Thursday, January 29, 2004
I wish I was more of a morning person--the kind of girl who wakes up more than 20 minutes before she is supposed to be at work and thus has time to do things like put her futon away, comb her hair and, most importantly, eat breakfast. Alas, I am most certainly not that girl. Every morning I wake up at the latest possible time that will still allow me to be able to get dressed, brush my teeth and hair, wash my face and run out the door, arriving at work right on time. Because I am not that girl, every morning I starve. Every morning I feel my stomach caving in, consuming itself because it has nothing else to satisfy it. Every morning I find myself daydreaming about fried chicken, steaks and, of course, mashed potatoes, instead of attending to important tasks like checking my email and staring off into space. I do eat a little something once I get to work, typically two small oranges (and for the past few weeks, I have enjoyed a Nutri-grain bar, courtesy of a friend who went home for winter vacation). But now the bars are gone and the oranges are becoming tiresome. So I sit here, wasting away, praying that someone from the office will drop off some omiyage--a cookie or even some sort of bean crap they pass of as a "sweet" to help break the monotony of the two orange a day routine.
Enough complaining (for now). This week has been, well, interesting. A day by day account...
Monday: Because I am so happy at the conversation (in Japanese) I just had with the video store man, I don't pay attention to what I am doing as I climb into Toby, and bang my head, hard, on his roof. When I get home, I notice I feel sick to my stomach, a little dizzy and that my pupils are huge. Panicking, I immediately get on the internet (a hypochondriac's best source for medical information. Came in quite handy this summer after I had my wisdom teeth out and convinced myself I was going to get dry socket) and discovered I was quite possibly suffering from a concussion. I spent the rest of the night dashing to the bathroom to check my pupils in the mirror and wondering if I could get out of school the next day. In the end, though, I think I must have been ok because I woke up the next morning.
Tuesday: Deciding the weather was finally warm enough for me to get out and get some exercise, I decide that I am going into "training". For what I am "training" I do not know, but after getting home from school around 2, I don my running gear and start running laps around my neighborhood. Telling myself I need to "push it" and "feel the burn", I decide to stop at this park down the street from my apartment where I start doing sets of stairs--you know sprinting up a flight (or in this case like three) as fast as you can over and over and over. By the time I complete 6 sets, my legs are shaking badly, I feel like I am going to puke and even telling myself to "shake it off" and "embrace the pain" doesn't make me want to do another set or run another lap. For the the rest of the day I feel sick and that night I pass out in the middle of a movie, at approximately 10:30.
Wednesday: An office day. When I arrive, Toby is immediately whisked off for an oil change and tire rotation. I also notice a black t shirt from some sort of race held in Mine last weekend on my desk, a gift from one of my coworkers from the social education section. It is a size large. Later, the man comes over and I thank him and he asks if it will fit. I say yes, because in my view the shirt is pretty big. Of course, no one believes me because westerners are known for their lying about their t shirt size, so one of the women from my section tells me to stand up, holds the shirt up to me (the bottom of the shirt landing lower than my hips) decides the shirt is much too small, and tells the man to bring a bigger size. He brings a xxl. I say, no, that shirt is too big, and that the large is a little big. By this time, the entire office, about 25 people are watching. Suddenly, the woman points to my chest, says something along the lines of "Abra, boing, big" and the whole office, all 25 people, many of whom I have never spoken to, start laughing hysterically at me. Glaring at them all, I grab the large, say it is fine and sit down. I don't care what country you are from, that kind of behavior in the workplace (or anywhere actually, Christine Nam) is not okay. If some Japanese woman, the one "different" person, with small breasts and bad teeth was working in a similar office setting to mine, but in the US, no one would ever instigate an office joke about her boobs or teeth. And if they did, she could sue, or file a complaint or something. Anyway, I spent the rest of the day giving my gare to anyone who dared look at me, and I also signed my recontracting form, indicating that I would not be staying on another year. I was about, in a fit of anger, to hand it to my supervisor, but decided that would be silly. Oh, and the large shirt? Yeah, its way too big. Another one for my sleepware collection.
My embarrasement didn't end there, however. After Toby returned, I realized that the car workers had vacuumed out the floor, picking up everything that had been thrown down there and placing it on the seat. This means they definitely saw my "Puppetry of the Penis" book that Anna sent me for my birthday. So am quite possibly now the town perv, especially if you take into account my accidental trip to the Mine porn shop last fall.
Thursday: Taught one class. First period. Spent three hours reading in the teacher's room at Isa Junior High School. During my training session that afternoon (which again left me feeling kinda sick and led to my passing out as soon as my head hit the pilllow) met a nice woman walking her dog over by the stairs. She invited me to her house to see her pet goose and let me play with her little dog.
So I guess thats really about it. Am heading to Shimonoseki tonight where i will get to eat pizza and also possibly try to make it four weeks in a row at the KFC. Tomorrow, Jocelyn, Jo and I are heading to Nagasaki. Oh, and might possibly try to put the comments link back up today. Possibly.
Enough complaining (for now). This week has been, well, interesting. A day by day account...
Monday: Because I am so happy at the conversation (in Japanese) I just had with the video store man, I don't pay attention to what I am doing as I climb into Toby, and bang my head, hard, on his roof. When I get home, I notice I feel sick to my stomach, a little dizzy and that my pupils are huge. Panicking, I immediately get on the internet (a hypochondriac's best source for medical information. Came in quite handy this summer after I had my wisdom teeth out and convinced myself I was going to get dry socket) and discovered I was quite possibly suffering from a concussion. I spent the rest of the night dashing to the bathroom to check my pupils in the mirror and wondering if I could get out of school the next day. In the end, though, I think I must have been ok because I woke up the next morning.
Tuesday: Deciding the weather was finally warm enough for me to get out and get some exercise, I decide that I am going into "training". For what I am "training" I do not know, but after getting home from school around 2, I don my running gear and start running laps around my neighborhood. Telling myself I need to "push it" and "feel the burn", I decide to stop at this park down the street from my apartment where I start doing sets of stairs--you know sprinting up a flight (or in this case like three) as fast as you can over and over and over. By the time I complete 6 sets, my legs are shaking badly, I feel like I am going to puke and even telling myself to "shake it off" and "embrace the pain" doesn't make me want to do another set or run another lap. For the the rest of the day I feel sick and that night I pass out in the middle of a movie, at approximately 10:30.
Wednesday: An office day. When I arrive, Toby is immediately whisked off for an oil change and tire rotation. I also notice a black t shirt from some sort of race held in Mine last weekend on my desk, a gift from one of my coworkers from the social education section. It is a size large. Later, the man comes over and I thank him and he asks if it will fit. I say yes, because in my view the shirt is pretty big. Of course, no one believes me because westerners are known for their lying about their t shirt size, so one of the women from my section tells me to stand up, holds the shirt up to me (the bottom of the shirt landing lower than my hips) decides the shirt is much too small, and tells the man to bring a bigger size. He brings a xxl. I say, no, that shirt is too big, and that the large is a little big. By this time, the entire office, about 25 people are watching. Suddenly, the woman points to my chest, says something along the lines of "Abra, boing, big" and the whole office, all 25 people, many of whom I have never spoken to, start laughing hysterically at me. Glaring at them all, I grab the large, say it is fine and sit down. I don't care what country you are from, that kind of behavior in the workplace (or anywhere actually, Christine Nam) is not okay. If some Japanese woman, the one "different" person, with small breasts and bad teeth was working in a similar office setting to mine, but in the US, no one would ever instigate an office joke about her boobs or teeth. And if they did, she could sue, or file a complaint or something. Anyway, I spent the rest of the day giving my gare to anyone who dared look at me, and I also signed my recontracting form, indicating that I would not be staying on another year. I was about, in a fit of anger, to hand it to my supervisor, but decided that would be silly. Oh, and the large shirt? Yeah, its way too big. Another one for my sleepware collection.
My embarrasement didn't end there, however. After Toby returned, I realized that the car workers had vacuumed out the floor, picking up everything that had been thrown down there and placing it on the seat. This means they definitely saw my "Puppetry of the Penis" book that Anna sent me for my birthday. So am quite possibly now the town perv, especially if you take into account my accidental trip to the Mine porn shop last fall.
Thursday: Taught one class. First period. Spent three hours reading in the teacher's room at Isa Junior High School. During my training session that afternoon (which again left me feeling kinda sick and led to my passing out as soon as my head hit the pilllow) met a nice woman walking her dog over by the stairs. She invited me to her house to see her pet goose and let me play with her little dog.
So I guess thats really about it. Am heading to Shimonoseki tonight where i will get to eat pizza and also possibly try to make it four weeks in a row at the KFC. Tomorrow, Jocelyn, Jo and I are heading to Nagasaki. Oh, and might possibly try to put the comments link back up today. Possibly.
Sunday, January 25, 2004
I realized today that the first month of 2004 is almost over and I have yet to add a new song to my playlist--and by my playlist I mean the rap songs that I have completely memorized and can perform by request, anytime, anywhere. So for the past 30 minutes, I have been working on "Lose Yourself" and I think it is a testament to my ability as a rapper that I already have it pretty much down. That third verse is still giving me a little trouble, but I predict that the next time I am wasted, which coincidentally is when I put on the most shows, I will be able to do "Lose Yourself" with both confidence and accuracy. I also have "Hey Ya" completely memorized, for those of you interested in my personal quest to master all of Outkast's greatest hits.
Mine's severe winter weather has continued this weekend, although I did make it out on Saturday to Shimonoseki, where I ate at KFC (third weekend in a row, by the way), bought new make up from the over priced Clinique counter (where Meagan and I have made friends with one of the saleswomen) and then headed to Starbucks, where I enjoyed a caramel apple cider, one of two drinks that I will allow myself consume at that establishment. The whole caffeine is the devil's drug thing can be so limiting sometimes (Allee Willhite, I am very disappointed in you, by the way, for succumbing to the devil and his tempting narcotic in the form of coffee. When I come home, I will straighten you out in no time. I'm thinking rehab and a 12 step program). All in all, it was a very enjoyable little Saturday. I actually haven't really minded the cold weather that much (by the way, please disregard my last entry). It has given me an excuse to be lazy and lay around in my fleece suit all day, and my office bought me a new heater to help combat the cold. I do, however, have a problem with how the cold has affected my showering. In my apartment, my heaters are all located in my one main room, the doors of which I keep closed at all times to keep the heat in (a trick I learned while residing at the Condemned House in Walla Walla, Washington). So, in other words, if I want to go into the kitchen or bathroom, I freeze. So now when I take my shower, I have devised a list of showering steps so that I spend as little time as possible in the cold, cold bathroom.
1. Take two towels and place them on my washer, located a foot from the shower door.
2. Turn on the shower so the hot water is waiting for me.
3. Grab lotion, leave-in conditioner and hairbrush. Take them to tatami room for use later.
4. Strip and remove all jewelry.
5. Turn on air con heater. Check to make sure other heater is on as well.
6. Sprint to shower.
7. Enjoy hot water. Cleanse body, soul and mind.
8. Before turning off hot water, squeeze all excess water from hair.
9. Turn off shower and dread the cold shock I am about to experience.
10. Jump out of shower. Body goes into convulsions from cold. Immediately wrap hair in one towel and quickly use second towel to absorb as much water from body as possible.
11. As soon as not dripping, sprint back to tatami room.
12. Stand directly under heater while I apply lotion, get dressed (usually the fleece suit) and comb hair.
See what I mean? Showering has become quite the process. I have considered just not doing it anymore, but it would be pretty lonely here without friends, so I keep on cleansing and suffering, for their sake. I am so nice sometimes.
Mine's severe winter weather has continued this weekend, although I did make it out on Saturday to Shimonoseki, where I ate at KFC (third weekend in a row, by the way), bought new make up from the over priced Clinique counter (where Meagan and I have made friends with one of the saleswomen) and then headed to Starbucks, where I enjoyed a caramel apple cider, one of two drinks that I will allow myself consume at that establishment. The whole caffeine is the devil's drug thing can be so limiting sometimes (Allee Willhite, I am very disappointed in you, by the way, for succumbing to the devil and his tempting narcotic in the form of coffee. When I come home, I will straighten you out in no time. I'm thinking rehab and a 12 step program). All in all, it was a very enjoyable little Saturday. I actually haven't really minded the cold weather that much (by the way, please disregard my last entry). It has given me an excuse to be lazy and lay around in my fleece suit all day, and my office bought me a new heater to help combat the cold. I do, however, have a problem with how the cold has affected my showering. In my apartment, my heaters are all located in my one main room, the doors of which I keep closed at all times to keep the heat in (a trick I learned while residing at the Condemned House in Walla Walla, Washington). So, in other words, if I want to go into the kitchen or bathroom, I freeze. So now when I take my shower, I have devised a list of showering steps so that I spend as little time as possible in the cold, cold bathroom.
1. Take two towels and place them on my washer, located a foot from the shower door.
2. Turn on the shower so the hot water is waiting for me.
3. Grab lotion, leave-in conditioner and hairbrush. Take them to tatami room for use later.
4. Strip and remove all jewelry.
5. Turn on air con heater. Check to make sure other heater is on as well.
6. Sprint to shower.
7. Enjoy hot water. Cleanse body, soul and mind.
8. Before turning off hot water, squeeze all excess water from hair.
9. Turn off shower and dread the cold shock I am about to experience.
10. Jump out of shower. Body goes into convulsions from cold. Immediately wrap hair in one towel and quickly use second towel to absorb as much water from body as possible.
11. As soon as not dripping, sprint back to tatami room.
12. Stand directly under heater while I apply lotion, get dressed (usually the fleece suit) and comb hair.
See what I mean? Showering has become quite the process. I have considered just not doing it anymore, but it would be pretty lonely here without friends, so I keep on cleansing and suffering, for their sake. I am so nice sometimes.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
So all that crap I talked about in my last entry, you know, about how sad I will be to leave Japan and how the decision whether or not to recontract has been so difficult for me? Yeah, you can pretty much forget I ever wrote any of that. Turns out I hate Japan. Mine is currently under assault by both snow and ice, with temperatures well below freezing, and of course my heater (actually my air conditioning unit that has a heat feature for the winter and is the only thing that comes close to properly heating my one room) has decided it is only going to work in half hour intervals. so i have spent the day sitting under my kotatsu, afraid of leaving that cocoon of warmth for the artic temperatures of, say, my desk or my bathroom. ok, so maybe don't entirely ignore my last entry as I am sure by the time the snow has melted and I can crawl out from under my table, out the door to my car and down the hill to the grocery store again with out risking mine (and little toby's) life, I will be back to being all wishy washy about being staying here another year and all that. But for now.... oh, it must have been 30 minutes because the heat just went off again. Guess its time to crawl back under my table.
Monday, January 19, 2004
For all of those who have expressed concern, I too am very perplexed as to where the comments link has gone. I will try and go ahead and recreate the link, but seeing as though I have no idea how I managed to do it last time, although I suspect Christine walked me through it, it might take awhile. So please be patient, my faithful readers.
I am sorry for not writing for almost two weeks. I wish I had some excuse like I have been too busy to be bothered, or the dog ate my comptuter. I think we are all aware, however, that I a) am never busy here and b) have no dog. The honest truth is that there just has not been that much to write about lately. Well, and that I am lazy. Besides, ever since I got back from Thailand, I have felt kind of unsettled, like I can't get back into my regular routine. For awhile, I thought I was suffering, like Christine, from some sort of Phuket separation anxiety, but upon further thought I think my problems related to getting back into the swing of things all come back to a single piece of paper due back to my supervisor by February 6th: my recontracting form.
It is the topic of conversation that no JET can ever escape--recontracting. Almost from the minute I arrived in this, my country of exile, people were bombarding me with questions regarding my intended length of stay in Japan. I can't say this really bothered me. When you are all the sudden forced into a diverse social goup where no one really knows each other and some people think that lemonade is the same thing as 7Up (Selene), people search for what they have in common, and in the case of JET programme participants, the question of recontracting serves as a bond. Initially, I was a member of the one year only school. There would be no second year for me. I would not get sucked into Japanese culture in the manner of some JET participants, only wearing kimonos and trading in my precious potato masher for a month's supply of horse sashimi. No, one year would be enough for me. Even when one of my English teachers stood up at my welcome party and announced to all the guests that she hoped I would find a Japanese boyfriend and stay for at least two years, I stood firm in my decision. Besides, I had plans to get a British boyfriend and move to England where I could continue to demonstrate my mastery of wrong side of the road driving and stalk Lee Ryan of the British pop group Blue. Ah... Lee.
But by November, I found myself wavering just a little. Yes, my job isn't the most exciting, and the Japanese don't seem to believe in central heating, waxing or normal sized ovens, but this country can be pretty great. For a few weeks I thought that I would really enjoy a second year in Japan.
Then the cold set in. And the boredom grew greater. And the lack of eligible men more obvious. And my stupidity more pronounced. And my collection of cheap fleece clothing larger. I was definitely getting sick of Japan and was back to my original decision: I would stay one year in Japan, no more, no less.
Now...
Well, I am still pretty sure I will not recontract, and just finish out my one year here before returning to my homeland. But what I once thought would be a simple decision to make is now proving itself to be anything but. Last week, I made a list of reasons to stay and reasons to go (which I momentarily thought I had left at the school I had been working at that day and freaked out until I found it in my fleece pocket). I think I had some good reasons on the "Stay" list-- Japan and its people, money, travel opportunities, my friends here, etc., but there were more on the "Go" side of the paper, the first three being "job very boring, losing motivation in all aspects of life, getting stupider". Ugh. I think I will probably have regrets about whatever decision I make, which makes it even harder to decide. What would I regret more? Not being able to put conversational in Japanese on my resume or spending another year in a job I don't particularly enjoy?
For those of you who know how I am with decisions, I am sure you can imagine just how I feel about February 6th. Even knowing I am probably leaving Japan, that my decision is in fact, pretty much made, doesn't really seem to give me much comfort.
I am sorry for not writing for almost two weeks. I wish I had some excuse like I have been too busy to be bothered, or the dog ate my comptuter. I think we are all aware, however, that I a) am never busy here and b) have no dog. The honest truth is that there just has not been that much to write about lately. Well, and that I am lazy. Besides, ever since I got back from Thailand, I have felt kind of unsettled, like I can't get back into my regular routine. For awhile, I thought I was suffering, like Christine, from some sort of Phuket separation anxiety, but upon further thought I think my problems related to getting back into the swing of things all come back to a single piece of paper due back to my supervisor by February 6th: my recontracting form.
It is the topic of conversation that no JET can ever escape--recontracting. Almost from the minute I arrived in this, my country of exile, people were bombarding me with questions regarding my intended length of stay in Japan. I can't say this really bothered me. When you are all the sudden forced into a diverse social goup where no one really knows each other and some people think that lemonade is the same thing as 7Up (Selene), people search for what they have in common, and in the case of JET programme participants, the question of recontracting serves as a bond. Initially, I was a member of the one year only school. There would be no second year for me. I would not get sucked into Japanese culture in the manner of some JET participants, only wearing kimonos and trading in my precious potato masher for a month's supply of horse sashimi. No, one year would be enough for me. Even when one of my English teachers stood up at my welcome party and announced to all the guests that she hoped I would find a Japanese boyfriend and stay for at least two years, I stood firm in my decision. Besides, I had plans to get a British boyfriend and move to England where I could continue to demonstrate my mastery of wrong side of the road driving and stalk Lee Ryan of the British pop group Blue. Ah... Lee.
But by November, I found myself wavering just a little. Yes, my job isn't the most exciting, and the Japanese don't seem to believe in central heating, waxing or normal sized ovens, but this country can be pretty great. For a few weeks I thought that I would really enjoy a second year in Japan.
Then the cold set in. And the boredom grew greater. And the lack of eligible men more obvious. And my stupidity more pronounced. And my collection of cheap fleece clothing larger. I was definitely getting sick of Japan and was back to my original decision: I would stay one year in Japan, no more, no less.
Now...
Well, I am still pretty sure I will not recontract, and just finish out my one year here before returning to my homeland. But what I once thought would be a simple decision to make is now proving itself to be anything but. Last week, I made a list of reasons to stay and reasons to go (which I momentarily thought I had left at the school I had been working at that day and freaked out until I found it in my fleece pocket). I think I had some good reasons on the "Stay" list-- Japan and its people, money, travel opportunities, my friends here, etc., but there were more on the "Go" side of the paper, the first three being "job very boring, losing motivation in all aspects of life, getting stupider". Ugh. I think I will probably have regrets about whatever decision I make, which makes it even harder to decide. What would I regret more? Not being able to put conversational in Japanese on my resume or spending another year in a job I don't particularly enjoy?
For those of you who know how I am with decisions, I am sure you can imagine just how I feel about February 6th. Even knowing I am probably leaving Japan, that my decision is in fact, pretty much made, doesn't really seem to give me much comfort.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
Way back in October, Jo and I took a trip up to Hagi for the purpose of being cultural. And cultural we were. We went to a samauri museum, visited castle ruins, and ate dinner at moss burger. I also managed to somehowe drive on to and get stuck in a construction site, but that's not entirely relevant and doesn't merit writing about. The day was warm and sunny, and Jo and I were quite pleased with ourselves as we drove back to Mine. We decided the only way to end such a wonderful day would be to knock back a few chu-his at my apartment while discussing all the culture we had taken in.
Luckily, a 24 hour Lawson's was on the way up to my apartment, so we ran in, looking for chu-his. It quickly became apparent, however, that this particular Lawson's does not sell alcohol. Annoyed, we left and climbed back into Toby (my car), pulled out of the spot and were waiting for a break in traffic to pull back out onto the road when the driver of a black suv decided there was no need to check for cars before pulling out and slammed into poor Toby's front. For the next 45 minutes, Jo and I had to deal with the poor guy who had managed to hit one of like three foreigners in Mine, the city police and a carload of teenagers who seemed to find the whole thing riveting and kept laughing and pointing at us as we desperately tried to call any Japanese speaker we could think of to translate over the phone for us. Eventually, the whole mess was sorted out and the driver of the other car admitted he was at fault and apologized. I was told by my office that I would probably get insurance money to pay for the little damage to Toby (some paint scraped off the front) and I thought that was the end of it.
Over the past few months, I pretty much forgot about the accident, although I did find myself wondering from time to time why I never got the insurance money and why poor Toby was still a little scraped up in front. Yesterday, I received my answer. Apparently, the insurance companies decided I was 30% responsible for the accident, which is completely absurd, and that that percentage is too high to warrant me getting any of the money for Toby. I am not entirely sure how I could have been 30% responsible for some guy deciding it was a good idea to back out without looking to see if the road was clear (I had been stopped and waiting for the road to clear for at least 30 seconds), and made this clear to my supervisor, who said that, if I wanted to, I could challenge the insurance companies' decision in family court. So guess who is making her first (and hopefully only) Japanese court appearance at the end of the month? Yep, me! Am so excited. I am thinking I am going to wear a black power suit, heels and carry a brief case. Ooh, and maybe my laptop. That'll show the judge I mean business. I am also planning on renting a lot of courtroom dramas in the next few weeks in order to brush up on courtroom procedure and etiquette. Not only will I get to dress up, but I will also get to take a half day off of work, and I might get to meet some hot, young Japanse attorney at the courthouse. Ok, well maybe not. But I am pretty confident I will be able to convinve the judge to see the light. If need be, I plan on drawing the diagram I used to demonstrate to my office how I was completely without fault on that fateful Saturday night. And I can always bring Jo as a witness. Plus, i have blue eyes. That seems to get me out of quite few jams in this country.
The only possible problem that could just maybe interfere with me getting my money is the fact that I don't speak Japanese and therefore communication with the judge might be just a wee bit difficult. My supervisor has told me not to worry, however, and that he will translate for me. One would think this would solve the potential problem, until one remembers that my supervisor doesn't exactly speak English. Whatever. I have faith in the Japanese legal system. The judge will see the light and give me my money.
Taught my first two classes of 2004 this morning. I got to talk about my trip to Thailand in each, and hopefully next time I go to this school, I will have my pictures back to show them. See? Here I am, spreading culture and engaging in internationalization yet again. The only problem wioth my little talk about Thailand was that I had to leave out so much that happened--making out with strangers, drinking buckets, boozing with transvestites, etc.--that I found exaggerating just a bit on how many temples we visited or how much fried beef in oyster sauce I ate. Actually, the eating wasn't really an exagerration. But the point is, I really wanted to draw fat old men in speedos on the board, label them "Euros" and have them chasing stick figure females, "young Thai girls", but i think that, like a fair percentage of everything else that happened on the trip, might be construed as inappropriate for children. Oops. One hour, 25 more minutes until the (three day) weekend!
Luckily, a 24 hour Lawson's was on the way up to my apartment, so we ran in, looking for chu-his. It quickly became apparent, however, that this particular Lawson's does not sell alcohol. Annoyed, we left and climbed back into Toby (my car), pulled out of the spot and were waiting for a break in traffic to pull back out onto the road when the driver of a black suv decided there was no need to check for cars before pulling out and slammed into poor Toby's front. For the next 45 minutes, Jo and I had to deal with the poor guy who had managed to hit one of like three foreigners in Mine, the city police and a carload of teenagers who seemed to find the whole thing riveting and kept laughing and pointing at us as we desperately tried to call any Japanese speaker we could think of to translate over the phone for us. Eventually, the whole mess was sorted out and the driver of the other car admitted he was at fault and apologized. I was told by my office that I would probably get insurance money to pay for the little damage to Toby (some paint scraped off the front) and I thought that was the end of it.
Over the past few months, I pretty much forgot about the accident, although I did find myself wondering from time to time why I never got the insurance money and why poor Toby was still a little scraped up in front. Yesterday, I received my answer. Apparently, the insurance companies decided I was 30% responsible for the accident, which is completely absurd, and that that percentage is too high to warrant me getting any of the money for Toby. I am not entirely sure how I could have been 30% responsible for some guy deciding it was a good idea to back out without looking to see if the road was clear (I had been stopped and waiting for the road to clear for at least 30 seconds), and made this clear to my supervisor, who said that, if I wanted to, I could challenge the insurance companies' decision in family court. So guess who is making her first (and hopefully only) Japanese court appearance at the end of the month? Yep, me! Am so excited. I am thinking I am going to wear a black power suit, heels and carry a brief case. Ooh, and maybe my laptop. That'll show the judge I mean business. I am also planning on renting a lot of courtroom dramas in the next few weeks in order to brush up on courtroom procedure and etiquette. Not only will I get to dress up, but I will also get to take a half day off of work, and I might get to meet some hot, young Japanse attorney at the courthouse. Ok, well maybe not. But I am pretty confident I will be able to convinve the judge to see the light. If need be, I plan on drawing the diagram I used to demonstrate to my office how I was completely without fault on that fateful Saturday night. And I can always bring Jo as a witness. Plus, i have blue eyes. That seems to get me out of quite few jams in this country.
The only possible problem that could just maybe interfere with me getting my money is the fact that I don't speak Japanese and therefore communication with the judge might be just a wee bit difficult. My supervisor has told me not to worry, however, and that he will translate for me. One would think this would solve the potential problem, until one remembers that my supervisor doesn't exactly speak English. Whatever. I have faith in the Japanese legal system. The judge will see the light and give me my money.
Taught my first two classes of 2004 this morning. I got to talk about my trip to Thailand in each, and hopefully next time I go to this school, I will have my pictures back to show them. See? Here I am, spreading culture and engaging in internationalization yet again. The only problem wioth my little talk about Thailand was that I had to leave out so much that happened--making out with strangers, drinking buckets, boozing with transvestites, etc.--that I found exaggerating just a bit on how many temples we visited or how much fried beef in oyster sauce I ate. Actually, the eating wasn't really an exagerration. But the point is, I really wanted to draw fat old men in speedos on the board, label them "Euros" and have them chasing stick figure females, "young Thai girls", but i think that, like a fair percentage of everything else that happened on the trip, might be construed as inappropriate for children. Oops. One hour, 25 more minutes until the (three day) weekend!
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
I know all of my faithful readers have been on pins and needles waiting for the "Abra in Exile" exclusive on my trip to Thailand, and I swear that it was my intention to deliver the goods to my public as soon as I got back to Thailand. But after sitting down at my computer, full of ideas about how to properly convey just how great the trip was to all those who care to know, and then minutes later turning the computer off in frustration. unable to find the right words. Plus, that sneaky Nam has already managed to publish three entries on the subject, writing about almost all the good stuff. She suggested I cover the "ugly" of the trip--you know, the mosquito bites, Selene puking out of the window of a taxi, that sort of thing--but I think I am instead going to do what I do best: make a list. So here is a day by day account of the highlights (and one or two lowlights) of Thailand 2003: Escape from Japan.
Day 1:
-fly all day
-get first mosquito bite on right foot in Bangkok
-eat first of many plates of pad thai
Day 2:
-arrive Patong Beach, Phuket
-first swim in ocean
-I drink bowl of beef drippings at dinner for the equivalent of about $4
-befriend prostitutes, gay couple, transvestites, thai boxers, swedes
-transvestite attempts to lactate on group
Day 3:
-lay on beach; get sunburned
-three new mosquito bites on right foot
-meet Simon, the dirty Italian
-meet Simon's penis
Day 4 (Christmas!):
-go to phi phi islands
-snorkel, swim, canoe and tan all day long
-eat weight in mashed potatoes and turkey at dinner
Day 5:
-bond with barry the australian
-lay on beach all day
-hit up safari club, patong's after hours club complete with tropical decor and more sleazy euros chasing thai girls than one ever imagined existed.
-Day 6:
-beach again
-meet fairies
-convince Brit am 17 and, with Jo, learn all about his kitten
-almost puke from techno overload at safari club. nam and i beg for some beyonce, but are ignored by evil dj
-discover have ten bites on right foot, but am clear on rest of body
Day 7:
-say good bye to Phuket
-go to bed at 10 in effort to recover from Phuket
Day 8:
-explore temples in Bangkok. feel very cultural.
-use scariest bathroom ever in 7-11 in Chinatown
-consume massive quantities of alcohol
Day 9:
-shopping and recovering
-right foot completely covered in bites
Day 10:
-get thai massage at famous temple.
-discover the true meaning of that famous 80s hit "One Night in Bangkok" while celebrating the new year on khao san road
-succumb to peer pressure and consume the devils drug (caffeine) in the form of a "bucket" (a fifth of whiskey, red bull and coke in, what else, a bucket)
-watch nam eat three corn on the cobs in my bed
Day 11:
-watch all four travelmates puke due to bucket consumption
-watch my tan fade and my mood plummet as our plane takes farther and farther from thailand and closer and closer to Japan
ah. what a great trip. I have another day of freedom before returning to teaching Friday. Its looking like Saturday I will be pulling an all nighter in Fukuoka, gracing the cock bars with my presence yet again. Jo and I have plans to hit up other bars, but I have my doubts about our ability to pass up the drink deals at th cocks. Hope everyone in Portland is enjoying the snow and that Zandra has a newfound respect and admiration for those of us unlucky enough to live without the modern miracle that is central heat.
Day 1:
-fly all day
-get first mosquito bite on right foot in Bangkok
-eat first of many plates of pad thai
Day 2:
-arrive Patong Beach, Phuket
-first swim in ocean
-I drink bowl of beef drippings at dinner for the equivalent of about $4
-befriend prostitutes, gay couple, transvestites, thai boxers, swedes
-transvestite attempts to lactate on group
Day 3:
-lay on beach; get sunburned
-three new mosquito bites on right foot
-meet Simon, the dirty Italian
-meet Simon's penis
Day 4 (Christmas!):
-go to phi phi islands
-snorkel, swim, canoe and tan all day long
-eat weight in mashed potatoes and turkey at dinner
Day 5:
-bond with barry the australian
-lay on beach all day
-hit up safari club, patong's after hours club complete with tropical decor and more sleazy euros chasing thai girls than one ever imagined existed.
-Day 6:
-beach again
-meet fairies
-convince Brit am 17 and, with Jo, learn all about his kitten
-almost puke from techno overload at safari club. nam and i beg for some beyonce, but are ignored by evil dj
-discover have ten bites on right foot, but am clear on rest of body
Day 7:
-say good bye to Phuket
-go to bed at 10 in effort to recover from Phuket
Day 8:
-explore temples in Bangkok. feel very cultural.
-use scariest bathroom ever in 7-11 in Chinatown
-consume massive quantities of alcohol
Day 9:
-shopping and recovering
-right foot completely covered in bites
Day 10:
-get thai massage at famous temple.
-discover the true meaning of that famous 80s hit "One Night in Bangkok" while celebrating the new year on khao san road
-succumb to peer pressure and consume the devils drug (caffeine) in the form of a "bucket" (a fifth of whiskey, red bull and coke in, what else, a bucket)
-watch nam eat three corn on the cobs in my bed
Day 11:
-watch all four travelmates puke due to bucket consumption
-watch my tan fade and my mood plummet as our plane takes farther and farther from thailand and closer and closer to Japan
ah. what a great trip. I have another day of freedom before returning to teaching Friday. Its looking like Saturday I will be pulling an all nighter in Fukuoka, gracing the cock bars with my presence yet again. Jo and I have plans to hit up other bars, but I have my doubts about our ability to pass up the drink deals at th cocks. Hope everyone in Portland is enjoying the snow and that Zandra has a newfound respect and admiration for those of us unlucky enough to live without the modern miracle that is central heat.
