Modern Day Drifter

Good God.  For those of you who, unlike me, don't follow the daily fluctuations of the dollar-yen exchange rate, the dollar price of this watermelon is about $6400.  That's not a typo–that's really six thousand four hundred dollars.  For a watermelon.

Incidentally, just after typing the period for that last sentence, one of these came by and I had to run outside just to get a glimpse of it and take in the full decibel onslaught.   So where was I?  Oh yes:

For a fucking watermelon!  Notice that the price of a 'regular' one will be between $200 and $300 in grocery stores.  No level of sweetness is worth that price.  And people think that Americans have too much disposable income.

It's fitting that, on the one year anniversary of my coming to Japan, the date on which I leave Japan is decided.  No, I shouldn't say the date because that implies a fixed point in time.  Rather, the approximate time of my departure is decided-early September.  Mark your calenders accordingly.

That was a bad idea.  Not the fifth glass of sake, that felt pretty good.  The tenth was borderline.  But the fifteenth (?), that was a really bad idea.  And so here I sit/stand/stumble, trying to get ready for bed after what had to be the most comical/difficult bike ride home, barely sober enough to hammer out this post (please excuse any typos, I'll edit them out in the morning).  But seriously, it doesn't matter how much I have pickled myself drinking Wild Turkey over the last five years.  I can't hold a candle to some of these Japanese men.  And I realize that that sounds ridiculous, but my God, how come he was still able to stand and make coherent sentences in a language that he really doesn't understand and I was reduced to God knows what?  I mean, yeah, I got to practice some of my Japanese, but this is riduculous.  Oh well, I suppose it's 'training' for the next time.  In the meantime, I'm going to bed.  I still can't believe this.

Thank God.  Just yesterday, most weather forecasters over here were saying that this thing was supposed to come and shellac us.  However, the kamikaze appear to have stepped up and once again steered an unstoppable invasive force away from Japan.  And no, I'm not referring to the suicide pilots of the World War II era.  One of them couldn't hold a candle to a super-typhoon.  Kamikaze literally translates as 'spirit wind' but in practice actually means something more along the lines of 'Great Wind' or 'divine wind' and refers to the whipping winds across the Sea of Japan that, way back in the 13th or 14th century, prevented the Mongols from successfully invading Japan.  Now they've progressed to the more important task of steering typhoons towards China.  And not that I have anything against the Chinese or wish any ill upon them.  It's just that I don't want to deal with another typhoon or have my flight to Bangkok delayed (or crash during takeoff) due to driving rains and blistering winds.  So good luck China.  Next time, try building a giant sea wall.

Eight years ago, during my senior year in high school, I celebrated my 18th birthday in the middle of Tropical Storm Dennis.  Eleven years ago, I received Hurricane Fran as an unrivalled birthday present from the Atlantic Ocean.  My hands are still calloused from all of the wood I chopped.  That was my 15th birthday present from my father–calloused hands.  So it's fitting that Japan's ninth typhoon of the season is hammering Hokkaido right now and I therefore will begin my 26th birthday with wind, rain, and cloudy skies.  Thanks Japan, you're the best.

But seriously, though.  This typhoon is unreal.  And that's coming from someone who grew up with two of the worst hurricanes in North Carolina history–Fran and Floyd.  Maybe it's because typoons spin in the opposite direction.  Or at least I think they do.  Can anyone verify that for me?  Regardless, I've learned today that riding a bike in a typhoon is an even worse idea than walking in one.  As is carrying an umbrella.  It only took one solid gust of wind for that thing to be completely destroyed.  Also, Japanese people don't really seem to respect typhoons in the sense that they continue to live their normal lives, going to work, driving around, meeting friends, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it is raining sideways and sometimes upwards.

We'll see how this develops overnight.  In the meantime, however, there is birthday champagne to drink.  Now we're talking.  Good company and good alcohol are the best ways to pass the time while hunkered down, hiding from the storm, and fortunately, I have both.  Now if I could just discern what kind of dinner is being prepared in the kitchen...

One of my advanced (and I mention that because it means that he knew exactly what he was saying) students, an older man in his 70's, shared the following story in class last week.  While out shopping about two weeks ago, he found a ¥10,000 (~ $92) bill in the parking lot in front of a store and observed that there was no one in the vicinity to whom it could possibly belong.  Awesome, that's a lucky day.  Except for one thing.  When I asked what he did with money, he replied that he took it to the police station and was therefore hoping that he would get it back in six months.  (Insert blank expression on reader's face.)  Why would anyone take any money they found, at least in such a relatively small quantity, to the police station to turn it in and then wait for six months in the hopes that no one claimed it?  Amazingly, the other student in the class (also very advanced) just sat there, nodding her head along in agreement, signalling to me that, in Japan, that is exactly what you do if you find any money on the ground.  You take it to the police station and fill out a form and if no one claims it within six months, it's yours.  Unbelievable.  More than any other experience thus far, this story has actually made me sit back and say 'Wow, the Japanese really are a completely different people.'  That sort of selflessness is just astounding and completely unfathomable to the average Westerner.  To wit: you have no idea how tempting it is to just walk down to the station myself and claim it.  After all, I do know where he was when he found it.  Too bad I don't know the time or day of the week though.

An earthquake struck southern Sakhalin Island this morning, just above the northernmost point of Hokkaido, and therefore Japan.  Before you ask, I'll go ahead and say that I didn't feel anything since it was a good 200 miles away, but I would like to mention a couple of things about Sakhalin Island nevertheless.  First, you can actually see Sakhalin Island from Hokkaido, even though it's at least 25 miles away.  I haven't decided yet, but I might go there for my summer vacation.  In which case I would like to make a humble request to the developer of the 'Where I've been' Facebook application: please allow an option for countries that I've seen but haven't actually been to so that I can add Russia to my map.  Second, even though Sakhalin officially belongs to Russia, the Japanese seem to think it belongs to them.  In fact, I have a Japanese map of the world on the wall in my classroom and while Russia is purple and Japan green, the southern half of Sakhalin Island is actually colored white to point out the fact that it is disputed territory.  So the fact that the international media will report this earthquake as having occurred just off Russian territory will anger the Japanese to no end.  No, really.  There's a permanent exhibit in front of the museum here in Hakodate dedicated to the return of the northern islands, of which I believe Sakhalin is one.  So here's my proposal to the Japanese government: just buy the islands from Russia.  Every knows that Russia is desperate for cash and, well, really anything.  So I'm sure they'd be willing to sell them.  Or, since demographic projections show that Russia will cease to exist in about 50 years, just wait.  Oh, hold on a second.  The same projections argue that Japan will also cease to exist in 50 years.  Well, someone has to blink first.  In the meantime, I'll just sit here and wait for the next earthquake.  That's a much more fun waiting game.

One of the problems with foreign language instruction in schools is that, no matter how much you study the language, you never learn ex ante the words you actually need to survive (and here I'm using the broadest possible definition of survive) in a country where that language is spoken.  For example, after being in Peru for a week and having fingernails that were longer than I am normally comfortable with, I realized that fingernail clippers were one of several things I had neglected to pack.  At the time, I could speak Spanish very well and could circumlocute with the best of them, but never in my textbooks had I encountered 'fingernail' or 'fingernail clippers'. Given my circumlocution abilities, however, and reasonably assuming that people in Peru also cut their nails, I knew that I would be able to purchase some from a store without problems.  And so, I vividly remember walking into a pharmacy in Cuzco, pointing to my fingernail, and saying 'Necesito algo para cortar esta parte del dedo.'  At which point the pharmacist behind the counter (I think everyone who works in a pharmacy in Peru is considered a pharmacist, which is somewhat frightening, but that's another matter) responded '¡Ah, la cortauña!'  So I left with my new cortauña (and expanded vocabulary: uña-fingernail, cortauña-fingernail clippers) and was able to cut my nails that afternoon, but began to realize that there are many things we do on a day-to-day basis that are never covered in language classes.

Another topic of concern for anyone moving to a foreign country that is never covered in class is the problem/adventure of getting a haircut.  Let's face it, if you are unable to effectively communicate how you want your hair cut to the barber or stylist, you are stuck with it for at least a few weeks, making it a much more serious problem than having long fingernails.  You can't exactly stick your hair in your pocket to keep it from view (and if you can, then you've either gone too long without a haircut in your new country, which again illustrates the communication problem, or you're just gross and I don't want to see pictures of you).

Now I've gotten three haircuts in Japan and each time it has been somewhat of an experience.  I know enough Japanese now that I can circumlocute more or less how I want my hair to look.  I can tell them that I only need a haircut (カットだけ) and that I'd like it to be short (ショット).  And granted, it's difficult to screw up a crew cut, but in the event that they do, I can always instruct them 'もすこし' and thereby fix the problem.  However, during my haircut over the weekend, I discovered the limits of my Japanese, at least when it relates to my personal grooming.

You see, in Japan, it turns out that they really don't like hair on the face and body, even if it is just light peach fuzz.  Being a hairy dude with thick stubble and light peach fuzz on most of my face, you can imagine what the barbers think of me.  I generally try to keep my stubble groomed and always tell the barber to ignore it, but I'd never really paid much attention to the peach fuzz.  Right up until the woman who cut my hair on Sunday decided to shave it off of my ears with a straight razor.  That's right, she actually shaved my ears.  With a straight razor.  Lobes and the tops.  And hopefully now this somewhat rambling post is coming together.  You see, I wish that I had known that this was a customary practice, or that I had learned enough Japanese to prevent her from shaving my ears, or that I had been able to ask exactly what the haircut entailed.  Now I don't look ridiculous and you wouldn't even know that my ears had been shaved if you were to look at me (even closely).  But it's just the point of it and not being able to do little things like get a haircut without being surprised or having communication problems.  But then again, maybe that's the real benefit of travel.  And after all, I've gotten a whole post out of this very amusing story.

Just two months after I wrote this, Nestle has launched at least four new Kit Kat flavors over here.  First it was a new and improved yubari melon, then came pineapple and orange, and just yesterday, my mouth savored the taste of kiwi fruit and chocolate delicately blended together and split into two long rectangular prisms.  The trouble is, I'm not sure which of these new flavors (maybe the new yubari melon doesn't really count) would make the list and, more importantly, which ones would have to be removed from the first incarnation.  It's really impossible to keep up with all of this.  It might even be more frustrating than having to find that damn hair gel for that kid two summers ago.  So I think the best course of action will just be to do an updated list when I leave Japan, whenever that may be.  In the meantime, America, I promise that I will continue to do my best in researching Kit Kat flavors here.  I know it's going to be difficult, but I accept my duty without hesitation or purpose of evasion.

Attention Southerners who read this, I need your help.  A community center near here has a foreign cooking class in which various foreigners in the Hakodate area show Japanese housewives how to cook food from their home country.  Being a foreigner, I've been talked (more like volunteered) into leading one of the classes.  I've decided to do Southern food since most of the Americans around here are from Massachusetts and I have a chance to actually feed them something they've never had before.  The current menu is pulled pork, cole slaw, and banana pudding pie for dessert.  However, I'm still taking suggestions, so if you have any, please send them my way.  I promise I won't misrepresent or let down our region of the country.  At least not in terms of food.  Anything else, well, that's another matter.