Being 3 weeks from leaving this place, I've suddenly gotten the urge to post and caption some backlogged pics. Dozo. Enjoy.

From another time and place:

Japan Cats - No words.

From November 2007:

Dave's Samurai Festival - From the depths of Feudal Ireland

From December 2007:

Senior English - Teaching English to Grandmothers

From January 2008:

Nagano Ski Trip - Wicked Sweet

I'm gonna miss that bunch of rapscallions.

Last Friday, I had an enkai, which is a drinking party among coworkers. Coming from America, I was surprised how untaboo this sort of thing is, but it's pretty much a requirement here. Like, the morning schedule practically reads: Meetings, Classes, Sports Activities, Organized Getting Drunk With Math Department.

I've only been to one other such party, last year. I didn't get too crazy, despite teachers' constant refilling my glass of sake in an effort to make me so. But I do have some pretty awesome pictures of karaoke with my 80-year-old principal that are sure to surface as soon as I'm back on American soil.

This one was a little bit smaller, though. It was just the English Department saying goodbye to me and another teacher who moved schools, and a welcome party for the man that replaced her. I ate various fish and tentacle-based foods, and different colored sludges of mysterious origin. I happily popped something that looked like BBQ chicken into my mouth, and while my face clearly showed that I was incorrect in my assumption, two other teachers debated whether it was a chicken LIVER or chicken INTESTINES. I simultaneously debated whether to spit it into my NAPKIN or out the WINDOW.

Many Japanese get-togethers have a structure, starting off with a kanpai speech: a speech to kick off the night, usually by the person who organized it. You're supposed to listen and pretend to understand Japanese, and you are not allowed to look longingly at your beer, imagining how good it probably tastes, and how warm it's getting for each of the 15 minutes that pass during this traditional talking time.

It occurred to me somewhere around minute 13 that I was probably also expected to give a speech. Maybe right then, or maybe at the end, but I should have known they weren't letting me slip away that easy. I had to give a speech at my Aikido enkai, and in the 3 minutes I was given to prepare, I somehow crafted the 11 Japanese words I know into a hilarious joke. "I like Aikido. The sensei is great. I don't speak Japanese. But I am really good at speaking English." [pause for laughter and high fives]

Luckily, because I was with the English department, I had an excuse to speak the language I know and not resort to prat falls for laughs, like I often do in class. But what is it supposed to be about? I'm given nothing here! I need to prepare. I CAN'T JUST TURN THE FUNNY ON LIKE A FAUCET. After hyperventilating into my beer, which I was finally allowed to drink, I realized that I had a whole meal to compose my thoughts, which I did, in between interesting questions about my life and slightly irritating questions about why Americans like anime so much. (My answer: Um, they're pretty? What do you want, buddy? We're a country of nerds. Happy now?)

After eating a frightening mysterious black ice cream for dessert, I gave my speech. I was able to throw together a few jokes that could be understood by all levels of English speakers. The opening kanpai speech had, of course, been given in Japanese, so I joked that I understood what was said, and "translated" ridiculously hyperbolic compliments about the other two guests of honor. Polite laughter abounded.

Then they ceremonially handed me and the other two elaborately wrapped presents. I blushed and whispered to the girl next to me, asking if I should open it then or later, and we kind of shifted our eyes around until the next person started to speak, and the crisis was averted.

As I was getting on my bike, my new supervisor reminded me that "biking under the influence" was treated the same as driving, and they have a zero tolerance policy. She seemed truly concerned and begged me not to stand out or weave or bike too fast. I wanted to slap her back playfully and tell her "Honey, if 2 tiny beers prevent me from driving in a straight line on an empty huge sidewalk, I've got bigger problems to worry about." But I thought calling her "honey" and the back-slapping might be counterproductive to my argument.

I got home safely and opened my gift in my entryway. I'm glad I didn't do it there in front of them, because I busted out laughing. Three crisp 1,000 yen bills. 30 bucks. It was sweet. I shouldn't laugh, and I certainly don't want to seem ungrateful. But it was so Japanese. Like, I would have been happy with a card or a 5-cent piece of origami. Hell, I would have been happy with a high five. I'm not like an 18-year-old stepdaughter you don't know what to get for Christmas. I love everything, but a pile of money feels strange and cold.

While I may not miss the confusion and cultural ignorance I feel on a pretty much constant basis, I feel honored with every piece of the puzzle I get about this crazy country. I won't ever be able to fit them all together, but I'll always cherish my big messy pile of pieces.

Lauren: man, i hope i don't get on your bad side
you gots grudges
i do too though
Gabe: I have no grudges
I'm rancorous
thats different
Lauren: like a rancor?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rancor

Gabe: HAHAHAH
perchance
Its too early to show me ugly things like that
Lauren: sorry
it's never too early for jedi
Gabe: sez you
Lauren: who knows if you might see a rancor this morning
you might need to defeat it
i suggest tricking him into eating an explosive charge

Gabe: I can use mind tricks
Lauren: are you dark or light?
Gabe: im a new breed, right down the centre
Lauren: well, you don't want to be that
i can tell you that right now
that just means you're not very GOOD at your skills, but you have a lot of them
Gabe: hahahha
NO
Lauren: and it's "center" here in amurrca
if you're dark like Lord Vader
you get cool mind tricks
force push
force choke
lightning bolts
Gabe: I wanna be good
but I had a ruff life
Lauren: if you're light, you have wussy things
like heal
and be nice to fawns
but i guess your soul doesn't wither to nothing

...we're not friends anymore, are we?
kevin put an end our friendship the other day
when i likened myself to captain picard and him to commander riker
Gabe: hahaha
can I be that one telepathic woman
but not Geordi
Lauren: well, if you are her, you have to do kevin
but that's fine
Gabe: k

One of my favorite things about my Japanese co-workers is their almost childlike innocence. I suppose it stems from their lack of vocabulary, but I like to imagine that this is how they actually talk with other adults.

Take, for example, the conversation I had with Spiky-sensei yesterday. I had cnn.com open to an article with an unflattering picture of Boy George (aren't they all these days? Put down the Twinkie, George!) about his inability to get a US visa, and Spiky-sensei stopped in his tracks.

Spiky: He is...dead?
Lauren: No. He just can't get a visa to the US.
Spiky: Oh...but he is gay.
Lauren: Yes, he is. But still no visa.
Spiky: Who is dead?
Lauren: Um, George Carlin? Do you know him? (I open a picture.)
Spiky: Eeeeh, no. I don't know. Is he gay?
Lauren: I don't think so.
Spiky: Do you know Queen? Freddy Mercury?
Lauren: Yes, he is dead.
Spiky: Also, he is gay.

So there's the highlight of my lunch hour. Maybe I should present him later with a Venn Diagram of Dead People Vs. Gay People, and we can chat about it more at a later date.

My students, however, are not that innocent (♫ Oh, baby, baby).
I'm in charge of a group of kids who clean the bike rack area every day after school. They rotate classes, and every so often I get a lovable bunch of hooligans who suddenly can speak all the English they "forget" in the classroom.

I asked them their names a few months back, because I couldn't read the kanji, and the 4 boys introduced themselves as Lucy, Catherine, Bob, and Robot Gonzales.
Hooligans I tells ya.

So yesterday I was getting them to clean the top floor of the bike area, and they were complaining as best they could.

Robot: Finished!
Lauren: You're not finished. Today, we clean the second floor.
Lucy: But tomorrow is holiday.
Lauren: Tomorrow's not a holiday.
Lucy: Yes. Cleaning holiday.
Lauren: Let's go. If you are fast, we will finish soon.
Robot: But Lauren-sensei, you are so cute.
Lauren: No, I'm not. Cleaning!
Lucy: Very cute.
Lauren: Thank you, but we're still cleaning.
Robot: There is nothing.
Lauren: What? I see trash right there!
Robot: Oh, good eye! Good eye!
Lucy: No, beautiful eye.
Robot: Beautiful eye. We are finished now.

And with no more trash in sight of my one beautiful eye, I reluctantly let them finish. Then they always mistake the "Good job" I tell them in English at the end of cleaning for the Japanese counterpart "Otsukaresamadeshita," which I think means half goodbye, half thanks for working hard today. And in Japanese, everyone just says it to each other, no matter who actually did the work. So when I dismiss everyone, I bow and tell them "Good job!" for their cleaning, and they all respond with a hearty "Good job!" I guess for ordering them around so well. I love this country.

I wanted to round off my stay in Japan by remembering some things I'll miss about my time here, and some things I will be ever so happy to be without when I leave.

Today's topic: Restaurants!

I'll miss so much about restaurants. No tipping, for one thing, which is just a godsend. Being a former waitress, I do feel strange not giving someone a monetary appreciation for a job well done, but when you're dining out with a huge group, it really makes things go smoother. No one is shafted. The normal human beings don't overcompensate in tips because the cheap people didn't account for gratuity. Also, tax is incorporated into the menu price (Can you imagine?), so when you've got a huge group splitting a bill, you just open the fucking menu and get out a calculator. And no one pays over, no one rounds up. If your bill is 3,999 yen, and you leave 4,000 this waitress will follow you to the damn train station to give you your one yen piece back. It's glorious.

What I will NOT miss is tiny, tiny glasses. I didn't think they made glasses this small. And no one in Japan seems to care. There are also no refills on soda or anything, unless you pay double to get "Drink Bar," which is basically an overhyped Soda Fountain you would find in any KFC for no additional charge in the states.

I will not miss not getting napkins. Forget about cloth napkins, which I will wrap around my head with glee like a babushka once I finally see them again. The paper napkins literally feel like a piece of paper. A tiny piece of paper. They are about as absorbent as the receipt, and I'll be they could just save money by just shoving old receipts in the napkin holder.

But if these few things would change, dining in Japan would be a flawless experience. Well, besides the food, of course. But that's another entry.

Holy crap. When I put it like that, it's damn near uncanny.
...

After many, MANY people's attempts to teach me poker, something finally sunk in a few weeks ago. My dad "taught" me when I was little, and I could get the rules just fine, but I didn't understand why people bluffed or to what end.

I played once on the ski bus in high school and lost all my Sour Patch Kids to a chick who had four queens, beating my three aces, which I had calculated to be a statistical impossibility. Male friends the world across have sat down to try and indoctrinate me into this one realm of guyhood I'd never yet been able to understand, and could not truly call myself a tomboy if I didn't master.

Then last week, something clicked, and now I'm hooked, along with my friend Bex. Charlotte and Gabe tag along for the LOLs, and Dave and Kevin bring their poker faces and empty wallets in which to soon collect all our yennies.

Unfortunately, I am the worst liar in the world. Unfortunately, certain friends of mine know me very well, and like to exclaim to the table "Lauren's got 2 kings; I fold" because apparently it's a "tell" if you start twitching and giggling uncontrollably when the "flop" is displayed.

Here are some other very important things I've learned in the two weeks I've been playing.

• When you have a certain good hand, do not start humming the "Full House" theme song.
• If you have a straight, don't count the numbers with your fingers, even if you have OCD and you can't be sure you've had such good luck if you don't count the numbers out 5 times. You have a straight, it's true. Now work it.
• Asking for the paper with the winning hand combinations written on it is also considered a "tell."
• People don't actually say "too rich for my blood" when they fold, and if they do, their friend Kevin makes fun of them for it.
• Wearing a green visor IS actually a prerequisite, and if you lend it to Bex, she will win all your money.
• Lauren never bluffs. Kevin always bluffs. Unless you decide to call him. Then he has a royal flush.
• Holy shit, I just got why people say "call your bluff." Wow. I feel alive for the first time in my life.
• After you finish playing and head for the last train, do not talk to the drunken man who owns the winery next door. He will point at you and call you "Bill Gates." Even if you insist you are a woman and take off your glasses, he will still insist, "Yes, beautiful, but Bill Gates."

I look forward to many more weekends of losing my money to Bex, Kevin, and Dave.
--Beautiful Bill Gates

I'd like to watch a game show where the contestants close their eyes and try to tell the difference between Conor Oberst's singing and a bleating goat.

It should be called either "More Like Conor GOATBerst, Am I Right, Guys?" or "Bah-right Eyes"; I haven't decided. I'll let you know when I've had more sleep.

Heh, sorry, guys. I meant to post that last entry into my dream blog, not my main one. I guess the cat's out of the bag. I'm a firm believer in never forcing your dreams on people, because they're almost never as hilarious or interesting as you think they are. But I am also a hypocrite, so I made a dream blog, if people care to see what goes on in my wacky overactive subconscious. Enjoy.

I do want to share with you my big day yesterday. It's funny. I go on these exotic adventures to temples and seedy underbellies of Japan, and what I'm inspired to write about is my trip to the grocery store two weeks later.

It's because the adventure stories aren't really stories. They're more like: "Then I ate some Thai food. Then I felt sick. Then my friends yelled at me for not drinking because I felt sick. Then 5 hours later, I'm dead tired, walking around the Gay District of Tokyo, not that there's anything wrong with that, trying to prevent various friends from spitting pistachio shells at rude bartenders, even if it is really funny and he totally deserves it."

But yesterday, I had a fun day. I handed tests back and used up the rest of the class by having the kids fill in Penny Arcade comics with hilarious results. Afterwards, I went shopping at the "Western" grocery store in town.

I really enjoy shopping in Japan for some reason. It's really calming to me. I like seeing new foods to try, finding stuff I didn't think existed in Japan, and I always have my iPod on, and I unintentionally rock out in the vegetable aisle, amidst awkward stares of passersby. To be fair, half of the lunatic stuff I do without thinking gets me stares in America, too, but it's funnier to me here because I feel embarrassed when I realize what I'm doing. And embarrassment is always funny. Whereas, in LA, I'll step up to some grandma's grille and be all "YEAH, I'm slow dancing with a can of chick peas, what's it to you? I'll cut you so bad, you'll wish I didn't cut you so bad!" Then it turns out the grandma's a writer for Family Guy, and she sues me for plagiarism.

The one thing different in this country is that eeeeeeverybody wants to know what Whitey's got in the basket. I'm kind of self conscious, because I feel like if I have a cart full of frozen pizza and Frosted Flakes, they'll think I don't (or "can't," as they always ask) eat Japanese food. So I always try to keep a thin layer of udon noodles, okonomiyaki mix, and octopus tentacles on the top, so they can see how multicultural I am. Or maybe they're looking because they WANT to see me getting Western food. I don't know who I'm supposed to be! Am I supposed to be predictable or capricious?

Anyway, apparently it was free sample day, which I have only seen once before, in my local market. I made the terrible, terrible mistake of taking the cup and drinking it before noting the products in question on the table.

If there's one thing Japan has taught me, it's bodily impulse control. For instance, more often than I'd like, a vendor shoves a huge purple tentacle at me, smiling, and hoping with his every hope that I'll take it and eat it right there, pausing only shortly to unstick the suckers from my uvula before I swallow it. I have acquired the ability to not only suppress my gag reflex and facial sneer but to actually replace them with a smile and a polite, "No, thank you" in Japanese. "Kekko desu," I exclaim cheerfully, which roughly translates into "My family should be shamed for the rudeness I am displaying towards you. I promise to purchase your wares tomorrow, but today, unfortunately, I have a tentacle already attached to my uvula that I am unable to dislodge."

But so at the last free samples day, I horked down a cupful of something that tasted pretty good at first, and then tasted awful, gah, bad, bad, bad. "Miruku to remon!" The lady cheerfully informed me, as I noticed that she was, for some ungodly reason, giving away mixtures lemon juice and milk. It finished curdling inside my mouth, and I smiled weakly as I tripped away to get a frozen pizza with which to cleanse my palate.

This happened pretty early on in my time here in Japan, so I actually forgot about this happening until yesterday, when I horked down a free sample of...Health Vinegar! The poor sample guy actually had really good English, so I stood around listening to his spiel about how cassis berry vinegar was scientifically proven to give me clear skin and prevent me from ever catching a cold. And I don't know if it's my being in Japan so long, but after I realized what it was...it wasn't half bad. I just wish I had known the kanji for vinegar, because when I saw the berry on the carton, my mouth was expecting a completely different flavor.

I tried a few other things -- a really good hot dog sausage thing, and a meatball you make by boiling the package in water. In the far corner, they were even giving out wine samples, and to my surprise, I actually liked the red wine. A slave to my poor impulse control, I agreed to purchase a bottle of wine, and the woman looked so shocked that she had made a sale, I got a little worried that she knew something about it that I didn't. All I know is I don't usually like red wine, and I liked this. Maybe it was Kool-Aid. Anyway, to ease my guilt at making a $15 impulse buy, I got back in line a few more times for more samples, each time donning a new outfit and fake mustache. (Yes, I used another Family Guy joke. Wanna fight about it?)

Then on the bike ride home, I saw a bird walking on a grate, and he kept falling in and hitting his head on the next bar, then straightening up and doing it again, and I feel guilty for how hard I laughed at that.

Finally, when I got home, I walked past my super cute upstairs neighbor. This girl can't be more than 3-years-old, and she's so innocently blunt, it's hilarious. Every time she sees me, she says (in Japanese, of course), "You're Lauren-sensei, right? Mom, look, it's Lauren-sensei. Her name's Lauren-sensei, right?" And I laugh and tell her she's right, and ask how she is. Then she usually stares at me and asks some question that I don't understand.

One night, Gabe was over and my washing machine broke, so I asked her mom to come and help me. She brought her daughter down, and Gabe said "Good day" to her. She cocked her head and said "It's not good day, it's 'good evening' now!" And I laughed while her mom presumably said something about not correcting people. But she was right, after all. Smart kid.

So yesterday, she asked me something like where had I just come from or what had I been doing. So I tried to muster my best Japanese and said, "Uh, school, then shopping. I bought bread, and, uh..." I couldn't remember the word for eggs, so I just said it in English. She laughed and looked at me funny and corrected my Japanese, which I like to translate as her saying, "That's not an 'egg,' dummy. It's a 'とまご,' yo!" It sure is, kid. It sure is.