I wanted to include this in the medical check account since it was the same day, but it didn't fit.
I said with the medical checks that they are done in conference halls, and that you are assigned one of two locations (or can pick from two if you reschedule). I said it was another inconvenience, but I didn't really highlight how inconvenient it was for me, or most people. See, one office building is located in Itabashi, outside of Shinjuku. That's an hour away. The other was in Omiya, located in Saitama Prefecture (the one I live in) but opposite of where I live and with no trains to connect them. That puts it at an hour and a half away.
I went with Itabashi because it was near Shinjuku, and I more or less know how to navigate that area. I hadn't been to the area in a few weeks, because I've been staying at my apartment to study and relax for the FSOT, so it was sort of nice to go back that way.
I had to change stations at Takadanobaba, the place where I would go ice skating (haven't been in a couple of months). It was in Takadanobaba that I got stopped by the police.
I can't remember if I mentioned koban here before, but koban are like miniature police stations. They're all over the place. There is always one near a station. I was passing the koban at Takadanobaba Station when I heard urgent voices, understanding enough that I was being told to stop/wait.
One of the officers comes out, and started asking questions. The officer still in the koban was acting a bit shifty, and there were other people around him. My guess is he was getting hammered with questions too. It just added to this kind of tense environment that I was pulled into.
The officer questioning me was being too urgent about it, and I think he was starting to pick up that I was having trouble with his speaking, because I distinctly heard "where" at some point. And, at that point, I lifted my sunglasses to show him my face better. The--hilarious--reaction just ended up being this look of dread with a small "oh".
I had to say three different ways that I was American. First, I said US. Apparently, people in Japan are unfamiliar with the term. And, unfamiliar with United States. The third try was just "America" and that was understood. The officer tried to ask me something else, and kept drawing a box with his hands. At that point, I just pulled out my medical packet so that he knew I had to be somewhere and had no involvement in whatever it was going on. My guess it someone lost a bag or ID, and they were wondering if it was someone I knew.
So, that was my brief run-in with the law. What was really funny was I was curious about the sunglasses thing, so yesterday I had the opportunity to test it out again. On my way to work, a college girl advertising for the station mall jumped--literally--in front of me, and started talking a mile a minute. She tried to hand me the coupons, or info on a credit card, or whatever it was. I took off my sunglasses, and she just went "oh...sorry" and backed off.
My (work required) makeup hides the red tones in my skin, so I guess without that red and with my eyes hidden, people assume I'm Japanese. But, when the population is 90+% Japanese I guess that's a natural assumption. I'm very amused by it.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
Sunday, September 15, 2019
What it's Like to...
Part of working for a Japanese company means I am required to get a health check. See, I pay into the national healthcare system. It's taken directly out of my pay (along with the national pension). So, here is how it all starts:
You can reschedule your appointment online so long as it is two days before. You can switch the language to English, and enough will be translated so that you can navigate. (Websites are not 100% translated, and often the English is nonsensical. This is why I can vaguely read "morning" and "next day" in kanji due to having to reschedule mail a few times.)
First, you have to pick your location. Health checks are done at two locations, and each only has a limited number of spots and days. Health checks are also split between men and women. I think the men only have two locations to pick from too, but I'm not 100% sure. I do know that the guys I know had no worries rescheduling their appointments. Lots of open spots. But, I had a heck of a time, and I had to do it twice.
Health checks do not take place at a medical facility. They happen in a conference room. Dozens of women are packed together, but somewhat separate due to the different stations slapped together and hidden by tarps. You check in by handing your medical packet they sent you to a receptionist. She asks what your name is to confirm (this for me was a little annoying because I was the only gaijin, so naturally I was the only one with my name, and it makes zero sense for someone to pretend to be me for a medical check).
After checking in, you go sit among a group of women at the first station. There are chairs, and they move down the line. So, basically, you sit, stand 30 seconds later, shift to the next seat, and repeat for the next 20 minutes until it's your turn. All of the waiting areas in this open space are structured the same. And, you always have to wait. Just like each station asks what your name is. There are around ten stations, but you don't have to go to all of them unless you're pregnant or something like that.
After all this mess, I had to go into work. That night, I had my receipt saying I visited for my health check. I'll know the results in a month or two. ...That is absolutely ridiculous. So, not only did it take months for me to get an appointment, but the appointment was inconvenient. The place was in a conference hall with a bunch of other people, all the stations run by technicians or volunteers with only two doctors present. The x-rays were done in an alleyway. And it'll take months for the results of the most standard, basic things that I know for a fact you can do in a 24-hour cycle.
I hate socialized healthcare.
- an email is sent to all offices saying all employees need the check
- a medical package will be mailed to your office with your name on it
- an appointment is scheduled for you, with the location picked
- but, this will be inconvenient for any number of people in your office, so you will need to reschedule
You can reschedule your appointment online so long as it is two days before. You can switch the language to English, and enough will be translated so that you can navigate. (Websites are not 100% translated, and often the English is nonsensical. This is why I can vaguely read "morning" and "next day" in kanji due to having to reschedule mail a few times.)
First, you have to pick your location. Health checks are done at two locations, and each only has a limited number of spots and days. Health checks are also split between men and women. I think the men only have two locations to pick from too, but I'm not 100% sure. I do know that the guys I know had no worries rescheduling their appointments. Lots of open spots. But, I had a heck of a time, and I had to do it twice.
Health checks do not take place at a medical facility. They happen in a conference room. Dozens of women are packed together, but somewhat separate due to the different stations slapped together and hidden by tarps. You check in by handing your medical packet they sent you to a receptionist. She asks what your name is to confirm (this for me was a little annoying because I was the only gaijin, so naturally I was the only one with my name, and it makes zero sense for someone to pretend to be me for a medical check).
After checking in, you go sit among a group of women at the first station. There are chairs, and they move down the line. So, basically, you sit, stand 30 seconds later, shift to the next seat, and repeat for the next 20 minutes until it's your turn. All of the waiting areas in this open space are structured the same. And, you always have to wait. Just like each station asks what your name is. There are around ten stations, but you don't have to go to all of them unless you're pregnant or something like that.
- First station is height and weight. After they do this, they hand you the numbers and ask you if they are correct. Which... is all kinds of a dumb question.
- Second, you get your vision tested. They ask if you wear contacts (they have the same word so that you know easily what they're asking). Then, you do the test while still wearing your contacts.
- Third, blood pressure. Before this, they ask if you are pregnant. Or, in my case, it was just "baby in" because the woman spoke as much English as I do Japanese. That was probably the most effective way to ask that I've heard yet. XD
- Fourth, they take your blood. Three vials. It wasn't bad, but the woman doing it was kind of unpleasant. I'll write it off as just a long, bad day though.
- Fifth is hearing. This one was sort of funny, because they set up a second chair for your bag. I thought the lady was telling me to sit there, so bounced between the two seats until I realized she was saying the word for bag. Which is a different word from "shopping bag".
- Sixth was measuring your guts. Lift your shirt and under shirt, and pull your pants an inch down so they can put a tape measurer around your guts. Not waist, but were your organs would be all nestled.
- Seventh, and this was awkward, they do some type of electrode reading. You are told to unhook your bra and lay on the table on your back. And, without warning, a woman will basically yank your shirts and bar into your face, feel around on your chest, and start putting electrodes on you. She tells you to "relax" and disappears, coming back a couple of seconds later to disconnect all the suction cups. You're given a little time to look like you didn't just get roughed up by a woman nearing her 60s, and ushered back out through the tarp.
- Eighth, you wait for the longest wait yet--to see an actual doctor and not just a volunteer. For me, the doctor asked if it was okay to speak Japanese. I said only slightly, so she spoke English. My visit was extremely short. It started with asking my name, asking if Japanese was okay, asking how long I've lived in Japan while feeling my lymph nodes, listening to my lungs, and asking if everything was okay.
- Ninth, a short wait to hand in my sheet of paper and to be told how to get to the x-ray station. The woman I was handing my info to confirmed my name, again. She didn't speak English at all, but could understand me, so I just repeated what I figured she was trying to say to confirm the directions.
- Tenth, and for me the last, was the chest x-ray. The x-ray station was a bus parked in an alley behind the building. This was the first time I saw a man during this whole time. He wasn't the technician, but the driver. He just stood outside the bus and gestured to the chairs set up on the sidewalk. Because it was a bus, the area was small. Only three of us could be in there at a time. I was lucky, because I was in my work clothes and my office dress code is really corporate (except the colors) so I'm required to wear a camisole under my shirts. Other girls weren't as lucky, and had to strip for the x-ray. And, nothing reminds you that you're in a country where public baths are still a social thing like girls just stripping down like no one else is plastered next to them.
After all this mess, I had to go into work. That night, I had my receipt saying I visited for my health check. I'll know the results in a month or two. ...That is absolutely ridiculous. So, not only did it take months for me to get an appointment, but the appointment was inconvenient. The place was in a conference hall with a bunch of other people, all the stations run by technicians or volunteers with only two doctors present. The x-rays were done in an alleyway. And it'll take months for the results of the most standard, basic things that I know for a fact you can do in a 24-hour cycle.
I hate socialized healthcare.
Monday, September 9, 2019
A Random Musing
I have severely neglected this blog. I had some small adventures not related to human trafficking, but nothing that would make for a coherent post. The fact that I had to write a sentence like that is a surreal musing in itself, but not the main point of this update.
I'm assuming that everyone reading these posts knows I do--or did--a lot of writing. One reason I wanted to come to Japan was because I love manga, and wanted to do a manga-style story focused on girls' hockey that would take place in Japan. I needed experience with the culture and all that junk. (Related aside: I saw a girl with hockey equipment in my station earlier this week.)
I'm not a fan of my job, but it is giving me the opportunity to be around a variety of kids (and adults). In the last month or so, I've been coaching a handful of kids in public speaking. It gives me more one-on-one time with them verses having six of them shoved into a room with me against their will. (Although, I think kids can tell that I don't want to be there either, so we've come to a sort of understanding, ha ha.)
First, when I'm standing there with a horrifically shy, 9yo girl glued to my side because she's deathly afraid to speak in front of others, there is the realization that I'm old enough to be her mother. It's a sombering feeling. Well... that's too depressing, but it is eye-opening and a little uncomfortable knowing if I'd lived my life normally I'd have a kid about that age.
Uncomfortable more because time goes quick, and I did think I'd have a kid by now. I can with all honesty say that me 10 years ago would not have thought I'd be sitting in a small Japanese city I've never heard of, studying for some weird government test because of frustrations over human trafficking. I guess neither did the me on May 19th, but, yeah, curveball.
Second, because I'm around kids a lot and related to the first realization, I'm much more aware of just how horrific some of my characters' backstories are. And, I mean, I knew it was absolutely terrible, that was part of the point, but... yikes.
So, I think what I'm getting at is that sometimes it's good to sit back and age. It's good to gain more world/life experience, and to gain additional perspective. With stories especially, we get really excited and rush through a draft or planning or something. And that's important, because it gives you a launching point, but I also think that it's important to age a bit. (With some stories/characters anyway.)
The two examples I have are my stories MI and Rebs. MI, as a vague idea, is over 20 years old, and the first time it was written down was 17 years ago. I was the same age as the protagonists. I knew it was violent, and what they were doing was abnormal and all that jazz, but it didn't really click. It did a little more when I rewrote it, in my late teens-early 20s, but I was divorced from people in that age bracket.
Now, I'm older than the protagonists' parents by a couple of years, and I see kids 4-21 almost daily. 4-21. That "21" is an important one to note, because in-story, that's the age many of the protagonists get married, or start having kids. I can't even imagine that. Half the time I'm focused on just getting the 21yos comfortable enough to talk out loud. (Being around this age is helping a lot with FT too.)
Most of the kids I deal with are 10-11. That's how old MI's Farrah and Dionne were when they lost their mom. That was how old Farrah was walking out of the American desert, and how old Dionne was when she started to plot rebellion. Nevada was not that much older. And... just Nevada at 13-14 was all kinds of yikes. I knew that back as a kid.
That's how old any of the characters in Rebs. were during one of the key monstrous points in their life. I had picked 11 purposely because it was young. There is more agency at 11, but it is still really, really young. I mean, when I'm coaching an 11yo girl on how to poke her fingertips discreetly with her fingernails to keep from going numb and to avoid clutching the hem of her shirt for dear life because in a couple weeks a bunch of people will be staring at her and judging her while she delivers a speech, you do realize how young she is. And, I also realize that Rebs.' Alouette was the same age when she hid in a buffalo carcass to avoid being murdered.
I haven't exactly liked this move. Part of it probably had to do with Risk, but a lot was the job and the parts of the culture I just can't handle (like child porn and "suicide season"). I was derailed from finding some semblance of... I guess ordinary, after the whole human trafficking thing. That gave me a goal, but it wasn't really something I could point at and go "yep, glad I went there". Gaining this additional perspective might be though. Because, if I can write these characters with this new insight, it'll make them stronger and make the stories better. The dark grays get a bit darker, so all the colors get a bit brighter sort of thing.
I'm assuming that everyone reading these posts knows I do--or did--a lot of writing. One reason I wanted to come to Japan was because I love manga, and wanted to do a manga-style story focused on girls' hockey that would take place in Japan. I needed experience with the culture and all that junk. (Related aside: I saw a girl with hockey equipment in my station earlier this week.)
I'm not a fan of my job, but it is giving me the opportunity to be around a variety of kids (and adults). In the last month or so, I've been coaching a handful of kids in public speaking. It gives me more one-on-one time with them verses having six of them shoved into a room with me against their will. (Although, I think kids can tell that I don't want to be there either, so we've come to a sort of understanding, ha ha.)
The musing is more of a two-parter:
First, when I'm standing there with a horrifically shy, 9yo girl glued to my side because she's deathly afraid to speak in front of others, there is the realization that I'm old enough to be her mother. It's a sombering feeling. Well... that's too depressing, but it is eye-opening and a little uncomfortable knowing if I'd lived my life normally I'd have a kid about that age.
Uncomfortable more because time goes quick, and I did think I'd have a kid by now. I can with all honesty say that me 10 years ago would not have thought I'd be sitting in a small Japanese city I've never heard of, studying for some weird government test because of frustrations over human trafficking. I guess neither did the me on May 19th, but, yeah, curveball.
Second, because I'm around kids a lot and related to the first realization, I'm much more aware of just how horrific some of my characters' backstories are. And, I mean, I knew it was absolutely terrible, that was part of the point, but... yikes.
So, I think what I'm getting at is that sometimes it's good to sit back and age. It's good to gain more world/life experience, and to gain additional perspective. With stories especially, we get really excited and rush through a draft or planning or something. And that's important, because it gives you a launching point, but I also think that it's important to age a bit. (With some stories/characters anyway.)
The two examples I have are my stories MI and Rebs. MI, as a vague idea, is over 20 years old, and the first time it was written down was 17 years ago. I was the same age as the protagonists. I knew it was violent, and what they were doing was abnormal and all that jazz, but it didn't really click. It did a little more when I rewrote it, in my late teens-early 20s, but I was divorced from people in that age bracket.
Now, I'm older than the protagonists' parents by a couple of years, and I see kids 4-21 almost daily. 4-21. That "21" is an important one to note, because in-story, that's the age many of the protagonists get married, or start having kids. I can't even imagine that. Half the time I'm focused on just getting the 21yos comfortable enough to talk out loud. (Being around this age is helping a lot with FT too.)
Most of the kids I deal with are 10-11. That's how old MI's Farrah and Dionne were when they lost their mom. That was how old Farrah was walking out of the American desert, and how old Dionne was when she started to plot rebellion. Nevada was not that much older. And... just Nevada at 13-14 was all kinds of yikes. I knew that back as a kid.
That's how old any of the characters in Rebs. were during one of the key monstrous points in their life. I had picked 11 purposely because it was young. There is more agency at 11, but it is still really, really young. I mean, when I'm coaching an 11yo girl on how to poke her fingertips discreetly with her fingernails to keep from going numb and to avoid clutching the hem of her shirt for dear life because in a couple weeks a bunch of people will be staring at her and judging her while she delivers a speech, you do realize how young she is. And, I also realize that Rebs.' Alouette was the same age when she hid in a buffalo carcass to avoid being murdered.
I haven't exactly liked this move. Part of it probably had to do with Risk, but a lot was the job and the parts of the culture I just can't handle (like child porn and "suicide season"). I was derailed from finding some semblance of... I guess ordinary, after the whole human trafficking thing. That gave me a goal, but it wasn't really something I could point at and go "yep, glad I went there". Gaining this additional perspective might be though. Because, if I can write these characters with this new insight, it'll make them stronger and make the stories better. The dark grays get a bit darker, so all the colors get a bit brighter sort of thing.
Monday, August 19, 2019
Last Kabukicho Update
Here's the thing, the painful truth of it all, there is a reason the UN and the US designate Japan as just meeting the bare minimum for fighting human trafficking: they don't see it as a real issue.
Human trafficking and sex slavery is technically not illegal here. Just like underage porn is not really illegal. I have seen porn of kindergartens. Not adults or teens wearing kindergarten uniforms (but yes that is 100% a thing too) but actual drawings of people made to look as correct to a 4/5 year old girl as possible. And people buy it. The underage porn is the higher market. But, hey, what's age when the national law of consent is 13?
Yeah, yeah, prefectural laws usually raise it to 20, but that does not change that the national--again, national--law of consent is 13. And because women here are still seen more as... others, this law does little boys no favors either. Oh, yes, I know, the law for homosexual relations says they need to be 18 to consent. It also says they can be fired everyone outside of the Tokyo area.
Relating this back to Kabukicho, because women are others and because of the law of consent and porn in this country, there is no movement on sex trafficking. Gaijin are also 'others'. The crackdowns in Kabukicho focus on making sure the junior high fetish clubs stay to a minimum. Again, not high school, but junior high.
And so, to end my rant of how there is absolutely no progress in just getting a waitress or two out of forced sexual labor, I've started the process for taking the Foreign Service Officer Test (FSOT). I need to try to get the test scheduled on my day off in 5 weeks. If I pass, I have to go to Washington in March for an interview. I'd need to break my contract here, but honestly, the work culture and a bunch of stuff regarding other parts of the culture is plain awful. If I end up a FSO, my first order of business will be going after the sex trade in Kabukicho. You cannot be part of the UN and ignore something like that.
Human trafficking and sex slavery is technically not illegal here. Just like underage porn is not really illegal. I have seen porn of kindergartens. Not adults or teens wearing kindergarten uniforms (but yes that is 100% a thing too) but actual drawings of people made to look as correct to a 4/5 year old girl as possible. And people buy it. The underage porn is the higher market. But, hey, what's age when the national law of consent is 13?
Yeah, yeah, prefectural laws usually raise it to 20, but that does not change that the national--again, national--law of consent is 13. And because women here are still seen more as... others, this law does little boys no favors either. Oh, yes, I know, the law for homosexual relations says they need to be 18 to consent. It also says they can be fired everyone outside of the Tokyo area.
Relating this back to Kabukicho, because women are others and because of the law of consent and porn in this country, there is no movement on sex trafficking. Gaijin are also 'others'. The crackdowns in Kabukicho focus on making sure the junior high fetish clubs stay to a minimum. Again, not high school, but junior high.
And so, to end my rant of how there is absolutely no progress in just getting a waitress or two out of forced sexual labor, I've started the process for taking the Foreign Service Officer Test (FSOT). I need to try to get the test scheduled on my day off in 5 weeks. If I pass, I have to go to Washington in March for an interview. I'd need to break my contract here, but honestly, the work culture and a bunch of stuff regarding other parts of the culture is plain awful. If I end up a FSO, my first order of business will be going after the sex trade in Kabukicho. You cannot be part of the UN and ignore something like that.
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
When I Was...
I recently broke down and got some pocket Wi-Fi. Not because I needed Google Maps, like the recommended reason to purchase this, but because I wanted to play Pokémon GO. It's been difficult to make anything near progress in gym fighting or coin collecting.
So, I was outside fighting in a gym during my lunch break. I hear a camera shutter, and look up. A girl and her boyfriend took a picture of me. She had stood behind me and posed, and he had taken the picture.
And that's the time when I was used as a photo prop so a couple could say they saw a gaijin.
So, I was outside fighting in a gym during my lunch break. I hear a camera shutter, and look up. A girl and her boyfriend took a picture of me. She had stood behind me and posed, and he had taken the picture.
And that's the time when I was used as a photo prop so a couple could say they saw a gaijin.
Friday, August 2, 2019
Gaijin Encounters
I think I explained it before, but "gaijin" is basically "foreigner". Japan is up in the 90s for pure Japanese population, so gaijin tend to stand out. For better or worse.
There are different types of gaijin though. Or, I'd say you have two different categories. You have visitors. I even include students on a one semester study abroad under here. Then you have the expat. This country is very different if you are a gaijin and visiting verse a gaijin and working/living here. (Then you get other differences based on ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation but let's just stick with the two.)
There have been a handful of times now when I've run into another expat and we knew we were both expats. It's a bizarre experience that I can't exactly explain. But, I'll try.
In Japan, people don't look at each other. They walk around staring off, or staring down. That's another way gaijin, especially Westerners, stand out. (This is why I get all warm and fuzzy when I see parents with their kids and they're actually interacting with them instead of the more normal silence.)
I was waiting around at Ikebukuro Station one afternoon, using the free station internet to catch some Pokémon. I looked up, and coming into the station was a gaijin. Nothing unusual. Ikebukuro is a popular, urban area so it is full of gaijin. But this was different. We made full eye contact, starting grinning like two kids that knew the same secret, nodded recognition, and that was it.
The encounter lasted no more than half a second, but in that half second it was clear that this gaijin was a fellow expat.
I would've written this off as an isolated incident except that it happened again. This time not in a busy place like Ikebukuro, but in my own town. At the station mall slash grocery store.
It was a weekend, so I was off work before the stores closed. I've started cutting through the mall and going out through the grocery store on those nights, because it's very hot and sometimes I trick myself into thinking I'll buy some groceries so that I won't need to on my day off. But, since I'm always too tired and with just a half hour before everything closes, it has become nothing more than a shortcut.
I was coming down the escalator, exhausted from working all day. When I'm halfway down, a gaijin passes the bottom. He paused, stepped back, and looked at me. We both grinned, nodded, and went our separate ways without a word. I'm fully convinced he was another expat, and that he recognized my exhaustion.
The final encounter for this post will be an example that happened a couple of weeks ago. This also occurred outside my station. It actually happened outside the door I exited after the second encounter.
I was on the tail end of a cold, so I was wandering around with a surgical mask. It was also bright, so I was wearing sunglasses. With my face 95% obscure, maybe I should have been so surprised to have two young guys holding a "Let's Speak English" sign yell out: "What's up? Do you speak English?" But that is what happened.
Keep in mind, I wasn't near them. I was about twenty feet away. Also keep in mind that this is Japan, where talking to your friend in an audible voice on the train is considered rude. I tell them I'm American, and they got super excited because they were also American. Me knowing they can't move from their spot under the tree (because they were advertising for the English language church in the area) I go over to struggle to talk, because my voice wasn't yet 100% from losing it.
I find out they've been their two weeks, and were having a difficult time getting Japanese people to talk to them. Let me, again, remind you that they shout at me as I was walking by. But, I wish them good luck and say I'll attend one of their English parties sometime.
And that is an example of non-expats. They'll live here for a couple of months tops, and then go home to speak a few phrases in Japanese and talk about the great--and slightly odd--time they had. Because, as I started with, Japan is different if you are a gaijin and you live and work here. If you work here, really work here, you recognize that exhaustion. And if you are a gaijin that works and lives here, you know that no matter how nice and great people are, there is an unspoken barrier. You are a gaijin. You are not Japanese. That is an unchangeable fact.
I was on the tail end of a cold, so I was wandering around with a surgical mask. It was also bright, so I was wearing sunglasses. With my face 95% obscure, maybe I should have been so surprised to have two young guys holding a "Let's Speak English" sign yell out: "What's up? Do you speak English?" But that is what happened.
Keep in mind, I wasn't near them. I was about twenty feet away. Also keep in mind that this is Japan, where talking to your friend in an audible voice on the train is considered rude. I tell them I'm American, and they got super excited because they were also American. Me knowing they can't move from their spot under the tree (because they were advertising for the English language church in the area) I go over to struggle to talk, because my voice wasn't yet 100% from losing it.
I find out they've been their two weeks, and were having a difficult time getting Japanese people to talk to them. Let me, again, remind you that they shout at me as I was walking by. But, I wish them good luck and say I'll attend one of their English parties sometime.
And that is an example of non-expats. They'll live here for a couple of months tops, and then go home to speak a few phrases in Japanese and talk about the great--and slightly odd--time they had. Because, as I started with, Japan is different if you are a gaijin and you live and work here. If you work here, really work here, you recognize that exhaustion. And if you are a gaijin that works and lives here, you know that no matter how nice and great people are, there is an unspoken barrier. You are a gaijin. You are not Japanese. That is an unchangeable fact.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Return to Shinjuku
Got kind of busy there, but I'm back with a recent exploit. And one that doesn't involve human trafficking.
Monday is supposed to be my day off, but as luck had it the week I was sick enough to lose my voice (causing mild panic among my staff as my voice is a huge factor in my job) was also a 6 day work week for me. The Monday I desperately needed to have off instead was spent on more training.
Now my staff did try on three occasions to reschedule this, but I turned it down. I wanted to get it over with, and I didn't want another day off taken away for it when I was already mentally prepped to lose this one. Plus, they would have tossed me with a different group and not the ones I lived with for 2 weeks. So, I declined and just went feeling lousy. I'm paying for it a bit now.
After the tedious, and honestly pointless, 8 hours of training everyone went off their separate ways. Me and the kid in Hokkaido once again went off together to Shinjuku. The weather was even the same as the night we found the slave in Kabukicho.
The original plan was to go back to get a photo of the branding, but with me sick I called it off. Instead, we walked arpund and tried very hard to stay out of Kabukicho. Failing and walking by the restaurant.
But, as said, this isn't about Kabukicho. While we we're walking around, a little old homeless lady was wandering around trying to give change to foreigners. It was the same old lady that tried giving me money. She followed us a bit, not recognizing me, and kept tapping the kid on his back trying to get his attention. I told her "no change" and she left. Then had to explain she gave change to people, because it is the weirdest experience being chased by an old homeless lady waving a coin at you.
She stays around the same area which is near the bookstore where I first met her. I might try bringing her a lunch at some point, since I don't know how giving her money would work with her trying to give it to random gaijin.
Friday, July 19, 2019
That Time My Managers Shrieked...
Here's a thing about working for a Japanese company that is probably a bit different than working for an American one: performance reviews. Now, that doesn't sound different on the surface. Employees, especially new ones, undergo reviews all the time. What sets the Japanese model apart is that you are given a handout--much like you would in the 4th grade--and then you grade yourself, and write comments beneath each section. Your managers have this same handout, and they grade you. You then give them your copy so they can look it over, make a scan for records, and then you set a meeting date and time.
You go into this meeting with no knowledge of how they graded you, but with them having full knowledge of how you graded yourself. The meeting always starts the same: thanking each other for setting the date and time, and for taking the time to meet (when you really had zero say in it), and then small talk. Small talk is a cornerstone in Japanese business. All meetings start with 5-10 minutes of nothing, whereas in America there is no beating around the bush. All parties understand why there is a meeting, so you just have your meeting. This style is seen as abrasive over here.
Small talk is not my favorite. I personally think it is a waste of time, most especially in a meeting setting when everyone knows the purpose of meeting. But, I'm a team player--at least at work--so we start with small talk after our 1-2 minutes of thanking each other was over.
One manager opened our small talk portions with the ever awkward question of "if you stayed in America how would your life be different?" which sounds more rude than it was meant. She was trying to ask if I was homesick, and missed what opportunities I may've had lined up over there. But, this brings us to why this was awkward and why I had two middle aged Japanese women shriek "Nani!" and "What!" loud enough that the rest of the office heard.
See, they knew my degree was National Security and Intelligence related, but that isn't something that fully connected. Even in America, that gets some eyebrows raised. In Japan, where everything is "safe" and peachy, well... disconnect is an understatement. So, after a pause of trying to figure out how to word my answer, I said "well... I probably would've been hunting terrorists or something, so... yeah my life here is very different."
Cue the shrieks. Cue me restating my degree, and trying desperately to get them to just start the meeting. It took awhile. they started asking me follow up questions like if the building was safe.
So, yes, performance reviews are awkward. I don't like the style they're done at over here. All this could've been avoided if we didn't do small talk.
You go into this meeting with no knowledge of how they graded you, but with them having full knowledge of how you graded yourself. The meeting always starts the same: thanking each other for setting the date and time, and for taking the time to meet (when you really had zero say in it), and then small talk. Small talk is a cornerstone in Japanese business. All meetings start with 5-10 minutes of nothing, whereas in America there is no beating around the bush. All parties understand why there is a meeting, so you just have your meeting. This style is seen as abrasive over here.
Small talk is not my favorite. I personally think it is a waste of time, most especially in a meeting setting when everyone knows the purpose of meeting. But, I'm a team player--at least at work--so we start with small talk after our 1-2 minutes of thanking each other was over.
One manager opened our small talk portions with the ever awkward question of "if you stayed in America how would your life be different?" which sounds more rude than it was meant. She was trying to ask if I was homesick, and missed what opportunities I may've had lined up over there. But, this brings us to why this was awkward and why I had two middle aged Japanese women shriek "Nani!" and "What!" loud enough that the rest of the office heard.
See, they knew my degree was National Security and Intelligence related, but that isn't something that fully connected. Even in America, that gets some eyebrows raised. In Japan, where everything is "safe" and peachy, well... disconnect is an understatement. So, after a pause of trying to figure out how to word my answer, I said "well... I probably would've been hunting terrorists or something, so... yeah my life here is very different."
Cue the shrieks. Cue me restating my degree, and trying desperately to get them to just start the meeting. It took awhile. they started asking me follow up questions like if the building was safe.
So, yes, performance reviews are awkward. I don't like the style they're done at over here. All this could've been avoided if we didn't do small talk.
Friday, July 5, 2019
The Return to the Den
After stumbling upon a slave in Kabukicho, I skipped the area the following week. I'd been approached on the train platform shortly after splitting off from my co-worker that night. It struck me as odd that a East European man came out of nowhere and started talking to me, and then sat with me for almost an hour on the train. My first instinct had been to lie, and that's not a good sign.
Now, I didn't want to get this kid wrapped up in things further, but no one answered the call to go to dinner. If I was wandering in there alone, I needed someone to know where I was and it only made sense to tell the guy who was in on it too.
I don't go to Shinjuku until I'm getting ready to head home. So, for the day I went to Yokohama. I took pictures of things. Took some video. It was horribly hot, so I wasn't there long. But, long enough for my phone to rapidly drain.
I hit Ikebukuro instead of Shinjuku to go home. Sent the kid a text telling him it was off for the week so he wouldn't worry. This was the first time I hadn't gone to Shinjuku since arriving in Japan. It was a weird feeling.
I planned out a strategy for the 10th.
I put out an offer to go to Nakano, and got a taker. I also set up skating in Takadanobaba. This set me up with two possible "backups".
So, to play it safe, I didn't go to Kabukicho the following week. I still went to Shinjuku, but stuck to the main part of the city. I made a plan to hit up the restaurant June 3rd to get pictures. I sent an order to the kid in Hokkaido to report me as missing if I didn't contact him by 1am, and went off.
Quick aside: When we left that restaurant, we came to an unspoken agreement that this was a secret.
Now, I didn't want to get this kid wrapped up in things further, but no one answered the call to go to dinner. If I was wandering in there alone, I needed someone to know where I was and it only made sense to tell the guy who was in on it too.
I don't go to Shinjuku until I'm getting ready to head home. So, for the day I went to Yokohama. I took pictures of things. Took some video. It was horribly hot, so I wasn't there long. But, long enough for my phone to rapidly drain.
I hit Ikebukuro instead of Shinjuku to go home. Sent the kid a text telling him it was off for the week so he wouldn't worry. This was the first time I hadn't gone to Shinjuku since arriving in Japan. It was a weird feeling.
I planned out a strategy for the 10th.
I put out an offer to go to Nakano, and got a taker. I also set up skating in Takadanobaba. This set me up with two possible "backups".
Naturally, not everyone gets along. I met up in Nakano with one guy before skating. I invited him to come along, but he can't stand the guy I was going to skate with, That was a blimp since he did want to go to Shinjuku that night.
I figured out arrangements. Skate for an hour, cut the second guy off since it wasn't known if he wanted to go to Shinjuku, and meet up with the first guy again. But, of course, things don't work out that smoothly. My original plan was to bum around, and take him to dinner around 9:30. Things had to change for two reasons: first, we were meeting up with a girl from our training group, and second, Aladdin was showing. Both wanted to watch the movie. I agreed, but with no earlier showing available (you have to reserve your tickets for movies here) this put our end time after 11. The restaurant would be closed.
I was carrying my skates and a stuffed Pikachu. I asked the guy to hold my things while I went to check on something. But, this didn't work. With easily 20 minutes+ until our co-worker arrived, he decided to come along, and asked many questions about where I was going.
We'd eaten not long ago, so when we stopped outside the restaurant, naturally, he was confused. He started up the questions--or never stopped them. I told him that we weren't eating. I then told him that I needed him to stop asking questions, and do what I tell him.
The plan was easy. We go inside, ask to see a menu, and he pretends to read it while I get pictures and videos. Two snags: this guy wouldn't stop asking questions, muttering the entire time, and it was too early. The restaurant only recently re-opened for the dinner hours. There were no waitress on staff.
I hand the menu back, and thank the waiter. We leave, and before we're even out of the restaurant completely, the questions start back up. I wait until we're out of ear-shot to answer: "This is a front for human trafficking. No one can know." Saying he looked shocked is an understatement.
I briefly told what had happened as we walked back to the theater. I explained that Monday morning I spent emailing charities and gathering information on organizations to get more attention focused on the area. I do at least a walk through the Kabukicho area, but don't stop in anywhere. I explained our co-worker knew, and that I have had to give the "if I disappear" order to him. I re-stressed no one can know right before we called out to our co-worker and went into the theater together.
The week after, I walked through Kabukicho and had a man watch me too carefully near the restaurant. Most likely it was nothing, but I'm skipping the area for the next couple of weeks just to play it safe.
There are two outcomes for the end of this that I see as the best. The first is that patrols break up the ring, or significantly damage it. The second, all this is nothing more than a horrible misunderstanding.
I've never wanted to be wrong so bad.
I figured out arrangements. Skate for an hour, cut the second guy off since it wasn't known if he wanted to go to Shinjuku, and meet up with the first guy again. But, of course, things don't work out that smoothly. My original plan was to bum around, and take him to dinner around 9:30. Things had to change for two reasons: first, we were meeting up with a girl from our training group, and second, Aladdin was showing. Both wanted to watch the movie. I agreed, but with no earlier showing available (you have to reserve your tickets for movies here) this put our end time after 11. The restaurant would be closed.
I was carrying my skates and a stuffed Pikachu. I asked the guy to hold my things while I went to check on something. But, this didn't work. With easily 20 minutes+ until our co-worker arrived, he decided to come along, and asked many questions about where I was going.
We'd eaten not long ago, so when we stopped outside the restaurant, naturally, he was confused. He started up the questions--or never stopped them. I told him that we weren't eating. I then told him that I needed him to stop asking questions, and do what I tell him.
The plan was easy. We go inside, ask to see a menu, and he pretends to read it while I get pictures and videos. Two snags: this guy wouldn't stop asking questions, muttering the entire time, and it was too early. The restaurant only recently re-opened for the dinner hours. There were no waitress on staff.
I hand the menu back, and thank the waiter. We leave, and before we're even out of the restaurant completely, the questions start back up. I wait until we're out of ear-shot to answer: "This is a front for human trafficking. No one can know." Saying he looked shocked is an understatement.
I briefly told what had happened as we walked back to the theater. I explained that Monday morning I spent emailing charities and gathering information on organizations to get more attention focused on the area. I do at least a walk through the Kabukicho area, but don't stop in anywhere. I explained our co-worker knew, and that I have had to give the "if I disappear" order to him. I re-stressed no one can know right before we called out to our co-worker and went into the theater together.
The week after, I walked through Kabukicho and had a man watch me too carefully near the restaurant. Most likely it was nothing, but I'm skipping the area for the next couple of weeks just to play it safe.
There are two outcomes for the end of this that I see as the best. The first is that patrols break up the ring, or significantly damage it. The second, all this is nothing more than a horrible misunderstanding.
I've never wanted to be wrong so bad.
Monday, July 1, 2019
When You Aren't Normal...
Everyone has something about them that makes them abnormal. Especially when certain aspects of normal are relative. As I've been discovering over the course of this job is that I've had a fair number of these abnormal happenings.
Take this example:
Another example happened recently during a counseling session:
The very last example I have comes from another client:
Those are the three examples that pop into my mind when I think about how something that to me was just a part of my life is seen as strange and somewhat fascinating to other people.
Take this example:
During training, one night the sixteen of us were eating in the common room with the Japanese only TV on. I don't remember how it came up--maybe the show was medical--but I said something about the "sclera". I had fifteen people whip around and stare, and ask what I was talking about. Clarified "the whites of the eye".
This confused me a bit. I asked if they ever heard the word before, and the defense was "we didn't study biology".
Now, if I left it at that this would've stayed more towards normal. But... I hadn't learned that from college biology. So, my confused reply: "But you were in second grade? Didn't you learn the parts of the eye when you did your sheep eye dissection?"
I learned that night that dissecting sheep eyes was not a standard part of second grade curriculum.
Another example happened recently during a counseling session:
I was speaking with a client, and he kept going off on tangents about a variety of things. One topic was finger prints, and how when we were kids that was the key evidence to a detective story, but now detective stories all have how the finger prints were faked. So my comment that started a train wreck, "Finger prints can change too. I got my finger cut open here by a hole puncher, so the print is a little different than before."
Now, my scar on that finger is almost impossible to see after twenty years. The scar on the finger I got from doing a knife defense with my friend (who was an assistant Krav Maga teacher at the time) is a different story. He asked how I got that one. Well... "I was doing a knife defense with my friend. She was an assistant Krav Maga instructor." What's that? "An Israeli fighting system." A real knife? "...Yes." Kitchen knife? "...No." She stabbed you with a knife?! "No... I was trying to stab her... and she defended... and there is no way to make this sound good or normal."
He commented that he liked asking me questions, because it was like hearing something from a movie every time.
The very last example I have comes from another client:
Part of my job is conversation, so lots and lots of small-talk. Which I hate. Well, I asked him if he had hobbies as a kid. He told me shogi. He mimicked my question. And without thinking "I used to sell Pokémon cards to my classmates."
After a few seconds of silence with him staring like I had six eyes, "That's not a hobby. That's a business." Then he laughed.
Those are the three examples that pop into my mind when I think about how something that to me was just a part of my life is seen as strange and somewhat fascinating to other people.
Friday, June 21, 2019
When in Takadanobaba...
When I found out where I was moving one of the first things I checked was where the nearest ice rink was. I narrowed it to the Tokyo area, since I was arriving in April and didn't want to wait until winter to get back into skating. As expected, there were a few options for year-round skating.
The one nearest--and the one I was able to translate into English--was a place called Citizens Plaza. It's located in a city called Takadanobaba, which is one stop short of Shinjuku. This made it even more convenient due to the habit of going into Shinjuku once a week.
Just about every other week, I shoulder my skates and head for the rink.
The first time I found the rink was during the Golden Week vacation. I think I was there for 2.5 - 3 hours. Not a consistent skate during that whole time. I hadn't been on skates in 15 years, so I had a lot of breaks.
Hockey is not a popular sport in Japan. At all. Figure skating dominates. In Takadanobaba, the rink is always full of people wearing figures. Many are children being coached as they practice pieces of routines. It's pretty amazing to see 4 - 13 year-old kids jumping and spinning. But, also very annoying.
Figures chew up the ice. The ice gets in bad shape very quickly, and the figure skaters have zero awareness of their surrounding as they're too focused on their step sequences. Half the time they're skating backwards and swerving all over the place.
I stand out pretty badly when I go. First, because I'm a gaijin. Second, because my skates are completely different. What you may not know is that because hockey skates and figure skates are shaped different, your posture is different depending on your type. Figures force you to stand upright. Hockey skates make you bend your knees. Bending your knees keeps you centered on the blade, because hockey skates are rounded whereas figures are flat and picked.
Not only am I easy to spot, the posture change makes it easy for me to spot others not wearing figures. A few times these others are super wobbly; my guess being that they grew up on figures and switched to hockey. Because while hockey is not popular here by any stretch, those who do like it like it with vigor.
So, my first time at Takadanobaba I'm going around on horrible ice. I'm wobbly, and I need a lot of breaks. It was Golden Week, so the crowd was crazy. There were teens on dates (them wear hockey skates which was too cute), parents and coaches with tiny figure skaters, and then this really old guy--easily in his 80s--zipping all over the place speed skater style.
As I was winding down, after watching many come and go, this old man nearly collides with me out on the ice. Like I said, I was really shaky and figure shatters have zero situational awareness. I was focused on trying not to run over a toddler, and he was focused on trying not to hit a couple.
Collision avoided, but for the first time (even though we'd been there for hours) he noticed my skates. When I went to take a break he followed. He sat next to me, started speaking and motioning to my feet. I told him I didn't understand, and wouldn't you know it, he didn't understand either.
See, most Japanese have some basic knowledge of English because it is taught as a school subject. Even if they can't speak it, if you tell them "I don't understand" they normally get that so will mime their question (showing chopsticks or a bag or a credit card) or they say a word or two in English so that you know they understand at least some of what you say even if they can't respond. This man was so old that he either never learned any English, or he had long forgotten it. He wore some kind of veteran hat, so, yes he was an oldie.
With the language barrier firmly in place, we sat quietly for a moment. He asked me something again, and pointing at my feet again. I propped my foot up to show him my skates. He felt the blade, nodded, and thumbed up. He asked me something else, and touched his hands. He was wearing gloves, and I wasn't. I tried explaining I didn't have them. It got through enough that he started asked about falling (through miming). I said I didn't plan on falling. He started asking something else, and couldn't mime it. I made a guess, and said I played hockey 15 years ago.
This was where it was very apparent he didn't have a history with English. The one thing that gets through without fail is numbers. But, 15 didn't register at all.
I went to my last resort: my phone. I typed: I played ice hockey 15 years ago, but haven't skated for 15 years. I handed him my phone so he could read the Japanese. He reads, nods, and gets up. He gestures for me to follow, and we go back on to the ice.
We don't really skate together. We're going different speeds, so are never that close. We're just aware that the other one is there.
After a couple times around, I get off. My knee is starting to ache, and I wanted to go grab food in Shinjuku. Take in a movie. The old man comes off, and looks confused. I tap my wrist like I would a watch. He nods, high-fives me, and goes back out.
That was my first time in Takadanobaba. I've skated there every couple of weeks since, but I have yet to run into that old man again.
The one nearest--and the one I was able to translate into English--was a place called Citizens Plaza. It's located in a city called Takadanobaba, which is one stop short of Shinjuku. This made it even more convenient due to the habit of going into Shinjuku once a week.
Just about every other week, I shoulder my skates and head for the rink.
The first time I found the rink was during the Golden Week vacation. I think I was there for 2.5 - 3 hours. Not a consistent skate during that whole time. I hadn't been on skates in 15 years, so I had a lot of breaks.
Hockey is not a popular sport in Japan. At all. Figure skating dominates. In Takadanobaba, the rink is always full of people wearing figures. Many are children being coached as they practice pieces of routines. It's pretty amazing to see 4 - 13 year-old kids jumping and spinning. But, also very annoying.
Figures chew up the ice. The ice gets in bad shape very quickly, and the figure skaters have zero awareness of their surrounding as they're too focused on their step sequences. Half the time they're skating backwards and swerving all over the place.
I stand out pretty badly when I go. First, because I'm a gaijin. Second, because my skates are completely different. What you may not know is that because hockey skates and figure skates are shaped different, your posture is different depending on your type. Figures force you to stand upright. Hockey skates make you bend your knees. Bending your knees keeps you centered on the blade, because hockey skates are rounded whereas figures are flat and picked.
Not only am I easy to spot, the posture change makes it easy for me to spot others not wearing figures. A few times these others are super wobbly; my guess being that they grew up on figures and switched to hockey. Because while hockey is not popular here by any stretch, those who do like it like it with vigor.
So, my first time at Takadanobaba I'm going around on horrible ice. I'm wobbly, and I need a lot of breaks. It was Golden Week, so the crowd was crazy. There were teens on dates (them wear hockey skates which was too cute), parents and coaches with tiny figure skaters, and then this really old guy--easily in his 80s--zipping all over the place speed skater style.
As I was winding down, after watching many come and go, this old man nearly collides with me out on the ice. Like I said, I was really shaky and figure shatters have zero situational awareness. I was focused on trying not to run over a toddler, and he was focused on trying not to hit a couple.
Collision avoided, but for the first time (even though we'd been there for hours) he noticed my skates. When I went to take a break he followed. He sat next to me, started speaking and motioning to my feet. I told him I didn't understand, and wouldn't you know it, he didn't understand either.
See, most Japanese have some basic knowledge of English because it is taught as a school subject. Even if they can't speak it, if you tell them "I don't understand" they normally get that so will mime their question (showing chopsticks or a bag or a credit card) or they say a word or two in English so that you know they understand at least some of what you say even if they can't respond. This man was so old that he either never learned any English, or he had long forgotten it. He wore some kind of veteran hat, so, yes he was an oldie.
With the language barrier firmly in place, we sat quietly for a moment. He asked me something again, and pointing at my feet again. I propped my foot up to show him my skates. He felt the blade, nodded, and thumbed up. He asked me something else, and touched his hands. He was wearing gloves, and I wasn't. I tried explaining I didn't have them. It got through enough that he started asked about falling (through miming). I said I didn't plan on falling. He started asking something else, and couldn't mime it. I made a guess, and said I played hockey 15 years ago.
This was where it was very apparent he didn't have a history with English. The one thing that gets through without fail is numbers. But, 15 didn't register at all.
I went to my last resort: my phone. I typed: I played ice hockey 15 years ago, but haven't skated for 15 years. I handed him my phone so he could read the Japanese. He reads, nods, and gets up. He gestures for me to follow, and we go back on to the ice.
We don't really skate together. We're going different speeds, so are never that close. We're just aware that the other one is there.
After a couple times around, I get off. My knee is starting to ache, and I wanted to go grab food in Shinjuku. Take in a movie. The old man comes off, and looks confused. I tap my wrist like I would a watch. He nods, high-fives me, and goes back out.
That was my first time in Takadanobaba. I've skated there every couple of weeks since, but I have yet to run into that old man again.
Thursday, June 20, 2019
I Met a Guy Who...
A throwback to shortly after I arrived in Japan. I was one in a group of sixteen that arrived in April. We were locked together in the training center, located in a smaller town away from all the bustle of the large cities.
With a large group, it becomes easy to form sub-groups. The core of my sub-group was formed that first night in Japan, when me and two guys walked two hours from our training center to Ikebukuro. Ended up in a maid café. It was strange. Don't think I'll go back.
By the end of the first week of training, you know which people you would rather not sit in the common room with first thing in the morning when you're sleep deprived and still mildly jetlagged.
That morning, I dragged myself into the lounge. It was some early hour that I hope to never see again. My first thought is 'coffee" so I head straight for the water boiler. One of the guys from the 'bukuro maid café walk was at the burner. I mutter "hi" and stare groggily at the water boiler. (Probably wishing for real coffee and not instant like every morning since I arrived.)
Then I hear "can I ask you a question?" Now, I've been hanging out with this guy, so I know questions are probably traps. But, that's what makes them amusing. I agree, and he then goes "what is this stuff on the hotdog?"
I look in the pot, and there is a peeled hotdog rolling around. These were stuffed hotdogs too, so chunks of cheese were falling out. The hotdog skin was shredded on the counter, and he has one he was about to peel in his hands.
Still thinking this is some sort of trap, I ask if he knows what hotdogs are made out of. He names the key part- wrapped in intestines. I tell him that's what it is. It's the skin. And he goes "okay so it's not plastic?" I assure him it isn't, and that it's supposed to be on. He decides to try boiling the other with the skin on.
Well, this brought up a question of my own, "have you... never had hotdogs before?"
His answer was that he didn't make them on his own until he left for college. And then he added, "I didn't buy them much because they were such a pain to peel. I couldn't understand why people said they were easy. And they don't taste that great."
Okay, so this kid never made his own hotdogs until he was eighteen. But then moved into a place with roommates, started peeling hotdogs, and no one said anything. He peeled hotdogs for four or five years. In front of other people.
Well, I'm way too tired to process all this, so I just get my coffee and sit. He joins me with his hotdogs. He bites into the one with the skin on and "Wow, these are really good. All the cheese stays in and everything."
Yes. I met a guy who peeled hotdogs. He was also the first in our group to drop out, taking us from sixteen to fifteen before training ended.
With a large group, it becomes easy to form sub-groups. The core of my sub-group was formed that first night in Japan, when me and two guys walked two hours from our training center to Ikebukuro. Ended up in a maid café. It was strange. Don't think I'll go back.
By the end of the first week of training, you know which people you would rather not sit in the common room with first thing in the morning when you're sleep deprived and still mildly jetlagged.
That morning, I dragged myself into the lounge. It was some early hour that I hope to never see again. My first thought is 'coffee" so I head straight for the water boiler. One of the guys from the 'bukuro maid café walk was at the burner. I mutter "hi" and stare groggily at the water boiler. (Probably wishing for real coffee and not instant like every morning since I arrived.)
Then I hear "can I ask you a question?" Now, I've been hanging out with this guy, so I know questions are probably traps. But, that's what makes them amusing. I agree, and he then goes "what is this stuff on the hotdog?"
I look in the pot, and there is a peeled hotdog rolling around. These were stuffed hotdogs too, so chunks of cheese were falling out. The hotdog skin was shredded on the counter, and he has one he was about to peel in his hands.
Still thinking this is some sort of trap, I ask if he knows what hotdogs are made out of. He names the key part- wrapped in intestines. I tell him that's what it is. It's the skin. And he goes "okay so it's not plastic?" I assure him it isn't, and that it's supposed to be on. He decides to try boiling the other with the skin on.
Well, this brought up a question of my own, "have you... never had hotdogs before?"
His answer was that he didn't make them on his own until he left for college. And then he added, "I didn't buy them much because they were such a pain to peel. I couldn't understand why people said they were easy. And they don't taste that great."
Okay, so this kid never made his own hotdogs until he was eighteen. But then moved into a place with roommates, started peeling hotdogs, and no one said anything. He peeled hotdogs for four or five years. In front of other people.
Well, I'm way too tired to process all this, so I just get my coffee and sit. He joins me with his hotdogs. He bites into the one with the skin on and "Wow, these are really good. All the cheese stays in and everything."
Yes. I met a guy who peeled hotdogs. He was also the first in our group to drop out, taking us from sixteen to fifteen before training ended.
Monday, June 17, 2019
That Time I Went to Dinner in Kabukicho
May 20th was supposed to be a day off, but instead my training group got called together for additional training. See, they schedule them on your day off so that you don't miss work. Just like the normal scheduled day off is always Monday because a lot of the national holidays fall on Monday, and they don't want to give you a 3 day weekend. And, they train you in stuff you've already been doing, making the trip mostly nothing but a frustrating waste.
But, it was the first time we had been all together since being sent off across the country. One kid was sent all the way to Hokkaido, so he never has anything even resembling the chance to hang out with the rest of us.
The down side is, this is an 8-hour workday, so none of us actually had time to hang out or catch up.
I work a different schedule from my group. Monday is my first day off whereas it is their second. I was slow after the day, debating if I wanted to hang out around the training center or go into Shinjuku. Because, yeah, Monday is Shinjuku day.
My training mates were quicker to leave. I figured they were trying to get back to the station to get back to their respective homes to manage a couple of hours before having to go to work. The only exception to my group was the Hokkaido kid. Because he had to be flown in, he was staying the night at the training center and was leaving the following afternoon. It worked out pretty good, since he was one of the guys I hung out with during training. We decided to hit Shinjuku to wander about and find food.
Here's a thing about Japan: nearly everything in the city closes between 8:30-9:00pm. Trains shut down somewhere between 10:45-11:30, I think. Point being, we had a very limited amount of time to hang out.
We tried browsing stores just to walk and talk, but the stores were kicking people out. We wandered the streets a bit, before deciding it was time to find a place to eat. Not very easy when things are shutting down, outside menus are written in stylized fonts, (some places don't serve gaijin), places stop allowing customers in about an hour before they close, and we were looking for specific stuff. Namely no curry because we'd both been eating nothing but that all week.
We went into Kabukicho. I'd been wandering around there enough that I knew places stayed open much later (because it's the red light district). We found a Thai restaurant up on the 3rd floor of a building with a "massage parlor" and other such stores. We got there just before last call at 10pm.
They seated us quickly, and hastily requested we order. An appetizer each, nothing too big since it was late and we were just tired at that point. I'm not sure what we talked about that night. My guess is the job and stuff. This was supposed to be a vent session. Very soon, our Japan experience would take a radically different turn from the rest of our group's.
Around 10:40, there was a bit more urgency to get us to pay and leave. Understandable since the place shut down at 11. We were talking about how to divvy up the check, because I don't know the word and the Hokkaido kid forgot the word. It was decided I'd pay since I only had large notes, and he'd pay me back.
All night, a man had been the one serving us and attending to us, but a woman in her early 20s was the one who came to deliver our check. I felt this horrible jolt as she placed our check on the table: 3 inched from her wrist, on the inside of her forearm was a tattoo made of cheap black ink, 1 inch by 0.5 inches. The first part was difficult to make out, most likely because it wasn't English, but the very last part was clear. It was a number.
The waitress took our check off. (Is immediately intercepted and spoken to by one of the male staff out of ear shot.) Right after she was out of sight I just leaned back in my chair and swore only loud enough for my co-worker to hear. This got a confused stare. So, I explained, "She's trafficked. She's got a branding."
This is not the sort of situation that happens when you go out for dinner, so understandable there was a little nervous laughter followed by "are you serious?" I show him using my arm where to look when she returns. Then I go about being the normal every day customer. Smile. Thank her for my change. I look across the table at this guy, and am strongly reminded that he's my brother's age and fresh from university. He's holding his head, hunched over the table, staring in horror.
I tell him we're leaving, and we descend the stairs back to the street. He starts reaching for his wallet. I flatly tell him he isn't paying me back, and apologize for getting him caught up in this.
That night, he tried to report the incident and immediately hit a wall. This was Kabukicho. No one cares what goes on there. I tell him I'll handle it.
And so, since May 20th I've been reaching out to all sorts of charities to get more info on the human trafficking issue in Japan. I've hit many walls with a big reason being that there are no laws against human trafficking in Japan. Let me say that again: there are no laws against human trafficking in Japan. I've emailed the White House with the story, requesting it be passed on to higher powers so that external pressure can be applied. I've even contacted the United Nations, because Japan cannot ignore human trafficking and be a part of the UN. You can't have both. Other than that, I still go back to Kabukicho every week. I walk through to collect external data on the area. I went back to the restaurant once. But, that's another entry.
Here lies the story of how my Japan experience is now forever different.
But, it was the first time we had been all together since being sent off across the country. One kid was sent all the way to Hokkaido, so he never has anything even resembling the chance to hang out with the rest of us.
The down side is, this is an 8-hour workday, so none of us actually had time to hang out or catch up.
I work a different schedule from my group. Monday is my first day off whereas it is their second. I was slow after the day, debating if I wanted to hang out around the training center or go into Shinjuku. Because, yeah, Monday is Shinjuku day.
My training mates were quicker to leave. I figured they were trying to get back to the station to get back to their respective homes to manage a couple of hours before having to go to work. The only exception to my group was the Hokkaido kid. Because he had to be flown in, he was staying the night at the training center and was leaving the following afternoon. It worked out pretty good, since he was one of the guys I hung out with during training. We decided to hit Shinjuku to wander about and find food.
Here's a thing about Japan: nearly everything in the city closes between 8:30-9:00pm. Trains shut down somewhere between 10:45-11:30, I think. Point being, we had a very limited amount of time to hang out.
We tried browsing stores just to walk and talk, but the stores were kicking people out. We wandered the streets a bit, before deciding it was time to find a place to eat. Not very easy when things are shutting down, outside menus are written in stylized fonts, (some places don't serve gaijin), places stop allowing customers in about an hour before they close, and we were looking for specific stuff. Namely no curry because we'd both been eating nothing but that all week.
We went into Kabukicho. I'd been wandering around there enough that I knew places stayed open much later (because it's the red light district). We found a Thai restaurant up on the 3rd floor of a building with a "massage parlor" and other such stores. We got there just before last call at 10pm.
They seated us quickly, and hastily requested we order. An appetizer each, nothing too big since it was late and we were just tired at that point. I'm not sure what we talked about that night. My guess is the job and stuff. This was supposed to be a vent session. Very soon, our Japan experience would take a radically different turn from the rest of our group's.
Around 10:40, there was a bit more urgency to get us to pay and leave. Understandable since the place shut down at 11. We were talking about how to divvy up the check, because I don't know the word and the Hokkaido kid forgot the word. It was decided I'd pay since I only had large notes, and he'd pay me back.
All night, a man had been the one serving us and attending to us, but a woman in her early 20s was the one who came to deliver our check. I felt this horrible jolt as she placed our check on the table: 3 inched from her wrist, on the inside of her forearm was a tattoo made of cheap black ink, 1 inch by 0.5 inches. The first part was difficult to make out, most likely because it wasn't English, but the very last part was clear. It was a number.
The waitress took our check off. (Is immediately intercepted and spoken to by one of the male staff out of ear shot.) Right after she was out of sight I just leaned back in my chair and swore only loud enough for my co-worker to hear. This got a confused stare. So, I explained, "She's trafficked. She's got a branding."
This is not the sort of situation that happens when you go out for dinner, so understandable there was a little nervous laughter followed by "are you serious?" I show him using my arm where to look when she returns. Then I go about being the normal every day customer. Smile. Thank her for my change. I look across the table at this guy, and am strongly reminded that he's my brother's age and fresh from university. He's holding his head, hunched over the table, staring in horror.
I tell him we're leaving, and we descend the stairs back to the street. He starts reaching for his wallet. I flatly tell him he isn't paying me back, and apologize for getting him caught up in this.
That night, he tried to report the incident and immediately hit a wall. This was Kabukicho. No one cares what goes on there. I tell him I'll handle it.
And so, since May 20th I've been reaching out to all sorts of charities to get more info on the human trafficking issue in Japan. I've hit many walls with a big reason being that there are no laws against human trafficking in Japan. Let me say that again: there are no laws against human trafficking in Japan. I've emailed the White House with the story, requesting it be passed on to higher powers so that external pressure can be applied. I've even contacted the United Nations, because Japan cannot ignore human trafficking and be a part of the UN. You can't have both. Other than that, I still go back to Kabukicho every week. I walk through to collect external data on the area. I went back to the restaurant once. But, that's another entry.
Here lies the story of how my Japan experience is now forever different.
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
That Time I Found Out...
I stated previously that 99% of the time I go to Shinjuku on my day off. Golden Week happened shortly after I started working, which meant I was in Shinjuku almost every day. It's somewhat a running joke among my training mates.
When I go to Shinjuku I have a couple spots I hit. I go to Kinokuniya to buy English manga (if they have any), and buy a Weekly JUMP. Then, I wander around, maybe consider buying clothes until the price freaks me out, and go home.
Near my station, and always on the way, is Kabuki-cho. It's a lively district full of late night restaurants, and the famous Toho Cinemas featuring the Godzilla on the building. I frequently wandered through this crazy place, watching people and being mildly to grossly put off by some of the club ads. That really should've been my first hint.
Kabuki-cho always sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn't sure why. While looking for other attractions in Shinjuku I discovered why. Kabuki-cho is the infamous red light district. The "host" and "hostess" clubs.... Massage parlors.... And the sex shops....
So, yeah, I found out I'd been hanging out in the red light district. And, trust me, I have a follow up for this.
When I go to Shinjuku I have a couple spots I hit. I go to Kinokuniya to buy English manga (if they have any), and buy a Weekly JUMP. Then, I wander around, maybe consider buying clothes until the price freaks me out, and go home.
Near my station, and always on the way, is Kabuki-cho. It's a lively district full of late night restaurants, and the famous Toho Cinemas featuring the Godzilla on the building. I frequently wandered through this crazy place, watching people and being mildly to grossly put off by some of the club ads. That really should've been my first hint.
Kabuki-cho always sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn't sure why. While looking for other attractions in Shinjuku I discovered why. Kabuki-cho is the infamous red light district. The "host" and "hostess" clubs.... Massage parlors.... And the sex shops....
So, yeah, I found out I'd been hanging out in the red light district. And, trust me, I have a follow up for this.
That Time I Manhandled an Old Man
I make it a point to go out on my off-days. My apartment is on a quite street in a fairly quiet small city. So, I separate it out from the rest of my life. Fives days a week I go to work, sometimes for 11 or 12 hours. Come back to my quiet apartment and crash. Off-days, I hop a train into the city. 99% of the time I'm in Shinjuku for my first day off. The second I typically stay home to finish up my laundry, or pay pills, or grocery shop.
It's safe to assume that this started in Shinjuku, or a few stops after. It was rush hour, but I'd arrived early enough to manage a front spot in line, so had gotten a seat.
This night, there was a high school boy wedged by the nearest doors. I noticed him because he kept looking over at me. It isn't an unusual thing. Being a gaijin, I get stared at. Sometimes it's very old people. Most of the time it's small kids. Point being, I filed it away as the usual, and went about what I was doing (watching a businessman play some type of game like Dance Dance Revolution on his phone, except with a chibi group of girl idols dressed in short skirts).
My station is a pretty big transfer station, so the train usually stays very crowded the whole trip. Tonight was no different. I heard my station called as the next stop, so get ready to stand to let people know to move. Suddenly, an old man shouts "[Thanks]".
Now, the stereotype of Japanese trains being very quiet is a high 90s fact. Except for local trains in the morning that are almost empty except for retired ladies going to lunch (because they're chatty with each other), or when you have kids coming back from a good sport club activity (like when the boys win their games), the trains are dead silent. So, this one word got everyone's attention.
Turns out the old man was a blind old man. And, it turns out he was thanking that same high school boy that had been staring who--since I'd lost sight of him during a surge--I assumed had exited.
Immediately, I understood that the two were strangers. The old man wouldn't have thanked the boy like that if he was family, and the boy wouldn't have rushed back to the old man the way he did. It's difficult to explain the type of urgency he had.
Well, I don't think too much more of it, since it was my stop. I'm stuck behind the boy and old man as they get off. I step around and in that one flash a few things happened:
So, I did what I'm pretty positive what I'd been tasked to do by some random high school boy: I watched the old man and followed him slowly. He's wandering about the platform, going away from the stairs up. I approach him and ask "elevator" since only the elevator, escalator, and sheer drop off the platform are that way and I was hoping the word sounded similar enough to the Japanese version.
Naturally, the man was confused because suddenly an English word is coming at him. He repeats "elevator" and I turn him in the right direction. He... runs into a column and starts saying "escalator, up". I try turning him a couple times, but he... he just had a lot of trouble with that column. I grab him by the shoulder and elbow--which is as awkward as that sounds--and basically drag him to the escalator. He kept saying "[thanks]" the whole time, and I was just awkwardly silent. Because, well, I have zero clue what the response is and it was already clear he didn't speak or understand much English.
I took the stairs up, and waited at the top to see if he was trying to transfer trains, or if this town was his stop. There are a lot of blind people that come through here, so I think there is some type of support association in the area.
It's safe to assume that this started in Shinjuku, or a few stops after. It was rush hour, but I'd arrived early enough to manage a front spot in line, so had gotten a seat.
(Just in case you aren't aware of what rush hour in the cities look like, here's Ikebukuro.)
Fun fact: I'm wandering around without a phone. So, on longer train rides I try to bring a manga, and try to read it. Which means I stare at 3 pages very hard trying to make sense of it. Except during rush hour. It's too tight to... well move in general. During rush hour I watch other people play on their phones, or just look around the best I can.
My station is a pretty big transfer station, so the train usually stays very crowded the whole trip. Tonight was no different. I heard my station called as the next stop, so get ready to stand to let people know to move. Suddenly, an old man shouts "[Thanks]".
Now, the stereotype of Japanese trains being very quiet is a high 90s fact. Except for local trains in the morning that are almost empty except for retired ladies going to lunch (because they're chatty with each other), or when you have kids coming back from a good sport club activity (like when the boys win their games), the trains are dead silent. So, this one word got everyone's attention.
Turns out the old man was a blind old man. And, it turns out he was thanking that same high school boy that had been staring who--since I'd lost sight of him during a surge--I assumed had exited.
Immediately, I understood that the two were strangers. The old man wouldn't have thanked the boy like that if he was family, and the boy wouldn't have rushed back to the old man the way he did. It's difficult to explain the type of urgency he had.
Well, I don't think too much more of it, since it was my stop. I'm stuck behind the boy and old man as they get off. I step around and in that one flash a few things happened:
- I notice the boy hastily explaining things to the old man
- I notice the boy trying to point, getting flustered because pointing does work with a blind person, so trying to gently but quickly turn the man
- I notice the man bobbing his head like he understands, but also being too hasty
- I notice the boy wavering between jumping back on the train or not
So, I did what I'm pretty positive what I'd been tasked to do by some random high school boy: I watched the old man and followed him slowly. He's wandering about the platform, going away from the stairs up. I approach him and ask "elevator" since only the elevator, escalator, and sheer drop off the platform are that way and I was hoping the word sounded similar enough to the Japanese version.
Naturally, the man was confused because suddenly an English word is coming at him. He repeats "elevator" and I turn him in the right direction. He... runs into a column and starts saying "escalator, up". I try turning him a couple times, but he... he just had a lot of trouble with that column. I grab him by the shoulder and elbow--which is as awkward as that sounds--and basically drag him to the escalator. He kept saying "[thanks]" the whole time, and I was just awkwardly silent. Because, well, I have zero clue what the response is and it was already clear he didn't speak or understand much English.
I took the stairs up, and waited at the top to see if he was trying to transfer trains, or if this town was his stop. There are a lot of blind people that come through here, so I think there is some type of support association in the area.
(blind guide in the stations/on the sidewalks)
The old man wasn't transferring. I watched him mull about the station, using the guides on the floor to get out of the gate. I stay quiet and exit after him. He's going my direction, so I walked slow until he got on the down escalator. Then, I ran down the stairs (as is habit) and went home. I figured if he was going to the taxi point there would be others to assist him.
I've made it a point to learn the response for when people say "[thanks]" though, just in case this happens again.
Monday, June 10, 2019
That Time I Was Called Black (and am very not)
My work is an all English environment which breaks down into ~85% English most days. Recently, I was speaking with a group of men that had a fluency range. One was fairly middle, one was pretty high, and one was lower.
The guy on the lower end during the conversation, says this to me: "Can I ask question that is maybe rude? In America there are many different types of black. Which type is...? Are you Italian?"
My answer was: "No, I'm not Italian." And that satisfied everyone, and we moved on. But, inside I was going ????.
When I heard, "there are many different types of black" my immediate thought was, yes that's true. Because in America we have black Americans, black people from the West Indies, or from Europe, or from different African parts. So, I thought the question was going in the direction of your country as a lot of different people whereas Japan is high 90s Japanese, with "black" used as the example since that is the most uncommon in Japan.
I answered the question in a way that moved the conversation fluidly, so the answer was right. But, yeah, I was still pretty confused. I pitched this to my training group to see if anyone had any idea what was going on. Since they know I'm not black or Italian.
One guy said they say black when they mean tan/brown. He had to explain the difference to some people lately when it came up in a conversation. ("My friend got back from Okinawa, and now he's black.") That solved that mystery.
I can't say with certainty yet, but my theory is that there is just one term in Japanese for dark skin. You have "Japanese" and the desirable pale, and then you have anything darker than that. Reminding me that I always have to check the makeup remover wipes to make sure they don't advertise whitening. And, reminding me that in my one talk with two women when I asked if they liked the beach, they both said no because they didn't want to get darker. One having darker skin than me lamenting she was too dark naturally, with the other agreeing.
Different cultures value different beauty standards, but this one is very strange to me.
The guy on the lower end during the conversation, says this to me: "Can I ask question that is maybe rude? In America there are many different types of black. Which type is...? Are you Italian?"
My answer was: "No, I'm not Italian." And that satisfied everyone, and we moved on. But, inside I was going ????.
When I heard, "there are many different types of black" my immediate thought was, yes that's true. Because in America we have black Americans, black people from the West Indies, or from Europe, or from different African parts. So, I thought the question was going in the direction of your country as a lot of different people whereas Japan is high 90s Japanese, with "black" used as the example since that is the most uncommon in Japan.
I answered the question in a way that moved the conversation fluidly, so the answer was right. But, yeah, I was still pretty confused. I pitched this to my training group to see if anyone had any idea what was going on. Since they know I'm not black or Italian.
One guy said they say black when they mean tan/brown. He had to explain the difference to some people lately when it came up in a conversation. ("My friend got back from Okinawa, and now he's black.") That solved that mystery.
I can't say with certainty yet, but my theory is that there is just one term in Japanese for dark skin. You have "Japanese" and the desirable pale, and then you have anything darker than that. Reminding me that I always have to check the makeup remover wipes to make sure they don't advertise whitening. And, reminding me that in my one talk with two women when I asked if they liked the beach, they both said no because they didn't want to get darker. One having darker skin than me lamenting she was too dark naturally, with the other agreeing.
Different cultures value different beauty standards, but this one is very strange to me.
Thursday, June 6, 2019
That Time a Cashier Laughed in my Face
Jumping to late-May, I'd been working for around a month and a half at this office. I buy lunch from the same grocery store in the building's basement. Most of the cashiers recognize me, and some even know not to offer me a bag for my bento since I always refuse it.
This cashier was younger, probably newer since I never saw her before. She's straightening her station, and asking the standard questions, "Do you want chopsticks/Do you want a plastic bag?". I've heard these enough to catch them 90+% of the time, and be able to respond. So, responded.
She says the price. I never listen to the price because that I can't hear, and I can already read the numbers. I'm digging in my coin purse for money. The cashier starts laughing, covers her mouth, and says something in Japanese that I can't understand. So, I just kind of smile and pay, and then leave.
The only thing I can think of is that either my Japanese is so bad (which it is) that it was funny, or that she had been so preoccupied with her station that she hadn't looked at me until I was trying to pay, and was surprised that I was a gaijin (non-Japanese/foreigner). This is also plausible, because a similar situation happened soon after.
I got back to my place early enough to buy some food at the nicer grocery story. I was waiting in line, and this elderly woman comes up to my elbow, and starts talking. Asking about something. And I have no idea what. Couldn't catch anything after the Japanese equivalent to "um".
When I have no idea what's going on, I don't use any Japanese (and I only know like 4 things anyway) to highlight the language barrier. Said sorry, in English, and I don't understand, in English. The woman shrieked in surprise. And I mean loudly. Like, the other lines all stopped and stared. So, then she starts apologizing in rapid-fire Japanese for mistaking me for... I guess someone that could answer her questions?
So, yeah, with the population being 90+% percent one ethnicity, when you aren't that ethnicity sometimes you can really surprise people.
This cashier was younger, probably newer since I never saw her before. She's straightening her station, and asking the standard questions, "Do you want chopsticks/Do you want a plastic bag?". I've heard these enough to catch them 90+% of the time, and be able to respond. So, responded.
She says the price. I never listen to the price because that I can't hear, and I can already read the numbers. I'm digging in my coin purse for money. The cashier starts laughing, covers her mouth, and says something in Japanese that I can't understand. So, I just kind of smile and pay, and then leave.
The only thing I can think of is that either my Japanese is so bad (which it is) that it was funny, or that she had been so preoccupied with her station that she hadn't looked at me until I was trying to pay, and was surprised that I was a gaijin (non-Japanese/foreigner). This is also plausible, because a similar situation happened soon after.
I got back to my place early enough to buy some food at the nicer grocery story. I was waiting in line, and this elderly woman comes up to my elbow, and starts talking. Asking about something. And I have no idea what. Couldn't catch anything after the Japanese equivalent to "um".
When I have no idea what's going on, I don't use any Japanese (and I only know like 4 things anyway) to highlight the language barrier. Said sorry, in English, and I don't understand, in English. The woman shrieked in surprise. And I mean loudly. Like, the other lines all stopped and stared. So, then she starts apologizing in rapid-fire Japanese for mistaking me for... I guess someone that could answer her questions?
So, yeah, with the population being 90+% percent one ethnicity, when you aren't that ethnicity sometimes you can really surprise people.
Tuesday, June 4, 2019
That Time a Homeless Lady...
Here's something not talked about too often. In Japan, at least in the cities, there is a significant homeless population. Not exactly unique to a city. This isn't the homeless population that is talked about; the ones that live at internet cafes. No, these are mostly people over 60. I'll get into that later.
I was in Shinjuku. As usual at that point. Except for this passed Monday, I'm in Shinjuku every week. Have been since I arrived. (I live about an hour and a half by train away.) It's habit at this point.
Sometimes I wander around for a couple of hours. Others I go specifically to go to Kinokuniya to see if they got the manga I wanted in, since they carry some English. And, because it's a Monday, I usually go to the annex to buy the newest JUMP. Because someday I'll be able to read it.
So, I'm outside Kinokuniya at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change. I'm trying to shove my receipt into my bag, and I hear this little voice near my elbow go "need money". Now, I need to make something clear. English is unusual to hear. Not so much to see; you can usually find it on signs and menus especially in Shinjuku. But, hearing anything other than Japanese is odd. So, when you do hear it, you notice quick. In this case, what I noticed was a tiny, old, homeless woman near my shoulder.
I had about 1000 yen (~$10) on me so I could eat dinner. I'd spent the rest on manga and a shirt from the GUNDAM base in Odaiba (it was a full day). And dished out 1000 already for an earthquake charity that I'm not 100% sure was on the level. But, that's really on them. So, when this tiny elderly lady said "need money" I told her, "no, sorry, I spent it all, sorry". Showing my receipt and pointing to the store behind us.
She repeats "need money". So, again, I tell her I'm sorry (this time in Japanese) and then try explaining in simpler English that I spent it. Again, says, "need money" making it very clear her English is limited to a handful of phrases. I'm getting ready to try explaining again, but this time she pulls out 10 yen from her bag, and tries handing it to me.
Now, I'm really confused. I politely refuse, and wonder why the light hasn't changed yet. The woman pulls out a 500 yen coin, and says "this". That's about when it clicked. This teeny, old, homeless woman thought I had been digging in my bag, not to put my receipt away, but because I was looking for money. She likely assumed I was a lost tourist.
Understanding the situation, I try explaining that I don't need money. I lied and told her I had a card (at the time my debit card was still in processing, and I honestly never use it since some places don't accept them). "Card" or "cardo" is understood. She stops trying to offer me money. Then, "Canadian". I tell her I'm American. She gets really, really excited. Repeats in an awed voice, "American". And shakes my hand.
The light then turned. I waved at her. She waved at me. And I crossed the street.
And that was the time a homeless lady in Shinjuku tried to give me money.
I mentioned the homeless population being this kind of split. You have the one Western media has talked about, the ones that live in internet cafes. They have jobs, or some type of support, but because of the limited housing in Japan they just can't afford a place. In cities especially, a majority of housing is subsidized by the government, and that causes certain issues. But, that's a whole other thing. The less talked about homeless population is the elderly.
See, Japan has a mandatory retirement age. At 60, they no longer work and their pension kicks in. Except, this doesn't always act as the safety net it was designed as. Think of it like Social Security in America. We are constantly told there isn't much in it, and told that it might be difficult to get by with just this payout. The saving grace is that by the time they retire, usually the American owns their house and has no more mortgage. They are also not required by law to retire, so could work longer. They could even do like what my parents did and start up a business as their retirement.
So, here you have a mandatory retirement age, government subsidized housing, and a population with far more old and elderly people than younger people. There are other factors, of course, because there always is, but that's the short of it. It is not uncommon to see elderly people hidden away in the cramped back alleys digging through bins. And, you can usually find a food line somewhere. I found one under a bridge between Shibuya and Shinjuku, and watched people 60+ sprinting to form a line to get something to eat. That video is buried on my Instagram: martlet_yukata
I was in Shinjuku. As usual at that point. Except for this passed Monday, I'm in Shinjuku every week. Have been since I arrived. (I live about an hour and a half by train away.) It's habit at this point.
Sometimes I wander around for a couple of hours. Others I go specifically to go to Kinokuniya to see if they got the manga I wanted in, since they carry some English. And, because it's a Monday, I usually go to the annex to buy the newest JUMP. Because someday I'll be able to read it.
So, I'm outside Kinokuniya at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change. I'm trying to shove my receipt into my bag, and I hear this little voice near my elbow go "need money". Now, I need to make something clear. English is unusual to hear. Not so much to see; you can usually find it on signs and menus especially in Shinjuku. But, hearing anything other than Japanese is odd. So, when you do hear it, you notice quick. In this case, what I noticed was a tiny, old, homeless woman near my shoulder.
I had about 1000 yen (~$10) on me so I could eat dinner. I'd spent the rest on manga and a shirt from the GUNDAM base in Odaiba (it was a full day). And dished out 1000 already for an earthquake charity that I'm not 100% sure was on the level. But, that's really on them. So, when this tiny elderly lady said "need money" I told her, "no, sorry, I spent it all, sorry". Showing my receipt and pointing to the store behind us.
She repeats "need money". So, again, I tell her I'm sorry (this time in Japanese) and then try explaining in simpler English that I spent it. Again, says, "need money" making it very clear her English is limited to a handful of phrases. I'm getting ready to try explaining again, but this time she pulls out 10 yen from her bag, and tries handing it to me.
Now, I'm really confused. I politely refuse, and wonder why the light hasn't changed yet. The woman pulls out a 500 yen coin, and says "this". That's about when it clicked. This teeny, old, homeless woman thought I had been digging in my bag, not to put my receipt away, but because I was looking for money. She likely assumed I was a lost tourist.
Understanding the situation, I try explaining that I don't need money. I lied and told her I had a card (at the time my debit card was still in processing, and I honestly never use it since some places don't accept them). "Card" or "cardo" is understood. She stops trying to offer me money. Then, "Canadian". I tell her I'm American. She gets really, really excited. Repeats in an awed voice, "American". And shakes my hand.
The light then turned. I waved at her. She waved at me. And I crossed the street.
And that was the time a homeless lady in Shinjuku tried to give me money.
I mentioned the homeless population being this kind of split. You have the one Western media has talked about, the ones that live in internet cafes. They have jobs, or some type of support, but because of the limited housing in Japan they just can't afford a place. In cities especially, a majority of housing is subsidized by the government, and that causes certain issues. But, that's a whole other thing. The less talked about homeless population is the elderly.
See, Japan has a mandatory retirement age. At 60, they no longer work and their pension kicks in. Except, this doesn't always act as the safety net it was designed as. Think of it like Social Security in America. We are constantly told there isn't much in it, and told that it might be difficult to get by with just this payout. The saving grace is that by the time they retire, usually the American owns their house and has no more mortgage. They are also not required by law to retire, so could work longer. They could even do like what my parents did and start up a business as their retirement.
So, here you have a mandatory retirement age, government subsidized housing, and a population with far more old and elderly people than younger people. There are other factors, of course, because there always is, but that's the short of it. It is not uncommon to see elderly people hidden away in the cramped back alleys digging through bins. And, you can usually find a food line somewhere. I found one under a bridge between Shibuya and Shinjuku, and watched people 60+ sprinting to form a line to get something to eat. That video is buried on my Instagram: martlet_yukata
Monday, June 3, 2019
Intro Post
Hello, hello! This is mostly a test post, because I don't know how to use this site. Apparently, because I have a Google account I have had a Blogger all along. How creepy.
My guess is that people who read this will be the handful of friends that have known me for years, so... not sure what to do for an intro. But, I guess on the off chance others stumble upon this....
My name is Sam, or Samie, or Pepper, or basically whatever anyone wants to call me. Heck, I'll answer to Dean or Deanie, and that is extremely far from my name. So, yup, whatever is good. I'm a writer with a degree in Government Science: National Security, and a Strategic Intelligence minor. Which basically boils down to I studied politics, policies, terrorism, and foreign relations so that I could complain about them. After I graduated, I did not go into government and intelligence. Instead, I took a job with a Japanese company and moved overseas.
Fiction writing is what I really love doing though. Or, writing in general. I am supposed to be doing a full rewrite of this book I had in the works, but my job schedule is nuts. Eventually, I'll figure out how to manage my limited time better, and get it rewritten. So, just a warning, some posts here could be tangents about stuff I want to write or ideas I had to clarify parts I was stuck on.
Mostly, I will be sharing about the move to Japan. All the cool stuff I've seen, and the horrible. I will likely throwback a few times to other countries or points in my life.
So, welcome, and I hope you find this entertaining.
My guess is that people who read this will be the handful of friends that have known me for years, so... not sure what to do for an intro. But, I guess on the off chance others stumble upon this....
My name is Sam, or Samie, or Pepper, or basically whatever anyone wants to call me. Heck, I'll answer to Dean or Deanie, and that is extremely far from my name. So, yup, whatever is good. I'm a writer with a degree in Government Science: National Security, and a Strategic Intelligence minor. Which basically boils down to I studied politics, policies, terrorism, and foreign relations so that I could complain about them. After I graduated, I did not go into government and intelligence. Instead, I took a job with a Japanese company and moved overseas.
Fiction writing is what I really love doing though. Or, writing in general. I am supposed to be doing a full rewrite of this book I had in the works, but my job schedule is nuts. Eventually, I'll figure out how to manage my limited time better, and get it rewritten. So, just a warning, some posts here could be tangents about stuff I want to write or ideas I had to clarify parts I was stuck on.
Mostly, I will be sharing about the move to Japan. All the cool stuff I've seen, and the horrible. I will likely throwback a few times to other countries or points in my life.
So, welcome, and I hope you find this entertaining.
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