Feeling Alright

I'm back... sorry for the interruption.

It's Sunday, August 18, 1991. And I have recently begun my second-year of my wonderful rifde here in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan.

Today is an eventful day, as I say good-bye to one guest, and welcome another.

My mom has been visiting from Toronto, as has my friend John.

My mom is out of my apartment at 5:30AM (apparently there IS a 5:30 in the morning... who knew?) to go on a trip to Kyoto out west.

John? He's heading home today. We leave my place at noon. It's super hot (37 Celsius), and if I thought hos bags were heavy when he arrived (he brought me a 12-pack of beer bottles), it's incredibly heavy now after souvenir hunting these past few weeks.

I'm still sick from dysentery (picked up in Thailand last week - at least I hope it's dysentery, as I had carnal relations with two beautiful 21-year-old Thai women... usually one at a time, but before I left both at the same time), and I'm feeling very weak from all of that wiping of my butt. As such... I'm not in the best of moods... not that it matters, as I haven't been in a good mood for a few weeks (Thai sex excepted).

John and I have a non-eventful ride to Tokyo's airport, Narita, arriving at 4PM. As we are shopping for crap souvenirs, I run into Brian, an American who works in Ohtawara for an electrical firm (he's on a real exchange). He's there to see off his brother - and I agree to meet up with him around here at 5PM. Small world, eh?

I dump John at 5PM. I slap him on the back and tell him to "look after that job-thing first" and then say
"See-ya" and leave. I'm not sure who goes on a vacation half-way around the world when they are out of work, but that's my John.

Speaking of john's... I need to go to the toilet, but I know if I open up the floodgates, it will never stop. Instead, I have intense intestinal control. 

Guess who I am meeting? Kristine South.

That's right... the awesome American girl of Japanese descent who has been the object of many a real-life fantasy. She lives in Shiga-ken (Shiga Prefecture) some 500 kilometres away... kind of where my mom is heading today.

I don't know if it's a Florence Nightingale thing, but on my first night in Japan, Kristine saved my life. I looked left to cross a large street in Tokyo, instead of right. She pulled me back from certain death... so I guess we all have Kristine to thank (or blame) for this blog. Yay!

Kristine is gorgeous. But that's not even her strong point. It's her kindness, generosity, intelligence and sense of humour all tied for number one. That's how much I like and respect her. It means that though I do want to sleep with her (and I think she with me), I don't think I'm good enough for her. To be honest... with her, it was never about a one-night stand. I wanted a relationship.

Now Kristine doesn't know that. She thinks I'm playing hard to get. It might even surprise her in 2011, as she is know to read this blog every once in awhile. But, she did say that I always seemed to have a woman on the go... and she wasn't impressed with my taste in women. Though she did not meet the Thai girls, I'd have to say she might be correct. It's why I don't think I am good enough for her.

Still... she is coming over for a visit!

Did I mention I am sick?

I'm supposed to meet her at Ueno-eki (Ueno train station) in Tokyo at 6PM. The phone message I left on Rory's machine was for her to meet me at the Shinkansen (bullet train) ticket machine. I forgot, or didn't know, that there were two of them spread quite far apart.

By the way.. Rory is an ex of Kristine's... and I like him, as we seem to be quite similar... so maybe Kristine and I could be an item... if only she didn't live 500 kilometres away!

Anyhow, Brian and I are late. We arrive at 6:30PM... and hang around the ticket machines until 7PM, and then leave. We go to a McDonald's for dinner... and all I can think about besides not pooping my pants is that Kristine and I just aren't destined to be together... like two ships sailing past another in the night.

The McDonald's - I have a McTerriaki burger - lasts five minutes in my stomach. Did you know that McDonald's toilets are the same messy experience all over the world? At least that one was after I got through with it. Oh my gawd!

We then head for home. I am so sick and depressed now, it's not even funny.

We we are talking on the train, I notice Kristine walk by on the platform. I run out and yell for her to get on!

Hugs and a kiss on the cheek... and major apologies by myself.

See? I told you she was smart! She was going to get on the train and make her way to my place. She had my address and phone number and was going to stay in Ohtawara even if I wasn't there! And then give me grief later! What a woman!

Kristine and I take a taxi back to my place - Brian a taxi back to his. He doesn't really live that close by, and I suspect he figured Kristine and I could do with a bit of privacy.

Kristine - back at my place - is now fully aware that I am even more sick than I suspect... so after we talk for a few hours, we crash for the night. I don't want her to get sick... so we spend it in separate bedrooms.

Figures.

By the way... you may have heard me whine about how I haven't had a day to myself in weeks, and how it was killing me? Well... this was one night when I wish I had closer company.

The gods are conspiring against me...

Somewhere I have until Tuesday to get better,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Joe Cocker: REDCROSS

Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me & My Monkey

It's not all about the sex. It's just mostly about the sex. This blog is mostly about the part that is not about the part that is mostly about sex. I get it, even if I'm not getting it today.

It's Saturday, August 17, 1991. I'm living in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. My mom has come to visit from Toronto. Karen, who is newly arrived in Japan  (three weeks), wants to be my friend before we embark on sex.

She and I are assistant English teachers on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme. I'm on my second year here. I've also just come off a break-up with my girlfriend Ashley of Augusta, Georgia, and subsequent friends-with-benefits equation. It's sex without the hang-ups of ... well, everything.

I recently returned from Thailand where I was lucky enough to have become the boy toy for two hot-hot-hot Thai women who are 21, work at the hotel I stayed at, and were cool with me dating the other girl. Dating should have been in "quotes". My last night there involved a Thai sandwich, that was both filling and satisfying, but has left me wanting more... and that doesn't seem to be something I can pick-up here in Japan. But... never say die.

And here's Karen who wants to slow thing down so that we can have a relationship before we have sex. She obviously doesn't know who the heck she is dealing with. 

My mom and Karen went to the famed historical city of Nikko together yesterday. Nikko is famous for its "Three Wise Monkeys"... you know the ones: "Hear No Evil; See No Evil; Speak No Evil".

There should be a fourth one: "Touch No Evil, with the monkey grabbing his groin area. Matthew actually got me a statuette of the Four Wise Monkeys... and I'll be damned if I know where it is. Probably got taken out in the house fire a few years back.

Karen rather than going back to her apartment two towns south when the trip was over, came back to my place. She and my mom talked. I think I just touched myself while remembering Thailand.

Anyhow... at 8:30AM, Karen comes bounding into my room and jumps atop me, puts her arms around me, kisses me good morning, waiting until something pops up between us before hopping off. Damn... now more monkey business for me later.

She wants me to get up and fix her some tea and toast. I'm exhausted both physically and mentally. I haven't been alone in weeks and I've had dysentery.

By this time, my mom is up and sees Karen following out of my bedroom, arches an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. I don't even bother trying to correct her mistake, as she already thinks I slept with all of the female staff at our hotel in Thailand, and that I probably got the stewardesses pregnant on our return flight home.

Why tell my mom she's wrong? besides, she knows that even if I was doing what she suspects I am doing, that I would be smart enough to use all of the condoms she sent me.

I am.. but if the past week in Thailand has taught me anything, one can never have enough boxes of condoms.

Because  I seem to have misplaced my bicycle key (to unlock it), I call up my boss, Kanemaru-san, at the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE). He comes over, and I introduce him to everyone. He raises an eye at Karen and then looks at me... like 'what the hell are you doing?!' I shrug my shoulders back at him as if to ask 'What the hell am I doing?!' We then take my bicycle over to one of the 347 bicycle repair shops that are apparently all located on a single laneway called Bicycle Repairshop Street.

I'm making that up, but it's not really that outlandish. I just have no idea what any of the streets are, as there are no street signs denoting it.

We leave my bike there - as they will apparently either create a new key or put a new lock on, and then drop it  off at my place tomorrow. 

Back at my apartment one hour later, Karen and my mom are sewing pillow cases for my sofa. You've got to be kidding me? It's almost the last straw. If it wasn't for Karen's awesome sweater puppets, I would've blown a seal... and then got angry when the seal wouldn't call me the next day.

I hate this! I appreciate the gesture, but I don't want to feel obligated to anyone I'm trying to boink.

I head out onto my western balcony for some fresh air, and to read Sherlock Holmes, as Karen, my mom, and now local girl (and only friend) Naoko plot out the details of my mom's trip out to the western part of Japan. Holy crap... my mom is going to see more of Japan than I ever will!

Why am I not going with her? Oh yeah... I'm 'busy' and have no money.

Karen wants to go with my mom (please god, no), but I don't think she realizes just how expensive it really is.

At 4PM, I take a bicycle trip out to Ashley's place to water her plants while she is away in the U.S. No, my bicycle is not yet back, however, I borrowed Ashley's bicycle for Karen to ride a few days ago... lucky... so at least I have something  - a girl's bike - to make the 20-minute trip (by bike) to Nishinasuno-machi (Nishinasuno Town).

Of course, pretty much every single one of my students in seven junior high schools happens to be out that afternoon, and sees me riding a girl's bicycle. Most laugh their head off, while others gasp as they know it's Ashley-sensei (Ashley teacher's) bike - and what happened to her.

The all-seeing Eye of Agamotto, which sees all and knows all, only watches my life. Perhaps it's because Ashley lives in Nishinasuno (northwest of Ohtawara), that people don't seem to know much about her life... or perhaps it's because she doesn't tell everybody everything. Whatever... she told me, so therefore, everyone should already know everything about her!

You know... I warned Ashley many, many, many times to never make a writer angry.  See? I told you not to make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry (or apparently when I'm not angry).

Unlike my friend John who left my fridge empty for me when I came back from Thailand, I restock Ashley's fridge with some bare necessities, as she is returning on Tuesday.

Back home, my mom's reservations for tomorrow's Shinkansen train ride out west, and for her hotels... they are all set. Karen has indeed found the financial waters at tad too deep and has correctly decided to get out.

Naoko drives Karen to the train station so she can go back to Yaita-shi. That leaves just me and my mom... and she's in the bedroom packing for tomorrow. I enjoy the quiet for exactly 30 minutes... that's when John arrives back at my place.

I make him, Naoko and my mom a super hot chili dinner. It makes them all sweat, but at least no one bitches about the heat. I don't eat because I know the food won't stay in me. One, if you'll pardon the pun, solid week of dysentery.

John's trip to Fuji-san was a partial success. He apparently got down to Tokyo without a hitch, but then got on another train that went east instead of west. By the time he discovered the mistake and actually got to Mt. Fuji (I don't believe it actually exists), there were no buses going up to Level 5 (a place where most people actually start the climb so as to not tire themselves out too much when trying to reach the summit. 

So... he either had six-hour hike or the option of a taxi. He took the taxi. I don't blame him... but how much did that cost?! The cab driver gave him a walking stick with all of the levels he would have physically climbed if he hadn't taken a car. The stick, actually contained a few more levels and had a stamp for the peak.

Still, John made it all the way up to Level 8 - and then crashed. He awoke cold and hungry, but did get some really good pictures. That's what he said. I never actually saw the photos... more proof that there is no actual Mt. Fuji. You can read my explanation for this HERE.

Anyhow... everybody loved my chili... especially my mom, who had no idea that I could cook. I can't. This was pretty much the only thing I can make.

after John packed and got ready for his flight back home tomorrow, he and went out for four beers apiece at the 4C bar. We run into another local gaijin (foreigner), Kevin... and both he and John chide me for being too quiet. Hell... I'm sick. And tired.

Am I loud enough for you boys now?

Somewhere touching my monkey,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by The Beatles: COMEON 
PS: I was actually quite impressed with John for trying to climb this imaginary mountain. He did good.
PPS: The image above is NOT the one Matthew gave me... his was a white plastic and maybe about 4 inches high per monkey. I can still picture it perfectly.

Back In The Saddle

Airports... I hate'em.

I've been in Thailand and Tokyo without my sunglasses for an entire week now. People who know me realize that's not something I am happy with. It was probably because when I left Japan it was raining.

Thailand while drizzling rain, was quite bright.

I've worn sunglasses atop my face since I switched from photo-grey sunglasses (that get darker when the sun gets brighter) to wearing contact lenses when I was 17.

But, even without sunglasses, I met and 'dated' two Thai women with looks that would make anyone's head spin in amazement. Amazement that they were with me, I suppose. Hey.... I have a very large... what's that "p-word"? Oh yeah... personality. Plus I'm hung like a donkey. I'm kidding. I'm such an ass.

Mom and I get a chauffeur-driven limo ride from our Bangkok hotel to the airport.

I should mention that there were quite a few young ladies there at the hotel to see me off. Waving and giggling. Boon-mee and Tookta were there too. It was quite the nice send-off. I didn't know the other women, but I did recognize most as being staff from the hotel.

I'm just going to assume they didn't provide a send-off like this to everyone. It even made my mom wonder aloud to me if I had actually slept with all of those women. I wish... but I didn't have enough time or condoms or fluid in the five days here.

Despite me meeting my mom here in Bangkok, it did not get in my way at all, sexually. I should point out that I was supposed to go to Thailand in December with Ashley... but after she broke up with me, our plans went down the toilet. After we got back together again six days later, all of the flights were miraculously booked up... so WE were out of luck.

Ashley, however, had made arrangements to go to Thailand with some of the other female assistant English teachers from the Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture) JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme. It's probably why I hate quite a few of them. They got Ashley a ticket.

On the negative side... I didn't get to go anywhere last winter...

On the plus side... I stayed and experienced Christmas and New Year's Eve and Day in Japan! Awesome! HERE have a read. I spent it with Matthew - my most excellent friend from Binghamton, who lives in my hometown of Ohtawra-shi in Japan. Plus his boss, Suzuki-sensei (Suzuki teacher) and my friend Kanemaru-san (Mr. Kanemaru) and his family. Kanemaru-san is one of my bosses with the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE).

On the plus + plus side... I went to Thailand and hung out with two sexually-charged young women who showed me and themselves the time of their lives! I sure as heck would not have experienced that if I was with Ashley... at least I don't think so. Hmmm.

On the plane, we experience some wicked turbulence. The food is still plane food - crap. And the movie? It's the same one I saw coming to Thailand! L.A. Story (?!) At least I see the title this time!

At Japan's Narita Airport, it's now 7PM. At Japan Customs, they confiscatemy Thai sword. It's not like it's sharp! Why confiscate it? I can buy a longer and more dangerous Japanese sword here! Jerks. No one can speak English.

Apparently I can pick it up within six months when I leave the country... but I'm not leaving! No one understands that! Oh well... the police have it now. Forget about the fact that I actually carried it with me on my carry-on luggage on theplane! Man.. things were different then, eh?

Customs searches my Mom's stuff and confiscate my passport for an hour, beforefinally giving it back and letting us go on our way. Who knew a sword was a dangerous weapon? I'm such an idiot sometimes.

We grab a Skyliner back to Ueno-eki (Ueno train station) in downtown Tokyo. It's now pouring rain.

We catch the second-last Shinkansen (bullet train) up to Nasushiobara-eki (Nasushiobara train station). Unfortunately, we have to go two stopssouth on the local train line to get to Nishiansuno-machi (NishinasunoTown)... before catching a bus to my city of Ohtawara.

Unfortunately, at Nasushiobara, there are no more local trains going that evening, so we take a long and expensive taxi ride back to my apartment. We arrive at 11:30PM.

My mom cooks up a few eggs for us, but unfortunately... I now have dysentery, courtesy of a few ice cubes in my Coke in Thailand. I guess it could have been worse... it could have been hepatitis!

Somewhere, the King of Ohtawara is back on his throne,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Aerosmith: I'M BAAACCCCK!!

Drunk Enough To Dance

It's Tuesday, July 30, 1991. I have been in Japan for one-year, living in Ohtawara-shi (City of Ohtawara), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture) as an assistant English teacher (AET) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.

I'm in Tokyo with my friend John who is visiting from my hometown of Toronto, and friend and fellow AET and Ohtawara dweller, Matthew Hall, originally from Binghamton, NY. Matthew & I are here to welcome the newcomers on the JET Programme to Japan. To help them out and lead them astray...

Tonight, it's the Tochigi-ken Party Night.

John is up early and is purposely making a lot of noise to make me wake up. Bastard. I'm not budging, though, but he does wake up Matthew. Apparently John has to meet a tour bus at 8AM in front of the Keio Plaza Hotel (across the street from our hotel).

John leaves and then comes back 10 minutes later and wakes Matthew up again to ask where the Keio is.

Really? How can this guy get lost in the middle of Tokyo last night, find his way to the red light district in Shinjuku and then find his way back to our hotel but not know where the Keio is?!  Holy smokes!

John isn't stupid... proof of that is that he asked Matthew for directions and not the perpetually lost Andrew (the guy writing this blog!).

Matthew & I crawl out of our hotel at 10AM and then head out to the Ginza district to do some clothes shopping. I'm 5'-11"+ and Matthew's 6'-3"... so we have to go to a big and tall shop as we are definitely larger than the average Japanese, despite being in good shape.

I don't find anything, and I'm pretty sure Matthew didn't either, so we head back to our hotel at 4PM—John's back. We dress and then go and wait at the Keio for John's friend Barbara who shows up 40 minutes late, barely says hello to Matthew or myself and offers no apology for her tardiness. Twit.

(Do I sound like I'm in a bad mood?)

The Tochigi-ken enkai (party) is in the cafeteria of some non-descript nearby building that offers crappy food, but at least has good beer... but for Y4000 (Cdn/ US $40) a head? Our perhaps soon-to-be-ex JET Tochigi leader Susan must be crazy.

After the party, when I'm already lubricated with booze, Susan wants to talk with me about the monthly newsletter I put out. Apparently the national JET people want me to add 16 pages to my newsletter (The Tatami Times), that is full of dry material such as Wolber's Warbles and stuff from Silke Gaterman.

Why the heck would I want to have to photocopy this crap and then mail it out as part of my magazine (and I do think of it as MY magazine)? I don't see why I have to print stuff that is for the northern block of prefectures... if it's about Tochigi-ken, I'll print it, but for other prefectures? Dame! (No way!) I also tell Susan that I'm keeping to my own publishing schedule (set up by my predecessor, Catherine "Gasoline" Komlodi), so too bad.

Susan gives in and says she'll only give me the material that is relative to our gang in Tochigi.

(I do sound angry, don't I?)

She then asks Matthew and I to lead a large throng of newcomers to the infamous Java Jive. Infamous because this is where I first met and made out with Ashley who helped me keep and lose my sanity over this past year as my on-again/off-again girlfriend and now current friend-with-benefits. Ashley is from Augusta, Georgia and is now back home on a short vacation to re-charge her batteries after our emotionally-draining relationship.

Matthew and I are completely hammered, but we somehow lead 19 people to the place—and this year no one got lost (I believe David Rosett was the unlucky one last year).

John's friend Barb splits before we get there, for some reason. Twit.

At this club, men are only allowed to enter if escorted by a woman. Last year, I was going to hook up with the gorgeous Catherine, when I was scooped up by Ashley. I didn't mind that at all... she was/is cute, has a bit of a southern drawl and is an excellent kisser... but we're not a couple anymore, per her wishes.

As such, I'm about to lock arms with Karen Irwin, a sexy, freckly, bubbly redhead from North Bay, Ontario--when a skinny, pretty blond named Laurie Tiffenbach grabs my arm and marches me inside.

I, figuring I'm going to get a new girlfriend out of this, pay for both of us. Idiot.

Once inside, Laurie and I have a drink, but when she gets it, she heads over to the Ladies washroom. That's when Karen comes over.

We hook up immediately... she's all over me. Again... I just want to state that I did not make a move on anyone. We danced all night... and I'm unsure if I ever talked with Laurie again.
  
On the dance floor, I have the moves down, as there are a lot of people watching me/us... with a few Japanese people coming up to me to say they liked my dancing! I had never danced before I came to this country, and probably only danced four or five times since then.

Anyhow... after a lot of heavy flirting, Karen tells me we have to slow down because she's not ready yet. 'Not ready yet - for what?', is what I am thinking, but since she's hammered, I'll leave that for another day.

She tells me a sad tale of her fiance dying in a place crash in the Peruvian jungle two years ago. She's nice, but she is very similar to Ashley in that both are F.I.N.E. (fudged up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional). What is wrong with me that woman like this are drawn to me? Am I drawn to them?

Next, Chris Rathbone, a CIR and friend from the past year comes over and bawls his head off (damn this booze!). He says he never told his dying father he loved him. Wow. That's rough. I tell him to relax, sober up and to call his dad tomorrow.

At 3AM, John, Matthew and I leave the Java Jive with a clingy Karen all over me (which I don't mind at all).

John stupidly takes charge when we are in a taxi and tells the cabbie to take us to the Keio Hotel, instead of the Washington Hotel where Karen is staying. What the hell... maybe my lips were locked with Karen, and Matthew's eyes were rolling around in the back of his head, so only John had the wherewithal to talk to the cab driver. Still, we did tell John where we needed to take Karen.

While I roll Karen back to her hotel and get a wicked kiss and grope from her, John has taken Matthew back to our hotel to throw up.

Now about 4AM, I walk back alone to our hotel only to find it locked up tighter than a nun's butt, with no way in, and no sign of Matthew or John. I guess they made it in on time.

With nothing better to do, I walk slowly over (I'm still pretty buzzed) to the Keio Hotel and sit near the all-night JET desk.

A young woman comes in at around 4:30AM and talks to me about how scared she is to be in Japan, and how she wants to go home. She's very good-looking, and really, she should be scared of the drunk Canadian who is eye-humping her. That's me!

Still, the enigma that I am, I try to calm her down and talk to her about all of the wonderful experiences I've had here, and how friendly everyone is, and how she'll have memories to last several lifetimes if she lets herself relax! The JET counselor comes over at 4:45AM and escorts the girl away from me. I have no idea what her name was, or even if she stayed, but I sure hope so. Why should Matthew, Karen and I have all the fun?

At 6AM, I walk out of the Keio and back to my hotel across the street. The glass front sliding doors are now open, so I go back up to our hotel room and sleep on the floor, waking up when John does at 9AM.

Somewhere tired,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Bowling For Soup: STRIKE!
PS: Another blog - on Japan's nuclear facility crisis will appear in 8 hours, from the time of this publication, with another blog appearing four hours after that.
PPS: Who says you don't get your money's worth at Japan - It's A Wonderful Rife? Nobody! Because it's free... except for my time and effort to compile information - and your time and effort to read it! Thanks! 

What I Like About You

Do you know what I hate?
People lacking every day manners. It's when you go through a door, take a look behind you and hold a door open for some people a fair distance away, who simply walk through yakking to each other and don't bother to say thank-you.
It sucks. They suck. And, it puts me in a foul mood.
On many an occasion, I have turned back around, bowed deeply and snidely remarked: "You're welcome your highness" before walking off.
Only once has someone had the guts to actually apologize for their rudeness - which was quickly (and gratefully) accepted by myself.
Its like this happens at least once a day at work - I'm in a company complex with maybe 5,000 people in it. Perhaps it's just my dumb luck to always hold the door open for jerks.
In Japan, I never had that occur. In three years there, I found the Japanese to pretty much be en masse a very polite country.
Perhaps that was my dumb luck, too, and the current lack of manners here in Toronto is just some karmic evening up of things.
Was it simply me being a gaijin (foreigner/outsider) that commanded me instant respect in Japan - or was it because the profession of teacher is highly respected? Both and neither.
This entire blog is built on observance. I like to watch people. And learn. I watch social interaction between friends and strangers. Let me tell you, while there may be a difference in familiarity, it does not breed contempt in Japan.
The bow (atama) or even a nod is a sign of respect and acknowledgment, and both are rampant in Japanese society... it's almost as though the Japanese people actually walk through life with their head held a little higher so that they can actually see people pass by.
I'm not saying that the Japanese people are constantly bowing and scraping whenever a stranger walks by, but I'm not saying they don't do it. It's like they know or have had it beaten into them, that people matter.
Why I chose to stay three years in Japan wasn't just about a crippling recession going on in North America circa 1990-1993 - rather it was because I enjoyed the people there.
And not just the other gaijin AETs (asisitant English teachers) in the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme - many of whom I was friends with or slept with. Okay, maybe that was a reason to stay three years - but I never felt insignificant there in Ohtawara or Japan. Not like I sometimes do here in Toronto.
I know I said it before, but it sucks.
Manners - Gyogi.
The Japanese have a difficult time in saying "NO" to a person and instead have invented 15 ways to say "Maybe"... which if you hear, you know it means no. It's meant to spare one's feelings.
Japanese people are always bowing and offering others a chance to go first. I've held doors and not once did I get anything but a hai domo (yeah, thanks). Not once was I let down.
He has good manners - Kare-wa gyogi-ga-ii.
Okay, people in line don't stand back and  let others go first, but at least they know how to form a line. In Toronto, screw women and children, it's every man for himself - especially on the buses or trains, where Torontonians never met a line they could get behind.
I told you about once overpaying for a taxi (phonetically spoken in Katakana as 'takushi'--ta-ku-shi)  by about $450 - my first night out with Ashley while in Tokyo - and how the driver corrected my mistake. Re-read it HERE. There might be a test on this later.
In the next blog, I'll tell you a bit more about the service industry in Japan - specifically the people involved in it.

Somewhere bowing deeply to the Japanese for showing me the courtesy of good manners,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by The Romantics - I love their music! Have a listen - PLEASE.

The Name Game

I suppose I’ve always been a bit of a chowderhead. I have lacked initiative, but have fortunately had it thrust upon me by my parents. To wit, they forced me into soccer and into music – and while I may not have appreciated what I had, I was able to teach piano and clarinet and play and also coach soccer.
Thank goodness they also forced me into fulfilling my obligation of going to Japan as part of the JET (Japan Exchange and Teaching) Programme as an AET (Assistant English Teacher). If it were up to me, I’d be sitting in my parent’s basement watching re-runs of Star Trek while trying not to get the Playmate of the Month pregnant.
My third night in Tokyo was another foreign affair – this time organized by the Tochigi-ken (Tochigi province, where I surmised I might be living) AETs.
We were led to our first Japanese Japanese restaurant by the stunning Gasoline – an AET returning for her third and final year in Japan. Gasoline is a tall, beautiful blonde Canadian girl given that unfortunate nickname thanks to the inability of the Japanese to pronounce her real name of Catherine (Komlodi from Calgary, Alberta).
Matthew Hall of Binghamton, New York and Jeff Seaman from Yuba City, California sat around me as we all delicately tried to figure out which end of the chopsticks to use. After copious amounts of beer, Jeff broke first and had to use the washroom. Excusing himself, he plodded off in a general direction – seconds later we heard a splash and a scream. Not wanting to stop drinking, we ignored it and waited for Jeff to return.
Featuring the soaker to end all soakers, Jeff explained that he had stepped into the toilet. Wow. How drunk do you have to be to do that?
Apparently three beers are not enough as Jeff explained that the toilet in this place did not have a crapper like what we Westerners sit upon everyday. No… this was a two-foot long by eight-inch wide porcelain bowl embedded in the ground that one is supposed to squat over. We found out later that in order to use said toilet, you need to remove your pants and develop great leg muscles.
Jeff said that in his first attempt to find the washroom he accidentally stumbled into the kitchen and was chased out and into the bathroom – it had no door or lights. Fumbling for a light switch, Jeff Seaman performed a naval maneuver to live up to his surname.
None of us laughed at Jeff – we all knew that any one of us could be the next victim of cultural indifference. Still, it was funny enough to take notes.
We quickly became suitably inebriated – so much so that none of us three noticed that there was a young lady sitting opposite me who had been keeping up with us in the booze department. Wow. How drunk does a virgin have to be to not notice that?
Apparently seven beers plus will do it.
Next Gasoline showed us the sights and sounds of Roppongi – Tokyo’s dance club area.
In Toronto, our dance club zone consists of maybe 30+ places and is spread out over the downtown core. But here! Oh my! Roppongi is a clubber’s paradise with quite literally 100’s of bright neon lit clubs from which to choose from with heavy-bass sounds thumping out from each.
Gasoline took us to the Java-Jive where we were told that you could only enter the place as a couple. While I attempted to make my move up to enter with Gasoline, a hand grabbed mine and dragged me happily into the place. At this point in time I had no idea who this pretty brunette with the squinty eyes and a southern drawl to drool for was, but I did learn that she was from Augusta, Georgia.
Quickly going through the coupons for free alcohol that we were given, she earned my fealty by buying me a couple of drinks.
Finally able to peel our eyes from each other, we noticed that we were the only two foreigners left in the place and – after decoding the Japanese numbering system – that it was 2:30AM. Actually, their clocks look just like ours.
Since I still had that box of matches with me – road map, remember – we knew how to get back to our hotel. Flagging down a cab, I handed the driver my matches and fell back into my fugue state with my new girlfriend… what the hell was her name? Seriously, I had no clue. She knew mine and was using it in ever sentence she spoke.
In my pathetic defense, if y’all will recall, at the restaurant I was talking/drinking with Matthew and Jeff, and prior to entering the Java-Jive, I was going to make a failed play for Gasoline. My new companion had never actually introduced herself to me… and while I am sure I queried her at the club, Groove Is In The Heart drowned her response out – probably the only non-Caribbean song they played that night.
The taxi driver got us back to the hotel in 30 minutes. Glimpsing the meter, I tossed him five ¥10,000 (yen) bills and told him to keep the change. Both he and she nearly had heart attacks at my generosity, as ¥50,000 is about $630 Cdn or US$500. I had thought that the ¥10,000 bills were ¥1,000’s – okay, I really had no idea what the exchange rate was – damn that orientation package that I should have read.
Even if ole whatshername hadn’t been there to correct me, the taxi driver would have. Unlike anything else I had ever seen in my limited travels around the world, the people of Japan are excessively honest.
This man said, “No, no, no!” and handed back my money. He then began pointing at my pants and saying dozo (please). Several embarrassing moments later, I figured out that he wanted my wallet and handed it to him. He opened it up and took the appropriate amount out and gave me back some change. When I tried to tip him, he would have none of it, came around and opened up the back door of his car with his white-gloved hands and said “hello”.
I knew what he meant, though. Hello new life.
The next day, all of us AETs were forced to go to an orientation meeting. I looked about for that girl I was with the night previous – saving her a seat next to me – not that anyone else wanted to sit near a guy sweating profuse amounts of beer and rum & coke. Matthew and Jeff wisely sat upwind of me and handed me a list of AETs in our prefecture. I looked at the list for a name that sounded somewhat familiar and southern, but aside from Rhett and Scarlett, I had no idea what a southern name was.
All of us AETs were wearing stickers on our shirts with our name on it… it’s probably why I was able to figure out who was Jeff and who was Matthew that morning. My mystery girl finally popped by my side at the end of the orientation – of course she wasn’t wearing her name tag and I was quick to point that out to her.
She smiled and drawled, “At least ya'll know what it is – and that’s all that matters. And besides, (breath) for everyone else I just tell them to think of Gone With The Wind.”
Oh man. Now I can’t even ask her. It’s not Rhett, is it? That’s a boy’s name, I think. I’ve never seen the movie – but if I wanted this relationship to work out I was going to have to rent the movie as soon as I got a chance!
I walked with her around the hotel – little Miss Social Butterfly seemed to know everyone, and everyone seemed to know her. They seemed to know me too, because I was getting the cold shoulder of indifference. Or maybe it was paranoia.
You might think that I now knew here name, but unfortunately, all of the women were saying: “Hey, girlfriend!” Or the guys: “Darling! Make sure you call me.” I was too confused to be jealous.
Hungry for answers and for lunch, we went to the hotel restaurant. When my unknown companion excused herself to go to the washroom, she left her purse on the table beside me. I’ve never seen a woman do that before. Of course, with my limited dating experience, I hadn’t seen a woman do much of anything before.
Quick as a bunny, I grabbed her purse, opened it up and began looking for some ID. There it was – a driver’s license issued to Ashley Benning.
Weeks later, she told me that Jeff had told her my conundrum so she’d let me off the hook by purposely leaving her purse on the table.
Oh well. At least I didn’t have to watch Gone With The Wind.

Somewhere where the surname is spoken first,
Joseph Andrew
The title for today's blog is by Shirley Ellis - BANANA SONG