Am I Invincible?

You know the stereotype that Japanese people bow a lot? Well, it's not a stereotype. It's true. It's very common to bow to any one you are parting ways with. However, it's usually in formal or business situations. Shop clerks and restaurant staff always bow to customers, employees will bow to co-workers or bosses. I think, perhaps, it's especially important to do it for someone who is superior to you in age, social standing, or position in the company. Depending on their degree of importance, you have to adjust the change the angle degree of the bow. If they are a lot more important than you, you should bow really low. Anyways, I don't know much about it because I'm never really in a situation where I need to know this. Since I'm a foreigner, no one expects me to bow. Right now I'm focusing on the language, not the customs. One thing at a time.

Anyway, I remember noticing a ridiculous amount of bowing one time on the bullet train from Tokyo to somewhere far, maybe Nara. There were these female train staff in their fancy matching uniforms that made them look like flight attendants. They were walking up and down the aisles, passing from car to car for no apparent reason that I could glean. Every single time they exited a car they would open the door, turn around to face the people in the car and give a low bow before going out the door. If there was a group of them, each one would stop and give a bow before exiting. It seemed like these girls were stopping and bowing and going in and out of doors every 10 minutes. All I could think is, no one notices their bowing except me, the foreigner, and I certainly don't care if they bow to me or not. Is anyone really going to be offended if they exit the train car without bowing first? I know I may be missing something culturally, but I just found it rather excessive--to the point of being quite funny.

Another thing I've noticed is that people often bow when they get off trains and part ways with someone. The other night when I was on my way home from work, there weren't any seats so I was standing in the the middle area near the doors. There was a group of people standing a few feet away from me. As the train doors opened, most of the group got off the train and one of the remaining members was saying her deeply polite "goodbyes" and "thank yous" and "you've worked hard's" (Sayonara, arigatou gozaimashita, otsukaresama desu.. etc) to these people who must have been in a higher position than her, maybe even her bosses, but I don't know.

As she was spewing this ridiculous string of intensely polite greetings, she was rapidly bobbing her top-half up and down, up and down, so devotedly, so eagerly, that she failed to notice my presence about a foot or two away. Suddenly, mid-bow, her head landed right on my shoulder. I moved away, quite surprised and she didn't even seem to notice. She continued right on bowing. I couldn't help but laugh. I had just been bowed on!

And for a treat, here's a funny picture I found of Obama bowing to Emperor Akihito last November. It looks pretty funny cause the two are supposed to be in equal standing--both world leaders, and yet the Emperor is giving a very shallow bow and Obama is bowing like a lowly servant. It's also pretty funny that he's shaking hands at the same time. People don't usually shake hands in Japan--unless they are greeting foreigners and they are aware of the custom. I kind of love that he did that, though. So very hilarious..

The Cutest

This is a Japanese TV ad campaign for beans that is running right now. It seems to be a national phenomenon. Fuzzy plush bean dog toys, bean dog mugs, notebooks, pencils, are being sold in gift shops all over. And I love it! In fact, I've had an image of one of these things as my blog picture for like over a year and I never knew what it was.

The idea is someone's about to sit down and eat their meal when a bean starts talking to them. Th e bean is super cute and has ears, so it kinda looks like a litte dog. Hence the name, bean dog. The bean dog tells them some random disturbing bit of trivia, such as "a kangaroo's pouch is really stinky," or "a flamingo's mother's milk is red." The person is so disgusted they can't finish their food. I'm not sure how this makes someone want to eat more beans, but I find these bean dogs cute and hilarious.

And now, please watch for yourself. There are about 14 versions. Most are in Japanese with English subtitles, one is in English, and one is in Spanish. I personally recommend watching them all.

http://www.youtube.com/profile?gl=US&user=mameshibavideos

Thank Heaven for 7-11

So one day I decide to go running in my neighborhood. I know it's Winter but it's a particularly sunny day and it can feel quite warm in the middle of the afternoon.

I start running along a dirt path that runs beside one of the many canal/stream whatever things that run across the city. I run for about 20 minutes, I realize I need to pee. No problem, the dirt path intersects with many streets. All I have to do is find a convenience store. Sure enough, there's a 7-11.

I pass a young, female employee mopping the floor. When I get to the restroom, there's a little handwritten note taped to the door. It's mostly in Kanji characters which I can't make out the meaning of. The only word I know is "Key," or "lock." Okay, I think, one school I work at has a handwritten note on the bathroom door that tells you how to work the lock properly. Unconcerned, I go in and lock the door.

When it's time to leave, I try to open door. The lock won't turn. Still calm, I alternate between wriggling the knob and knocking on the door.

Someone comes to the door and cries, "Ehhh?! Okyakusama!?!" (Ehhh is a typical Japanese noise of surprise. Okyakusama means customer or guest.) I hear a sigh of resignation. She knows I'm stuck in here. She's also probably wondering why I stupidly didn't read the note on the door. The young employee frantically tries to open the door. She goes to get some keys. She tries every one. None of them work. She asks me to try unlocking the door from the inside. I tell her I can't. She asks me another question, but she's obviously panicking and it's causing her to speak so quickly I can't understand her. I try to answer, but it soon becomes apparent to her that I'm not Japanese. This is where she really freaks out.

She goes to get the manager, crying something about a foreigner stuck in the bathroom. He also tries the keys. He tries telling me to unlock it from the inside. Well, duh.. don't you guys think I 've already tried that? I don't immediately respond because I'm trying to work out what to say in my head.

This is when he panics. He asks me questions in ridiculously fast Japanese. I start to panic, too, because I just can't understand him. I want to tell him that I can speak Japanese, but he needs to speak slowly and use simpler words. However, I can't seem to remember any of the tons of vocabulary I've studied over the past 2 years.


This continues for about a half hour: shaking the door, yelling in unintelligible Japanese, and trying different keys. Finally, I understand something they say: they are going to call a locksmith. I try to tell them I understand. However, it usually seems to be the case that once a Japanese person realizes you are foreign, their mind becomes literally unable to comprehend that you might understand Japanese.

They come back and tell me, in Japanese, that the locksmith can't come for another hour and a half. I tell them, in perfect Japanese, that I understand. But they don't hear it. I can hear them trying to figure out how to say it in English. They're panicking again. I tell them it's fine, I understand. I'll wait. Don't worry. Of course, I'm pretty upset that I have to be in here another hour and a half, but I'll do it. I'll wait. What choice do I have?

They abandon me to contemplate my imprisoned state in solitude. I close the lid on the toilet and sit down. I'm sweaty and red-faced from my run. I survey the items on the shelf above my head. Toilet paper rolls, spray bottles of cleaner. I remember it kind of smelled when I first came in, but now I seem to have gotten used to it.

Just as I've rested my head against the cold, tile wall, I hear in very broken English:

"heh-ro? Eh...you ..... ehhh... shouldo...ehhh...wait? ehhh, wait one...ehhh...ando....thirty."

Um.. I'm guessing she's trying to tell me to wait for an hour and a half. I try to reconfirm this in Japanese, since her English is obviously not too awesome.

"Hai. Ichi jikan han. Wakarimashita. Arigatou gozaimasu." (Yes. One hour and a half. I understand, thank you.)

She's so surprised that I've answered in Japanese. She half asks, half wonders aloud to herself , "Wait, you can't speak English?"

"No. I mean, Yes. I can speak English," I correct her, in English. But she has already run away to break this devastating news to her superiors. Now how they are supposed to communicate with me?

Eventually she comes back with another girl and they continue trying to open the door. They keep lamenting in Japanese, "An hour and a half? What should we do?"

The new girl asks the first girl if I'm alright. The first girl replies a little too casually and disdainfully for my liking, "I dunno. She's a foreigner. She can't speak English OR Japanese."

The other girl asks, "Really? Where is she from?"

"I dunno. Probably Europe or something."

I attempt to say in Japanese that actually, "I'm American," thank you very much. But they have completely given up on trying to communicate with me.

"Oh, too bad." They walk away.


What the hell am I going to do for an hour and a half, in a 7-11 bathroom? I don't have anything on me, but a key. No cell phone, nothing. I think about asking if they would slide me a pen and some paper, or maybe a magazine, through a little hole in the door, but no one comes back. I wait. I try sleeping with my head propped against the wall.

When the locksmith comes, he can't get the door open. He's banging on it, using some metal tools to try to force it open, fumbling with more keys. Finally, he brings out something so noisy and terrifying that it makes me cower in the corner, as far away from the door as possible. I cover my ears. Fire-y orange spastic sparks shoot everywhere. The door swings open and I peek out. Wearing a gray jumpsuit uniform, the locksmith looks at me, stifling a chuckle as he motions for me to come out. I hop over his mountain of tools and escape like a scared little animal.

Mid-escape, I run into the manager. He awkwardly asks me in Japanese if I'm ok. Yeah, I say, sorry for not speaking Japanese so well, and not being able to read kanji. He gives a simple apology and leaves me standing there, wondering where my free stuff is. Shouldn't I at least get a complimentary bottle of water? Geez. I slink past the register on my way out, avoiding the smirking faces of the young employees behind the counter.

2 hours and 20 minutes after I left my house for a run, I slowly crawl back home, defeated. I feel somehow this is a definitive low point.

The groping hands return...

The next time it happens, I am looking for my children who have magically disappeared. The mothers are all happily chatting away on the plastic orange sofa in the lobby. I begin my search through the myriad of classrooms. Eventually I hear the telltale sound of giggles. I enter to find five little girls hiding under a table. Cute.

"Ok, kids. Let's go! Time to start!"

They crawl out, one by one. I say hello to the first sweet little girl, who always behaves impeccably:

"Hello, Sehwa! How are you?"
"I'M FINE!"
"Good! High five!"

One missed high five and a little hand lands on my pillowy chest. A wide mischievous grin spreads across her face. She reaches out again.

"No, Sehwa. Don't touch!"

Her frown turns upside down:

"No ja nai!" (Ja nai is Japanese, basically equivalent to "not," so having a negative meaning)

She reaches out again and attempts to pat and prod. More giggles ensue. The other girls have extracted themselves from their hiding place and now see what's going on out here. They want in.

10 little hands are groping and grabbing and chasing me around the classroom. And they won't stop that giggling!

"No! No! No! Stop!" I run out of the room. The mothers look at me, startled.

"Uhhh." I can't think how to tell them in simple English that their children are sex fiends. Didn't these mothers ever tell their children NOT to touch people in naughty places?

Sexual Harassment in the Workplace.

I do apologize for my almost year long absence from this blog.

And now, I would like to announce that I've been sexually harassed at work.. by little girls.

It all starts one innocent Friday afternoon. I'm in the school lobby, about ten minutes before my class starts. A group of young children around age 4 or 5 are all gathered with their mothers, eagerly anticipating another 50 minutes of:

"What's this?"
"Chicken!"
"What do Chicken's say?"
"Cluck cluck!"

You know, the usual stuff.

A girl named Nana, enters the school with her mother. She shyly hands me her attendance booklet and suddenly bursts out with:

"HERE YOU ARE!!"
"Why, thank you, Nana."
"YOU'RE WELCOME!!"
"Good job, Nana, high five!"

Smug with the knowledge that I have taught my kids well enough to say "here you are" and "you're welcome," I start to walk away from the lobby back into the office area. Suddenly, I feel a little hand grab my rear end and give it a good couple of satisfying squeezes.

bonk bonk. One, two.

It reminds me of the way one grabs a little fluffy round bunny tail. All innocent and oh, it just looks so soft and plush, I want to grab it.

"Oh!" the mothers cry.
"Oh!" I cry out.

Mortified, I spin around.

"Nana!?"
giggle giggle.

giggle giggle.

gigglegigglegigglegiggle. the mother's have joined in. Nana's looking real proud of herself.

I sigh and walk back into the office area. I drink my juice. No one speaks English, not even the mothers, so what the heck can I say anyway? I let it go.

CHANGES: Part II

The most recent and most drastic change that has occurred during my time in Japan is moving house. In the beginning of this year, I was finally forced to face the impending equivalent of a $100 rent increase. At my (sob) old guest house, the usual policy is to give new residents a 12-month rent discount. After 12 months, their rent goes "back to the original price."

Here's a sample of the artwork that covered the walls of Big World 21.
My favorite piece.

Although I had become extremely comfortable in my guest house and was hesitant to leave the amazing social atmosphere it had provided me with, I was also not keen to pay an extra $100 every month. The place was not very clean, to put it mildly. It was also super cold in the winter and disgustingly hot in the summer. We had to pay for heat with 100 yen coins (it adds up). We had to walk up a huge, ridiculously steep hill to get to the train station every day. Despite my strong attachment to Big World 21--an attachment which earned me strange looks and inquiries such as, "are you crazy?" from my friends and co-workers--I knew there definitely had to be better places out there. So, I decided I'd better look around. In early February, I moved into a guest house in the Kichijoji area.

Here's a taste of my amazing social life in Big World 21.

I love Kichijoji. It's probably one of my favorite parts of Tokyo, actually. It's only about 10 minutes away by train from my former home-station, Musashi Koganei. While Musashi Koganei is decidedly homely--or one might say empty and bland, Kichijoji is amazing. It has a lot of character and is just as interesting as all those famously over-crowded places in central Tokyo. In fact, I think it's better because it's actually in the nearby suburbs of Tokyo, and therefore not as big, or crowded, or overwhelming. Still, it has tons of restaurants, bars, cafes, department stores, clothing stores, second hand clothing stores, book stores. It has everything I need. If it weren't for work, I'd never need to leave Kichijoji.

There's also beautiful Inokashira Park, with a big lake that's lined by cherry trees. They are absolutely stunning in the Spring. People ride swan-shaped boats, and play guitars, and run, and eat ice cream and do stuff that people do in parks. There's also a zoo which I have yet to visit. I hear they have an elephant and lots of meerkats. The Ghibli Museum, concerning the animation studio that produces famous Japanese animation films such as Totoro, Kiki's Delivery Service, and Princess Mononoke, is also located in this park. Again, I have yet to visit.

Inokashira Park, Cherry Blossom Season, April 2008

The hard parts of moving inevitably included the physical moving of my possessions. This took many difficult trips involving dragging my over-sized suitcases many times up and down that blasted hill in Musashi Koganei, and then through the claustrophobia-inducing Tokyo transit system. I enlisted a few friends to assist me, you can be sure of that. After all that was over, I had to go to various important looking buildings to re-register as a foreigner, and re-register my address, and re-register with the phone company, and re-register my eye color, and re-register the number of eggs I eat for breakfast, and re-register the number of freckles on my knees. You get the idea. I did a lot of registering. (There really are a lot of freckles on my knees, though. My dear friend, Anne, used to call me "the spotted freak." What a sweetheart.)

After all that registering, then I had to meet the lovely people in my new guest house. Most of the conversations went like this:

"Hi! I'm Caitlin, nice to meet you."

"Oh.. hi. I'm Yosuke. I'm moving out tomorrow."

And some went kind of like this:

ME: "Oh my! Someone didn't wash this pasta strainer, and then put it back on the shelf! Gross." [I place it in the sink.]

JAPANESE DUDE: "This is not a hotel! ...blah blah blah, your responsibility." (Of course, spoken in a mixture of Japanese and English, the hotel part definitely spoken in English.)

ME: "Um, ok. I was going to wash it... after I strained my pasta."

J.D.: "Whatever."

So, maybe meeting people isn't so easy after all. But I gave it a shot. The other foreigners consist of a bunch of French people, one Canadian who also speaks fluent French, and a Korean girl. There's also a Japanese guy named Shin who lived in New York for 5 years. His English is fairly close to perfect. He likes to come into the kitchen without a shirt on so that I can look at his pectorals. (I refuse.) He enjoys speaking in, what I believe to be a forced, tone of voice that reminds me of an overly-macho Samurai in a cheesy anime cartoon. He also enjoys quoting Star Wars--"Luke, I am your father," in much the same voice. Finally, he loves telling me about his fabulous future as a person working in the fashion industry: he has a fabulous high-paying job, he's really busy, and he's probably going to be promoted any day now. What a winner.

Ok, so the social atmosphere is definitely lacking when compared to my former guest house. I admit that this has produced some acute feelings of homesickness for Musashi Koganei, as well as a bit of "Oh god, what have I done?" But I had lived there for year. It was time to move on, make some changes in my life. What I can say is that this new guest house is definitely cleaner and warmer. It's more expensive, but utilities are included and not paid for by coins. There are endless other little creature comforts provided here that make it feel a bit more like a home. My room is definitely much larger; I have room to breathe in and be organized. Now that I have few people to socialize with over dinner when I return home from work, I get more stuff done. Now that I have lots of cozy cafes to choose from, I am studying Japanese more. I'm also preparing my classes more, trying harder to keep in touch with people back home. I am spending more time writing songs for the band, and trying to draw pictures once in awhile. I have more time for myself. This is true. However, it feels like I am living by myself, which wasn't exactly what I'd expected. But, I'll get used to it. Everyone has to live alone at some point in their life. It builds character.

CH-CH-CHANGES: Part I

Dear me, it's been way too long since I've updated this thing. But then, you already know that. You're reading it, aren't you?

In the past several months my life in Japan has slowly changed in the slowly evolving changing sort of way, as well as in the sudden, drastically changing sort of way. Naturally, when living in a foreign country and befriending many other foreigners, people are going to leave. That has, of course, already happened a few times. Most notably, my friend Daniel left in the early fall, causing my band situation to also change. The new band, consisting of myself and three others, finally came up with a name: Das Yukon. Please don't ask for an explanation. It would only be a dull one. I guarantee you. I'll just let you know that Andy and I extremely enjoyed the hard K-sound in the work "Yukon." That's about as interesting as it could possibly get. I don't really care about the possible meanings. In fact, I'm pretty sure we tried to avoid any possible meaning of any sort (other than it meaning "The Yukon). We just like sounds. There you go.

In truth, the new band has had it's ups and downs. Actually, a lot of downs, mostly due to the fact that our drummer has canceled practice one too many times (often with fairly short notice). But then, according to stereotypes, that's to be expected of drummers, right? (Notwithstanding, my brother is an extremely responsible and punctual human being, as well as a drummer)! Of course, one can't be too hard on the poor fellow as one of the incidents involved him finding out he had suddenly developed a bad case of diabetes. I suppose that's pretty high up on the list of forgivable things.

In addition to many missed Sunday practices, I should also mention the high number of un-enjoyable/wasted practices, mainly caused by my faithfully sour disposition that never failed to appear immediately upon entering the studio. I believe this was caused by my being extremely tired. My tiredness was caused by the following things: a.) Sunday was the end of my work week b.) I hadn't had enough sleep c.)I had woken up early both Saturday and Sunday morning d.) I taught a very busy shift on Saturday involving lots of jumping around with children and sweating in my full business attire e.)I'd gone out with friends on Saturday night f.) I also worked Sunday which means I was forced to talk to people I probably didn't want to talk to all day g.) I had rushed home to change clothes, eat dinner and then go to practice h.) I had to carry a heavy backpack to practice that held my laptop, a "lovely glockenspiel" (read: a xylophone), and a pair of castanets, among other essential assorted items. i.) Sitting at the keyboard really hurts my back j.) I have terrible posture anyway.

Don't worry, though, I won't complain.

Anyway, all of the above contributed to me being as negative and cranky as possible during many a Sunday night band practice. Nothing ever sounded "good enough." Nothing was working "quite right." I just wasn't "feeling the song anymore." My awful mood inevitably infected the others, causing them also to be extremely frustrated. Oh, Sweet futility! Yet, we had booked those three hours, and by god were we going to use them.

On those days remaining, practice went great! We now have about 3 songs that are basically finished. We can play them really well, almost every time. I've finally memorized my own lyrics (that I wrote--shouldn't have been so hard). We have recorded them and uploaded the recordings to our page on Myspace. We are working on a few more songs at the moment.

our picture on myspace

As we slowly improve and build up a collection of original Das Yukon songs, our pride and excitement are tempered with apprehension. That unreliable diabetic drummer is leaving Japan in April with his Australian girlfriend. The most talented musician in our band is leaving. This means we will need to replace him, but whom with? The question remains unanswered as we also tackle the problem of whether or not we should attempt to play a show in Tokyo before his departure. That, too, remains unanswered, buut April isn't very far away so please just be patient on that one.

Either way, I'm still excited about the way things are going. I really hope we get a good replacement for Adam and we start playing shows around Tokyo. Andy and Kate are totally up for it. I'm also really enjoying writing lyrics and melodies, and horsing around in the studio (I believe some might prefer to use the horrid term, "jamming;" use what you like--I can't stop you), and of course I am very happy to be singing again on a regular basis.

If you are interested in hearing those 3 basically finished original Das Yukon tracks, you can find them here at: http://www.myspace.com/das yukon. And please befriend us if you haven't already (I know chances are you probably haven't as I can count on one hand the number of people, that I personally know, who have). Hope you enjoy!