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.
Friday, June 21, 2019
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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