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.
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