to stock up on the necessities. It’s nice to have a kitchen, though figuring out how to cook for the two of us on a budget is a bit trying. Once we’ve got the big stuff out of the way—mostly kitchen fixings and the baking soda we spent an hour in the grocery store trying to find—it’ll be less than 2,500 yen per week for us to make all our own meals. It’s also nice to not have to eat out every night.

The apartment isn’t actually that bad, other than a suspicious smell emanating from the fridge. By “suspicious,” I mean “like somebody left a rotting cat in the back.” It was godawful. Sarah opened the door once, ONCE, and the stink was around even three hours later, after we’d gotten back from shopping. We ended up buying a little thing of scented oil to ward off the smell, and after an epic quest to find baking soda, our fridge is on its journey back to normalcy.

So one meal of half-price salmon and rice later (they slash meat prices in half after 5 p.m.) I’m stuffed and ready for bed. Okay, and so I snuck a lemon beer in there as well. It wasn’t half bad, but now I’m about ready for sleep.

Ow.

A brief update, as my long one ran far too long and I don't have the energy or mental acuity to finish it right now.

Long story short, after the hike Saturday, I spent yesterday (Sunday) on my butt. I was exhausted and sore and my calves hurt. Finally Sarah and I headed out to Seiyu, where I got some MacDonald's for lunch, and then to the PC Depot where I picked up a microphone for my computer. (FYI, for any of you who have Skype, I'm now on it as well. SN is blessedSophia)

Something didn't sit right, though, and I was sick to my stomach the rest of the afternoon. I finally got some brief respite in a few hours' nap, and then woke up again even more miserable than before. I didn't have the energy to go out for dinner, so I tried to force down a box of noodles, which I could only eat half of. I laid down and between being sick and tossing and turning, by 3 a.m. my back was acting up (I have a pinched sciatic nerve) and I gave up. I e-mailed Declan asking him to tell my prof I'd be out for the day and eventually took a muscle relaxant to get the spasms in my back to stop.

They did, and I slept for 11 hours. I finally woke up at 2 this afternoon, about an hour ago, and my legs are tingly and don't really move well. The relaxant still hasn't worn off. I'm still loopy and a bit nauseous, though the nausea now is probably more caused by the dizziness. I'm actually off to bed right now to sleep the rest of it off.

Aaaah where did my week go?

Sorry about the lack of updates in the last few days. It's been mostly due to a combination of exhaustion, frantic running about, and a sort of general achiness in my down time. So the breakdown of the last week (illustrated), starting Friday.

FRIDAY

It was my first day in Intermediate class. Hooray! The whole remaining 5 of us from Keigo module made it into Intermediate, so we're happy. I finally met Tatyana, Jarvi's friend, and interviewed her for class. The day came and went, and after class, Sampath asked if I wanted to go to the Toys R Us. I'd heard the place was out of the way, and it was raining outside--so what could I do but say "yes"? We hopped on our bikes and off we went. Sampath had a poncho, so the rain wasn't an issue for him--I had an umbrella, and very quickly had to learn how to ride one-handed while carrying an umbrella in the pouring rain. It wasn't fun, but I didn't crash (mercifully).

We got there, and Sampath admitted it was the first time he'd ever been in a Toys R Us. I decided to make a celebration out of it, by running around and playing with every sample toy. We went a little crazy--we played the video games, tried our hands at those ring puzzles, and set a robot penguin and some crazy doll to fighting on that "moving toys" table they've always got near the front. This escapade culminated in a light saber duel which I'm sure scared the hell out of the local mothers, but fascinated their children (we could hear them giggling). Eventually Sampath asked about the Tamagotchi's we had apparently come for (I had forgotten all about it until that moment) and was informed that the Tamagotchi's weren't in until SATURDAY. Grumbling, we headed back. After an ill-fated trip to a "Game Palace" (which turned out to be an absurdly loud, obnoxious pachinko hall) we parted ways for the day.

That night I hit up the bar (hereon known as Zig-Zag, as it'll undoubtedly be mentioned more), where an unusually large crowd was forming. Sarah showed up, and I sat chatting with some Canadian dude and the bartender whose name I never learned, hereafter fondly known as Frenchie. Partway through the conversation, I looked up and realized that my famous equation (proving that women are evil) which had been posted on the wall was no longer there! Slightly distraught, I asked Frenchie if he knew where it had gone. Declan walks in, tells me he was getting it framed, and unveils the equation in an oversized frame. He tells me he'll get it reframed more properly, and tells Frenchie to make me a free sandwich for my accomplishment. It was a very good sandwich, in fact possibly the best I've ever eaten. I would know.

After a few hours, Aaron showed up with two Japanese men who made it their mission to chat me up in Japanese for most of the rest of the evening. They were nice guys and continuously complimented me on my Japanese. The place filled up more than usual and we had a great time until Sarah and I had to head back before the hotel closed up at 11. Declan vowed we would close the bar together next week after I moved out of the hotel. We then remembered that next Friday is the night before the Fuji trip, so our celebration would have to be put off.

(Photo: L to R: Sarah, Canadian Dude, and Declan, looking thoroughly nonplussed.)

SATURDAY

The plan: Get Sampath, Vivi, Mark, possibly Adrian, and I together to hike the Kiso Valley, a 7.7-kilometer walk through the mountains between two preserved Edo-period towns.

The fact: Sampath backed out due to an unfavorable weather forecast, Adrian didn't want to lug his video camera 8 kilometers, and I forgot to tell Vivi when we were meeting.

So in any case, I woke up bright and early, grabbed a bento from Seiyu, packed it into my backpack, and headed over to the train station by 9:15 to meet the others. Surprise surprise, only Mark was there, and even though we waited until 10 (the designated meeting time) nobody else showed. After a confusing struggle with the pricing system for Japanese trains (Mark accidentally paid almost four times what he had to for his ticket) we hopped on the local rapid--right alongside Eric and Sarah, who were heading to Nagoya for the annual drum festival. We chatted, Eric was VERY loud to the chagrin of the locals, and Mark and I got off the stop before Sarah and Eric.

Three hours later--two on the train, a 40-minute wait for the bus, then a 30-minute bus ride--we arrived at Magome, a preserved Edo-period town up in the mountains. I had been able to watch the scenery from the train as it gradually faded from concrete to rice fields to mountains, but getting off the bbus in the middle of it was something different altogether. Magome itself is basically a tourist trap, albeit a lovely one, and not a whole lot of people actually hike the trail--in a three-hour walk we only ran into maybe three groups heading the other way, and one guy who passed us. Before we left the town, Mark spotted a giant water wheel and announced that the place felt familiar. A few moments later, he realized he'd been there three years earlier, doing Yamasa's Japan Discovery tour. I rolled my eyes and we continued on. The first hill started with the main street through Magome, then as the houses fizzled away we hit the scenic overlook. The view was breathtaking, and I figured out how to work the panorama function on my camera.

The first two kilometers or so were entirely uphill, and it was steep. Good training for Fuji, I figured, and we kept at it. Relatively close to the top we stopped for lunch before heading onward and upward. The scenery was unbelievably breathtaking. We even passed an old Japanese woman working in the rice field beside her house, and waved and yelled "KONNICHIWA" over the roar of the rapids nearby.

The hike was beautiful, but something better explained by pictures (which are all on photobucket). On the way down, however, we did swing by the two waterfalls along the trail. The large, quiet one is known as the Male waterfall, while the smaller, raucous one that is powerful enough to generate its own wind is the Female. Gotta love the Japanese. The bridge near the falls was a great place to rest our weary feet, and we relaxed quietly for about ten minutes before trudging onward.

After that, we ran into part of the path which had been blocked by a mudslide. Forced to go around it, we walked down the shoulder of a major road--and found this little fellow on a moss-covered log. See, I knew he was real.

Long story short, we hit the end of the hike, found the nearest bus station, and hopped the bus to the nearest train station. A multitude of slow-moving local trains later (read: about 3 hours) we were back in Okazaki, around 9. We stopped at the bar. Some new guy came up and introduced himself, and Mark proceeded to monopolize the conversation and do nothing but complain about everything under the sun. (He's good at that.) I got irritated and went home early--I was exhausted anyway.

SUNDAY

Woke up. Slept some more. My legs were absolutely killing me from the hike. After lunch, I started feeling sick... and thus begins the previous entry.

And now, some videos for you all:


The legendary battle of Penguin vs. Doramon


Behold Magome.

A face from home

So last night Vivi arrived from Chicago. How great is that? I had just finished taking down my laundry from line-drying on the roof last night, when I hear "Meredith-san?" and I look up, and there at the foot of the stairs is Vivi! I jumped and squealed and hugged her and we came into the room and talked for a long time. She's still seriously jetlagged so she planned on going to bed early and left (turns out she's just as bad off as I was, and didn't sleep much).

It's so great to see a friendly face from college. I took her down to breakfast today and showed her how to tackle the food--no egg, and I was a little disappointed. She's in the hotel until they get room at the student village (the big dorm) but she doesn't know how long that will be. So for the next week, at least, it'll be nightly slumber parties with me, Sarah, and Vives.

Also a sidenote, all this healthy eating has finally gotten to me--I noticed a difference in the way my jeans fit this morning. I must've dropped a pound or two since I got here, though I couldn't find a scale at Seiyu to give final judgment. Oh well, it'll be a cumulative thing and I'll see the results when I get home, I suppose.

Otherwise all's quiet here. This weekend's looking like a hiking trip with Sampath, Vives, and maybe Mark. Will post pictures and updates later.

Notes between class sessions

Aiiiii! I just rode my bike to the 100-yen store (Daiso) up the street and bought myself a bento (Japanese lunchbox) set. It's so cute! You even tie it in a little napkin. They're all about presentation here--it's actually kinda weird. I'll post pictures of it when I get the chance. (It's by a company called Happy Balloon, with the motto "The life that popped.")

Had my first exam today. I think it went well, but the bottom line for passing out into intermediate level is 80%. We won't know the scores until tomorrow at the earliest. Here's hoping.

Monday was interesting. I came back and took a hardcore, 3-hour nap in the room, then woke up, found Sarah was gone, and got some dinner at Kitsutsuki. Finally deciding I wanted ice cream, I hopped on my bike and rode to Seiyu (the grocery store/complex/thing). There I ran into Sarah and Mark, who was finishing his McDonald's dinner. We chatted for a bit, then bought some stuff, and Mark dared me to drink this really disgusting-looking sake called Nigori-sake. (Turns out it means "cloudy sake" because they leave rice in it to dissolve, rather than filtering out.) So I bought a bottle for a grand total of 400 yen (that should've told me something RIGHT THERE) and was like "okay, let's do this." We argued about where we should hold the celebration. Sarah and I said Mark's room, as he's got a single, we wouldn't be bothering too many people, and he's closer than us to the store. He argued for our room, since he wanted to make fun of the fact we're in a hotel. Finally he conceded, and we head back. Neither Sarah nor I had ever been to Villa 2 (the dorm where he lives) so he lead us back... right to our hotel.

Now it's pouring rain, and that was just mean-spirited of him. So we gave up and headed upstairs, but the mama-san (looking a bit scandalized) announced that Mark can't go up for more than like ten minutes. So I told Mark to hold my stuff, ran upstairs, toweled off, came back down, and we headed off to Villa 2. Sarah opted to stay behind, as she was soaking wet.

So we headed to Villa 2 and I drank the stuff. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great either. So I finished the bottle (with some haste) and it kicked in almost immediately. Word of warning: Don't. Trust. Sake.

Finally Mark laughed at me enough and walked me halfway home. (He argued that he wouldn't walk me all the way home because I'm not cute enough. I'm pretty sure I threatened him at that point. I also gave him a lecture about women, because the girl he's chasing right now is an air-headed bimbo who doesn't even speak English. He thinks she's "cute" because she's almost incomprehensible. Go figure.)

In any case, I made it home and slept very well.

So yes, that's been my week so far. Not exactly amazing, but it'll do.

One other random observation: Japanese cashiers are pushy. They're subtly pushy, but they're still pushy. Once you get your change, they want you GONE. There's no stopping to put your change in your wallet. Go. Leave. Make way for the next customer. It's really unsettling the first few times you notice you're getting stared at for holding up the line. Most stores actually have counters behind the cash registers so that customers have a place to put their items in bags (they don't really bag here, they just put things back in your basket and give you a plastic bag) and put away your change. It's kind of nuts.

Photos of my class!

Woo

Yeah, we're awesome.

jklrta/?!!

(last night I tried to post this but my wireless was spotty at best. So backdate this to the evening of 7/16, I guess)

I’m hanging out in my room (after another long day of doing absolutely nothing except napping and eating) and on TV there’s a travel show. They’re talking about French castles, and I realize now just what I would give to be in Europe, surrounded by people who speak English and don’t have this bizarre, permuted view of American popular culture (and who don’t desperately try to work it into every damn facet of their marketing). Japan is a lot of bright colors, insanity, and deep tradition, all the while with a very definitive sense of “us” and “them”—you can’t get it unless you’re “us”, and that’s impossible for an outsider.

Granted, my Japanese is getting better, and I chat regularly with both the proprietor and the woman who runs the bento shop, by it’s still frustrating to know that wherever I go I’m still an outsider. In Europe, if I walked into a grocery store, it’d be okay. I wouldn’t be even remotely conscious of everyone’s stares, because there wouldn’t be nearly as many—I’m not going to pretend people would overlook me completely, or that they stare as openly as the fat woman on the train here, but there’s always a consciousness that people are looking at me here. In some recess of my mind, out of the corner of my eye, I can see their eyes fixed on me. It’s incredibly isolating.

This is why the students here travel in clusters—it’s much easier to ignore the staring, or at least cope with it, when there are four or five of you to share the burden. The trip to Gamagori and Takeshima was great, because there were four people there and we got to just hang out and have a good time, stares be damned. I got acquainted with Adrian for the first time, Sampath and I faced death together (or so my aching muscles tell me) and Mark and I bonded on the rock overlooking the bay. It’s impressive how close you can become so quickly with these people when you’re all so isolated. It’s not surprising how rampant student in-dating is here—the bonds form fast and deep.

Having said that, I would give my right ovary right now for an apartment with a working internet connection, without a curfew (I have to be back in by 11 because they lock the front door), and for Japan to experience a sudden drop in average temperature (it’s averaged about 90F daily). I asked the bento lady if it was this bad every year—she laughed and told me “Welcome to Japan.”

My friends here are great. Mark is a little... over-friendly. Sampath’s a great, very relaxed dude. Adrian’s cynical, Chinese, and has a British accent (read: super-awesome). Sarah’s funny and cute, if significantly too immature to be traveling on her own. (She blew through 700 euros in her first week here, which is half of the money she’s got.) I’ve made a handful of friends at the bar—Aaron, Ken, Andrea, and “the Good Swede,” though I don’t know his actual name. (Nicknames run miles here.)

One day later

Thanks to the less-than-stellar curtains, I woke up at 8 a.m. sharp today, fully bathed in sunlight. After futzing around for a while, I made the previous blog post, and felt my body rebelling. Every time I breathed it hurt. That's what I get for being cocky, I guess.

Meanwhile, my butt feels like a bruised fruit. When I finally mustered some energy, I hopped on my bike to go to the grocery store for lunch, and I swear it was one of the most painful, hateful things I've ever done. I got my lunch, came back, nearly swallowed it whole, and went to sleep for four hours. It was blissful and deep.

Woke up again at five, futzed around some more, and am now in Aoi hall, having spent the last two hours reworking the layout of the blog. Hope everybody enjoys it!

Having said that, I now need to find some food, as the campus cafe is closing in 15 minutes. This means another bike ride. Great.

And Mom, don't worry, I'm fine. I've been drinking loads of water and it seems to help, and I've taken Advil. Your daughter is whole and alive and grateful, just... rather tender right now.

Love, all.

Holy crap, am I hardcore.

Let me preface this by saying that I am currently in one of the sorest states of my life. I'm lying on my stomach to write this, and if last night was any indication, I won't be able to roll over without undue pain and aching.

Also, this is an incredibly long and bizarre narrative, so where possible I have broken it up with pictures.

So, the story (illustrated).

Fridays at Yamasa are half-days. We end classes at noon and people break off into small groups to travel or just hang out, and some stick around for private classes until about 1:40. Sampath and I had recruited two other guys--Adrian and Mark--to head to Gamagori, the local beach front/"resort town" to catch some sun. Sampath and I, looking at a map, realize it's about a 14 kilometer distance. Now this gives us two options.

1.) We pay 720 yen for round-trip train tickets (which only take fifteen minutes in either direction)
2.) We save the cash, get some exercise, and bike.

Now realize that yesterday's weather was somewhere between 31 and 33 degrees. Celsius. That equates to about 88-91.5 Fahrenheit. So I don my hat, slather on sunscreen, change into some loose clothing, fill my nalgene bottle, get some hearty lunch in me, and off we go!

First leg of the journey goes down the local main road, 248. 248 is a little bit hilly (the name of the town is, after all, Okazaki, which translates to "Hill on the Peninsula") but not even sweatable. (Well, okay, I was sweating, but let's consider the heat here.) We pull away from the heavily-developed Okazaki area into Koba Town, which is agricultural and full of rice paddies. The view is gorgeous. So with frequent stops to take pictures and catch our breath, we plug on ahead.

Now according to the map (which, I would like to point out, was in no way topographical) the quickest way to get to Gamagori is to break off of 248 and head through a local main road. Sampath and I follow the signs for Central Gamagori, and before we know it, we're in the mountains. Like, literally. We're biking up a mountain. And I'm regretting every single minute of it. Granted, the view is unbelievable, but we spend an hour getting up to the top of that thing. A mountain. A serious, no-fucking-joke mountain. I realize that Sampath's insane, and I'm just an idiot for doing this. It was one of the few times in my life when I seriously considered just giving up and turning back. My stomach's cramping up--I don't know why. My legs are fine but I felt like I could vomit. I realize it’s from the exertion of pushing a bicycle up a mountain road, and, again with frequent breaks in the shade, we trudge along.

At one point very, very close to the summit (though at this point I’m unaware of how close we are), Sampath finds a great hollow in the woods and we put our bikes down there and sit for a bit. He takes a picture of me, I make my "I want everything in the world to die" face [see illustration], and we catch our collective breath. To clarify, that is in fact sweat over every single inch of my body, about a quarter-inch thick. If you had grabbed my arm, I would've slid right out of your hand. It was the most disgusting, slickest, sweatiest I have ever been. I could not have been wetter had I just crawled out of the ocean. I sweated completely through my shirt, my pants, the straps on my sandals, everything. At that point I was glad Sampath and I had collectively brought about two liters of water, since I was chugging it almost nonstop between the foot of the mountain and the top. Though, to be fair, I really did have to pee.

So in any case, we get almost to the top, and I just give up. I sit down, wanting to cry, my abs are cramping like hell for some weird reason or another (but, oddly enough, my legs are doing just fine) and I'm literally bathed in my own sweat. It was the most physically miserable I've ever been. It was worse than the appendicitis I got when I was 13. It sucked.

But finally, after a good ten minutes' rest to get my head back around me, I trudge along--

--and see Sampath, at the top of the road, standing under the "Welcome to Gamagori" sign.

Suddenly overcome by joy, we don't even remember to take a picture, and we start back down. One hand on the break the whole way, we zip along, covering the downslope in literally a sixth of the time it took us to get up. It was the first in a series of absolutely blissful moments that followed that day.

So we get to downtown Gamagori, where we'd planned to meet Mark and Adrian--about an hour earlier. We're late, and understandably, they've left the station already. After that ride, I don't mind paying 150 yen for a bottle of coke, which I blow through in almost no time flat. Sampath and I decide to chug on, still via bike, and after stopping for directions, we finally find the "beach".

The Gamagori beach was at low tide, and there was nothing but mud.

Far from being blissful at that particular moment, I was ready to flip out on mother nature, had I the energy. But, being physically drained, I was rather zen about it and decided we should check out Takeshima, a tiny, hilled island attached to Gamagori by bridge, where Benten, goddess of good luck, is enshrined. (Funny side note: Benten is notoriously jealous of couples, and if you go to the island with your lover, she'll destroy the relationship within a month. Or so the lore says.)

So Sampath and I take our tourist pictures and ride out to the island. The bridge is enormously long, and as soon as we're out in the middle of it, this wind kicks up LITERALLY out of nowhere. The entire bridge starts howling. More than slightly freaked out, I ask Sampath if he hears it too--he does. We ride back into the island, and the wind just disappears, as does the eerie howling sound. It turns out that the mysterious howling wind which is always present around the middle of the bridge is one of the miracles the island is known for, and is considered a sign from the gods of the island.

So we reach the other side, the wind stops--and lo and behold, there are Mark and Adrian coming down the temple steps, out of the woods! Adrian's brought his video camera, which is professional-grade, and he sets it up and asks Sampath about our trip here. Mark and I banter in the background. Mark hears that we went through the mountains, and considers taking my bike back in my stead and letting me ride the train--after that ride, I heartily push the possibility. He wavers, ultimately deciding against it, as the seat is too low.

After the narrative, we ask the guys to wait while Sampath and I head up to the shrine. The entire path is lined with white flags covered in writing, though I didn't stop to try and read them. Under the giant Tori (Shinto gate), Sampath and I paused for pictures before continuing up the enormous flight of stairs that lead to the top.

Shinto tradition dictates that, before entering the shrine, you wash your hands from a sacred pool. We do so, and the cold spring water feels close to heaven. I can see now why this is such a sacred ritual--it's almost spiritual, in that kind of heat, to run cool water over your hands in the shade. Simple, and beautiful. (There was, however, an open room with chairs, tables, and vending machines right next to the entrance. I playfully called them the Vending Machines of the Gods.)

So after washing our hands (a few more times than was necessary, I'm sure) we head into the temple complex. Now to be fair, "complex" in the Shinto sense means "Let's throw a handful of small shrines here and see what happens". There's no rhyme or reason to them, except that the main shrine--to the goddess Ichikishimahimenomikotopassthesalt (I kid you not... okay, except for the salt part)--is the largest, and in the middle of the site. You're supposed to drop a coin in the box, clap your hands twice--the louder, the better--and pray outside the temple in view of the altar. (That day you couldn't get inside the shrine itself, though I don't know if that's standard practice.)

Beside each large shrine there is a wooden stand with pegs sticking out, and wooden blocks with pictures on one side and writing on the other side hanging from the pegs by strings. These are prayer blocks, and seem to be gaining popularity over the traditional method of writing your prayers on a piece of paper and tying it to a tree. Strings, strung between poles lying flush against the trees, are covered in these tiny pieces of paper with pre-written prayers on them. Walking in, you're literally surrounded by the hopes and dreams of thousands of people. It's intensely moving, and the deep shade provided by the enormous trees was more than enough reason for me to linger.

Next to the large shrine there's a table with a book--I'm not sure what you're supposed to write in it, though it looks like a visitor book. I scribble my name down and the date, as well as "New Jersey/Chicago, Illinois". Next to that, in front of the shrine, there is a table with a basket full of tiny folded papers and a box next to it with "100 yen" written on it. I drop my 100 yen in and pick up one of the folded papers. It feels like a coin inside--a blessed version of the coin I'd just dropped in the box, perhaps?--but I don't open it to look.

Sampath and I wander around, looking at the shrines, unable to read anything in the Japanese, and Sampath starts to head back. I want to spend a little more time so I go to the information booth, where I buy one of those wooden prayer blocks. I ask the woman working there--whom I think is a priestess--for a pen, and she gives me one and tells me to write what I wish for on the back of the block, and my name and the city I'm from so that the goddess can find me. I pause, ask her what would be a good thing to write, and she says "anything," though she mentions that the most common things--and the goddess Ichikishimahimenomikoto's specialties--are weath, love, and childbirth. Immediately scratching the childbirth wish from my possibility list, I write my wishes down--love, fortune, long life, the health of my parents, and good luck/happiness (they're the same word in Japanese). Since I'm not sure the gods are bilingual, I write it in Japanese just to be safe. The priestess is dually impressed. [note the picture--that's my block]

I tied it up on the pegs, dropped my five-yen coin in the box (hoping the gods aren't aware of conversion rates), clapped, and said my prayer. As most of the stands and shrines were closing up shop for the day, I headed back down the massive stairs to meet the others below.

Mark, Adrian, and Sampath were idly laying around on the concrete edge near the rocky beach of the island. Adrian had his camera set up and was probably video taping a conversation between Sampath and Mark. I lie down on the concrete next to Mark and we get to talking about how well Shintoism and Buddhism mesh, as Buddhism is concerned almost entirely with the afterlife and nirvana and Shintoism is a very hard-and-fast, nature-based religion that really doesn't touch on the issue of life after death. Adrian videotapes that conversation as well. Mark, meanwhile, asks me what was in the 100 yen packet I’d picked up with the blessed coin. I open it, and see that it’s… a 5-yen coin. Mark is laughing. I am nonplussed.

At some point, somehow, it comes out that Adrian never learned how to ride a bike. Sampath leaps on this, ushers him onto his bike, and tells him to not fall into the bay.

After a few minutes of watching this unadulterated silliness, I decided that I was at least getting my feet in the ocean for all my hard work. I hopped off the concrete walk, climbed down the rocks, and marched right into the ocean--by which I mean “stepped very gingerly”, as the water was seaweed-laden. I found a nice spot to just stand in and did so, letting the water run around my calves.

Then the jellyfish come. And I remove myself from their presence. Far, far away from their presence. So far, in fact, that I decide climbing up a rock formation with a stone lantern on it is a really good idea. So I do. Mark makes fun of me for being afraid of jellyfish, and follows me up. We sit there and alternately chat and admire the view of the water, all the while listening to Adrian's frantic cries as he attempts to keep the bike from tipping over with him on it. It was a very zen moment.

Finally we decide it's getting late, so we should all be heading back. Mark hops down from the rocks, helps me down, and we head back across the bridge. I ask a local to take our picture. We smile. It's nice to have friends.
We finally make it back to the train station, where we drop off Adrian. Mark comes with me to get some food at the McDonald's, and Sampath tags along though he doesn't eat anything. Mark gets the world's smallest milkshake. At least we know the Japanese aren't trying to compensate for anything with this one.

Finally Mark departs, and Sampath and I head back to my bike. Sampath gets really startled when I sit on my bike, and tells me that the seat is far too low. That explained my stomach cramps on the way here--I was hunched over the entire time. I curse profusely and allow him to raise the seat for the ride back. He does, and we head back--the long way.

Not having the energy to tackle the mountains, we take the road around them, which is probably about five extra kilometers, but infinitely easier. I don't even get tired on the way back--I have to walk my bike only twice, once up a giant hill before we passed through the valley, and once more at the end of the journey in Okazaki, where we just had one gradual, long slope and I'd been on my bike for an hour.

So we make it back, decide to meet at the campus bar at 9:30, and part ways. I go up to my room (stopping to tell the proprietor about the trip) and take what is easily the most unbelievable, beautiful, holiest cold shower in my life. After drying off by standing under the air conditioning for ten minutes, I lay around, feeling my muscles cramp as they just begin to realize what I'd done to them that day, and then head down to the bar. I tell Aaron (an ex-student and regular of the bar) about the trip, and he’s in shock we'd taken the mountain route. All told, I settle in, make some friends, have a few drinks, and go back for the night. I slept well.

Oh, what a life.

Finally, some photos!

The story thus far...



My window. I was screwing around with my camera and thought it wasn't working, so I put it down and went to the window--this is what happened. Go figure.
















The view from the window across the hall from me, looking out on to northern Okazaki.























My roommate, Sarah. She's a bit camera shy so this is the only picture I have of her thus far.



















The infamous CD. This copy is a bit too small to see, but the Japanese sleeve is an interesting amalgam of attempted pronunciations for towns in Illinois.










And, as always, you can see the rest of my photos at my photobucket account (there's also a link on the right sidebar).

But yeah, it's not too bad. Last night for comfort food I hit up Kitsutsuki (the campus cafe, which is technically owned by Yamasa but really operated by locals) and had pancakes and milk. It was absolutely heavenly to have real, American food. It's amazing the difference my diet makes in my mood.

It's silly, but looking back I realize almost every entry has mentioned what I ate that day. I guess that it's the most tangible adaptaion I've had to make. Everything else is more abstract--the politeness, the stares, the language is far too hard to explain to somebody who doesn't already have some experience with it. If I say "keigo" or realte something funny that happened in class, chances are--no offense--nobody, unless they speak Japanese or understand the bizarre sense of humor that permeates the culture, is probably going to get it.

But the food change is something I know people will understand. It's odd and honestly kind of stressful to not be able to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It's also becoming increasingly irritating that I can't make my own food, since I don't have a kitchen. To quote Sampath, "I've been here a week and I'm already sick of soba" (soba = buckwheat noodles, which are in literally almost EVERYTHING).

Though, on the up side, I have gotten immeasurably better at ping-pong (which here is not called ping-pong; in Japanese, pin pon is actually the sound of a doorbell. The Japanese name is takkyuu, which literally means "table ball".) It seems to be a class obsession. Out of our six-person class, five of us play with some regularity on the table in the common room--JK and Jin play every break, Chu and Daniel once or twice a day, and I hop in whenever there isn't a dominoes game going.

Right now the big concern is what the Hell I'm doing this weekend--there's the Gion festival in Kyoto but I don't know how much thatll run me to get up there (too much, undoubtedly, as my 18 kippu doesn't kick in for another week). Having just checked the timetables, I can officially say it's over 3,000 yen for the tickets there, meaning my entire Saturday budget would be blown on train fare. Which is no good. So maybe I can get to Gamagori (beach resort town) on bike and save the cash. Hm. Or, of course, there's always just Okazaki castle...

For now I'm thinking a nap is in order.

A small victory

I have instilled a dominos craze among the SILAC student body. Sarah learned last night, and I taught six new people today. It's getting to the point where people get miffed if they don't get their turn.

At least there's cohesion among the students here. Everybody seems to have gone through the same initial culture shock at least once. That, and we all watch the same television shows. (KURO-CHAN GANBARIMAAAASU! - shout out to my homies)

雨！

So it finally downpoured this morning. On my way out, of course, I slipped and scraped my knee. I then hobbled to class and am now sitting around chatting with JK-san before class starts.

Le sigh.

Come on

Sarah dragged me to the Tower Records in the local mall tonight, and while I was waiting for her to choose from her armload of CDs, I had a profound moment.

I stumbled across Sufjan Stevens' Illinoise.

I picked it up and wanted to cry.

Seeing that CD made me so unbearably homesick, I couldn't even put it into words. I even took a picture of it, trying to make myself laugh that the Japanese would ever listen to Sufjan Stevens (I zoomed in on the Japanese sleeve).

But when I had to put it down, I kept hesitating. It reminded me of Chicago, of my friends, my family, of being in a place where I could understand things without having to try.

It reminded me of Joe.

So I finally put it back on the shelf, but not after staring at it so long that my eyes hurt. I never knew how draining homesickness could be, but now I feel like I've run a marathon. And the sad thing is, there is an easy way out, but it's not one I'm going to take. I'm not going to jump ship and go home early; I can't. I've invested too much time, effort, and money in this. During the day, when my life is structured with class and other students, it's infinitely easier.

At night, though, when I'm tired and shown such a small slice of home... it's more than I can handle, and there's absolutely no place to go that isn't full of people. Everyone here sleeps with the windows open; you can hear everything. Sarah's always in the room, and the walls there are paper-thin. If you make a sound, five people hear it. There's literally no place to go to be alone. It's too much to handle sometimes.

I know this will pass, but God I miss home right now.

Your random japanese moments for the day

Missed yesterday's update, but I'll get around to it after class.

And here are your two random moments for the day:

1.) In Nagoya, some random girl came out of a shopping mall onto the sidewalk, screaming "YOU'RE WRONG! YOU'RE WRONG!" and some other such in Japanese, and dashed across the street screaming angrily at the top of her lungs at nobody in particular. I was relieved when I saw that the locals were just as startled as we were.

2.) Sitting outside last night, leeching wireless from campus, one of the janitors spotted me and said "aah, ninkyou da nee" and smiled. Not really knowing what "ninkyou" meant, I just said "Yeah, basically" in Japanese, and he laughed and walked off. Turns out that "ninkyou" means "brave spirit; heroism; chivalry" and the comment was directed at the fact that it was night and I was outside by myself (in full view of the front door of the hotel, so I don't know why he made the comment). Though I think I like that; I'll adopt that word.

That is all until I finish class.

Adventures in Nagoya navigation

7/8/06

So… tired… So you get the executive summary.

Last night [7/7/06 - ed.] Sampath, Sarah, and I (hereafter referred to as the Holy Trinity of Funk for completely arbitrary reasons) went to the campus bar for a drink. There were only three other guys there, and soon after we set into our Guinnesses in comes Declan, our dean of international students. He downs a few beers, asks how our first day of classes went, and sets into storytelling. He’s a great guy, and I was sad when we had to leave for dinner (at about 9, of course). But! I did share with him and the other guys the formula which mathematically proves that women are evil, and he liked it so much that he posted it on the wall. So now I’m “part of the gang” apparently.

The Trinity then headed down to the local Denny’s, which, like its American counterpart, is open 24-7. It’s noticeably more expensive than the other restaraunts in the area, though, and the menu is unrecognizable to most Americans; the only familiar item on it was French toast. (They had some bizarre variation on a BLT which made me do a double-take, though I don’t recall what it was.) After the waiter ignored us for a solid ten minutes, Sampath finally walked up to him to get his attention—shortly after he left with our orders, we realized there was a button on the table to buzz for service. Go figure.

In any case, I got a card for 100yen off my next Denny’s meal (not that that will be happening any time soon) and got home and back to sleep.

True to jetlag, however, I woke up at 5 a.m. sharp. Sarah was still asleep, but I got up, took a bath, went to breakfast, and checked my e-mail from campus (and got a surprise e-mail from my friend Scott, whom I complained to endlessly about nearly everything… thanks for listening, dear, I owe you). It was worth it, but by the time she was ready to go to Nagoya for the day, I was already a bit sleepy.

[Sidenote: the mysterious egg from yesterday reappeared at breakfast this morning. I said to the mama-san on the way out, “This time I remember how to eat the egg!” and she just said “I’m glad!” Somehow I think she was enjoying the irony.]

So off to Nagoya we went. We finally figured out the ticket machines and automated entrances, only to get stared at on the train intermittently. We got off at the wrong stop, then got back on, rode it one more stop, and tada! We were in lovely (?) Nagoya. The original intent of the trip was to find the concert hall where Metronome is playing later this month, and buy our tickets there. The only other option, in fact, was to buy them at a Lawson convenience store, out of these godawful confusing machines that don’t have an English option and even most Japanese speakers can’t operate. Well, we didn’t know the name of the venue, let alone how to get there, and we didn’t even have a map. So after a 30-minute search for a fabled information booth (which we never found, though we got at least 3 different sets of directions from area shopkeepers), we ended up buying a Japanese map. After poring over the thing, I realized there’s no specific listing for concert halls, so it’s off with us to find an internet café.

Now to preface this next bit, it was 29 degrees Celsius today (84 Fahrenheit) and probably 60% humidity. Truth be told, it’s not comfortable. So we find a plain old coffee café and sit down to look at the map book. When the staff realizes we’re just sitting there, they usher us to the counter to buy something. Sarah gets some bizarre pink sour soda thingy, and I get iced coffee because it’s the first and cheapest thing on the menu. Finally I cave and ask where the nearest net café is. She directs us down the street, to an internet/manga café.

Now for those of you who’ve never been in such a place, it is nearly heaven on earth. It’s 310 yen for the first half-hour, and 90 for every 15 minutes after that. You sit in a little wooden booth, with a high-end computer, a huge, squishy chair with a footrest, and have unlimited access to the internet and their library of manga. It’s air conditioned, there are snacks, and the staff is very friendly. (Though I have to say, Japanese keyboards are the worst.) I check the venue hall, find it on the map, and bam! We’re outta there.

30 minutes’ walk later, we find the hall. The staff tells us that we can’t, in fact, buy the tickets there—we have to use those god-forsaken machines at the Lawson convenience stores. So we find one, and have to get one of the staff to walk us through it, only to find out we need to enter a phone number to proceed. The woman (who isn’t very bright) tells us she doesn’t know what to do, and that we should go to the OTHER Lawson convenience store across the street. One block later, we find the next Lawson, and I ask the girl at the counter what I should do if I don’t have a number. She shrugs and I decide I’m going to just make one up. So I do. And it works. Then we get the tickets. And my credit card doesn’t work. Now this isn’t a huge surprise, but it IS an ill-timed one, as I don’t have enough money to pay for both mine and Sampath’s tickets (I had to buy him one since he was resting at home today). Luckily, Sarah throws in her money and we have enough for all three of us. So I realize I need an ATM. None of the ATMs in the area take my cards, and none of the post offices (where the international ATMs are) are open. So we wander back toward the train station, basically broke except for our train money, and get a skimpy dinner from the Circle-K. (I get one onigiri—a rice ball wrapped around a bit of chicken and mayonnaise—and a bottle of Pepsi Nex, which I swear is the nectar of the gods. And it’s not “next”, it’s “Nex.” They’re cool enough to leave off letters here.)

So we get into the train station and promptly get lost. Again. I can’t find the line we need to get back home, until one woman who notices us being confused (and speaks English!) pointed us in the right direction. Long story short, we finally got home and I’m now on the brink of collapse. Though, on the bright side, I did get the tickets, navigate my way around Nagoya entirely in Japanese, and get a tee-shirt from the Hard Rock Café in Nagoya. It’s just that I walked at least ten miles today and my feet are killing me.

I’m also starting to notice the stares from the locals. Here in Okazaki they’re not bad, since I think the natives are used to seeing all the foreign students around, but in Nagoya it was unbelievable. We hadn’t been out of the train station for more than five minutes when some tall Japanese guy winked at me, and the women all gave us this appraising look. It wasn’t too bad, especially when I spoke Japanese—they seemed to ease up then—but on the train back, it was INSANE. There was this fat Japanese woman across from us who literally would NOT STOP STARING AT ME the entire 10 minutes she was on the train with us. I really wanted to tell her she was being rude, but I held back. (There was also a little boy, maybe 2, who asked his dad “WHY IS SHE SO TALL??” He handled it gracefully and told him that everybody’s different, and I just happened to be tall. I wish everybody’s dad had told them that.) And there was one very cute Japanese boy on the train who kept making eyes at both Sarah and I… though he got off before we could talk to him. Ah well. I think Sarah was ready to make a move. (She’s got Yellow Fever even worse than I do.)

Also, I got to pet a cat in the park, and named it “Nyan-chan” (Mr. Meow). It was promptly stared down by a Daschund, “Odoroita Inu-san” (Mr. Angry Dog) who leapt at me, yipping. The owner apologized, I told him I was okay, and the dog gave me one long look before settling into an angry staring contest with Nyan-chan. Nyan-chan won. Whee!

I saw a couple walking in the park today, and it made me feel…sad. Not homesick, just sad.

----

THE NEXT MORNING

So I woke up at 5 a.m. bright and early again today, and realized the culprit: the damn windows. Not a single window curtain is drawn. It's the sunlight that's been getting me up regularly all this time. Damn it!

So I pulled the curtains shut, but to no avail: I was wide awake. I lied curled up in bed for a while but it wasn't much use--I ended up getting up around 7 and heading to breakfast at 7:45 (today's was some mystery meat. Don't ask, don't tell, don't understand.)

And so I get over to campus and the door to Aoi Hall is locked. I could theoretically go into Kitsutsuki ("Woodpecker"), the coffee shop whose wireless I'm currently leeching, but I don't have any cash after yesterday and the bank ATMs don't open until 9. In fact, I might give my folks a call early today. Off I go!

Day one of classes.. whee!

Thanks to everyone for their love and support--my family, Darren, Cat, Hiro, Olav, everybody for their comments and letters. I woke up at 2 a.m. (okazaki time) this morning to find encouragement from all sides, and I really appreciated it. I could face the day again!

But first, my adventures for today.

I woke up this morning and went with Sarah down to breakfast. Breakfast in the Bizunesu Hoteru Okazaki (Okazaki Business Hotel) is served in a tiny room on the first floor, behind the entrance, and is free of charge. You walk in--always in your hotel slippers--take a tray that's been pre-made by the mama-san, fill the appropriate bowls with rice, miso soup, and green tea, and sit down to eat. Today's meal consisted of:

1.) A small "salad" (read: lettuce, a few thin rectangles of ham about an inch long, some cheese cut the same way, and mayonnaise)
2.) Some pre-wrapped seaweed
3.) What I THINK was natto (fermented soybeans)
4.) An egg.

Now, being a silly gaijin, I figure that the egg is hard-boiled. Sarah is a bit more skeptical, and sheepishly asks the mama-san how we're supposed to eat it. The mama-san smiles, takes her egg, yells "BAAN" and makes a slamming motion against the table. Sarah mimicks, and surprise! The egg is raw. (Luckily, she gets it into the bowl with due haste.) Still a bit confused, I follow along, and as per the mama-san's instructions, add soy sauce to the raw egg, then whisk it with my chopsticks. The mama-san, seemingly satisfied with our progress, then walks away. Sarah and I look at each other, not knowing what comes next. After a few failed ideas (I think the mama-san was secretly watching us fumble about), we observed the natives and found out that you pour the raw egg and soy sauce mixture over rice.

It's probably the strangest breakfast I've ever had, truth be told.

After that was class. I arrived about 15 minutes early, and found out that my high-level refresher course is only 6 people strong. One of the guys in it is from New Jersey! How strange is that? I didn't get to ask him, but the rest of the students seemed excited to see a new face. The class consists of me, Jin-san (the guy from NJ), Aida-san (the only other girl besides the teacher), Chu-san (a self-proclaimed "30-nani"/30-something), and one other guy whose name I didn't catch. The last member, JK-san, is the only other Caucasian, and was out sick today.

Class was fun, if a bit difficult to stagger into at first. The forms we were covering were all familiar to me (basically how to say "I don't know when she's coming" and "Let's see whether or not the zoo has pandas," that kind of stuff) but their vocabulary set is vastly different from mine sometimes. At least I have the textbook, so I can study up to where we are. We also inadvertantly learned how to haggle over goods, and I complained that a camera I was trying to buy made me look fat. (I half-expected Jin-san to mutter "it's not the camera's fault" but he grinned and refrained.)

After class Sampath and I headed out to lunch. We walked all the way to the JR Okazaki train station, which is maybe a 10- or 15-minute walk from campus, then got some mystery "A-Lunch" and "C-Lunch" specials (still don't know what was in mine, except that it might have been pork croquettes), and wandered over to the bike rental shop, which was another 20 minutes, as we travelled in true shinjin fashion and got lost. We're heading back tomorrow to rent bikes--only about $15-$17/month. How nice is that? Granted, I don't need one for the week days, as I'm literally across the street from my class, but once I move it'll be a little more crucial. Plus, Okazaki is decently large, and I am decently lazy. It's a decent enough reason.

Also a sidenote: Winnie the Pooh (aka Puu-san) in Japanese is absolutely adorable. I caught it yesterday morning.

Also also a sidenote: I can't get used to the fact that all the ads I see now on websites are in Japanese. Apparently ad servers operate by your network address, so even if I use google, it transfers me by default to google.co.jp.

Also also also a sidenote: Men are pigs.

The heat...

General update for the day...

Point the first. Japan is, in fact, "hotter than the devil's drawers." This is confirmed by the fact that in my first day and a half here, I have had to wear three outfits (and may be heading for my fourth in a minute or two) because I keep sweating through them. A ten-minute walk to lunch literally had my back drenched. It's about 80% humidity this close to the coast, and the sky is in a perpetual state of drizzling, downpouring, or threatening to. (It's rained at least four times that I can count since I first arrived, and that's not counting the times I didn't notice because I was inside.)

Point the second. I am homesick beyond all recognition. I'm alone in a strange country, where I can barely speak the language and almost nobody can speak mine, with little money to speak of and an unbelievably torturous climate and academic schedule ahead of me. There's a point at which "hey, it's an adventure" turns into "what the fuck am I doing this for?" I'm getting damn close to that point. I miss my family, I miss my friends, and hearing the President on TV is suddenly comforting because I actually understand what's going on. Meeting a handful of Americans today--the first I'd seen since I arrived--was a huge weight off my shoulders. But I still feel uncomfortable, broke, confused, and terribly alone. A letter I received from Joe (and the e-mail that followed it) have only added to it.

Point the third. I'm determined to stick this out. Maybe it'll take a week, but eventually the weather will break and my homesickness and jetlag will even out.

Point the fourth. I want to go home.

Arrival and Orientation

7/5/2006

Far too tired from travel to write. Miss Joe and home and family already—saw the twin of our new Lexus and thought Mom and Dad were driving it. My roommate, Sarah, is from Belgium and is very nice, though her English is broken and her Japanese is worse. When we understand each other, we get along great. Japanese TV is endlessly entertaining, and getting strange looks from the natives is a bit refreshing. It lets me know I haven’t just faded into a concrete and rust dream, which is how this city feels. Got dinner from the conbini section of a large shopping center, stopped in the arcade, had some calpico, and generally ate too much. The hotel I’m staying in is literally across the street from both Aoi hall (the much older building I’ll be studying in) and the Yamasa Building II, the nice new number that other programs use. Tomorrow is the litany of tests (vocab, then something or other, then the interview test, etc etc etc ad nauseum) and orientation.

I’m absolutely exhausted, and off to sleep.

-Meredith

---------

7/6/06 (5:22 a.m…. damn birds)

Well that helped. Until last night, I don’t think I ever knew what true fatigue is. I don’t know how Sarah had so much energy after coming in from Belgium, but she kept trekking.

Tried to use the phone card to make the promised call to Mom and Dad, but for whatever reason there was no listing of country codes on it, so I couldn’t actually dial their number. It was weird, and I know Mom’s probably having a shit fit that I didn’t call. I’ll drop them an e-mail today and their promised call on Sunday, if not sooner. In the meantime, I have to scout for international telephone booths around here—the one I stumbled across was on 284 and a bit of a hike from campus and the hotel.

And, of course, Sarah and I got lost on our adventures back. We made a few wrong turns, and despite my excellent navigation (and the noticeably subpar map they gave the incoming students… or perhaps just the slapdash nature of city planning in this neck of the woods) we took the roundabout way to Aoi Hall. I thought Yamasa II was Aoi Hall until a nice older gentleman corrected me—truth be told, I think it might have been Declan, the dean of foreign students. He seemed a little cold and borderline “unamused” by our story, but showed us the way back. Again, it’s one more reason I’m glad I have a roommate—somebody to share the embarrassment with.

Sarah’s a character. She reminded me of Jarvi when I met her, so much so that I asked her right out when we first met—only to find out that her English is a little rough, so she didn’t really understand. Her Japanese is surprisingly lacking too—she didn’t know how to order a hamburger in the MacDonald’s last night. I had to prompt her to answer “OK” when asked if she wanted fries, or to substitute fries with chicken or shrimp tenders (did you know you can do that over here?!).

Well, what else… Ah, the shopping centers. They seem to be a generalized permutation of the American mall, but with a sort of Super-K-Mart-esque grocery/clothing/electronics/etc etc ad nauseum store attached. Long story short, the places are monstrously huge grocery stores which literally melt away into a mall before you know you’ve left the first store. There really isn’t much of a storefront to speak of in those things. Everything just sort of melts into the center of the mall. In true “we must do everything different” fashion, Japanese cash registers don’t open up, but rather spit bills from a slot in the base. And the cashiers are so unbelievably friendly and polite! They count out your change twice in front of you, and their first words are always “Good evening and thank you so very much for your business!” and they bow. (This is a decided upgrade from the Jersey “Whaddaya want?” treatment.)

And so our adventure ended last night, in the room, with food and primetime Japanese TV. The Emperor was on TV yesterday afternoon, so that was on essentially every channel before we set out, but the primetime lineup made up for it. We settled on a live-action version of some anime (I use the term “version” loosely, as it was just guys in cosplay who parodied their characters) in which the members had to perform the following task:

1.) Be launched by the other characters on a rolling UFO skateboard down a ramp
2.) Navigate a turn in the hill
3.) Launch themselves off the skateboard and over a sandpit
4.) Ricochet off a trampoline in the middle of the sandpit, and
5.) Bounce up to hit a huge ball at the opposite end.

The only character to succeed in this endeavor was a crocodile-man, who did a backflip and hit it with his feet. I kid you not.

As for the city in general, Okazaki has the aura of a town past its prime. It seems to have been built in three major spurts, with little to no progress in between—there’s the very old and old-fashioned buildings and houses, most noticeably the castle (I say this speculatively, as I haven’t yet seen it); the very new, shiny, glittering malls and arcades; and the rest, left over from the economic boom of the 80s and early 90s, already covered in rust stains and barely tended-to. The entire city is covered in concrete. I never realized how much I take trees for granted as part of the landscape, but literally everything here is paved. I can’t really say I like it, but I’m sure I’ll live with the gray sooner or later. But you know, if they had at least made the sidewalks out of different material…

Sarah doesn’t plan on waking up for another hour and a half, so I may as well lay back down. (They serve breakfast here, free of charge—how sweet is that?)

Cheers,
Meredith