This past weekend was the second time in my entire life where I have gone an entire weekend without going to bed before midnight once. All for good reasons. Let me explain.
1) Saturday Night
This week is the last week of one of my co-workers (this will be a recurring theme, fyi) so on Saturday she had a fun little get together with friends in Shinjuku. Per my usual, I missed the train and got downtown a little later than everyone else. As such, I had to make it to the restaurant on my own. Please keep in mind that my idea Saturday night is a warm cup of cocoa, a Nova documentary in the background, and a nice book. In other words, this was the first time that I had ever really gone downtown at night when I wasn't staying in a hotel. Talk about a mind blowing experience. It was night--a time for rest and rejuvenation--and the streets were covered with people of many ages doing many things. At one part it was amazing...at the other end it was exhausting. I don't know how so many people do it.
Anyway, after avoiding the creepy guys who kept asking me if I wanted a, "good time" or asked if I needed, "directions" I made my way to the restaurant. It was fun, I met some nice people, but I wanted to be out of there well before last train. As such, it became time for me to say goodbye all too soon, which lead to my next adventure: getting back to the station and get home. Cue round two of avoiding the creepy people, trying to follow the map on my phone, and hoping that I was in the right direction. I made it (almost got on a subway, but made it) onto the Shonin-Shinjuku line to find no sitting room. No problem, I'm fine standing. What I am not too fond of is being surrounded by so many drunk people that the entire train reeks of the substance. Thankfully, most of them got off at Omiya, so I got the last thirty minutes in a seat.
2) Sunday Night
Glorious Sunday, where I did nothing, ended up with helping my soon to be ex-coworker (told you it would come back) move out of her then-current apartment and into her new one. Having been raised with vaguely patriarchal ideas of chivalry, I naturally offered to carry the heaviest suitcase. While not as bad as the time that I carried 75lbs of books for about half a mile (I weigh around 115lbs, by the way) It was still a challenge to go both up and down stairs. But I did it with a little help (at first) and I am glad that I did. By the time I got back to my apartment, though, it was midnight and I was once again going to bed tomorrow.
3) Monday
My original plan for Monday: go to the Skytree, then meet up with staff and students for dinner. My actual events on Monday: Wander around Ueno park, have coffee with a friend, and go back to Konosu to be on time to meet with everyone. Let me explain. The Skytree is one gigantically massively tall building. I have yet to visit it, mostly because it's a bit of a pain to get there from where I am. However, I had some time, so I decided to go. What I did not plan on was the weather. According to my students, the sky tree is so high that if you go on a cloudy day, the view will be absolutely ruined. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if the smog did that first. So, that plan ruined, I decided to go to a museum in Ueno park. I guess that Monday was some kind of holiday, because all of the museums were closed. So, I wandered down side roads instead. I then went over to Shibuya to have a quick bite with a friend. It was a lot of fun.
Then I went back to Konosu, and met with the rest of the group (for the most part) and off we went. This included the new teacher, who is from the UK. It was fun to finally meet her. Anyway, we went to a Thai restaurant, and it was a lot of fun. The best part for me was getting to talk to students when there was no pressure to be, well, anything. It's not that I am incredibly tense at work (I am merely rather tense) but being without any real goal was fun. The other fun part were the drinks. Those who know me know that I am none too fond of alcohol (much to the chagrin of numerous family members). Rather, I am talking about fruit drinks. The restaurant offered several kinds, all of which came to a can. I like to experiment where I can with food, so I chose one at random. It turned out to be Tamarind flavored. Tamarind, as far as I can tell, is a kind of pea. So I was essentially drinking sugared pea juice, and it was actually kind of nice. I then tried a Pennywort juice, which smelled like a slightly old ugly fruit and tasted like a sweetened, grassy banana. In other words, while odd not half bad. That, by the way, was ordered by one of my coworkers who didn't like it. I then had a rather lovely Thai tea, which was a nice orangish color and tasted vaguely of cinnamon. That was ordered by a student who didn't really have more than a taste, and then sent it my way. Having finished that, I ordered a mango juice, to complete my collection of cans (bwa-ha-ha). Someone then gave me most of their dessert (we had two birthdays, but most people were full at that time). It was mango ice cream with some sort of coconut jelly on the side. The jelly reminded me of a Mexican candy that I tried when I was younger. It was really good.
I got home before midnight that night, and promptly went to bed (hence, no blog post until now) and lay there...and lay there...and lay there...after four cans of probably quite sugary drinks (one of them a tea) plus ice cream plus the coconut stuff, I was wired for destruction while simultaneously exhausted. It was a weird sensation. I have no idea what time I actually fell asleep, but I know that it was long after 1:00am, and quite possibly after two. Still, I felt no fatigue upon waking.
So, that was my weekend. One final note, an interesting cultural thing. On one of my days last week, I had a student join one of my classes. So, I introduced him (we shall call him John Smith) to another student in the class (who shall be hence forth known as Prissy Nezbit). She asked for his name. He said Mr. Smith. He asked back. She said Prissy. She asked again, and he repeated Mr. Smith. She asked specifically for his first name, and he said John. She mentioned that her first name was Prissy and her last name was Nezbit. While this looks like a normal conversation, there were layers of cultural connections here that I just could not wrap my head around. In Japan, it's last name-first name, while in the west it's first name-last name. She was following the western standard, he was following the east. Yes, he was hungover, but there was so much going on in those few words that I had no clue what was going on.
This has been another adventure in the austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way then tell everyone. Peace out.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
Ep 36. Well Finally
It's happened. After weeks of waiting, after lost hopes and lost hopes, it finally happened.
Mt. Fuji finally appeared. I cannot tell you how often I have gone to work on a Saturday morning, turned around, and seen Mt. Fuji rising in the distance, only to look the following morning--on my day off--to find it covered by the impenetrable wall of pestilence known as smog. And then it happened. Yesterday morning I woke up to find Fujisan rising up in the distance. And me with a day off. So, I naturally did what someone of my nature always does. I put on clothes as fast as I could and set off on a walk to get a picture of that gosh darn mountain. And I did it. I might have terrified some poor Japanese people with the look on my face--especially when I realized that the telephone poles in this country are made out of metal instead of wood--but gosh darn it I finally got a picture of that mountain over the fields. And boy is it beautiful.
So, I continued on my walk, and wouldn't you know it I ran into a stork. As usual, it flew off before I could get a good picture.
//**
When I write these blog post, I find that adding the pictures takes the longest out of all the tasks involved. First I have to sort through the pictures, then I have to upload the pictures onto my computer, then I have to upload the pictures from my computer to the blog...I had a long day, so the above will be the only picture...for now.
//**
Walking back home, I decided to go by the supermarket to do my weekly shopping. For the first time in Japan, I encountered a wet floor sign. No, not a wet floor sign. In America, the assumption of the average population is that a small cone will be enough to warn anyone. If you slip and fall, it's your own darn fault. Not so in Japan. I don't know if it's because they were cleaning up the station's floor in the middle of the day, or if they always do it this way, but they had an entire section of the floor cordoned off. They still had cones posted warning people that the floor was wet, but I don't see the point when the entire wet area is unavailable.
The rest of the day was spent, "cleaning." By cleaning, I mean somehow turning what was a contained mess into an apartment wide catastrophe. My apartment looked halfway decent before, but now it looks like an utter disaster. Hopefully this is a step forward in the name of progress.
This morning I woke up to find that I had actually slept in until 7:00am. Normally, I would be rather ecstatic, but not this morning. I was going to Chichibu, and I was supposed to be meeting people at the station by 8:30...and I had slept in. Quick as a flash I checked BBC, had a shower, scarfed a banana, filled my water bottles, and ran out the door. Only to find that it was garbage day and I had missed the last one. Eeek, split second decision time. Do I go to the station, or run back, grab the burnable garbage, and bring it to the curb. I chose the latter. So I dashed into the apartment, grabbed the yogurt from the fridge--well, more green fuzz on the remnant than yogurt now--tossed it in, grabbed the paper garbage (forgot about the cardboard garbage) tie it off and run it to the curb. Next stop, the bank. Try to withdraw money, put in wrong pin, start all over. Successfully put in right pin, withdraw money. Dash off toward the station and run into the nearest konvini (convenience store in Japanese, I kid not) and search for something--anything--that has egg but no other meat products. Find that much harder than it should have been. Leave the store to find...I'm the first one here. For once in this country, I am not only on time, but early. Talk about a blast from the past, I seem to be turning into something more of my old self.
We all got together and (barely, twice) made it to both of our trains. Where were we headed? Nagatoro. A beautiful, mountainous region, it reminded me quite a bit of the Willamette River valley, if said valley had a continuous inhabitation presence and lacked any tall buildings. Still, compared to Tokyo and its suburbs it was a welcome change. Our first stop was a small whitewater rafter tour, although the whitewater in question was fairly tame. We went through it in wooden boats that looked like giant canoes, with plastic on the side to make sure that neither gear nor people got wet. We then took a walk along a shale outcropping by the river. Shale rock fascinates me to this day, the way that it is so clearly layered yet utterly stuck together. It also has a nice amount of grip to it, making some light bouldering a nice experience.
Following a short rest and hydration break, we were on our way to the Nagatoro Museum of Natural History (yay fossils of the Pleistocene and beyond). It really was a beautiful walk through a lush area, only to find that--guess what--the museum is closed on Mondays. I guess that's life, and we got a beautiful walk. We then decided to take another hydration break, and discovered that another convini was nearby. This was rather convenient, considering that one of our group was a little short on cash. However, assured that there would be an ATM near the station, we went on our way. What did we find? According to information, there was no ATM. Curses. So, we asked a shop owner as well and, wouldn't you know it, there was an ATM quite close. Two, in fact, as we were to find out.
We then stopped for lunch at a rather old fashion noodle place. I had the soba noodles, and they were absolutely delicious. Talk about a nice lunch with a great atmosphere--although sitting in front of a couple of stuffed birds (they looked like peahens) was a tad disturbing.
Following lunch, we were away to a shrine. This place we beautifully ornate, with reds, blues, and greens inlaid with gold. It was an interesting place to visit, but as we approached a bus showed up, and out poured a group of elderly Japanese women. With them was a man, rather well muscled and probably well into his early thirties. There just seemed to be something so cliche about the scene--especially the way that he had to heard them while answering all of their questions--that I couldn't help but laugh. Following the shrine, we dashed up a hill to take a cable car up to another shrine complex.
//**
Legend has it that the shrine on top of the mountain was dedicated to some spirit dogs who helped defend a prince against a fire. The story begins long in the past, about 1900 years ago, when Japan was not so much one kingdom as many warring princedoms. One such prince marched his army up a hill to gain an advantage, but soon found himself and his troops surrounded by an enormous blaze. When all hope seemed lost--the prince realizing that he had condemned his troops to a horrible death--strange black and white shapes leaped from the trees and started to smother the flames. As the prince watched on, he realized that they were dogs. Following the path of the dogs, he soon found himself on the top of the hill, with the dogs nowhere to be seen. Realizing that the dogs were spirit messengers, he immediately dedicated the top of the hill to them, and built a shrine in their honor.
//**
We then walked around the hill a bit, and saw a massive number of Azalea bushes in all colors possible, plus a shrine at the top of the hill with a spectacular view. Rather than taking the cable car back down when we were done, we decided to walk. The trail, I will admit, was quite dusty and rocky, but on the whole very simple and comparable to many such trails back in Oregon or the states. To some who were more accustomed to city areas, it seemed to present a bit more of a challenge. However, we all made it through and, on the advice of one of our compatriots, went off for a snow cone (shaved ice).
The shave ice place was of a very modern design. The door automatically closed via a clever weight and pulley system, the chairs had no backs, there was some jazz music in the background, and everything edible was clearly hand made. In short, it was Starbucks in the 90's with snow cones instead of coffee and I-don't-know-who instead of Nora Jones. Following my usual restaurant etiquette in Japan, I turned to my companions and let them know that, so long as I could eat what they ordered, they were to order me anything. They got me a matcha-red bean paste snow cone. Not only was it enormous, but it was delicious too. It was so big, in fact, that I simply couldn't finish it. I did have room to try the other flavors that we had ordered, however. Those were a milky strawberry, and kinako (I did not spell that right, but all is now corrected). They were both delicious. It is hard to describe the size of these things, however. The only image that I can think of comes from the Fellowship of the Ring movie, where Merry gets a pint. Oh man was it huge, and oh my dear sweet heeby-jeebies was it delicious.
After the monstrosity of sweetness, we crossed the road to see an old house...only to find it closed. We then went to walk among the beautifully blooming flowers (at least one of us while singing the Sound of Music) only to find it a dusty, albeit beautiful, bowl. So, instead we went souvenir shopping. We then boarded the train and, lost in our own thoughts, went home. We talked a little, and laughed, and all had a fun time. There were five of us: two teachers and three students. But, for those hours, I forgot the boundary between us. We were friends on an adventure, and that was all that mattered.
This has been another adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night.
 |
| Oh hai, Fujisan |
Mt. Fuji finally appeared. I cannot tell you how often I have gone to work on a Saturday morning, turned around, and seen Mt. Fuji rising in the distance, only to look the following morning--on my day off--to find it covered by the impenetrable wall of pestilence known as smog. And then it happened. Yesterday morning I woke up to find Fujisan rising up in the distance. And me with a day off. So, I naturally did what someone of my nature always does. I put on clothes as fast as I could and set off on a walk to get a picture of that gosh darn mountain. And I did it. I might have terrified some poor Japanese people with the look on my face--especially when I realized that the telephone poles in this country are made out of metal instead of wood--but gosh darn it I finally got a picture of that mountain over the fields. And boy is it beautiful.
So, I continued on my walk, and wouldn't you know it I ran into a stork. As usual, it flew off before I could get a good picture.
//**
When I write these blog post, I find that adding the pictures takes the longest out of all the tasks involved. First I have to sort through the pictures, then I have to upload the pictures onto my computer, then I have to upload the pictures from my computer to the blog...I had a long day, so the above will be the only picture...for now.
//**
Walking back home, I decided to go by the supermarket to do my weekly shopping. For the first time in Japan, I encountered a wet floor sign. No, not a wet floor sign. In America, the assumption of the average population is that a small cone will be enough to warn anyone. If you slip and fall, it's your own darn fault. Not so in Japan. I don't know if it's because they were cleaning up the station's floor in the middle of the day, or if they always do it this way, but they had an entire section of the floor cordoned off. They still had cones posted warning people that the floor was wet, but I don't see the point when the entire wet area is unavailable.
The rest of the day was spent, "cleaning." By cleaning, I mean somehow turning what was a contained mess into an apartment wide catastrophe. My apartment looked halfway decent before, but now it looks like an utter disaster. Hopefully this is a step forward in the name of progress.
This morning I woke up to find that I had actually slept in until 7:00am. Normally, I would be rather ecstatic, but not this morning. I was going to Chichibu, and I was supposed to be meeting people at the station by 8:30...and I had slept in. Quick as a flash I checked BBC, had a shower, scarfed a banana, filled my water bottles, and ran out the door. Only to find that it was garbage day and I had missed the last one. Eeek, split second decision time. Do I go to the station, or run back, grab the burnable garbage, and bring it to the curb. I chose the latter. So I dashed into the apartment, grabbed the yogurt from the fridge--well, more green fuzz on the remnant than yogurt now--tossed it in, grabbed the paper garbage (forgot about the cardboard garbage) tie it off and run it to the curb. Next stop, the bank. Try to withdraw money, put in wrong pin, start all over. Successfully put in right pin, withdraw money. Dash off toward the station and run into the nearest konvini (convenience store in Japanese, I kid not) and search for something--anything--that has egg but no other meat products. Find that much harder than it should have been. Leave the store to find...I'm the first one here. For once in this country, I am not only on time, but early. Talk about a blast from the past, I seem to be turning into something more of my old self.
We all got together and (barely, twice) made it to both of our trains. Where were we headed? Nagatoro. A beautiful, mountainous region, it reminded me quite a bit of the Willamette River valley, if said valley had a continuous inhabitation presence and lacked any tall buildings. Still, compared to Tokyo and its suburbs it was a welcome change. Our first stop was a small whitewater rafter tour, although the whitewater in question was fairly tame. We went through it in wooden boats that looked like giant canoes, with plastic on the side to make sure that neither gear nor people got wet. We then took a walk along a shale outcropping by the river. Shale rock fascinates me to this day, the way that it is so clearly layered yet utterly stuck together. It also has a nice amount of grip to it, making some light bouldering a nice experience.
Following a short rest and hydration break, we were on our way to the Nagatoro Museum of Natural History (yay fossils of the Pleistocene and beyond). It really was a beautiful walk through a lush area, only to find that--guess what--the museum is closed on Mondays. I guess that's life, and we got a beautiful walk. We then decided to take another hydration break, and discovered that another convini was nearby. This was rather convenient, considering that one of our group was a little short on cash. However, assured that there would be an ATM near the station, we went on our way. What did we find? According to information, there was no ATM. Curses. So, we asked a shop owner as well and, wouldn't you know it, there was an ATM quite close. Two, in fact, as we were to find out.
We then stopped for lunch at a rather old fashion noodle place. I had the soba noodles, and they were absolutely delicious. Talk about a nice lunch with a great atmosphere--although sitting in front of a couple of stuffed birds (they looked like peahens) was a tad disturbing.
Following lunch, we were away to a shrine. This place we beautifully ornate, with reds, blues, and greens inlaid with gold. It was an interesting place to visit, but as we approached a bus showed up, and out poured a group of elderly Japanese women. With them was a man, rather well muscled and probably well into his early thirties. There just seemed to be something so cliche about the scene--especially the way that he had to heard them while answering all of their questions--that I couldn't help but laugh. Following the shrine, we dashed up a hill to take a cable car up to another shrine complex.
//**
Legend has it that the shrine on top of the mountain was dedicated to some spirit dogs who helped defend a prince against a fire. The story begins long in the past, about 1900 years ago, when Japan was not so much one kingdom as many warring princedoms. One such prince marched his army up a hill to gain an advantage, but soon found himself and his troops surrounded by an enormous blaze. When all hope seemed lost--the prince realizing that he had condemned his troops to a horrible death--strange black and white shapes leaped from the trees and started to smother the flames. As the prince watched on, he realized that they were dogs. Following the path of the dogs, he soon found himself on the top of the hill, with the dogs nowhere to be seen. Realizing that the dogs were spirit messengers, he immediately dedicated the top of the hill to them, and built a shrine in their honor.
//**
We then walked around the hill a bit, and saw a massive number of Azalea bushes in all colors possible, plus a shrine at the top of the hill with a spectacular view. Rather than taking the cable car back down when we were done, we decided to walk. The trail, I will admit, was quite dusty and rocky, but on the whole very simple and comparable to many such trails back in Oregon or the states. To some who were more accustomed to city areas, it seemed to present a bit more of a challenge. However, we all made it through and, on the advice of one of our compatriots, went off for a snow cone (shaved ice).
The shave ice place was of a very modern design. The door automatically closed via a clever weight and pulley system, the chairs had no backs, there was some jazz music in the background, and everything edible was clearly hand made. In short, it was Starbucks in the 90's with snow cones instead of coffee and I-don't-know-who instead of Nora Jones. Following my usual restaurant etiquette in Japan, I turned to my companions and let them know that, so long as I could eat what they ordered, they were to order me anything. They got me a matcha-red bean paste snow cone. Not only was it enormous, but it was delicious too. It was so big, in fact, that I simply couldn't finish it. I did have room to try the other flavors that we had ordered, however. Those were a milky strawberry, and kinako (I did not spell that right, but all is now corrected). They were both delicious. It is hard to describe the size of these things, however. The only image that I can think of comes from the Fellowship of the Ring movie, where Merry gets a pint. Oh man was it huge, and oh my dear sweet heeby-jeebies was it delicious.
After the monstrosity of sweetness, we crossed the road to see an old house...only to find it closed. We then went to walk among the beautifully blooming flowers (at least one of us while singing the Sound of Music) only to find it a dusty, albeit beautiful, bowl. So, instead we went souvenir shopping. We then boarded the train and, lost in our own thoughts, went home. We talked a little, and laughed, and all had a fun time. There were five of us: two teachers and three students. But, for those hours, I forgot the boundary between us. We were friends on an adventure, and that was all that mattered.
This has been another adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Ep 35. And We're Back
Overall, last week was an effective week. Yes, there were struggles, and yes we had some unexpected events happen (I asked you if you were OK, so why did you pee on the floor?) but for the most part, it went smoother than I expected. Whether or not that's true or more a sign of some residual jet lag remains to be seen.
Speaking of jet lag, I wrote a small poem about it, particularly how it has effected my wake up schedule. Basically, I started out being able to wake up late, and have been waking up earlier every day. I'm not very pleased with most of the poem but the last four lines rather stand out to me:
"It's not that I'm angry
I really don't mind
as the time I wake up
crawls slowly behind."
I just really like the rhythm that I put into those four lines. Something about it just sort of works for me. Anyway...
As I'm writing this, I begin to hear the faint tip-tips of rain on my window. The wind, ever boisterous, has been really blowing all day. Winter has left, and summer is coming. Prior to the shirt-drenching heat, however, we have the rainy season. I don't know quite what to expect because, being from Oregon, we don't so much have a nice rainy season and a nice dry season; but more a dry-season and everything else. Mainly, I don't know what kind of rain to expect. Will it be the gentle mist that spits in your face, or the deluge descending from the heavens? Will my standard Oregon raincoat be sufficient, or will I be forced to cover my apartment in post-it notes so as to not forget the loathed umbrella? At leas the post-its will cover the mess.
Speaking of mess, my apartment is a war zone between two competing factions. The first, currently with a slight upper hand, is utter chaos. Things lay strewn throughout my apartment, bags of trash wait to be taken out on the correct day, and laundry hangs on the walls. The second is the sense that there is a place for everything, and everything in its place. This is the side that wants...while not a clean apartment, at least a presentable one. At times I have wondered if I would be tidier or messier with a larger place. One the one hand, a larger apartment would have more room for more things, which is my perennial problem over here (at least, that's what I tell myself). On the other hand, just because I would have enough room for things doesn't mean that I would necessarily use it. After all, in colder months I tend to like clutter because it reflects a cozy side of things that speaks of warmth (why do we say that word with a, 'p' but don't have it in the spelling? Weird). In warmer months, I find that I cannot stand it as much. I still like it a little bit, but I am more drawn to an orderly environ. I guess that means that if I lived in Alaska, I would have a Fortress of Refuse--with storied objects of old stuffed into every nook and cranny. Meanwhile, on the equator, I would be the perfect hermit, free of all of my worldly posessions.
So, apparently I'm not into reflecting on many of my experiences at the moment. Here's the thing, coming back was easier than the first time. I felt better about it (though it was still really hard) and I have found it easier to adjust. That's probably due to a bit of familiarity, but also due to the fact that I can live over here. I have gotten to the point where I can make simple sentences and where I can survive. I also know how to do things over here that I may one day need to figure out in the US--though if I can pay online that shouldn't be a problem. The idea of one day going back to the US both frightens and scintillates me. I will already have skills to help me, but I will also need to relearn how to do things, as well as learn new ways of doing things. It will be an experience, but I think that I can say that, no matter how long I am in the US, a part of me will forever more lie within Japan.
One story. Yesterday, I went to a party. It was with some current teachers, former teachers, and students, and it was a blast. One of my co-workers brought her takoyaki maker, and we all had a lot of fun trying it out. Takoyaki, for the uninitiated, is fried balls of dough with some octopus in them. I learned how to make vegetarian takoyaki. The entire process, so long as you have all of the ingredients, is surprisingly fun and easy. You simply pour a bit of oil into each hole, and then add a little dough. You then add in your ingredients, and pour a layer of dough on top of that. After a few minutes, you turn the dough. Let that cook while you keep turning and voila! Little balls of goodness. I will definitely have to get one of those for myself eventually.
The rest of the party was also enjoyable. We sat around and talked, did a little ballroom dancing (well, some of us did) and overall had a great time. It was nice to be able to interact with people without feeling any pressure, though I must admit that I still felt a tad nervous. I don't know what it is over here that has me constantly stressed, but I have a feeling that it has more to do with just who I am and how I operate. A similar thing happened to me when I started college. Once I found my groove (and found people to mentor) I found myself acting as a better person overall. It just takes time for me to acclimate. How much time, I don't know. Hopefully, it will be sooner rather than later.
Anyway, this has been another adventure in the austentatious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone. Peace out.
Speaking of jet lag, I wrote a small poem about it, particularly how it has effected my wake up schedule. Basically, I started out being able to wake up late, and have been waking up earlier every day. I'm not very pleased with most of the poem but the last four lines rather stand out to me:
"It's not that I'm angry
I really don't mind
as the time I wake up
crawls slowly behind."
I just really like the rhythm that I put into those four lines. Something about it just sort of works for me. Anyway...
As I'm writing this, I begin to hear the faint tip-tips of rain on my window. The wind, ever boisterous, has been really blowing all day. Winter has left, and summer is coming. Prior to the shirt-drenching heat, however, we have the rainy season. I don't know quite what to expect because, being from Oregon, we don't so much have a nice rainy season and a nice dry season; but more a dry-season and everything else. Mainly, I don't know what kind of rain to expect. Will it be the gentle mist that spits in your face, or the deluge descending from the heavens? Will my standard Oregon raincoat be sufficient, or will I be forced to cover my apartment in post-it notes so as to not forget the loathed umbrella? At leas the post-its will cover the mess.
Speaking of mess, my apartment is a war zone between two competing factions. The first, currently with a slight upper hand, is utter chaos. Things lay strewn throughout my apartment, bags of trash wait to be taken out on the correct day, and laundry hangs on the walls. The second is the sense that there is a place for everything, and everything in its place. This is the side that wants...while not a clean apartment, at least a presentable one. At times I have wondered if I would be tidier or messier with a larger place. One the one hand, a larger apartment would have more room for more things, which is my perennial problem over here (at least, that's what I tell myself). On the other hand, just because I would have enough room for things doesn't mean that I would necessarily use it. After all, in colder months I tend to like clutter because it reflects a cozy side of things that speaks of warmth (why do we say that word with a, 'p' but don't have it in the spelling? Weird). In warmer months, I find that I cannot stand it as much. I still like it a little bit, but I am more drawn to an orderly environ. I guess that means that if I lived in Alaska, I would have a Fortress of Refuse--with storied objects of old stuffed into every nook and cranny. Meanwhile, on the equator, I would be the perfect hermit, free of all of my worldly posessions.
So, apparently I'm not into reflecting on many of my experiences at the moment. Here's the thing, coming back was easier than the first time. I felt better about it (though it was still really hard) and I have found it easier to adjust. That's probably due to a bit of familiarity, but also due to the fact that I can live over here. I have gotten to the point where I can make simple sentences and where I can survive. I also know how to do things over here that I may one day need to figure out in the US--though if I can pay online that shouldn't be a problem. The idea of one day going back to the US both frightens and scintillates me. I will already have skills to help me, but I will also need to relearn how to do things, as well as learn new ways of doing things. It will be an experience, but I think that I can say that, no matter how long I am in the US, a part of me will forever more lie within Japan.
One story. Yesterday, I went to a party. It was with some current teachers, former teachers, and students, and it was a blast. One of my co-workers brought her takoyaki maker, and we all had a lot of fun trying it out. Takoyaki, for the uninitiated, is fried balls of dough with some octopus in them. I learned how to make vegetarian takoyaki. The entire process, so long as you have all of the ingredients, is surprisingly fun and easy. You simply pour a bit of oil into each hole, and then add a little dough. You then add in your ingredients, and pour a layer of dough on top of that. After a few minutes, you turn the dough. Let that cook while you keep turning and voila! Little balls of goodness. I will definitely have to get one of those for myself eventually.
The rest of the party was also enjoyable. We sat around and talked, did a little ballroom dancing (well, some of us did) and overall had a great time. It was nice to be able to interact with people without feeling any pressure, though I must admit that I still felt a tad nervous. I don't know what it is over here that has me constantly stressed, but I have a feeling that it has more to do with just who I am and how I operate. A similar thing happened to me when I started college. Once I found my groove (and found people to mentor) I found myself acting as a better person overall. It just takes time for me to acclimate. How much time, I don't know. Hopefully, it will be sooner rather than later.
Anyway, this has been another adventure in the austentatious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone. Peace out.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Ep 34. Golden Week
I know what a lot of people are saying: where's 33? Did he mistype? No, I did not. Episode 33 is still a work in progress, and will be posted...eventually...yeah...anyway, here's 34:
Following four long months of laborious labor, our hero finds himself with a week of workless wonderings...a week sans workings...namely, a week off. How shall he spend it? Read on and see.
Sunday, April 27th: My body woke up at around 5:45am. My brain woke up around 5:45am. So, thinking clearly with energy flowing through my veins, I decided that, despite what my physical self was telling me, I did not want to get up at 5:45am. Why? Well, because that time has way to many, 'f' sounds for my comfort. So, I tried to go back to sleep. It didn't work. I ended up lying in bed for an hour more, finally deciding that it was a losing battle, and I had things to do anyway; in other words, I still needed to pack. Don't get me wrong, I had done plenty of packing the night before. The first thing to be packed was my Blankie (read what you will into that, he and I have been together for so long, and I am never going to give it up), followed by the large number of gifts to bring back, followed by my clothing. It should be noted, in terms of gifts, that I had been averaging a box a weekend for the past few weeks. These were simply things that refused to fit/ had not been found in time.
With the necessary things put away, everything else was just going to be whatever and blah. So, I had gone to sleep. Now, there I sat, several hours until I needed to go, and I still needed to pack my fun things. But breakfast came first. This turned out to be an interesting experience, considering that I had spent most of the week eating through my food in the hopes that I wouldn't have anything perishable left. However, I managed to scrounge together a filling meal. Body satisfied, I still needed to pack. However, a shower was more important. That finished, it was now time to pack...but not before I cleaned a little bit. What eventually surfaced was a mad dash to simultaneously pack all of my fun things while also cleaning my apartment. I remembered to pack everything, but dashed out of my door at about 10:00am with my apartment in a less tidy state than I would have liked.
The trip to the airport was fairly nondescript. I met up with a friend in Omiya, and we took the bus to the airport together. It was interesting to see parts of Japan that I don't normally get to see...at least I would say that if I could see those parts of Japan. Large parts of the free way were surrounded by walls so high that I couldn't see over them. I am unsure as to their purpose, but surmise that they are either there for privacy of the nearby residents, to dull the noise of the traffic, to stop any cars from shooting off during an earthquake, or to annoy tourists hoping to get a view of the flipping country from the flipping road. Like I said, I am unsure of their purpose.
The trip through Narita airport went rather quickly. What really made it for me were the people that I met. It really is amazing how friendly people can be if you just start chatting with them. I met an electrical engineer from Detroit who was in Japan on a business trip. He had living in Japan for a year about a year previous. I also met a nice family from Mexico City who had been visiting Japan for eight days. What drew me to them was their Spanish. Not only is the language rare in Japan, but they were using a rather unusual accent and I really wanted to know where it was from. I also met an aeronautics business man from Portland--who had graduated from Linfield--who spent most of his time traveling the world for his business. What a life.
Sadly, my seatmates on the plane weren't as talkative and just ignored me (grrr). Other than a bloody nose during Frozen and a slight stomach ache letting me know that I hadn't eaten right (I'm guessing that I didn't get enough protein) the flight went otherwise fine. One funny story from it, though. So, I don't like sleeping sitting up. Even if I tilt my head to the side, it just feels weird. So, instead, I like to lean over and sleep on my hand, with my arm propped up on my arm rest. I find it comfortable, but it can weird other people out. In this case, it weirded out this little girl sitting across from me, who asked her mom what, "the strange man is doing." Her mother told her that I was probably resting.
I didn't actually get much sleep, though. Anyway, about nine hours later we landed in Portland, and boy did it feel good. Plus, everything was greener than I remembered (I say that in terms of hue and amount of plant life). Oregon had been experiencing some rather heavy rains the past week. The trip through customs went well, and there at the end was my mother, my sister, and my host (?) sister (my father is hosting her in the US right now). My sister had made the most adorable signs welcoming me home. Were I not absolutely exhausted, I would have been touched. As it was, after a nine hour plane ride that had traveled to a place sixteen hours behind, I was nearly dead. My body was telling me that it was about 1:30am, April 28th. My watch was telling me that it was about 9:30am, April 27th. I hadn't left my apartment yet. This was going to be a long day.
It kind of was. We went out to lunch as a group, and met my dad and step mom at the restaurant. I had onion rings and a veggie burger. Neither of these things are common in Japan. I was a little territorial. No, scratch that. That's a lie. I was very territorial. My dad asked for an onion ring. I told him that I would pry it from his cold, dead fingers. By that point I had been awake for almost 24 hours. I was exhausted and eating food that I would only be able to get for a week. Truth be told, I was probably quite restrained at the time. I just wanted my onion rings.
The rest of the day passed in a kind of blase blur. By the time bed time rolled around, I was completely numb, and had found a second wind. Quickly, though, I rolled into blessed oblivion.
****/// My mom's house.
My mother rents a town house. As such, it is not that large. By American standards, it's rather nice for two people, but a tad on the smaller size for what it offers. Compared to my apartment in Japan, it is a palace. I never realized before just how big that thing is. I could probably fit the entirety of my living space--including my loft--into my bedroom and still have room left over. And don't even get me started on my bathroom over there. The entire experience has allowed me to realize just how tiny my apartment really is. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind living in such a small space. However, I am starting to realize that, whatever I eventually move into over in the US will seem like an upgrade to whatever I have here in terms of size. And yes, that does mean that I will eventually move back to the US. When will that be exactly? I am unsure as of now.
****///
Monday, April 28th: Monday was my rest day. We took the dogs for a walk. It was fun. I took a trip to the nearby mall and nearly felt myself getting overwhelmed by it all. Talking to any sales person in Japan is a nightmare because my Japanese is limited. Even if I know the words enough to ask a question (and I usually know everything except the object that I want), I usually don't understand what is said back to me. Oh, I'll get parts, but I don't know enough to really get it. As such, anyone talking to me has turned into a nerve wrecking experience. However, in the US, the language barrier doesn't exist. My fear of it still does, though. As such, any time that I entered a store I inevitably looked a little strange and was followed by people trying to help. Ah well, such is life. I didn't really do much on Monday, so I will leave it at that.
Tuesday, April 29th:
This was the day that I visited OES. It was supposed to be a quick, whirlwind visit of lots of people. I did see lots of people. There was nothing quick about it. Now, I love that place. A lot. It's where I have a ton of good memories, and it's where I met a lot of good friends. However, I was still quite jet lagged an exhausted. They had the teddy bear chapel that day, and one of my good friends had brought in something that I had given him. He told me this. I felt deeply moved and was so thankful that he had chosen something that I had given him. The response that I wanted to give was a tearful thanks. The response that I did give was a halfhearted, barely verbal, "cool." I am still deeply touched, but that's jet lag for you.
Probably the biggest problem was visiting OES was that I was on a fairly tight schedule; and every time that I was about to leave, I would inevitably see someone else to talk to. I love that place, don't get me wrong, but it's impossible to give everyone that I know the time that I want to give. Yes, it did help that multiple people fed me.
But I was still on a tight schedule because...
I was going to my dad's house for the night. The trip up was fun and quick. For those who don't know, my parents are divorced, and have been since I was in lower school. As such, the drive up to my dad's house in Hood River was one that I had done many many many many many many times over the years. And it is a nice drive. I could see many mountains and Multnoma falls.
Try as I might, I couldn't get a good picture of either Mount Raineer or Mount Franklin. Still, it was a lovely drive. And I did have a good time. We went for a nice walk around his house. We had a lovely dinner of tacos. I got to watch, "Jeopardy" and read a book. We did not get to go to the local ice cream place, but we had fun anyway.
Wednesday, April 30th:
We had blueberry pancakes at my dad's house. They were, as usual, delicious. We have a butter milk pancake starter that's well over a generation old (I think it's older than my dad). In other words, it is so delicious that we must all bow down and worship it in all its glory. I don't really remember this day very well. Oh well.
//***
One of the problems with writing these things down after the fact is that I forget on which day I did some things (I'm still a little tired and jetlagged). Here are some things that I think I did on one of the aforementioned days.
1) Powels Books: Powels is an independent bookstore in Portland. It is the church for every bibliophile within an hours radius, and will be defended at every turn. I visited. I bought many books. I wanted to cry. Many times. Enough said.
2) Dominos: I got a Dominos pizza, because I wanted to eat something revoltingly American. It was simultaneously amazing and horrific. They just don't have the grease like it in Japan. I'm not sure if that's a bad thing.
3) My mom's boyfriend: I got to see him as well. We all played cribbage together. We're both a tad socially awkward, but we get alone pretty well.
4) Birthday things: With my birthday so close to Golden Week, both sets of parents decided to wait until I got home. Both parental unit groups got me gifts that were very well thought of with really good intent behind them. I am very happy to be so loved.
//***
Thursday, May 1st:
I have not mentioned this before, but it is important to note that I told very few people that I was coming back to Portland for the week. Why? Because I love surprises.
Last year, I made a promise to some friends that they would see me again in person before graduation. That promise looked like was that I was going to need to break because, a) Japan is really far away, b) flights are expensive and, c) going back to Oregon and then coming back was probably going to be (and really really was) hard for me to do. As such, getting people to think that I was still in Japan was easy.
I had two main plots running. The first was a scheme to get two friends into a restaurant for breakfast--where I would then surprise them. The second was to have the rest of my friends throw a party where I would surprise them. To help, I had two elves. That was it.
That morning, I sent a message to one of my friends to re-write and put under the door of the two friends that I was going to meet. This apparently elicited the same response as usual, which was, "we got a note from Austin!" "Austin's in Japan." "Oh, right..."
So, my mom and I get to Willamette, and walk into the restaurant. At this point, I don't know where my friends are, but I quickly spot one of them as she spots me. She looks utterly shocked, her mind trying to understand what it is seeing. I walk around the counter (I'm tearing up as I remember this, by the way) and all of my friends see me.
Like many people, I have seen many videos of the surprise proposal, both extravagant and simple. I know that it's hard to tell in this picture, but they were both acting as though it were one of those proposals. Both are crying a little right now, and neither one can believe what she is seeing. Heck, even the friend who was in on it was feeling the same way. There was a moment of, "oh my god"s and, "how"s. And then...
The breakfast was divine. We all had a great time together, and my mom was really glad that she had been there for it. We ate at a place called the, "Sassy Onion," which serves the best french toast ever. We all talked together and enjoyed being in the same company again. However, the morning was still young, and we had many friends yet to surprise.
//***
My mother had posted a picture of the two of us on Facebook and had tagged me. As such, two more of my Willamette friends knew in advance of my coming.
//***
We first journeyed to Baxter, my old dorm. I was greeted with a thousand sounds and smells, all familiar from my past. We made it up to the third floor without meeting up with anyone that I knew, but when we got up to third a door was open. My old room, now in the hands of two of my friends. The one who was awake knew that I was coming, and greeted me. The one waking up had no idea that I was coming. She was still lying in bed, but the look of confusion on her face was priceless. When she realized who I was, she started to thrash about underneath her covers, trying to get out to give me a hug. It was good to see them both again.
Our next destination were the apartments on the other side of campus. Everything was green and gorgeous, with an enormous tent on the quad as they prepared for graduation. In the apartments, I saw my friends apartment (so enormously huge), and then visited two more friends. Both were very surprised. One was already awake, and had started to get ready for the day. The other was just waking up when we knocked. The one still waking up was my former room mate.
The one who had already been awake was my friend, Jenny, and it was at her apartment that the party was going to be at later. The party was supposed to start at five, but since I was leaving at four, she quickly changed the time to start at one. No one guessed anything was amiss. My plot was going perfectly.
We then headed back to Baxter, both to see people and to have a little fun with ourselves. Sure enough, we saw many people, all of whom were surprised to see me.
This is Ben. He said that he didn't believe his eyes.
This is Ben's CM (RA for non-Willamette folks), coming to tell us to be a tad quieter. He was also very surprised.
Next, we went up to third floor and surprised a few more people. Then, a few of us had a small improv meeting. This was not new improv, this was not the improv of this year or even last year. This was old improv, and that meant that we were like, "Whose Line is it Anyway," except without the talent.
This is the only picture of this meeting that will ever go on my blog, because the others are...well, while they are not bad, they can be a bit confusing--and possibly horrific--if taken out of context...and by context, I mean outside of the room where we took them. Since I want to keep a modicum of self dignity on this blog, they shall remain safely away from here. That is also why there are no quotes. See, this is called the, "ask/ tell" approach. Even if you ask, I will never tell. And now, moving on.
Following improv (and meeting a new friend in person), we went to lunch, where I made a startlingly scintillating discovery: American ketchup is tangier than Japanese ketchup. Mind blowing, I know. Anyway, at Goudy (the food hall) we ran into a few more friends.
This would turn out the be fortuitous later, because they helped to get some friends to the party. Anyway, one face that I didn't get was a friend who worked there. She saw us from across the room, and then did a double take as her jaw dropped. She rushed off to the kitchen, but we had to go rather quickly, which I feel terrible about still because she was actually rushing in to go on break to see me...yeah...
Anyway, more walking, more friends. I saw the area boss for the CM's--a friend from a few years ago--and had a nice chat. I also saw another couple of happy and surprised faces.
I did miss another picture, though. I made a snowman for one of my friends, but had to leave it outside of her door. She was very happy to see me, however, and I was very glad to see her. I wish her the best this summer; things don't always go as she wants them to.
We finally got to the party to find...
Almost no one there. The only people there were two friends and a freshman who I didn't know. The people arriving were myself and my chauffeur
This did lead to one of the funniest moments of the trip, though. So, there we were, sitting and talking, and the freshman kept on giving me the weirdest looks. After a few minutes of this, her eyes suddenly grew very wide.
"Oh my god! You're Austin!" she said. Now this actually happens to me at a surprisingly frequent rate. Keep in mind that I had no idea who this person was--I still don't know that much about her--and that we had met maybe once or twice via skype. Since I didn't really know her, I gave my usual response of, "yes I am. What's your name?" This sequence of events happened three more times that week. Many people that I know are afraid of being forgotten; sometimes I wonder if I should be afraid of the opposite.
After a bit of waiting, we got a text from another friend. She was back on campus, and wanted to know what the big surprise was. So, we rushed over and, as was the norm for the day, more surprise.
While meeting her, we get a text that others we had been waiting for had arrived at the part. With a voom, we raced back to the party where I finally got to do what I had been planning for months. I could greet my friends, and indeed I did. But not just any way. No, I did something fun. I borrowed a phone, and started up the music. And then (because he was the only one there who I hadn't greeted yet) I started to sing..."Hello, ______, well hello ______." I went through the entire first verse. It was wonderful.
The next half hour was a frantic attempt to get people to get to the party ASAP. The one pictured above called another friend and had me speak to her. She got to the party ASAP.
I was going to leave soon when we got a text that some more friends were on their way. I hid in the kitchen. The first of the new people who notice me was a freshmen that, once again, I had talked to once. When she recognized me, she started to freak out.
She was then joined by someone else that I knew.
The one in the hat was utterly exhausted (wish I knew how that felt), but was also surprised to see me. The one on the bed was one of my elfs. He hadn't organized the party. The one who I serenaded organized my party...without finding out that I was going to be there. It was glorious. With everyone present, gifts were given out and then...I had to go. So, I sang them a song with a little routine that I had practiced for months. And months. There is a song with two names: "Cups" and, "When I'm gone." I had practiced the little jiggly a few months before I had even started planning this, so I impromptu decided to sing the song. Predictably, this led to more tears. And then I left and...they followed. They followed while I got this picture:
They followed me to the train station, where we then got this picture:
And this one:
And waited around until I boarded the bus. To be honest, I slept most of the way home, waking up once we got to Portland with enough time to get a nice picture of the train station:
And most people would call that a day. But not me. My sister picked me up from the train station, and for the first time all week we had a nice, long conversation together, and boy have I missed those. There are some things that only a sibling can relate to, even if we don't want to admit it.
After that, we went to a play at my old High School, the tenth anniversary of the student written plays. I was really impressed. The writing was good, the acting was good, it all went together really well. That's not to say that I didn't seem room for improvement in some, but overall I was quite pleased.
//***
I have been writing for almost three hours now. I am getting tired, and I have laundry still to hang up. I shall finish this tomorrow (there's not too much left anyway, minus a hug load of pictures) or when I get around to it.
//***
Friday, May 2nd:
Saturday, May 3rd:
Sunday, May the 4th be with you:
Monday, May 5th:
Tuesday, May 6th:
Following four long months of laborious labor, our hero finds himself with a week of workless wonderings...a week sans workings...namely, a week off. How shall he spend it? Read on and see.
Sunday, April 27th: My body woke up at around 5:45am. My brain woke up around 5:45am. So, thinking clearly with energy flowing through my veins, I decided that, despite what my physical self was telling me, I did not want to get up at 5:45am. Why? Well, because that time has way to many, 'f' sounds for my comfort. So, I tried to go back to sleep. It didn't work. I ended up lying in bed for an hour more, finally deciding that it was a losing battle, and I had things to do anyway; in other words, I still needed to pack. Don't get me wrong, I had done plenty of packing the night before. The first thing to be packed was my Blankie (read what you will into that, he and I have been together for so long, and I am never going to give it up), followed by the large number of gifts to bring back, followed by my clothing. It should be noted, in terms of gifts, that I had been averaging a box a weekend for the past few weeks. These were simply things that refused to fit/ had not been found in time.
With the necessary things put away, everything else was just going to be whatever and blah. So, I had gone to sleep. Now, there I sat, several hours until I needed to go, and I still needed to pack my fun things. But breakfast came first. This turned out to be an interesting experience, considering that I had spent most of the week eating through my food in the hopes that I wouldn't have anything perishable left. However, I managed to scrounge together a filling meal. Body satisfied, I still needed to pack. However, a shower was more important. That finished, it was now time to pack...but not before I cleaned a little bit. What eventually surfaced was a mad dash to simultaneously pack all of my fun things while also cleaning my apartment. I remembered to pack everything, but dashed out of my door at about 10:00am with my apartment in a less tidy state than I would have liked.
The trip to the airport was fairly nondescript. I met up with a friend in Omiya, and we took the bus to the airport together. It was interesting to see parts of Japan that I don't normally get to see...at least I would say that if I could see those parts of Japan. Large parts of the free way were surrounded by walls so high that I couldn't see over them. I am unsure as to their purpose, but surmise that they are either there for privacy of the nearby residents, to dull the noise of the traffic, to stop any cars from shooting off during an earthquake, or to annoy tourists hoping to get a view of the flipping country from the flipping road. Like I said, I am unsure of their purpose.
The trip through Narita airport went rather quickly. What really made it for me were the people that I met. It really is amazing how friendly people can be if you just start chatting with them. I met an electrical engineer from Detroit who was in Japan on a business trip. He had living in Japan for a year about a year previous. I also met a nice family from Mexico City who had been visiting Japan for eight days. What drew me to them was their Spanish. Not only is the language rare in Japan, but they were using a rather unusual accent and I really wanted to know where it was from. I also met an aeronautics business man from Portland--who had graduated from Linfield--who spent most of his time traveling the world for his business. What a life.
Sadly, my seatmates on the plane weren't as talkative and just ignored me (grrr). Other than a bloody nose during Frozen and a slight stomach ache letting me know that I hadn't eaten right (I'm guessing that I didn't get enough protein) the flight went otherwise fine. One funny story from it, though. So, I don't like sleeping sitting up. Even if I tilt my head to the side, it just feels weird. So, instead, I like to lean over and sleep on my hand, with my arm propped up on my arm rest. I find it comfortable, but it can weird other people out. In this case, it weirded out this little girl sitting across from me, who asked her mom what, "the strange man is doing." Her mother told her that I was probably resting.
I didn't actually get much sleep, though. Anyway, about nine hours later we landed in Portland, and boy did it feel good. Plus, everything was greener than I remembered (I say that in terms of hue and amount of plant life). Oregon had been experiencing some rather heavy rains the past week. The trip through customs went well, and there at the end was my mother, my sister, and my host (?) sister (my father is hosting her in the US right now). My sister had made the most adorable signs welcoming me home. Were I not absolutely exhausted, I would have been touched. As it was, after a nine hour plane ride that had traveled to a place sixteen hours behind, I was nearly dead. My body was telling me that it was about 1:30am, April 28th. My watch was telling me that it was about 9:30am, April 27th. I hadn't left my apartment yet. This was going to be a long day.
It kind of was. We went out to lunch as a group, and met my dad and step mom at the restaurant. I had onion rings and a veggie burger. Neither of these things are common in Japan. I was a little territorial. No, scratch that. That's a lie. I was very territorial. My dad asked for an onion ring. I told him that I would pry it from his cold, dead fingers. By that point I had been awake for almost 24 hours. I was exhausted and eating food that I would only be able to get for a week. Truth be told, I was probably quite restrained at the time. I just wanted my onion rings.
 |
| Family at the restaurant. |
The rest of the day passed in a kind of blase blur. By the time bed time rolled around, I was completely numb, and had found a second wind. Quickly, though, I rolled into blessed oblivion.
****/// My mom's house.
My mother rents a town house. As such, it is not that large. By American standards, it's rather nice for two people, but a tad on the smaller size for what it offers. Compared to my apartment in Japan, it is a palace. I never realized before just how big that thing is. I could probably fit the entirety of my living space--including my loft--into my bedroom and still have room left over. And don't even get me started on my bathroom over there. The entire experience has allowed me to realize just how tiny my apartment really is. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind living in such a small space. However, I am starting to realize that, whatever I eventually move into over in the US will seem like an upgrade to whatever I have here in terms of size. And yes, that does mean that I will eventually move back to the US. When will that be exactly? I am unsure as of now.
****///
Monday, April 28th: Monday was my rest day. We took the dogs for a walk. It was fun. I took a trip to the nearby mall and nearly felt myself getting overwhelmed by it all. Talking to any sales person in Japan is a nightmare because my Japanese is limited. Even if I know the words enough to ask a question (and I usually know everything except the object that I want), I usually don't understand what is said back to me. Oh, I'll get parts, but I don't know enough to really get it. As such, anyone talking to me has turned into a nerve wrecking experience. However, in the US, the language barrier doesn't exist. My fear of it still does, though. As such, any time that I entered a store I inevitably looked a little strange and was followed by people trying to help. Ah well, such is life. I didn't really do much on Monday, so I will leave it at that.
Tuesday, April 29th:
This was the day that I visited OES. It was supposed to be a quick, whirlwind visit of lots of people. I did see lots of people. There was nothing quick about it. Now, I love that place. A lot. It's where I have a ton of good memories, and it's where I met a lot of good friends. However, I was still quite jet lagged an exhausted. They had the teddy bear chapel that day, and one of my good friends had brought in something that I had given him. He told me this. I felt deeply moved and was so thankful that he had chosen something that I had given him. The response that I wanted to give was a tearful thanks. The response that I did give was a halfhearted, barely verbal, "cool." I am still deeply touched, but that's jet lag for you.
Probably the biggest problem was visiting OES was that I was on a fairly tight schedule; and every time that I was about to leave, I would inevitably see someone else to talk to. I love that place, don't get me wrong, but it's impossible to give everyone that I know the time that I want to give. Yes, it did help that multiple people fed me.
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| Example A of who fed me |
But I was still on a tight schedule because...
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| Ta da |
I was going to my dad's house for the night. The trip up was fun and quick. For those who don't know, my parents are divorced, and have been since I was in lower school. As such, the drive up to my dad's house in Hood River was one that I had done many many many many many many times over the years. And it is a nice drive. I could see many mountains and Multnoma falls.
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| Multnoma Falls |
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| Mountain A, Mount Hood. |
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| Mountain B, St. Helens |
Try as I might, I couldn't get a good picture of either Mount Raineer or Mount Franklin. Still, it was a lovely drive. And I did have a good time. We went for a nice walk around his house. We had a lovely dinner of tacos. I got to watch, "Jeopardy" and read a book. We did not get to go to the local ice cream place, but we had fun anyway.
Wednesday, April 30th:
We had blueberry pancakes at my dad's house. They were, as usual, delicious. We have a butter milk pancake starter that's well over a generation old (I think it's older than my dad). In other words, it is so delicious that we must all bow down and worship it in all its glory. I don't really remember this day very well. Oh well.
//***
One of the problems with writing these things down after the fact is that I forget on which day I did some things (I'm still a little tired and jetlagged). Here are some things that I think I did on one of the aforementioned days.
1) Powels Books: Powels is an independent bookstore in Portland. It is the church for every bibliophile within an hours radius, and will be defended at every turn. I visited. I bought many books. I wanted to cry. Many times. Enough said.
2) Dominos: I got a Dominos pizza, because I wanted to eat something revoltingly American. It was simultaneously amazing and horrific. They just don't have the grease like it in Japan. I'm not sure if that's a bad thing.
3) My mom's boyfriend: I got to see him as well. We all played cribbage together. We're both a tad socially awkward, but we get alone pretty well.
4) Birthday things: With my birthday so close to Golden Week, both sets of parents decided to wait until I got home. Both parental unit groups got me gifts that were very well thought of with really good intent behind them. I am very happy to be so loved.
//***
Thursday, May 1st:
I have not mentioned this before, but it is important to note that I told very few people that I was coming back to Portland for the week. Why? Because I love surprises.
Last year, I made a promise to some friends that they would see me again in person before graduation. That promise looked like was that I was going to need to break because, a) Japan is really far away, b) flights are expensive and, c) going back to Oregon and then coming back was probably going to be (and really really was) hard for me to do. As such, getting people to think that I was still in Japan was easy.
I had two main plots running. The first was a scheme to get two friends into a restaurant for breakfast--where I would then surprise them. The second was to have the rest of my friends throw a party where I would surprise them. To help, I had two elves. That was it.
That morning, I sent a message to one of my friends to re-write and put under the door of the two friends that I was going to meet. This apparently elicited the same response as usual, which was, "we got a note from Austin!" "Austin's in Japan." "Oh, right..."
So, my mom and I get to Willamette, and walk into the restaurant. At this point, I don't know where my friends are, but I quickly spot one of them as she spots me. She looks utterly shocked, her mind trying to understand what it is seeing. I walk around the counter (I'm tearing up as I remember this, by the way) and all of my friends see me.
Like many people, I have seen many videos of the surprise proposal, both extravagant and simple. I know that it's hard to tell in this picture, but they were both acting as though it were one of those proposals. Both are crying a little right now, and neither one can believe what she is seeing. Heck, even the friend who was in on it was feeling the same way. There was a moment of, "oh my god"s and, "how"s. And then...
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| Catharsis |
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| Together again |
The breakfast was divine. We all had a great time together, and my mom was really glad that she had been there for it. We ate at a place called the, "Sassy Onion," which serves the best french toast ever. We all talked together and enjoyed being in the same company again. However, the morning was still young, and we had many friends yet to surprise.
//***
My mother had posted a picture of the two of us on Facebook and had tagged me. As such, two more of my Willamette friends knew in advance of my coming.
//***
We first journeyed to Baxter, my old dorm. I was greeted with a thousand sounds and smells, all familiar from my past. We made it up to the third floor without meeting up with anyone that I knew, but when we got up to third a door was open. My old room, now in the hands of two of my friends. The one who was awake knew that I was coming, and greeted me. The one waking up had no idea that I was coming. She was still lying in bed, but the look of confusion on her face was priceless. When she realized who I was, she started to thrash about underneath her covers, trying to get out to give me a hug. It was good to see them both again.
Our next destination were the apartments on the other side of campus. Everything was green and gorgeous, with an enormous tent on the quad as they prepared for graduation. In the apartments, I saw my friends apartment (so enormously huge), and then visited two more friends. Both were very surprised. One was already awake, and had started to get ready for the day. The other was just waking up when we knocked. The one still waking up was my former room mate.
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| Roomy's gift, finally delivered. |
The one who had already been awake was my friend, Jenny, and it was at her apartment that the party was going to be at later. The party was supposed to start at five, but since I was leaving at four, she quickly changed the time to start at one. No one guessed anything was amiss. My plot was going perfectly.
We then headed back to Baxter, both to see people and to have a little fun with ourselves. Sure enough, we saw many people, all of whom were surprised to see me.
This is Ben. He said that he didn't believe his eyes.
This is Ben's CM (RA for non-Willamette folks), coming to tell us to be a tad quieter. He was also very surprised.
Next, we went up to third floor and surprised a few more people. Then, a few of us had a small improv meeting. This was not new improv, this was not the improv of this year or even last year. This was old improv, and that meant that we were like, "Whose Line is it Anyway," except without the talent.
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| Behold: Evidence |
This is the only picture of this meeting that will ever go on my blog, because the others are...well, while they are not bad, they can be a bit confusing--and possibly horrific--if taken out of context...and by context, I mean outside of the room where we took them. Since I want to keep a modicum of self dignity on this blog, they shall remain safely away from here. That is also why there are no quotes. See, this is called the, "ask/ tell" approach. Even if you ask, I will never tell. And now, moving on.
Following improv (and meeting a new friend in person), we went to lunch, where I made a startlingly scintillating discovery: American ketchup is tangier than Japanese ketchup. Mind blowing, I know. Anyway, at Goudy (the food hall) we ran into a few more friends.
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| More friends = More Tears |
This would turn out the be fortuitous later, because they helped to get some friends to the party. Anyway, one face that I didn't get was a friend who worked there. She saw us from across the room, and then did a double take as her jaw dropped. She rushed off to the kitchen, but we had to go rather quickly, which I feel terrible about still because she was actually rushing in to go on break to see me...yeah...
Anyway, more walking, more friends. I saw the area boss for the CM's--a friend from a few years ago--and had a nice chat. I also saw another couple of happy and surprised faces.
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| I could start a gallery |
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| Oh, very flattering |
We finally got to the party to find...
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| Ta-Dah! |
Almost no one there. The only people there were two friends and a freshman who I didn't know. The people arriving were myself and my chauffeur
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| Hello chauffeur |
"Oh my god! You're Austin!" she said. Now this actually happens to me at a surprisingly frequent rate. Keep in mind that I had no idea who this person was--I still don't know that much about her--and that we had met maybe once or twice via skype. Since I didn't really know her, I gave my usual response of, "yes I am. What's your name?" This sequence of events happened three more times that week. Many people that I know are afraid of being forgotten; sometimes I wonder if I should be afraid of the opposite.
After a bit of waiting, we got a text from another friend. She was back on campus, and wanted to know what the big surprise was. So, we rushed over and, as was the norm for the day, more surprise.
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| My baby is growing up... |
While meeting her, we get a text that others we had been waiting for had arrived at the part. With a voom, we raced back to the party where I finally got to do what I had been planning for months. I could greet my friends, and indeed I did. But not just any way. No, I did something fun. I borrowed a phone, and started up the music. And then (because he was the only one there who I hadn't greeted yet) I started to sing..."Hello, ______, well hello ______." I went through the entire first verse. It was wonderful.
The next half hour was a frantic attempt to get people to get to the party ASAP. The one pictured above called another friend and had me speak to her. She got to the party ASAP.
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| I ran from the library. |
I was going to leave soon when we got a text that some more friends were on their way. I hid in the kitchen. The first of the new people who notice me was a freshmen that, once again, I had talked to once. When she recognized me, she started to freak out.
She was then joined by someone else that I knew.
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| Cue arm flail. |
They followed me to the train station, where we then got this picture:
And this one:
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And waited around until I boarded the bus. To be honest, I slept most of the way home, waking up once we got to Portland with enough time to get a nice picture of the train station:
And most people would call that a day. But not me. My sister picked me up from the train station, and for the first time all week we had a nice, long conversation together, and boy have I missed those. There are some things that only a sibling can relate to, even if we don't want to admit it.
After that, we went to a play at my old High School, the tenth anniversary of the student written plays. I was really impressed. The writing was good, the acting was good, it all went together really well. That's not to say that I didn't seem room for improvement in some, but overall I was quite pleased.
//***
I have been writing for almost three hours now. I am getting tired, and I have laundry still to hang up. I shall finish this tomorrow (there's not too much left anyway, minus a hug load of pictures) or when I get around to it.
//***
Friday, May 2nd:
Saturday, May 3rd:
Sunday, May the 4th be with you:
Monday, May 5th:
Tuesday, May 6th:
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