Good Day Sunshine

This story takes place during my third year of living in Japan.

You know how familiarity often breeds contempt? Well, I've been here in Japan for close to three years now. Three years of trying to amuse myself and others about my more or less true tales of woe and fun here in Japan. Through it all, I've managed to learn how to cook Japanese noodles--it's easy. You just get someone to boil you some water and add it to the contents of a styrofoam cup!
I've learned that there are Japanese woman with large breasts who will date me (thank-you very much - not that breast size is overly important to me) and that you don't really need to know the language as long as you can gesture effectively.
I've also learned a few more important things. This past January, the principal at one of my schools informed me that I would no longer be afforded the luxury of a car ride to school. He was actively refusing to allow one of the teachers (and my friend) from doing me a favour. I mean... there was no reason for this sudden snub. How can you tell someone they shouldn't pick up a friend to drive them to work?
Ordinarily, I don't mind riding my bicycle to school, but this particular school was an exact 10 kilometres away from my apartment. Ten kilometres through a heavily trafficked area where nothing actually exists but barren rice fields,a couple of 7-11's, car exhaust in abundance, and a cold whipping wind.
So. Nice and late on the Monday morning, I got on my blue convertible (the bicycle), and headed for school. Naturally, it was raining. Oh, and cold, too. Just slightly above freezing, actually.
It's amazing how that one degree Celsius can make the difference between the hellish nightmare of discomfort and the tranquil beauty of snow. I rode with clenched teeth, figuring on ways I could humiliate and then beat-up the principal. Needless to say, after a slow, cold and wet ride, I was not in a good mood upon my arrival at school.
Usually I get there in time ,for the teacher's meeting at 8AM. Not today. I actually left my place at around that time just so I could ensure I would arrive after the first period started.
As I sat down at my desk, dripping wet in my jeans (also the first time I had not worn a suit to work--all part of my silent protest), one of the o-cha ladies (a lady who serves green tea to the other teachers, but also has a second job a teacher of social sciences where students are taught about sexual equality. Nobody really passes that course), she gave me the first of my 18 cups of green tea (o-cha, again).
She then gestured towards the principal's office, and said, "Dozo (Please)." I take it she wanted me to go in and say 'herro'. I said "Ato de (later)."
Boy oh boy, you should have heard the sucking of air through  the teeth!
A few minutes later, the vice-principal made his appearance. I stood up, bowed and said "Herro." Hmmm, I think I'm developing a speech impediment. He, too, gesticulated towards the principal's office and said "Dozo." I told him the Japanese equivalent of 'No thanks. Maybe later.'
There was so much sucking of air by the rest of the teachers watching the situation, that the vice-principal promptly blacked out from the lack of oxygen.
Teachers rushed around and forced green tea down his throat (quickly brewed by the social science teacher), while the physical education teacher broke open a new carton of cigarettes and placed one between their fallen comrade's lips.
Luckily he survived. Survived to enjoy swollen kidneys and an agonizingly raspy cough.
Ten minutes later, after it was apparent I was going to sit and fume until I was dry, the principal came out of his room and welcomed me to his school. I think I managed a weak smile, but said nothing.
My show of disrespect to a 'superior' was certainly unheard of in Ohtawara. After all, I'd been quite the good little gaijin (foreigner) since arriving in Japan.
However, I decided to throw all of that to the wind in an effort to teach the Japanese some real internationalization. If respect is not offered to me, it certainly isn't going to be shown by me. Respect is not a 'given'. It has to be earned. At least that is what I think.
Still pissed off, I went to my four classes and had a surprisingly good time with the students. However, the onset of a cold was beginning to run down my nose, disgusting many a student. Coughing and sneezing quickly arrived, too.
I got 'permission' from the principal to leave school 30 minutes earlier than usual, and rode home angry in the cold rain.
I decided for no apparent reason to take a road I had never taken before, neither passing anyone or being passed - until I spied a little girl in a red rain slicker and matching boots walking along the side of the road whilst holding an umbrella.
She was barking at a dog. Mimicking it, actually. Anyone who knows me, knows that this is something I like to do as well.
I let go a deep Rottweiler-like bark (I did have four over the years). The dog she was barking at quickly shut up in respect. But my barking did cause the girl to quickly whip around to see if she was going to be killed by some sort of dog on a bicycle. She laughed when she saw it was only me. We had never met before.
I slowed down and said "Konichiwa (Hello)". She held her umbrella out to me seeing as I was completely soaked.
I was completely stunned. I stopped my bike, got off, held the umbrella over the two of us and slowly walked with her while pushing my bike.
Her name was Sachiko Watanabe, and she was seven-years-old. We asked each other the standard questions two people meeting for the first time would ask while we continued to bark like mad dogs in the rain. We laughed at our own silliness.
We finally gave our vocal chords a break from the barking while I tried to hold her umbrella, walk the bike and play rock-scissors-paper with her.
After a few minutes of puddle hopping, we came to a side road that led through yet another cross-section of rice fields. Sachiko pointed towards it and looked up at me. I sadly shook my head and pointed in the direction we had been traveling.
I handed back the umbrella, got on my bicycle and said good-bye.
We waved that frantic wave of new friends saying farewell and headed our separate ways. It was still raining, but it didn't seem so cold anymore.

Somewhere feeling better,
Andrew Joseph   
Today's title is by The Beatles -listen to it HERE via a 1967 Beatles cartoon. Why was I not aware these things existed before today?? This is brilliant!
PS: True story, bark for bark. Just when you think everything sucks, something or someone will always come along (eventually) to show you it doesn't suck. You DO have to be willing to listen, though.