July II
End of an era (14th July)
The farewell enkai was thrown for Jeff, Josh, and Taoe last night by the BoE. Despite being less than 2 minutes from my front door, I’d never encountered the venue, the ominously named “Kuruma-ya” (lit. car shop!). As my father noticed when he visited, some restaurants and their ilk in Japan don’t do very much to raise the ambience/do anything in the way of beautifying the interior to attract more customers! We walked into the rather drab place, and immediately felt uncomfortable as my gaze was caught by the “big men” of the BoE. I wasn’t seated with the other foreigners, which I can only assume to have been some sort of punishment. The guys sitting opposite me hadn’t loosened their ties, undone their collar-buttons or moved a muscle on their face the whole time I was struggling to get settled down. I thought for a moment of Goodfellas, where Joe Pesci thinks he’s gonna get made, but instead gets whacked in a nondescript suburban garage. All the signs were there, especially when the train rushed past at such a shuddering pace that I thought the cardboard shack would collapse.
Well, obviously that didn’t happen. After the usual ice-breakers of “OMG, you can use chopsticks!” or “do you like natto?” I steered the conversation onto the relative merits of Japanese lager, and the superiority of English Premier League football. There was no looking back from that point and for once the assembled drones were hooked! Crowd pleasing in Japan is as simple as knowing when to fill your neighbours glasses with more beer. Not a matter of when exactly, because the correct time to top up their beer is every time, therefore the more you do so, the more they like you (I think).
The leaving AETs all got big bouquets and a Yukata (I think it was – like a light summer kimono). There were cries of “Lasto Samurai mitaina hito” for Josh, “Ken Watanabe mitaina hito” for Jeff (actually, he really does look a little like Ken Watanabe), and surely “kawaii” for Taoe, though my memory is fading. It was a nice touch, and I hope they all look back over their time in Japan with fondness.
July 16th
I could be doing something useful this morning like studying Japanese, but no, no, I’m just gonna sit here and moan a while, have a cup of coffee and it’ll be almost lunch-time.
What a weird and infuriating day yesterday turned out to be. For a start, disgustingly sticky and hot. You can’t step out for a second without your cheap synthetic fibres melting onto your skin, your cheap non-stainless steel watch corroding onto your arm because of body sweat, or developing whelps from seasonally related insect attacks. I learned that Saitama-ken is officially the hottest place in Japan – according to Josh, the urban sprawl in Tokyo blocks refreshing and life giving ocean breezes from making this area habitable. A city near here, Kumagaya, is the “hottest city in Japan”, and some attractive news lady on TV with about 2 brain cells to rub together, was frying eggs on the bonnets of taxi cars to demonstrate that yes, unless your internal thermometer has completely broken down, it is very hot.
Yesterday was also my medical examination at the BoE. It’s hard to express just how unsettling it is to be standing behind your supervisor holding a paper cup of your own warm urine. Moreover, said supervisor then starts making really funny jokes, such as suggesting that the big vat of collective piss that the nurse pours the cups into, is actually beer and that I should go and drink it. BOOM BOOM! Just when you thought nothing could top that hum-dinger, he then compares Ricky-sensei’s piss to a brand of Japanese potato alcohol (chuu-hi), WAHAHAHA! Thereafter followed an excruciating blood withdrawal, several other tests, and the piece de resistance, the chest X-ray. We had to go outside, climb into a grotty old camper van, and take out shirts off. Ricky wasn’t amused by the homoerotic standing half naked with your very sweaty boss (who is wearing a wife-beater vest), in a nasty little truck that looks like it’s inhabited by a psychopath.
Recuperating in the office, didn’t it then absolutely lash down out of the heavens? Sitting blissfully in my chair digesting an ice-cream I declared “Isn’t it nice to be inside when it’s raining, thinking of all those poor sods trapped outside without an umbrella?” Then it hit me. I left all my windows open for ventilation, and my pillows and bedclothes outside to dry in the heat. The weather forecast said it’d be sunny all day, no mention of the Apocalytic Thunder (and lightning) storm outside! By the time I got home, the floors were flooded, the books in my bags turned to a soggy pulp, and all of my bedclothing and apparatus thoroughly soaked.
Still, last Eikiwa ever (fingers crossed), so final diagnosis, great day!
Have a good one, for it will be your last!! 22nd July
Well, there ain’t been nothin’ happening here lately, so nothing to write about. Back at the B.o.E. but doing my utmost at every turn to fragrantly violate my contract. I managed to skive off work for the entire day yesterday on the pretext of a planning meeting for the Conference in August, and will hopefully do the same on Monday (never mind the fact the meeting was only an hour long). I brought my swimming gear into work today, and I’m going to the pool across the road as soon as I finish this entry. I think later that I might take a 2 or 3 hour lunch break, do some laundry and maybe come back in the afternoon to watch a DVD or so. Envious? Tomorrow my Japanese teacher is going to come to my town, and I’ll skip work for a few hours to do the lesson. It’s the only way to stay sane, seriously. The guy I met for the meeting yesterday was like “J**** your employers are anally retentive aren’t they?” Yes, yes they are.
The town hall is plastered in posters right now, celebrating the 50th Anniversary of the town. I thought about taking a photo, but honestly can’t muster the energy right now. It says “Happy 50th Anniversary Siraoka”. Let’s just analyse this a little. Firstly, you think to yourself “50 years? That’s not very long” – who in their right minds thinks that a 50 year old town is something worth celebrating? Maybe once you’ve reached 1000, or at least your bicentennial, but not 50! Secondly, they’ve mis-spelled the name of the town. That’s right, after pissing a few thou’ down the drain in getting these beautiful posters made, they couldn’t spell the town’s name right! Did I mention there are 5 native speakers sitting in the office doing NOTHING that could’ve been consulted over this. The final factor that negates the meaning of it all, is that as of next year, Shiraoka will cease to exist, as government streamlining is forcing it to merge with Hasuda and Shobu Town to create a new entity whose name escapes me. Now if you don’t mind, I feel the need to get chlorine and child pee in my eyes…
Mafiosi, swimming pools, and farewells 25th July
Scorching weather, absolutely scorching. We’ve had the highest recorded temperatures ever in Japan recently (41.2C), and every day without fail is hitting 35C and more. It’s just not possible to communicate the discomfort until you’ve felt it. Anyway, as such, Kyoko’s suggestion to go to an outdoor water park near Tokyo seemed a very good idea.
It was on a road heading (westward?) out of Hachioji that I had my first run in with Japan’s mafia. Run-in makes it sound like I took an active part in the proceedings, but as ashamed to admit it as I am, I was too sh*t scared to do anything (that’ll be me and all the other Japanese people around then). We were in a bus, when this puny, frail looking Japanese gangsta in comically hippyish clothes began a heated argument with the bus driver (whilst he was driving) because he didn’t have the correct change for the fare. Not really anyone’s fault except the change machine, which doesn’t accept notes bigger than £5 (the gangsta had a £50 of course). The driver had to pull over at the station to swap shifts with another driver, and that’s when the Yakuza (I use the term owing their more or less all over body tattoos), 5 or 6 of them, confronted the driver again and spoke very loudly in very coarse tones. They slapped him on the face and hauled him out of his driver’s cubicle onto the street outside, where they continued to yell at him, push him and slap him about a little. None of them were particularly big, all of them were smaller than me, though with bulging biceps. I really wanted to help the poor guy, maybe Aikido their asses (only in a fantasy world inside my head though). It’s just a matter of not knowing if they were carrying knives or what not, ‘cos I’m sure they wouldn’t have thought twice about using one.
Going to script of course, all the regular people in the bus did nothing…they didn’t tell the tough guys to calm down or forget about it. It was so surreal, so Japanese if I may, to ignore what was going on around them, to pretend that everything was still normal. Eventually, the bus driver was forced to get on the bus and publicly apologise for whatever insult he was supposed to have caused. This happened not once, but twice, as the first time he was adjudged to have not been sincere enough. The second time he was apologising in his most humble Japanese, on his hands and knees, on the floor of the bus. As we drove off again, the first bus driver was still being shoved about in the station yard, the other bus drivers looking on from a safe distance. And that was the last I saw. The day didn’t get much more eventful than that, though the park was a reasonable (if slightly tame) copy of the kind of water parks you get on Mediterranean holiday islands. Having lost nearly 5kg since Christmas, I didn’t stick out too much, yet was still one of the beefier male specimens around!
Tonight was the final farewell dinner for the departing AETs, which we held without the watchful eye of the BoE for once. They’ve got one or two more days of packing to go, then they’re off. All the best guys.
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