The mysterious coin outside the salon apparently came from the Tsubame pachinko parlour. Politely returning the coin gave me a chance to infiltrate the establishment.
Pachinko parlours are so goddamn loud. Imagine a waterfall that isn't water, but instead of being water it's ball bearings and marbles, not water. That's the sound. The sound is everywhere, not coming just from the direction of the game machines like in an arcade. It's totally immersive, 3D sound. At the counter at the far end of the parlour there was a not unattractive girl looking half excited, half scared to be looking at me; a face to which I have become accustomed. I told her the coin was dropped outside and I'm giving it back, and she didn't hear a single word I said. I repeated variations of those facts and she didn't seem to hear any of it. I had to lean in close to her and scream, "This was dropped! Dropped! Dropped!" Eventually she said nodded, "Oh, it was dropped, thanks."
Based on that interaction I assume that no one talks to Counter Girl when they buy their tokens. They simply indicate a desired amount and hand over money and walk off. No real communication is expected. Although that isn't really any different from the service you get in restaurants and porn shops, where everything is said with polite set phrases. Anything beyond the expected parameters of the interaction is met with confusion or repetition - just like Siri, the robot. Not that I'm expecting waitresses to flirt with me all the time, especially not now that half the waitresses in town are my old students. I haven't seen any old students in porn shops, not in person.
It would be wrong of me to criticise pachinko as an activity considering the amount of time I've sunk into video games and stalking, also popular Japanese pastimes. It would also be wrong of me to criticise the people who frequent pachinko parlours. They may look dirty, lazy, and unsociable but I'm sure they don't play pachinko every day. They probably spend a lot of time at home too, sleeping and ignoring their unwanted kids.
My friend and I stopped for curry in Tabito while riding. We only had two thousand yen between us. I asked the waitress if it was possible to get a curry with one thousand yen. At this point it may have been assumed that we only had one thousand yen between us and not one thousand yen each. Anyway a woman who was paying for her delicious curry offered me one thousand yen to cover us. I accepted it after pretending for a few seconds that I wouldn't.
After she left I clarified with the staff the total amount of money we had, which including all our change was now over three thousand yen. Two delicious curry sets were enjoyed. Kind people in Japan, it's not a myth.
I asked a room of ten year old kids to fold a 4x4 inch piece of paper into 6 parts. It was a disaster. Half the students (the boys, excuse me) had no clue what to do. They folded the paper in half, and again, and in half again, and unfolded it to reveal eight parts. Then they stared blankly at their failure. The most blank, vacant, empty stare you could imagine. Then some of them folded the paper again to get 16 parts?
One girl was sitting upfront in the corner seat, and she'd already folded and cut out her six pieces while the boy next to her repeatedly folded his paper into eight parts, each time looking at it with the same bewildered dribbling face. It was the dumbest thing I have ever seen. And I've seen a room of 200 university graduates cheer the re-election of Obama.
I took this picture exactly four years ago from a hotel window in Tokyo on the day I came to Japan. I can remember exactly what I was thinking: "This looks exactly like the night scenes in Ghost in the Shell."
I had low expectations of Tokyo Disney Sea because most artificial attractions I've seen in Japan are in a state of disrepair. That's why my favourite places to go until now have been places of natural greatness like Ogasawara. Tokyo Disney Sea is on a whole other level, almost as if the concept and design had come from another country. The place is a shrine to consumerism and celebrates things that are of no real value, but the level of detail and craftsmanship is so high that I couldn't help but feel admiration rather than contempt.
At Tokyo Disney Sea souvenir shops which provide auxiliary seaside tat are more plentiful than the primary attractions like rides and shows. So attractions that you can ride for free as part of your ticket price are scarce but shops and restaurants are always close by and ready to take your money. Just two minutes after entering the park we ended up in a souvenir shop where I bought a Donald Duck hat, and made the fictional claim that he is my favourite Disney character. I've never liked Disney characters or Disney movies, at university when people would reminisce about their favourite Disney songs I would sit in silence and wait for the subject to change. I swore that I would wear the hat all day but it was eventually replaced by a pair of Minnie Mouse ears.
The Magical World of Disney was much more than just shops and rides arranged seemingly at random (I'm looking at you, any other Japanese theme park ever). The sections are very distinct, each with their own carefully constructed mise en scene; the dirty Arabic area has narrow streets and carpets hanging out of windows, sweaty South America has Aztec stuff and rivers for smuggling drugs, and the pirate themed area was full of wet whores.
Ariel's undersea world was great, but I broke the verisimilitude when I accidentally opened the cover of a control panel that I thought was a secret passage. We watched a live Little Mermaid show and the white woman playing Ariel was hot. I asked Chie the obvious question of "Which half of me would you rather be a fish, top or bottom?" She said bottom half, I agreed. Ariel's nook had 15 minute queue of people waiting to get inside it. When we met Ariel I was disappointed, first because she wasn't the same as the theatre Ariel (not as hot) and second because she was wearing a shawl covering her shoulders and cleavage. What's the point in having the top half of a woman's body and dressing like that?
We queued for maybe two hours to get on the Tower of Terror (!!!). A lot of people dropped out of the queue to get refeshments while their friends saved their spot - in the high school lunch queue this was the highest of crimes. All the other couples looked miserable, living lives of misery. I expected a jovial atmosphere like a queue outside a club, but people weren't even talking to the people they came with. Chie and I were the only ones entertaining ourselves. Finally we entered the pretend haunted hotel, which no-one cared about - all we wanted was the ride at the end. It started with a woman dressed in classic hotel porter gear welcoming us to the hotel in character and I tried a slow clap after she finished but no-one took it up. Everyone probably thought I was being rude by doing something that was outside of the clearly designated "fun". Don't try and make your own memories, only take these memories that we have prepared for you. Don't try and make your own entertainment, just move silently between attractions and smile when the group photo is taken. Your experience will not be unique, you will have the exact experience that is advertised with no deviation.
I love this photo. I feel that I am the centre piece of it due to my position and the relative brightness of my face. The other people in the photo must look at it and think the same. I like the girl with the dog to my left who is trying to hide her face just by hunching up and turning her head slightly (a lot of girls do this). My favourite is the tall guy at the back who is no-selling the entire thing and acting like he's in a staff photo. I was shitting myself.
The explanation for why my front bike tire was losing air didn't make sense to me because it was said in Japanese and I didn’t understand it. The Bike Man said he might have fixed it and told me to try it and see what happened. It was still going flat so I had to have both tires replaced completely. I couldn't get them replaced immediately because Bike Man takes Tuesday and Wednesday as his weekend. In all, the whole situation - from the initial suspected puncture to the full tire replacement - dragged on for about two weeks. I used not having a reliable front tire as an excuse not to go to the gym. An excuse for not exercising at home was not provided to me.
With my tire finally repaired I ride to the gym and upon approach I see men inside doing maintenance; the gym is closed. There was a sign about this in the entrance for about a week and I remember ignoring it. It would be too embarrassing to just turn around and ride back so I carry on down the road and turn left toward the bread shop to buy some unnecessary bread to cover for my mistake. The bread shop is also closed and beyond the bread shop is a dual carriage way so I have no choice but to turn around and look foolish.
I ride back past the gym and someone might be watching so I have to act like I’m doing something. Yamada, the electronics shop, is next to the gym so I go there. The smartphones look shiny as always so I look at them and touch them even though I have an iPhone in my pocket. iPad screen protectors are next, again I already own one and don’t need to be looking at them. Although, my current screen protector is a little scratched so instead of just pretending to be shopping I might really buy a new screen protector. Open wallet, it’s empty. There’s maybe 214 yen in it. It would be too embarrassing to just turn around and walk out so I press further into the shop and look at iPods in which I have no interest. Some fat people are taking up too much space.
My performance continues and I remember that I genuinely need a USB extension cable for connecting my external hard drive and Apple MacBook Air across the room. Despite having no money I look around for a USB extension cable and when I can’t find one I ask a shop assistant where the USB extension cables are. He shows me the USB extension cables and I look at the USB extension cables and think about which length would be appropriate even though I don’t have the money to buy a USB extension cable. The shop assistant, whose time I just wasted, has walked away and probably can’t see me anymore so I slowly step away from the USB extension cables and do a facial expression to convey that I’m either reconsidering the purchase or that I can’t find the right length. It’s open to interpretation.
This has gone on long enough now, if someone was watching me they’d be convinced that I knew the gym was closed and my plan all along was to buy some bread and look around Yamada. The bread shop was closed but it didn’t matter because I did a convincing performance at Yamada. I have my backpack with my gym clothes in it but no one knows that but me. Anything could be in it, maybe it’s mostly empty and I was planning to put my shopping in it. Yeah, that’ll work.
Next, I ride back to central Onahama, get money at the ATM and go to Cainz Home, the DIY shop. I realise that Cainz Home is like a toy shop for adults; an adult toy shop. I buy a cork-board, A4 size envelopes and a USB extension cable.
I’m fifteen minutes late to school wearing a hoodie with track pants but it’s spring vacation, who cares? Men pass by wearing suits and I realise immediately that today is the farewell ceremony for the leaving teachers. I will have to ride home, change clothes then come back in less than twenty minutes. Anxiety descending, anxiety descending.
A procession of Principal, Vice Principal, visiting officials and the nine leaving teachers see me return out of breath and on the verge of tears but now wearing a suit. Taking a different route to the gym I enter through the back door, hide behind the standing students and I think I’m on time therefore I am. MC starts the proceedings then the procession walks in. Students sit down; leaving teachers enter stage right followed by Vice Principal.
The leavers sit down and Vice Principal gives a short speech about each of them, all the speeches are identical apart from the names plus there are no jokes. It’s boring, I want to fantasise about Nikkala Stott but my knees really hurt so I can’t concentrate. Then the teachers themselves give a short farewell speech.Men first, women second. A boy gives nine separate speeches to the nine leavers, and then nine students come on stage to give out nine bouquets. Everyone stands up to sing the school farewell song. It’s repeated nine times for each of the departed, with a personalised verse added. The teachers give new speeches about the verses and the flowers.
All non-leaving teachers sing a song together which combines all the special verses from the previous song but to a different melody. Somehow I’m involved in this playing an extremely large gong. All students sing a short song together then all enter stage right to give every leaving teacher flowers. A third speech is given reacting to what is now about four thousand bouquets. Some girls begin to cry. Time is spent listening to sad music; all the teachers start to cry at least a bit. Vice Principal says that the nine leavers will now give their final farewell performances.
The first plays duelling banjos on one banjo and it’s amazing. The second, third and fourth read poems about concrete. The fifth admits to his vast history of abusing the girl’s softball team then commits seppuku (ritual suicide by disembowelment). More girls begin to cry, one boy passes out. The sixth also commits seppuku but she doesn’t explain why. The seventh gets down on her knees to perform rakugo but someone misunderstands and cuts her head off. Several girls start to vomit while some boys try to stifle laughter or erections. The eighth gets down on her knees, shaking and urinating, but successfully does a short rakugo performance without being killed. The ninth is crying so much it looks like her face is melting. She starts juggling onions, three at first, then four then six. The girls that aren’t trying to cup vomit in their hands cheer her on. Vice Principal gives a speech to each of the nine about their farewell performances, even to those now dead. A woman is doing cocaine in the back corner of the gym. Several students are called upon to give opinions on the performances - many choke on vomit as they speak.
Hysterical laughter breaks out among the boys when someone farts three times in a row, each time with increased volume and duration. MC asks everyone to stand up for the school song. Girls wiping up vomit with tissues and boys snorting sawdust largely ignore him. Teachers scattered around the gym stand with lips quivering, eyes watering, trying not to look at the blood trickling off stage. Vice Principal stands staring straight up at the ceiling, drooling, squeezing a tangerine. Then Principal in a quiet voice - somehow audible over the screams and wailing - calmly orders everyone to sing the song. Everyone sings perfectly but the boys are trembling, desperately trying not to laugh because someone somehow did the triple fart again. MC, nose bleeding, announces the end of the farewell ceremony. The living teachers walk off stage slowly while volunteers carry off the dead. As the students start to leave James slips out the back door, glancing back once at the severed head on stage.
It was November and there were mosquitoes invading my apartment every night. Every morning the wife and I would wake up with mosquito bites on our arms and legs and hopefully no malaria. Anyway it was about 6:00pm and we were just about to leave for okonomiyaki and I was lying on the bed and I heard a mosquito flying around. Using my ears I tracked it to a shelf and killed it with a paper CD case. I was glorious because the inside of a bookshelf is a difficult place in which to swat a mosquito, but I did. The mosquito was full of blood.
We ate okonomiyaki at Doh-ton-bori and it was good, as usual. After eating I was waiting at the register behind a man. As the man walked away, a woman emerged from around a corner left and walked straight to the register even though she definitely saw that I was already waiting. I stomped to the register and put my wallet on it and looked back and forth between the waiter and the harpy with a shocked, accusatory face. I was truly appalled at this woman trying to jump ahead of me. Plus, her attempt at the crime made no sense, I was the only other person there and I clearly saw her coming. She backed off and her husband appeared from around the corner and he looked as you would expect, like a pleb. I triumphantly paid for my meal.
Upon returning home I killed another mosquito. It was on the ceiling and I killed it with a rolled up Japanese textbook.
I almost suffocated to death in the car on the way to the ski resort. I was politely keeping my mouth shut because I have come to understand that in Japan the temperature inside vehicles must be inversely proportional to the weather outside. In summer trains are cold enough to make my legs freeze off and in winter buses so hot that I sweat all over my expensive dry-clean-only sweaters. And on a snowy January morning the driver's car is hot enough to cause death. Also in the car were Chie, the sister and the two kids. It was totally unbelievable to me that no one had said anything for the past hour about how hot the car was, the heating was on full blast at 26 degrees and we were all wearing full winter ski wear; vests, t-shirts, two sweaters and dual-layer waterproof ski suits.
The young son was in the back middle seat (wearing a seatbelt, which is rare) and wanted to watch an USAVICH DVD. It was a series of animated shorts which must surely be the product of hallucinogenic drugs and childhood sexual abuse by rabbits. Imagine Bugs Bunny but produced by suicidal babies. Halfway through I fell asleep or maybe passed out from the heat. In a semi-conscious daze I could hear the music from the DVD playing and eventually woke up to realise the menu screen had been playing on loop - for how long I don't know, because I was having nightmares about drugged-up rabbit babies. Why had no one turned it off? Then the boy child asked me to play the whole thing again... I drifted back to the cocaine bunnies.
Eventually the sister asked to have the heating turned down and I thought seriously about the possibility that her one-year-old daughter may already be dead. The child locks on the windows were disabled and I stuck my head out the window and took the cold air into my mouth as though it was water and that it is actually what it felt like. Out of politeness I tried not to overdo it but soon I began sucking in the air like a puppy suckling on a chilled tete. Then the windows had to be closed again because...?
Then the best moment happened and it's the moment that I've been building to until now. When everyone kept complaining about the heat the driver hovered his fingers over the heating controls and almost pressed TEMP DOWN but receded and almost pressed POWER DOWN but receded. He changed the direction of the air then put the temperature down from 26 to 24 but then back to 25.5 and this went on for maybe a minute and it was beautiful. A beautiful male dance called Convincing a woman that you are listening to her. I admired his art but the car was too hot, towards the end of the journey I was sticking my head out the window more frequently and with less polite restraint. The baby lived.
In my opinion and in fact, the worst thing about skiing is the amount of preparation that has to be done before any enjoyment can take place. The time from stepping out of the car to first sliding down a ski slope must be over forty five minutes. I did some skiing and honestly I can't say that I can ski, it's more that I can balance myself well.
A member of my girlfriend's family told me this true story: An American snowboarder was on TV and he said that in America, wearing fancy gear is a sign that you are an experienced and skilled snowboarder. The cool image has to be earned. So when he came to Japan he was surprised to see that everyone was wearing fancy gear and he thought, "Wow, there sure are a lot of good snowboarders here." But he soon realised that most people were just wearing the outfit and they weren't the real deal.
Perhaps that American went to the same ski resort as me.
I needed some pictures of celebrities and characters for something I wanted to do in a class. I had a pretty good selection including Utada Hikaru, Ryo Ishikawa, Otosan the SoftBank dog and Asada Mao. I wanted to use the six year old girl who recently is featured in every Japanese TV commercial, like the "Maru Maru Mori Mori" ad which is the most annoying piece of TV ever. It played during every commercial break of the high school baseball, which I watched on the ferry back from Ogasawara.
I asked an English teacher for the name of the Maru Mori girl and she laughed and like all teachers do in the staffroom, the volume in which she spoke was unnecessarily loud for a private conversation between two people. The vice principal overheard our English conversation and heard the name "Ashida Mana" and laughed and said, "So, James, you're interested in Ashida Mana?" and the English teacher explained that I had seen her TV and I wanted to know her name... and didn't mention that all I wanted was a picture for a class.
Back at my desk I was on my iPhone searching for a picture of Ashida Mana that I could print A4 size for my class. Then the vice principal came to my desk with five pages of information about Ashida Mana that he had just printed off. Five pages of Japanese which he probably knows I can't read. Two female teachers who sit across from me saw the vice principal give me five pages of info and pictures of Ashida Mana and they said "Oh, you like Ashida Mana? She's a cute girl, right?" It would have been easy for me to say that I was looking for something to use in a class but I just sat there and grinned a pervert's grin and said nothing.
Part of my reason for keeping silent was that if someone is denying that they are a certain thing, like a wife beater or sexist or a crook, it's usually because they've already confirmed their guilt through their actions and they have to lie about it because of shame. Like in Jersey Shore when Ronnie shoved Sammi into a wall then said he would never hit a woman, or when David Cameron laughed at a woman for talking then said he isn't sexist.
