Beat It!

I think I must do it on purpose.
By that, I mean my inability to figure out even the more rudimentary level of this ancient Corinthian language more commonly known as Japanese. And it's killing me.
There I was, asleep in my bed. DING-DONG! DING-DONG! There I was, awake in my bed. DING-DONG! I reached for my alarm clock and squint at the time. Hmmm, a blurry 9AM. DING-DONG! I didn't have my glasses or contacts on.
It was December 30th, and I was on holiday. No way was I getting up to answer that door. DING-DONG! DING-DONG! I knew it wasn't Matthew because it was 9AM. It wasn't Ashley because she was in Thailand with a few other female AETs (our planned Christmas vacation fell by the wayside in October/November after she, I mean I broke up with her - though by the time we got back together again, it was too late to book a vacation together). I didn't mind too much... I was in Japan to see Japan... good thing too or none of us Rifers would learn today's lesson.
After three more minutes of incessant DING-DONG's, I sensed that this person was not going to leave me alone.
I got up out of bed and went to peer through the peephole to see who the heck it was. By this time, the doorbell's constant ringing was making it sound kind of worn: DING-DEONG! DING-DEONG!
When I peered out, I saw a Nihonjin's (Japanese person's) eyeball pressed up against the peephole peering in at me. The eyeball stepped back and I saw the grinning visage that was my friend and supervisor, Kanemaru-san from the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education).
I quickly glanced to the right where I have a calendar hanging to make sure I had the date correct. Yup. It was definitely December 30. He was supposed to come over on the 31st and take me to his place at 10AM for a homestay. That's what he said on the phone last night - didn't he?
DIIIIINNNNNN-DEEEEOOOOOOONNGGG! DIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG-DEEEEEEEEEONNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGSPROINK!
My doorbell broke. He then began pounding on my door - THUMP-THUMP!
It turned out I was supposed to go his place for the New Year's festivities today. Letting him in and begging his forgiveness, I quickly got dressed - deigning not to shave - packed a few clothes and stuff for at least a three-day jaunt into the nearby rural town of Kurobane (where he lived) and ran downstairs to the Kanemaru white van.
We then drove 100 kph (60 mph) along a 40 kph (25 mph) zone of winding, narrow goat paths. After what seemed like hours of hell-raising-conversationally-silent minutes, we arrived at his homestead. Despite his niceness, he speaks English like I speak Japanese. It ain't swell.
We got out and immediately walked over to his backyard where we spent the next four hours watching several families make mochi, which is a Japanese (redundant) rice ball cake.
For your edification, it seems that they steam the rice for half an hour and then dump the soggy stuff into a hollowed out tree stump. The rice is then pounded with very large 20-kilogram (~44-pound) wooden mallets by the men.
Between every hammer blow, one of the women quickly dips a wet hand into the rice and folds over a section before the hammer strikes down again. I timed it - there exists a one-second interval between hammers strikes.
After about 15-minutes of hammer pounding and folding, the now paste-like rice is flattened some more by hand, left to cool and then cut into slender strips.
At this point, the mochi can be eaten soft, or it can be left to harden for a day. To use it later, pieces of rice strips are placed over a heat source which causes the mochi to puff up, and I have to tell ya, it tastes pretty good with some soyu (soy) sauce.
All well and good and interesting, but it's still not the crux of the story.
There were four families at Kanemaru's place (including his own). He had the only mochi set-up in the area apparently.
So let me backtrack a bit and take you to the initial time when the mochi-pounding began. The men all gathered in a huddle and I swear to all Japanese gods there are - they giggled hideously in low, evil tones. I glanced over at the women, and watched them wince in anticipation.
Pulling out his handy-dandy Japanese-English dictionary, Kanemaru-san pointed out the word 'revenge' - which in Japanese is urami-o-harasu. He then laughed loudly and said "Jodan!" (Joke!) But I wasn't so sure.
Twenty minutes later, the men were out of women.
Now the men became nervous, as they had to share the pounding and folding duties. However, I did notice that they were a lot slower on the pounding and yelled out warnings to each other.
I even had my turn at hefting a mallet, straining not to give myself a hernia, and almost succeeding. I only hit three hands and one noggin, which was not only pretty good for a gaijin (foreigner)--I swear I heard someone say that--but it was pretty good for a Nihonjin--I swear I heard myself say that.
Anyhow, check this OUT - especially near the end.
Later, after many a pain-absorbing beer and sake (rice wine) passed around the dinning room table (perched 20 centimeters off the floor), we ate the soft mochi.
I met one of Kanemaru-san's nephews, Masahiro, who spoke some decent English, who told me that around this time of year, many of Japan's senior citizens succumb to the icy touch of Death. Apparently a lot of the old folks die after trying to eat the soft mochi and having it get stuck in their throat. He said the only way to save the victim is to have it sucked out by a vacuum cleaner.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-hough-cough-hack! Arigato! (thanks)".
After Masahiro left, Kanemaru-san talked to me about something while I nodded in awe of his Japanese language skills. Suddenly he said, "Ima, ikki masho!" (Let's go now!).
I didn't ask where we were going, but I knew it would be interesting. Actually, I didn't ask, because I didn't know how to. I just went.
Imagine my surprise when we pulled up to the front of my apartment building. He graciously got out of the right front door, came around and opened up my door, shook my hand and said "goodo-bai", which is exactly what it sounds like.
Apparently I must have misunderstood the date, time and duration of this homestay which was not a homestay, but just a visit. Which means I basically misunderstood everything. Oh well, live and not learn how to speak Japanese.
Didn't I have a bag filled with clothes in his car?

Somewhere eati.... HWwwaaaaacccchhhhhhhhhhh--GGGGGGGGGGLLLLlarrrrrrrrrrrrGGGGG-HHHHHWWWWWWWWAACH-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-hack! Cough! Ahemmmmm!... eating soft mochi. HwwwaaaaaccccHHHHHH!!!
Andrew Joseph
PS: Today's title by Michael Jackson. It's not rock and roll, but it's a damn fine song.
Watch the video HERE and then watch the great parody by Weird Al Yankovich - CLICK.