I Got You this Blog Post!

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my dependent visa gave to me...

Twelve dressed-up gravestones...


Eleven weird-ass ice creams...


Ten sticks of incense...


Nine unearthly portals...


Eight empty dishes (+2 stomachaches)...


Seven blurry revelers...


Six degrees Fahrenheit...


Fiiiiive raaavenous deeeeeer...


Four tiny oranges...


Three festive gaijin...


Two kimono'd ladies...


And a candy shaped like a fish!


Happy belated Christmas, early New Year, or entirely on-time Kwanzaa, everyone!

Satisfaction Guaranteed

Japan has some unique demographic and geographical problems: its population, nearly half that of the United States, is crammed onto a smattering of islands with roughly the same square area as California. On top of that, about 70% of that space is uninhabitable forests, mountains, or Specially Designated Dolphin-Killing Zones.

One problem that the Japanese seem to have under control, however, is employment -- the voices in my head that call themselves "Wikipedia" tell me that its unemployment rate is only about 4%. In contrast, the U.S. has tremendous unemployment right now, but as our Fearless Leaders have pointed out, the problem is not a lack of opportunities: we've got thousands of acres of empty land in the Midwest that could be converted into something more useful, like parking lots or roadside zoos (I recommend Missouri first).

What's the Japanese secret? When there are more people, they just make more jobs! Does your bank have ATMs? Hire someone to stand by and help people use the fully-automated systems! Is your restaurant or business on a street somewhere? Hire someone to stand on another street with fliers! Already employing as many janitors as you need? Consider making another position for a deserving minority individual (Robo-Japano relations are cordial if strained)!

Or hire someone to hand out free products on street corners! Just think: what's something that everybody needs but you can't already get for free elsewhere? That's right: toilet paper! We got these from people apparently advertising the middle school near our house:

Please think of our school when you wipe your ass!

We've already documented how advanced the toilets are over here, and really, they're amazing feats of technology that bring about the conveniences of the future today (future pooping, in particular). The only real exceptions to this inspiring triumph of human ingenuity are 1. about 2/3 of the toilets here are actually just porcelain holes, and 2. many public bathrooms don't bother with providing toilet paper. Compounding this last problem is that soap is never provided in public restrooms. Futuristic!

With this said, it becomes a lot clearer why Japanese people are always wearing surgical masks. It also makes me eternally grateful to the good people at Katsuragi Jr. High School for providing the world with something immeasurably valuable: education for our children, who are, I believe, the "future." Immeasurably valuable thing #2: TP.

Additional: from all of us here at "Amazing Tales of the Gaijin Patrol," happy annual winter consumer holiday! May your days be jolly, your celebrations lively, and your trees pointy.

There Can Only Be One

Expatriation always leads to new discoveries about oneself, no matter where you live. For the first time in my life, I am a minority. And not even the same way as when I was usually the most Jewish person in the room while living in Kirksville (which I could really only pull off with technicalities, anyway) -- here in Japan, Jenn and I are visible minorities. And even more, we're visible minorities in a land of majority rule; you won't catch me saying anything about Japanese people all looking the same, but if it's not too racist of me, they all do look...well, Japanese. We can't really pull off that look.

One of these people is not like the others. Can you spot who it is? Hum that one Sesame Street song quietly if it helps.

Being a minority is an educational experience...for one thing, it helps justify all of my crazy-ass commie left-wing liberally-educated socialist vegetarian beliefs. Really, being the only Westerner on any given train isn't all that bad. I'd say it's one of the real draws of Japan, something that Jenn and I have recently concluded is responsible for so many gaijin dudes coming here to marry Japanese ladies: not only do you get to be different, you get to be the local authority on two entire hemispheres. If I say that everyone in America rides unicycles and wears their pants inside-out, who the hell are you to contradict me (currently trying to spread this around school -- will post the results)?

However, despite what some may think, Jenn and I are not the only gaijin in all of Osaka. Every now and then, we run into another gaijin in a train station or on the street. When this happens, there is an unspoken but highly sophisticated etiquette for our interaction. The general rule of thumb is to do absolutely everything you can to ignore one another. Right:

Optional: LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU LA LA LA LA LA LA.

Wrong:

Wrong on many levels, really.

There are many variations of the /ignore maneuver that depend on the circumstances of the gaijin in question: two expatriates living in Japan might choose to alter their routes to avoid getting any closer to one another, while an expatriate seeing an obvious tourist is allowed to stare openly and loudly comment about how stupid tourists are (in Japanese, if possible).

Really, I'm not too sure why the communication silence is so very necessary. Best I can figure, we don't want the Japanese assuming that all Westerners know one another. Plus, greeting strangers isn't really done here. We're just trying to respect the native culture, right? By the way, Japan FAQs guy (if that is your real name)? It's me, the guy walking up Kunoki-dai on weekday afternoons around 4:30. With the messy hair and stupid ties? If you're out there, I think I may have unwittingly committed a faux pas by smiling a little too often as we pass each other in the afternoons. My apologies, won't happen again.

An Open Letter

Dear Various Unnamed Students of Sakishima High School,

Hi, how are you? Go ahead and take your time with that question, it's a tough one. OK, first off, I apologize for not calling you by your names. I'm awfully bad with names, Japanese names in particular, and odds are I'd mispronounce them anyway. Also, you insist on calling me "potta" or at best, "harripotta," so let's just call it even on that count, deal?

Now, I want to tell you that I understand where you're coming from. English is a very difficult language, I'll admit that right off; it's got countless irregular verbs, silent letters, and dropped vowels. Learning a second language is always difficult, and you're required to do so in a school system that places absolutely no focus on grades, which itself is part of a larger social system that leaves you only two standardized tests with which to plot your whole future. When you're working for no rewards and no real consequences, it's easy to get discouraged. I'll give you that. Plus you have to do it wearing dumb-ass uniforms (pictured). That's rough.

I'll also grant you frustration stemming from the greater political implications of my presence in the classroom. Japan and America have had a stormy past together, after all. You guys were doing your own thing, enjoying a traditional system of government that had abandoned guns, Christianity, international warfare...I mean, hey, you were living the whole "Imagine" vibe, that's pretty awesome. Then in 1853, we showed up at your door with cannons and gave you to the count of ten to cut that shit out. And just when that had receded into the distant past, there was some further unpleasantness. Now's not the best time to point fingers, but it at least bears mentioning that one nation has dropped a nuke on another nation only twice in history, and both times it was us and you. Also, our president threw up on your prime minister. These days, we've colonized your cities with Christmas trees, McDonald's, and baseball diamonds; I'll bet 10,000 yen that as you read this, you're wearing something that says either Nike or Puma on it. It's mandated that you sit in a classroom for years and learn what your grandparents were taught to call "the Language of the Oppressor." All of this history has built up to some curly-haired schmuck from Truman State University getting all up in your face about the proper use of the word your. I understand why you might get a little frustrated at times.

The Face of the Oppressor.

But stay with me here. Our increasingly globalized society has its fair share of drawbacks, sure: corporate hegemony, stifling conformity, the sacrifice of the individual for the greater good, Spanish versions of Scary Movie. That said, though, consider the opportunities we have at hand. I'm here to help you learn, at no cost to you, another way to communicate -- dare I say, even, another way to think. With diligence and patience, you will be able to speak the modern language of commerce and trade, and in learning something about another culture, you may even learn something about yourself. In English you may find a lifelong passion, or even just a skill that might come in handy once or twice. Hell, even if you never leave Japan, knowing some English can help you encounter new ideas or make new friends. I know that slogging through conjugations and cretinous vocabulary games can be discouraging, especially when progress is slow and rewards intangible. But we have chances that our parents' generation could never have dreamed of: we have the opportunity to forge a communal future together, to put together the best of our respective cultures and try to help each other with the worst.

So when I tell you for the dozenth time to put your cell phone away, to write your name on a worksheet, or to sit in your chair and stop yelling, just f***ing do it already.

Wuv,
Harry-sensei

P.S.: Yes We Can!

Case of the Haunted Mountain

You know what they say: if you don't take time to enjoy the finer things in life, you'll never have a chance to hemorrhage your savings at the rate of one week's pay per minibar purchase. In that spirit, Jenn and I embarked on a voyage to distant Yoshino, a mountain destination recommended by some friends. Yoshino is home to the Second Largest Wooden Building in Japan (really), which is more impressive when you realize that the Largest Wooden Building in the World is in Japan. It's also known as a nice site to plan day trips to Nara, which is funny, as we discovered the next day that Nara is considerably closer to Osaka than to Yoshino -- indeed, Nara may be closer to some foreign planets than it is to Yoshino. But that's another story entirely.

We made arrangements to stay at a ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn. That was about the extent of our knowledge of ryokans, really...that and the 30,000 yen/night price tag.

After a ride on the Oldest, Scariest Cable Car in the World (the first of many, many superlatives on this trip), we found ourselves overlooking a gorgeous scene. Sadly, our lodging was not visible from this particular vista. So in between shifts of looking at the map and shouting, we took pictures to commemorate our trip on Facebook.

Yoshinoyama is actually the Most Inconsistently Windy Place in Japan

We spent most of the day arguing about whether the place marked "やこさ" was actually our hotel, which (according to the website) is named "さこや". Japan's full of hilarious little brainteasers like that. After standing in the abandoned street for a sufficiently awkward amount of time, we uncovered another sign on the same building proving that this was our place. We were offered a "welcome drink" which we happily accepted only to find that the name was a bit misleading: it was actually more of a "welcome pudding." The Tastiest Misnomer in Japan!

Gravity costs extra at Sakoya Ryokan.

Our room was pretty fantastic. Really, the cost was reasonable considering how expensive rent is in Japan; being 15 times nicer than our apartment and 30 times bigger, we're lucky that we didn't have to pay a security deposit. On the table there is sakura tea, our Second Most Immediate Welcome Drink in Yoshino.

Having no bed to jump on yet (they set up the futon while we were at dinner), we decided to take a walk around Scenic Yoshino. There were some pretty awesome leaves...


but oddly enough, absolutely no people. I'd been warned that autumn is Yoshino's second peak season after spring, when the mountain explodes in a glorious, colorful explosion of vacationing sarariimen and their families there to see the cherry blossoms. No foot traffic, no vehicle traffic, and all the shops were closed at 4:30. Happenin'!

That night, we were treated to the dinner that was included in the cost of the room. We were led through hallways and up and down several staircases, ending up alone in a room with a huge spread of exotic, scary-ass food: unidentifiable gelatins, raw beef, and enough weirdly-colored, oddly-shaped things to recall the monkey brain scene in Temple of Doom.

I would have started with what appeared to be the desert plate set right in front of us but for the fact that that plate also featured a raw, head-on shrimp. We managed to finish what we were given, and it was all delicious, though I'm not ruling out the possibility of something bursting out of my chest for another week or two.

One of the other big draws of Sakoya is the on-site onsen, hot baths popular across Japan for purposes other than getting clean. It's just like the traditional Turkish bath, except 1. there's sake service (read: an unguarded barrel of sake right by the bath), 2. mandatory nudity, and 3. I'm always the hairiest guy in the place. No pictures of this. You're welcome.

The next morning, right before our Farewell Drink (yep), we woke up early enough to take in services at Kinbusenji Temple, the aforementioned Biggest and Oldest, Bestest Wooden Building Around.

Located right next to the Smallest, Least Impressive Wooden Building in Japan.

For more photos of the trip (and other randomness), check out this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107710&id=36103018&l=c8a8bc6de6

Overall, an intimidating, awkward, expensive voyage to a mysterious locale where we understood maybe a tenth of what went on around us. That's Japan!