(Personally, I enjoy the 'no cup goes empty' tradition here... especially with beer, because after awhile, it does become more difficult to pour one's own beer).
Shibata-sensei congratulated me on my bowing technique, and how pleased everyone was that I showed respect to the principal and the Japanese flag even though I’m not Japanese.
I told him that respecting other people and their culture is just something we (Westerners) do. Not everyone, mind you, but most of us. There are jerks everywhere. He nodded, slapped me on my back, did up his zipper and washed his hands.
In Japan, the first thing you learn about washrooms in public places, is that there is no toilet paper or paper hand towels. You have to bring your own. The sale of small packets of tissue paper is a booming industry in Japan. They are often used in promotional giveaways and are greedily grabbed up by a flatulent population. Hey. Everybody poops.
Back at the teacher’s office, we fended off the ocha-girls (female teachers), grabbed our textbooks and headed off to class.
First up was 3-1, a third-year class. Though quiet when we walked in, it quickly became loud as the students became excited when they noticed I was with Shibata-sensei.
After another brief intro by Shibata-sensei to the students, I began my self-introduction. Because this was my first ever class, and I had no idea what to do, it may not have been my finest hour.
During my intro, I proferred photos, and no matter what I said, I was able to back it up with a photograph. Remember, this was in the days before PhotoShop.
I told them nearly everything I could about myself, which was immediately translated by Shibata-sensei. My age, birth date (that was written down by the students!), height, weight, shoe size. Family, born in London, UK, collect comic books, sports cards, played and coached soccer, played baseball, had lots of friends, had three girlfriends… okay, I know… you’ve caught me in my lie already.
I had three friends who were girls. It’s true that I would have slept with them in a heartbeat, but unfortunately, I was always the guy they would talk to when they needed to talking about what that guy did wrong. Cripes. I was their girlfriend.
But the Japanese didn’t know that and ate up the photos of brunette, Sue, red-haired Juanita, and blonde-tressed Connie. Photos of them and the rest of my introduction pics will follow, as will shots of me in action giving my intro. I'm not giving away all of my secrets in one fell swoop.
For some reason, when I said Connie's name (and it was translated), all of the students (and Shibata-sensei) started laughing. Okay, I like a good joke, and wanted to be let in on it. I checked my fly. It was down, and quickly zipped it up, but that wasn’t it. Apparently Connie, when translated phonetically into Japanese, is Ka-ni, which after decoding Shibata-sensei’s mock claw hand gestures, I realized meant ‘crab’ (kani).
My mock-girlfriend is a crab. I suppose that makes her a mock-crab, or crab with a “K”. That is funny.
Who the heck said the Japanese are an emotionless bunch of people with no sense of humour? Stupid incorrect stereotypes!
After finishing my speech and demonstration, I asked if anyone had any questions. Everyone’s hand went up. Cool! I answered every one that did not involve my penis size, so that meant I only answered the girls’ questions.
They were all curious if I liked Japanese girls. I said “Hai!” (yes) quite eagerly and asked if any had any older sisters. I said that more as a joke for myself, but Shibata-sensei translated that too. There was lots of giggling from the girls, and cries of sukebe (pervert) from the boys. That wouldn’t be the last time I’d hear that word, but despite the kidding around, I was able to show that I’m an open person, and they showed me that they were just kids, too.
After class, the boys who wanted to know my penis size again waylaid me. They pointed to themselves and said in English, “small, small.” I pointed to myself and said “oki-sai” (big size). They nodded, satisfied that the myth about Westerners was true, slapped me on my back and laughingly said, “goo-bai An-do-ryu sukebe”… which in case you weren’t paying attention is Japlish for: “good-bye Andrew pervert”.
I’m in like Flint.
Somewhere with elder sister phone numbers,
Andrew S. Joseph—the “S” is for Stephen. Or sukebe. Whatever.
Title is by .38 Special
Shibata-sensei congratulated me on my bowing technique, and how pleased everyone was that I showed respect to the principal and the Japanese flag even though I’m not Japanese.
I told him that respecting other people and their culture is just something we (Westerners) do. Not everyone, mind you, but most of us. There are jerks everywhere. He nodded, slapped me on my back, did up his zipper and washed his hands.
In Japan, the first thing you learn about washrooms in public places, is that there is no toilet paper or paper hand towels. You have to bring your own. The sale of small packets of tissue paper is a booming industry in Japan. They are often used in promotional giveaways and are greedily grabbed up by a flatulent population. Hey. Everybody poops.
Back at the teacher’s office, we fended off the ocha-girls (female teachers), grabbed our textbooks and headed off to class.
First up was 3-1, a third-year class. Though quiet when we walked in, it quickly became loud as the students became excited when they noticed I was with Shibata-sensei.
After another brief intro by Shibata-sensei to the students, I began my self-introduction. Because this was my first ever class, and I had no idea what to do, it may not have been my finest hour.
During my intro, I proferred photos, and no matter what I said, I was able to back it up with a photograph. Remember, this was in the days before PhotoShop.
I told them nearly everything I could about myself, which was immediately translated by Shibata-sensei. My age, birth date (that was written down by the students!), height, weight, shoe size. Family, born in London, UK, collect comic books, sports cards, played and coached soccer, played baseball, had lots of friends, had three girlfriends… okay, I know… you’ve caught me in my lie already.
I had three friends who were girls. It’s true that I would have slept with them in a heartbeat, but unfortunately, I was always the guy they would talk to when they needed to talking about what that guy did wrong. Cripes. I was their girlfriend.
But the Japanese didn’t know that and ate up the photos of brunette, Sue, red-haired Juanita, and blonde-tressed Connie. Photos of them and the rest of my introduction pics will follow, as will shots of me in action giving my intro. I'm not giving away all of my secrets in one fell swoop.
For some reason, when I said Connie's name (and it was translated), all of the students (and Shibata-sensei) started laughing. Okay, I like a good joke, and wanted to be let in on it. I checked my fly. It was down, and quickly zipped it up, but that wasn’t it. Apparently Connie, when translated phonetically into Japanese, is Ka-ni, which after decoding Shibata-sensei’s mock claw hand gestures, I realized meant ‘crab’ (kani).
My mock-girlfriend is a crab. I suppose that makes her a mock-crab, or crab with a “K”. That is funny.
Who the heck said the Japanese are an emotionless bunch of people with no sense of humour? Stupid incorrect stereotypes!
After finishing my speech and demonstration, I asked if anyone had any questions. Everyone’s hand went up. Cool! I answered every one that did not involve my penis size, so that meant I only answered the girls’ questions.
They were all curious if I liked Japanese girls. I said “Hai!” (yes) quite eagerly and asked if any had any older sisters. I said that more as a joke for myself, but Shibata-sensei translated that too. There was lots of giggling from the girls, and cries of sukebe (pervert) from the boys. That wouldn’t be the last time I’d hear that word, but despite the kidding around, I was able to show that I’m an open person, and they showed me that they were just kids, too.
After class, the boys who wanted to know my penis size again waylaid me. They pointed to themselves and said in English, “small, small.” I pointed to myself and said “oki-sai” (big size). They nodded, satisfied that the myth about Westerners was true, slapped me on my back and laughingly said, “goo-bai An-do-ryu sukebe”… which in case you weren’t paying attention is Japlish for: “good-bye Andrew pervert”.
I’m in like Flint.
Somewhere with elder sister phone numbers,
Andrew S. Joseph—the “S” is for Stephen. Or sukebe. Whatever.
Title is by .38 Special
