Food Poisoning

The lowest point of my birthday weekend in Osaka, happened on the night of my actual birthday. (Last year, on my actual birthday, I spent a chunk of the evening with my dear friend H in the emergency room. The cough that I had developed over the week had somehow managed to turn itself into an evil form of bronchitis, and I literally thought I had cracked a rib…so to the emergency we went…a couple of cuties, dressed for a night on the town, sitting in the emergency room…on the plus side, the drugs they gave me were so strong, that at my actual birthday party, I was legally high as a kite.) This year’s only goal was to not end up in the emergency room 2 years in a row. And stuff was going great…until I woke up in bed (at Kiwi-boy’s old host family’s house) and immediately started puking (unfortunately, I have been on such hard core allergy meds lately, I have not been able to drink in weeks…so this was not an alcohol-induced illness.) Turns out I had gotten food poisoning from a burger at Wendy’s (long story short, the Wendy’s employee managed to wander off for a smoke break in the midst of my order then completely forgot about me…yeah, if I could properly communicate my anger to the manager, that man would have gotten an earful…instead, the food service community managed to do what I have noticed is typical in Japan, when someone manages to fuck up your order…or forget about it completely …which I am sad to say has happened a bit too often to be coincidental… there are no apologies…just here you are, by the way you are a foreigner we have no respect for you.) Oops, I did not mean to digress into a bitter diatribe about shoddy Japanese food service employees….Anyhow, I woke up on a futon in a 3rd floor bedroom…aware of the fact that the closest toilet was on the 1st floor (miles away). So I did what any self-respecting girl would do when she is aware of the fact that the tatami mats she is sleeping on, cost a mint to replace (and replacement would be the only option if I were to vomit on them.) I blindly grabbed a dirty t-shirt from my bag, with the intention of spewing on it, then placing it in a plastic bad and disposing of it at the train station the next morning. Unfortunatly 2 things happened…1) I finally got around to turn on the light and realized that I had accidentally used one of my favorite shirts…which meant I wasn’t going to toss it at the station. 2) I was actually getting sicker…but was pretty immobile, so there was nowhere I could go. So I text messaged kiwi-boy to check on me… His initial response was, we have to get you to the Emergency Room!! After pleading with him, not to move me, or involve the Japanese medical community in any way… He agreed to give me 30 minutes to have some sort of improvement, or go to the hospital.

I hate to say that the worst part about the whole ordeal was not the sickness or the stomach cramps, but the fact that I had to confront the kind people (whom I had just met a few hours before) with the fact that I had managed to completely soil a t-shirt, and that I was a MESS. Luckily, they were extremely understanding…but man, I still get a bit embarrassed when I think about the whole thing.

Gloomy Bear

I love that cute pink but evil bear. I don’t know if you guys are familiar with him, if not you should do a quick google search to see my latest love. (Actually, I kind of liked him before coming to Japan…but since being here, I find that I like him even more…maybe that is what happen when you work with kids all the time…you start imagining their stuffed toys beating them up.) Anyhow, since I was in Osaka over the weekend I had to make a stop at the Gloomy Bear shop in Amerikamura …. Lo and behold, there was a guy dressed up as Gloomy bear standing outside of the store, beating people up for photos. It was fabulous! After my friends and I all took turns getting strangled by Gloomy, we went inside for a bit of shopping. (as if taking pictures with a mascot that is willing to beat you up, isn’t cool enough…there was more!!) Inside, we met the artist of Gloomy bear…Chax Colony…and let’s face it, on a coolness level (okay this is my twisted coolness barometer) meeting Chax is almost as cool as meeting Paul Frank. So my girlfriend S (who is like the world’s biggest fan) and I are like, lets get an autograph…ah yes, here is where the Japanese get ya… Getting an autograph would not be a problem “if” we were willing to buy the 5th anniversary, limited edition 100 postcard book thing….I was like, um…we don’t really need 100 postcards…especially not $50 worth of postcards. And the salesclerk was like, well…this is a super limited opportunity…only 50 people are getting signatures from Chax, and there are only 6 spots still open, and you have to buy the post cards. So S and I said, fine…we will split it but we want 2 separate signatures…the salesclerk was not very keen on this, but since we were “special” customers (i.e. foreigners) she was willing to make an exception. So as the two of us rip open our “special edition” collector’s item book of postcards, searching for the perfect postcard to get signed…we encounter the next small snafu….it seems that Chax will only sign the special edition box…on the plastic….”excuse me? Why? Would? We? Want? That????” (plus we had already tossed aside the plastic covering.) … so finally the salesclerk agrees to let us, “special customers” get 2 (not 1) postcards (not the plastic covering of the box) signed….and you know, the guy was pretty cool…you could tell, he was pretty over the “starstruck” bitch salesclerk, because he really didn’t have any sort of issues signing our postcards…he even drew us little gloomy bears, under the autographs. And even though, S and I got suckered into buying way too many postcards of an evil pink bear…we both left feeling pretty good about ourselves.

24 hour Internet Booths

2 a.m. in Osaka: I found myself wandering the streets with a bunch of my mates, with no place to sleep. We tried a couple of Love hotels…but there was literally no room at the inn for us weary travelers…so as a last resort we ended up checking into an Internet Booth for the night…for about $20 we got a private booth, with a lazy boy like seat (although it didn’t fold out to a bed) unlimited access to the internet, a TV, free soft drinks, and unlimited amounts of reading material (everything from fashion/sport magazines to porn)…I just told myself that it was way more comfortable and warmer than sleeping in an alleyway on the street…but that really was all it had going for it. The place smelled like stale smoke, and somebody’s cell phone alarm went off every half hour, starting at 5 am. I guess it really is the little things that one has to be grateful for: heating, protection from the elements, and a lock on the door. Next time, I will probably just use my credit card to get a room at Swisshotel or something equally as un-dodgy.

Sumo Wrestling

Caught a sumo tournament over the weekend. I love sumo. I thought it would be a bit painful and boring to watch, but wanted to go for the whole “cultural” experience. I had no idea how great it would end up being…. I mean, fat men giving each other wedgies for sport…how amazing is that?

Birthday Party in Osaka

For the last couple of years, I have had huge blowout 25th birthday parties (that was not a typo, I have had multiple 25th birthday parties), with about 100 of my friends at a funky bar…I like the whole process, of getting a pretty dress, getting my nails done, and being surrounded by friends from all different areas of my life. This year, there was no dress, no nails, no hair appointments, no new jewelry creations…. but for the first down to earth birthday party, after years of 25th blowout bashes (where I managed to celebrate my real age) I learned low-key isn’t necessarily bad…. 25 of my nearest and dearest at a Mexican restaurant, drinking coronas and margaritas and gorging on burritos…Then onto a private karaoke booth, where I was serenaded in both English and Japanese. Now that my actual age has caught up to me, I guess I should start focusing my energies on throwing a blowout 30th birthday party…I mean it isn’t that far away.

Massage Chairs at the electronics store

Possibly the best (and cheapest) thing a person can do is check out the massage chairs at any of the super electronic stores. I was recently introduced to them, and totally fell in love. I spent 30 minutes last weekend test-driving a $4000 chair…it was “almost” as good as an actual masseuse, what with features that focus on the spine, the arms, the legs, feet, and head…these chairs are amazing…and FREE!!!

Allergies aka turning Japanese:

I have been so sick lately. My allergies are ridiculous…sniffling, sneezing, headache, sore throat…its like the flu, but not. I have finally succumbed to the ways of the Japanese allergy sufferers. I have purchased a “SARS” mask, and wear it anytime I go out in the open air. I was told, I should also wear goggles, to protect my eyes, and rain gear, to protect my skin from a dangerously high pollen count….but I think the SARS mask is enough. Oddly, nobody looks at me funny when I walk down the street with the mask on….I guess it just isn’t that unusual here. So far the mask has not helped me….but I’ll keep you posted.

Parties (aka. being invited because you are a foreigner)

I suppose now that spring is here, people have begun to leave their homes and get back into the social scene. Over the past week I have had a ridiculous number of “parties” to attend. Sunday brought about the social hour at Kiwi-boy’s Judo teacher’s home. Essentially, the judo sensei’s wife wanted all the English speakers in the area to come over and meet her English Conversation group. In exchange for a night of free food and drink, the conversation group would get free English lessons. The trouble with these kinds of events, is that my approach to attending a party is a bit different than the Japanese way of attending a party. Generally, I show up, nosh, chat, drink, and leave the second the party begins to die. Here in Japan, the land of overkill, a party usually works like this: you show up and are given a drink (whatever you do, do not actually sip the drink, until the toast…signaling the actual start of the party…usually about 15 minutes after you have been served the drink). Next, you wait patiently for the food, and begin the act of “socializing” (and by this I mean, do not think of this as a Japanese language lesson, because unless one has superior language skills, the Japanese people will only speak English to you…and by English I mean usually light, superficial conversations about the weather, hobbies, or where you have traveled). Then the eating begins (when I first came here, I was told that Japanese portions are about a quarter of the size of American portions…this is true, but there are about 800 more choices and things to eat in Japan, so stuff not only evens out…but the Japanese actually end up serving way more food.) During the meal and after the meal, there are more conversations about the weather…. then about 4 hours later, one is permitted to leave (the 4 hour mark might actually be the exact amount of time, that one has to endure for a dinner party….). Finally, I am allowed to go home…about 3.5 hours later than I normally would have left.

Imagine, I had 3 of these to endure last week (Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday)…by the time I hit foreign food night on Wednesday, I was so grateful to be in a room with a bunch of English speakers, where I had the option to leave after only 30 minutes if I chose to…of course I ended up staying the requisite 4 hours.

English words that Japanese people typically tend to confuse:

rice vs. lice, play vs. pray, clap vs. crap, election vs. erection, room vs. loom, right vs. light, lap vs. rap, breast vs blessed, rip vs. lip, Rick vs. lick

Okay, so I could go on and on with a list of these words. These just happen to be the ones that I have run across multiple times since I have been living in Japan, attempting to internationalize.

thoughts about school cleaning period

You know, sometimes I will have these moments at school where I just step back for a second and think, what on earth am I doing here. Today's moment came during school cleaning period. The classical music was blaring through the speakers, the kids were frantically sweeping and dusting. And I found myself kneeling in a corner with a small piece of red sandpaper. Vigorously scraping at a metal window sill, in the hopes of clearing off a bunch of graffiti I couldn't read if I tried. Well...there was some graffiti that simply said "Judy and Mary"...but seeing as that was the only think I could read, I have no idea as to what that refers to. Generally, when i find myself doing random odd jobs around school, I find myself thinking one of the following thoughts: 1) Wax on Wax off 2) I wonder what Marc Jacobs, Betsy Johnson, Michael Kors or Anna Sui would think, if they knew their clothes had become the uniform of a common janitor, 3) ONLY .... more days til I can escape this crazy country, 4) If I have to clean another ...... I think I will barf.

I guess I should be happy with the fact that I have not yet had to clean any of the bathrooms...but I fear that my days of not doing that may be numbered...YUCK!!!

100% Ichigo

100% Ichigo means 100% Strawberry, and it is the name of the manga that one of my students chose to read instead of paying attention in my class. Now my rule for kids that insist on playing with their mobiles or reading manga during class, is that if they do it under their desk, I will ignore it and pretend I don’t see anything wrong. If they do it out in the open, calling attention to themselves, then I have to do something about it. In the case of strawberry-boy, he was holding the comic book up in the air, pointing out pictures of the lead girl (think strawberry shortcake with implants) and reading passages out loud. Well now there is nothing I can do but take it away from him. How was I to know that his response to my taking away his precious manga would be so violent (I guess I am the first person to do this to him, most of the teachers just ignore him). First he stood up and started yelling at me in Japanese, in which I responded in english by telling him to “chill out, I’ll give it back to you after class.” Then he and his buddy, got up and walked out of class. I thought, great, now I don’t have to deal with them anymore, and thought that would be the last of it. Of course not, Strawberry boy returns (sans his buddy, who opted to stay out of class) this time he picks up the wooden desktop off his desk and starts swinging it in the air. One of the other boys throws a wadded up sock at him and he uses the desktop as a bat and hits the sock across the room. Finally the teacher says something to him and he puts the desktop down. Only to pick it and the metal desk bottom up 10 minutes later, and bang it together with the wooden top. Holy cow, what a great loud noise it made…totally inappropriate for the classroom, but pretty cool none the less. The teacher finally stepped in at this point and took his entire desk away…I was so happy to hear the bell ring.

Porn and Pocky party

We have done some pretty ridiculous stuff for the zine. Lots of crazy photo shoots, ridiculous articles, and a couple of treasure hunts for really bad engrish. But the idea of having a party that centered around eating pocky sticks and watching bad anime porn, well, that was my sick brainchild. And on Sunday, it came to pass that, group viewings of anime porn while taste testing food is actually a really bad idea. I don’t think I am as fascinated by anime porn as I thought I would be. I mean, how many underaged school girl rape scenes can a person watch, before they want to hurl the food they have been taste-testing. On the plus side I did get all of the research and comments done for my article, but oh man, I cannot look at any of the salary men on trains the same way again. I think I have finally found a theme party that doesn't quite work, Party planners of the world take note.

Seeing a Japanese Doctor

Every year at about this time, I get a sinus infection. It's the pollen in the air, it’s my allergies, it’s a fact of life…whatever. Unfortunately, seeing as I am not at home where I can pop over to the nearest pharmacy and load up on Sinus/Allergy meds, I have to make due with what I have: a lot of EmergenC and Advil (usually, they work as my cure-alls). Of course, in the case of a sinus infection neither a Vitamin booster nor acetimetiphin will help me very much. So I braved seeing a Japanese doctor the other day. Beyond the obvious language barrier (it was really more a game of medical charades although I did have an electronic dictionary/translator) the whole incident will go down in history as possibly the second worst medical experience in my life. (the first being the time I went to the Mexican doctor and he misdiagnosed me with a heart defect and told me I would die…actually now that I think of it, there was a language barrier going on that day too.) I had a really bad sore throat, which was caused by head congestion/drainage (you don’t need more details than that) the doctor couldn’t understand what I meant by congestion (especially since I appeared to be breathing okay) so he diagnosed me with acute tonsillitis (which I have had numerous times) so I asked him for penicillin…I think he said that Japan does not have penicillin, because he seemed shocked that I would ask for it. So I asked for amoxicillin, again he said no….instead he asked me if I would like to get a blood test. I was like, “no, just give me the antibiotics so I can get back to school to teach my 4th period class”….he followed this with, “how do you feel about suppositories?” I just laughed and said, “Da me!!!”(which essentially means NO WAY in hell!!) Keep in mind this whole conversation is going on with gestures, AND a crew of 4 nurses standing around on the sidelines (I believe they were there hoping to get a view of the freaky foreigner naked….which explains why they all started giggling when the doctor lifted my shirt to listen to my heart.) In the end, I was given a supply of antibiotics, cough drops, mouthwash, and the Japanese form of Tylenol. All for the great low price of $20 (which included semi-entertaining, yet freakishly hellish doctor appointment). The whole experience was cheaper than Kaiser and yet equally as ineffective.

Kiwi Boy

Well, it seems I have been getting lots of emails regarding the identity of Kiwi boy. Seeing as I never reveal the actual identities of any of the people that pass thru my blog, I hope you can all be happy with a brief description. Kiwi-boy is my new-ish (its been 2 months) younger-ish (not quite a Mrs. Robinson thing, more of a Drew/Fabrizio thing) New Zealander boyfriend. He is a fellow English teacher, who lives about 30 minutes away from me. He speaks Japanese almost fluently (which totally comes in handy for me!), plays golf (and is determined to get me out on the golf course…yeah, right!) judo, and rugby. And, truth betold, I am pretty happy with this guy right now. Of course, I am leaving Japan in about 5 months, and he is staying on for another year, so who knows what will happen in the future. But I think for right now, I am just going to sit back and enjoy the ride.