He is a Devil man

Questions we really shouldn’t ask...

The atmosphere can sometimes prove awkward when two of you are stood in the tacked-onto-the-staffroom kitchenette waiting for the microwave to finish its seemingly never ending business. This may be news to you, but I hate awkward silence. It jars with me and every fibre of my being. In an attempt to combat said awkwardness, I’ve tried on several occasions a spot of small talk, chit chat, or even perhaps a casual confabulation. Let this blog post be the advice I wish I’d had…

10. What did you do this weekend? One would assume that this question is the most harmless of questions to ask…You’d be wrong dear friends, so wrong. Without a doubt their reply will plunge you into depths of guilt you never knew you could feel for having spent an evening away from work, prostrate, drinking wine and eating wheels of cheese with like-minded wine and cheese eating friends. Your colleague will have woken up at 7am on Saturday, gone into school, taken care of their club activity, taken them to a competition of some sort in which they will have invariably lost (another question not to ask, I’ve never had a straight answer and therefore have no idea if my school’s teams are either A: the best in the world or B: totally and utterly shit) Then stayed at school finishing work until 8pm, gone home, ate, slept, and went into repeat for what would usually be a normal person’s relaxed Sunday.

9. Are you married? DO NOT ASK THIS. DO NOT ASK THIS QUESTION. You’d think that after the first time I was guffawed at for asking this, I’d remember and put it in the section of my brain which also files: food not to eat, people I don’t want to talk to, and times when it’s really not appropriate to fart. However, I didn’t do that, and have therefore put my foot in it more times than I’ve put my foot in a sock; and that’s a lot. My most recent was during a reggaeflamencosalsacharlestonhiphopaerobics open house dance lesson with my petroleum black dyed hair, 60 year old, male teacher from school. During the 5 second gap between the heart raising flamboyant flamenco, and the mind boggling Hiphop tracks (needless to say my dance skills were not akin to a duck to water) I ventured to ask whether or not his wife ever likes to come along to these classes. It was as if I’d either cut his ears off with the lid of my water bottle, or I’d knee-jerked his crotch mid-chasse as the look on his face resembled numb terror with a hint of ignorance. No answer was given, and no answer will ever be given.

8. Where have you been abroad? Another guilt-trigger this one. I’d like to refer you back to point 10, for a second, where you will notice that the Japanese work ethic is beyond admirable. This invariably means that most people leave themselves little, if any, holiday days to go gadding about and have fun. If they do treat themselves to a little respite, they’ll stay within the borders and restrict it to a long weekend. Thank you very much. Fly to another country? Who do you think you are? The Emperor?! Yes.

7. How are you? ‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ The first time I heard that response, as a Brit especially, I thought A: oh, do you mean ‘fine’, as in you’re not really ‘fine’, you’re actually feeling pretty shoddy? Then very swiftly B: obviously you can’t mean A because you’re not British, and therefore this response end up sounding very smooth and quite fluent. After the 187^th time of hearing the EXACT SAME response, my level of impressed-ness had grown dangerously thin. To the point where I have started barking at my students when they say that they are simply ‘fine.’ My students are allowed to say anything else, ‘happy, sad, hungry, cold, sleepy, BORED,’ even. JUST DON’T SAY THAT YOU ARE ‘FINE.’ NO ONE IS EVER JUST ‘FINE.’*

6. What is your name? Seems to induce temporary paralysis in my students. After calming myself down from their inevitable ‘How are you?’ response, the natural progression in most conversations is to find out the other’s name. Surely? SURELY learning to say your name is something one does pretty much straight away. It isn’t confined to your own language. Admittedly when I was in primary school I was spelling Rebecca, ‘Redecca’, but I just put that down to those sneaky ‘d’s and b’s.’ I could say my name perfectly. Apparently that’s not a priority skill to knuckle down over here…

5. What time do you start/leave work? Aimed at my teachers, this is yet another question that makes me feel like a shadow of a colleague/human being. Much like their weekends, teachers come into work at the crack of dawn to crack the whip at their club activity students, and then leave at around 8/9pm after working a full day of lessons, and cracking that oh so cherished whip once more on those poor, incredibly talented/deluded students. Repeat: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Cue: Weekend doom. I, on the other hand, barely get in for 8:30 (when I’m contractually supposed to start) and leave at 16:15:01 (my work day finishes at 16:15)

4. What time do you wake up? Upon discovering that most teachers get into school for around 7:30 (when I wake up) I go on to ask what time they have to remove themselves from that lovely, warm, futon-based sleep cocoon that I find nigh-on impossible to drag myself out of 5 days a week. What shocked me here were the women’s responses. In a society where the role of the woman is achingly traditional, I’ve discovered that, if they have a family, they will wake up at 5:00 in time to cook breakfast and lunch for EVERYONE. When I say cook, I mean actual utensil using cooking. Rice, fish, veggies, miso soup omelette, and all that jazz. I manage muesli and some fruit. Motherhood does not bode well for me it seems…

3. Do you like cooking? This one’s for the men. Well, married men, or men who live with their parents still (yes a 60 year old man still living with his mother is not seen as weird), or men at university living at home, actually I should end this list with; all Japanese men. A sweeping generalisation, I know, I’m sorry, but if it weren’t true I wouldn’t say it. Their answer? ‘I don’t cook, my wife/girlfriend/mother (delete where applicable) does.’ Inside I’m screaming, outside I’m the image of demure politeness. Sometimes I just don’t know how I do it. Must be the drama degree.

I feel like this has all been quite negative, so let’s address a blaring omission from this faultless blog, what questions should we ask?

2. Can you tell me how to get to (insert any location, ANYWHERE)? Directions. Ask anyone, they will be able to tell you, hell, they will probably take you right to the door. They are that good.

1. Do you know where/how/when I could see/buy/travel to/fill in/try (ANYTHING)? In passing I casually once asked a fellow teacher if they knew any nice restaurants they could recommend in a local town. Initial response: oh, no I’m sorry I’m not too familiar with that area. 10 minutes later: I have what can only be described as a brochure of print outs about every single restaurant in the area.

Snow Pikachu knows what the deal is...

* Things that are allowed to be fine: silk, art, days, lines, champagne, specimens and dust.

Music make me a relaxant and a happy

The games we play…

Everyone has those moments when you’re sat there with nothing to do, needing something mindless to while away those precious spare minutes of nothingness. Introducing, the ‘stranger games.’ You know the ones I’m talking about. You stare at an unsuspecting stranger in your vicinity and map out their entire lives: their name, relationship status, career, suspected superhero alter ego etc. In Japan, these games can sometimes take an unexpected turn, and you find yourself asking questions you never thought you would.

11. Prostitute?

The obvious first question, really. Applies to both men and women, and actually proves more interesting when directed at the males. Hair orange and quiffed beyond quiffing, shoes pointier than a Head Pixie’s, and trousers tighter than if you’d managed to persuade a Sumo wrestler into a pair of size 8 leather trousers, these are the men who crowd outside train station entrances and exits. At first glance, one may be forgiven for mistaking these beings as overgrown, Oompa Loompas, hell-bent on rebelling against their idyllic chocolate-y world that we all know and love, but that would be a grave mistake indeed. Allow me to introduce the Japanese ‘host’, hired by Idon’tknowwho to show you a good time and make you feel worryingly special. As of yet, I haven’t succumbed to their beguiling charm, but we’ve still got 10 months to go…

10. Salary man?

Ask any man in a suit what they do, and they’ll reply ‘sarari man’ - roughly translated into ‘salary man.’ Part of me wonders how Japan survives and thrives in the commercial, economic and industrial worldwide market of today with so many ‘salary men’ on the go. I like to imagine that part of the conditions of being a ‘salary man’ requires the man in question to become a superhero of sorts; going off in the dead of night after a typical 9-5 day, tending to allotments, combatting crime, and handing out food to the homeless. I’m fairly sure it’s safe to say that this doesn’t happen…but imagine if it did.

9. Married?

This is a standard global ‘stranger games’ question. What makes it more interesting in Japan is that relationships and monogamy are approached with a slightly different attitude. You can consider yourself in a relationship with someone if you slightly brush your hand against theirs. By next week you’ll be married and your better half will be affair-ing left right and centre, with no qualms about discussing said affairs with the token foreigner at any work party. Awkward doesn’t quite cut it.

8. Student?

I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve fallen prey to mistaking grown adults for students. This leads nicely into no. 7…

7. Age?

I’ve honestly never been at such a loss as when I have to try and guess how old a Japanese person is. Literally no idea. I’ve guessed 24, and been told 37. I’ve guessed 60 and been told 75. I’ve guessed 8 and been told 14. See a pattern forming? I don’t know if it’s the unavoidable presence of seaweed or soybeans in every meal, the daily morning radio exercise regime which involves a surprising amount of squatting, or the silly and excessive covereverypartofskinwhenit’ssunny paraphernalia that they wear, but the Japanese look daymn good for their age. That is, they do, to a point. There seems to be this mysterious middle age, say between 30 and 60, where one will go from looking youthfully sublime and smooth skinned, to being gnarlier than a very gnarly old oak tree that someone decided to texture with some more gnarl. Yet, once you have graduated into gnarl-dom, once again it is impossible to guess age accurately.
So, I’ve given up.

Stranger: “How old am I?”
Me: “I dunno, 78?”
Stranger: “6…I’m a primary school student.”
Me: “Sorry about that.”

6. What kind of Asian?

CALM DOWN and put away your PC guns folks; this is a legitimate question that even JAPANESE people ask. So, before you judge me, just think about that and give it a go yourself. See, you didn’t know they were Taiwanese…DID YOU?! Yeh, now who’s smug?

5. Man or woman?

Another classic favourite, but especially awkward when it concerns your students, and when they’re in their sports kit. There’s a current trend for girls to cut their hair into a short choppy style. The only problem with this is that they then look exactly like boys. Asking their name doesn't help either, as I have no idea which are girl’s names and which are boy’s. So, I have to just play the foreigner card. Thank god I have the foreigner card to play, otherwise I’m sure I will have scarred many an adolescent in my comparatively short stay here. Bad teacher.

4. What are you doing on your phone?

Bored on a train journey? Do as the Japanese do, lean on the person next to you and fall asleep. Not sleepy? Fear not! Bringeth out one’s shiny machine of untapped entertainment and revellery. But what are they doing on their phone? Well, that’s the question…in question. Sometimes I do that really annoying thing of sneaking a look over my neighbour’s shoulder. Most of the time it’s incomprehensible to me, other times I’ve had the pleasure of glancing a sneaky vagina splayed across the screen.

3. Do you still live with your parents?

A worryingly common occurrence is that you find 45-year-old men and women still living with their parents, in the same room, doing the same thing they did 30 years ago, but perhaps with a bit more solitary weirdness, and none of the it’sokbecauseyour15-ness. This is down to a few factors: it’s bloody expensive to rent anywhere, the work ethic is so intensive that there is no time to socialise/have a life, and Japan’s rate of those who can be classed as officially a member of that oh so sought after membership in to club ‘Spinsters’R’Us’ increases every year. You can often tell who are the main stay at home culprits; just look for the sad lost look of desperation in their vacant eyes. But, remember to look away as soon as you make eye contact or weird conversations may follow.

2. Am I scaring you?

I’m usually the only Westerner on the train or in the shop. Heaven forbid that occasionally I may be accompanied by another Westerner: cue the stares. As many of you know, ‘shy’ hasn’t ever been an attribute that applies to me, and I’ve been described as ‘Loud Becca’ by a Japanese university student, following a very drunken football tournament after party. Get all us ‘gaijin’ (foreigners) together and we can potentially be quite an intimidating lot. A shame really, as I’m pretty sure I couldn’t intimidate a lethargic sloth even if I tried.

Time to get crazy in da house and move the game away from people to the hot topic of food…

1. Is that food?

Again, I know I’ve mentioned this before, but it really is a big deal out here. When we treat ourselves to a nice meal out to somewhere where the menu is only in Japanese, we play the ‘let’s point at something and see what we get’ game. I can honestly say that 50% of the time I cannot name what it is that I’m eating. Luckily most of the time it tastes dericous, however you can’t be lucky all the time…where’s that bucket?

Fancy some tripe sashimi?

If I drinked drug then, I would feel up now.

With the days getting shorter, and the weather deciding that sometimes it’ll give our sweat glands a break and cool us down a little with a typhoon, I’ve been taking myself and my future into hand. After one year in Japan, I’ve toyed with a few different career choices, and I feel it’s probably the perfect time to share them with you. Any feedback is more than welcome.

12. English teacher: Now this one seems obvious, as it’s what I am actually doing, right now, as an adult, in Japan. The only thing is, I’m not quite sure how many more students falling asleep in my class I can actually handle. Now, you’ll be thinking that I must be an incredibly boring teacher; not to blow my own trumpet, but I’m not, funnily enough, or am I? Teaching has its moments, for example, running in sports day, students declaring their love for me, and my recent personal favourite, all the students deciding that I look like Milla Jovovich. Those are all definite plus points, but only for a couple of years, dear friends, onwards and upwards.

11. Pub owner: Some of you may have heard tale of a jolly spiffing pub quiz that takes places in the inner reaches and darkest depths of Saitama. It has also been known to be said that post-quiz antics lead to memory loss and a karaoke induced rasping sore throat the next morning. I take full responsibility for all of the above. Yes, I am Master of the pub quiz; surely I’d be able to run a pub, non?

10. Canyoning Guide: One weekend in Gunma, slipping, sliding, jumping and flipping off waterfalls and I’ve decided that I could do it. Not just for fun, but I could also take responsibility for other people’s lives as they stumble through fast flowing, ice cold water…sure.

9. Diplomat / International Relations: This one is actually semi-serious. Plans are afoot to try and get onto an IR masters in Holland, so any advice, tips and general handy tit bits of knowledge would be more than appreciated. Arigatou.

8. Geisha / Maiko fan dancer: One of the very sporadically attended club activities that I grace with my presence at school. Initially I thought that I was oozing grace, elegance and poise as I whipped my fan round in an incredibly authentically Japanese fashion. Video playback revealed that actually I looked more akin to a potbelly pig posing as a swan. Needless to say, I shall not be pursuing this one any time soon.

7. University Interviewer: I don’t want to be a lecturer, professor, or anything like that, but recently I posed as a university entrance interviewer person at a local university. What could be more fun than putting (actually quite attractive) male peers under pressure? Not much, is the answer.

6. Singer: I always come back to this one, and repeated trips to karaoke leave it unabated. My time will come, one day, some day…probably not. But, I can crack out a good ‘And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIeeeIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, will always love yooooouuuu’ as well as the next person.

5. Pilot: Everyone’s considered it, come on, don’t lie. Next stop: Delusion city.

4. Professional cyclist: As I zoom past all my students, and that one really old crinkly looking chap that I always see, on my 10 minute cycle in to work every day, I’ve become utterly convinced that I could win the Tour De France.

3. Driving instructor: Everyone in Japan is a bad driver. FACT. I’ve rolled a car, dented my mother’s, taken 10 minutes to parallel park into a space big enough for a fleet of Boeing 747s, and attended a traffic light awareness course, and yet I could still teach folks out here a thing or two. You have to drive on the left, THE LEFT.

2. Professional footballer: Having taken part in not one, but two ‘All Japan ALT Football Tournaments,’ I think it’s pretty safe to say that I could dominate the world of women’s football. As a defender for the newly formed ‘Saitama Saiborgs,’ we placed a very respectable 4^th *cue cheers, whoops and claps* (out of 6 teams). I am currently planning the compulsory footballers unique haircut, wait for more details TBA.

1. Florist: As an avid member of the ‘furawaa arenjimento curabbu’ – flowering arranging club, to you and me, I could most definitely deck the halls with boughs of holly and falalala any other event that needed some square shape, spray shape, or triangular shape arrangements. I’m in correspondence with Pippa Middleton about writing a new book that will ever so elegantly infuse our skills so that you lucky chaps at home can organise the most stylish of parties, with the most jaw-dropping of arrangements. Yet another TBA to keep your eye out for.

So, where does that leave us? I’ve got no idea…HELP ME!

I want you to teach me about sleeping in class

Fuji Rock and Okinawa

13. School’s out for summer, so naturally plans were afoot from the off to figure out the best way we could use up our precious holiday days in the mission to disintegrate our livers.

12. Plan A: Dress up as a clown and go to Fuji Rock Festival in Niigata.

11. What a brilliant plan it turned out to be! Dressed as technicolour clowns, we successfully ravaged our internal organs to the point of surrender.

10. So, a few things to mention about Fuji Rock…apparently no one does fancy dress in Japan, so it was up to us lowly foreigners to pick up the baton. That we did! So well, apparently, that I had more photos taken of me than when that Marilyn bird showed off her knickers over an air vent.

9. A campsite with any sort of natural running water is total bliss. We were fortunate enough, and clever enough, to camp right next to a wee bubbling brook. This brook was the only thing, besides the odd beverage here and there, that made any of us feel remotely human. In this brook I was able to remove the previous night’s clown face, and restore any dignity I may have lost in the small hours.

8. Now, I’ll give it to Japan, they damn well know how to do clean. Not a jot of rubbish was in sight, except in the patch of land we claimed as our own. The lack of rain meant zero mud, and the loos didn’t make me want to vomit that much. By the end, I even found sit down loos that I was actually happy to sit down on.

7. I should mention the music really. I love music, but as many of you know, my knowledge of anything cool or hip is distinctly lacking. So, I gladly followed the clan I was with to the appropriate acts for a bit of musical education. What an excellent education it was, too. Some of the more memorable, and in some cases surprisingly entertaining, included; The Specials, DJ Kentaro, Alt-J, Django Django, Araab Muzik, Jack White, The Specials, Busy P, Toots and the Maytals, Che Sudaka, The Gossip, and OF COURSE Radiohead and The Stone Roses.

6. As good as the music was, it was all made better by the Crystal Palace. It was in the Crystal Palace where I would find myself every night/morning, dancing Guinness world record breaking Sikh Martial artists, sitting in the world’s smallest club, or stood on a table having a dance-off with some pole dancers. Needless to say, it made my festival as memorable as I was able to remember (…the next day.)

5. After, what can only be described as intense, few days at Fuji Rock, a few of us girlies decided we needed a chill out/beach/cocktail holiday down in Japan’s most southern island, Okinawa.

4. What we hadn’t quite anticipated were the typhoons. Two typhoons. The shame with typhoons is that boats can’t quite handle the choppy water, and so we had to say sayonara to our idyllic little hostel on one of O’s tropical islands. We spent the whole 6 days in Naha, the island’s capital. Think, 60s heyday resorts and restaurants, now all incredibly weathered and falling down. It’s how I imagine Grimsby looks, even though I haven’t been there…

3. Whatever the weather, we were not to be deterred from finding our beaches and cocktails. We found our beaches; one at a hotel, the other on a small local island, both with serene white, coral sand. I was very good and put my sun cream on. I was not about to have the little beach time we could scavenge ruined by tight, burnt skin. No, thank you. Cocktails?  Yes, please.

2. 3^rd August, my birthday. Luckily, on the anniversary of my day of birth, we were able to hop on a ferry for an hour’s ride to an incredible beach (after a delicious Buck’s Fizz and scrambled eggs with smoked salmon breakfast). Here we spent the day eating, drinking, swimming, sleeping and reading (50 Shades of Grey/Vomit was Stass’s choice, The Hunger Games was mine – the best our hostel could offer). After the appropriate dosage of beach time, we clambered back on board the surprisingly snazzy ferry, back to our shed of a hostel. One shower, some make up, and a floral dress later we were downstairs ‘pre-gaming’ for an unpredictable night out. Full up with delicious Bolognese and gin, we hit the town. A local Mexican bar, where we’d made solid friends, helped us out with Margaritas, birthday cake, and balloons. Onwards to the apparently ‘underground’ club, Nekke 2, where we stumbled across our first US marines…after a torrent of abuse from me, they still indulged my accent and my birthday and bought me drinks for the rest of the evening. 7 a.m. reared its head, and we finally found ourselves back at our hostel where some very necessary breakfast noodles were cooked for us by the guy who ran the night shift.

1. So now I find myself back at school. No lessons, hardly any teachers, and nothing to do. Only the memories of an exemplary summer and birthday to keep me going, until I find something to do. Thanks, one and all.

If London Bridge fell down, it would be serious!

One year on…

Things I’ve learnt, things I haven’t.

 13. Japanese is difficult. I have been trying, I really have, but if we’re honest with ourselves and the world, Japanese is a language that, in my humble opinion, only those who have brains the size of Uranus are able to learn. I’ve given it my best shot, but I unfortunately I do not possess the aforementioned size of brain. My brain rather more resembles a fairly mouldy old kitchen sponge that smells funny and no one wants to use anymore. Ergo, Japanese skills = lacking, at best.

 12. My flat really isn’t that bad. When I first moved into my one room abode, I confess, I cried. It was the day after my birthday, the apparent theme for the whole room was grey, and I managed to walk from one end to the other in 6 steps…the long way. BUT, actually, really, let’s be honest with ourselves, it’s all the space I need. Yes, it would be nice to have a separate living room; it would be lovely to have a kitchen bigger than a postcard; it would be really rather fabulous to have my fridge, oven and laundry basket not in my bedroom, but we can’t have everything. Equipped with a bloody great red rug and photos galore, I’ve turned my grey box in to a room fit for, well, for me. Added benefit, it stops be buying every piece of novelty crap I coo over from the 100\ shop. Hoarding limit well and truly reached.

 11. I like fish much more than I’d realized. I’ve always had a penchant for the slippery beasts (I’m talking about fish here, boys and girls, calm down) but Japan does know how to make the most of its seafood. So fresh, so delicious and so abundant, I am in sushi heaven.

 10. I’m not a very good cyclist. Now I’ve never been the most graceful, or balanced girl in the group, but I hadn’t realized quite how clumsy I was until I had to cycle to school every day. Great for the legs, not so great when one’s spatial  awareness is all but nil. I’ve been hit by a car, followed by the police, stopped by the police, slipped on ice, run over a rat and somersaulted into a rice paddy. When I asked my students if they’d ever fallen off their bikes, the resounding response was ‘no’ followed by looks of disgust.

 9. Having said that, the Japanese have to be the worst drivers known to man. Let’s not stop at that red light then, shall we?

 8. When it rains, it pours. Never have I used that phrase so literally. On my first day in Koshigaya, sweating in my ‘smart clothes’ and trying to retain some semblance of being a normal human being in front of my newly acquired bosses, what felt like the contents of a whole reservoir descended upon us for about 10 seconds. Freak rain showers, typhoons, rainy seasons….Britain claims to be a damp and rainy country, well prepare to have met your match: Japan.

 7. I’ve come to appreciate western food SO much more. I can go on all day about how good the sushi is here, how I’ve fallen in love with gyoza, and how udon acts as my food equivalent to crack, but boy, there are some serious cheffing issues that need to be seen to when it comes to Western food over here. I really just don’t know where to start, the price of good wine and cheese is astronomical, all pasta dishes usually look the same and don’t get me STARTED on the size of a portion of Fish and Chips; a squirrel would still be left hungry…

 6. I’m not a fan of temples. They’re impressive, inspiring, pretty…I get it, but I just don’t care. I enjoy a good prolonged glance at a temple, appreciate that it’s there and that it’s very Japanese, but stand around for half an hour looking at every single one? I don’t think so, time to move on chaps, where’s my gin and tonic.

 5. They know how to do their festivals. There seem to be festivals all year round in Japan, and with summer rearing its head, we can expect many, many more. Organisation here is paramount, and the Japanese have got this down to a T. On the day of the festival, streets will be bursting with temporary food stalls, floats, fairground games, crowds of people and you’re struggling to walk faster than an elderly slug. However, as soon as the whole shindig is over, there is not a trace left in sight. I’ve never seen such organized fun be packed up and cleaned after so quickly. Kudos Japan.

 4. One of my most surprising discoveries is that everyone I meet is just so incredibly helpful. Any question I ask at school is usually followed up by googled print outs of information that may or may not be crucial, but they will have spent ages looking for it. If you happen to look lost at a station, usually someone will attempt their shoddy English to help you out. Need directions somewhere? Just ask anyone, especially shop assistants, and it’s more than likely that you will be escorted to wherever you want to be.

 3. To bring out yet another overused phrase: teaching Japanese students is like getting blood out of a stone. I have never met such a shy group of 16-18 year olds. When trying to remember the shy students when I was at school, I’m pretty sure that there was a least a little ounce of pluck in them, so that when asked a question by the teacher, they wouldn’t resort to soiling themselves.

 2. Cue another ‘having said that…’ when you do come across those students who realize that English isn’t the language of the devil, suddenly all becomes bright and cheery and just as I had pictured my life as an assistant language teacher before I came out to Japan…all zippedydoodahdey-y and as though you’re making some sort of difference.

 1. To end with the holiest of holies, I have discovered my new favourite drink. Get ready for some blaspheming boys and girls…move over red wine, get to the back gin and tonic, there’s a new kid on the block: UMESHU. I cannot tell you just how dericious this plum wine really is. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it many times before, but I don’t care. This is truly the stuff of the Gods. Add a couple of rocks of ice, and I can sup this everyday for the rest of my life. Which is exactly what I intend to do.

If I had had a more fine brain, I would be a genius now.

Worryingly, I haven’t touched upon the subject of food!

Well, I think it’s high time to address that issue and get all gourmet, trendy, and super chic and Japanese into the world of noodles, sushi and rice. Before I came here, I thought that I was pretty worldly when it came to knowing about food. Turns out I was entirely wrong. There is so so so much that I haven’t tried, and Japan has given me a kick start into trying some things that I never thought I would even consider eating.

14. Goo. I seem to have eaten a lot of goo. Some nice, some gut wrenchingly disgusting. One particular ‘favourite’ was a dubious blob of grey goo which, when picked up with chopsticks, left a nice stringy sticky trail of yuck still attached to the plate. As delicious as I’m making it sound, funnily enough it was vile. I think grey foods are better left well alone.

13. However, the beautifully vibrantly pink goo was delicious. It turned out to be pickled ginger. Yum in my tum.

12. Pickled ginger led me nicely into talking about the strange array of pickled veggies one is given as a little appetizer as soon as you sit down anywhere. Not being very sure which vegetables I’m actually eating, I always find this little titbit to be incredibly welcome.

11. Everyone knows that sushi and raw fish is a big thing over here. Well, I hadn’t realized quite how much they’re into EVERYTHING raw. I have sampled chicken liver, beef and horse, all raw, all dericious. Unfortunately it wasn’t the same case with the tripe.

10. I feel I need to say a bit more about the fish. I honestly can’t quite express how good it is here. Melt in the mouth tuna (or maguro if you want to sound fancy) mind blowingly soft salmon, and my personal favourite, sumptuous little pearls of scallop. I’m dribbling as I type.

9. The battle between sushi and sashimi. For those of you not in the know, sashimi is just sushi but without the rice. I’ll be honest; I’m batting on the side of sashimi. The rice is good, don’t get me wrong, but I find it clogs the taste of the fish a little, obviously in some cases this is a massive plus point for sushi as what’s placed on top may be far from appetizing.

8. Gyoza. Oh Gyoza how you make my life complete. Little pouches of joy filled with happiness and springtime glee. Fun to make, easy to cook, even easier to eat. You can fill them with anything (I’ve even dabbled in making apple gyoza which went down a treat even if I say so myself) dip them in whichever sauce you feel fit and feel cheery afterwards. They are the best thing ever.

7. Well, actually, I say gyoza are the best thing…I haven’t even started on all the different noodles you can get out here. Ramen, soba, udon, somen. All delicious in their own special way.

6. Ramen. The most readily available over here in Nippon (obviously depending where you go) tasty and satisfying, these noodles can be made with so many different sauces they’ll make you dizzy with choice. However, they are a touch on the greasy/salty side and tend to be eaten by lonely toothless men sitting on their own, or sumo wrestlers.

5. Soba. The more slender of the noodle family, and can be eaten hot or cold. I prefer them hot, as I do with all the noodles actually; eating them cold just feels like you’re eating lots of worms.

4. Somen. AKA Angelhair noodles. Lovely added to miso soup if you want to be filled up a little more but don’t want to worry about the addition to your waistline. A new discovery for me and a very happy one.

3. Udon, my favourite. I know a lot of people are put off by the big thick wormy resemblance of these critters, but all I can say is, don’t be put off. The best udon I’ve had are from a small restaurant called ‘beer delicia’ in Shinjuku (authentic sounding, I know). Covered with a garlic-y, chilli-y, tomato-y sauce, I have well and truly been won over by the fattest of the noodle family. Well done, sir.

2. Things I avoid: pretty much any part of the chicken which isn’t the meat, i.e. skin, cartilage and innards, or giblets. Tripe; AVOID AT ALL COSTS. The weird yellowy/greeny spongy thing which has apparently come from somewhere in the sea. Dried squid; a snack favoured by the old and smelly. Natto; fermented soy beans which look like snot, smell like rotting everything, and have the consistency of those weird gooey alien toys you could buy in an egg. NO THANK YOU.

1. I think the key thing is here is to realize that in every type of cuisine there will always be less tempting delicacies. I don’t know if I’m put off by certain things in Japan simply because I’m a massive softie from Europe, or because they actually are truly disgusting and should never be eaten by any living human being. I like to think that the latter is true. Having said that, I came to Japan slightly slimmer than I am now, and I think that’s a better testament than any to show just how much I do love the food here. Itadakimasu.

He is an easel who write this picture.

I am foreign.

I realize that is one of my more obvious statements, but it needs to be said and there’s no non-stereotypically-racist way of covering it up. I’m white, I have light (ish) brown hair, I have blue eyes, I often look lost.

I am a foreigner.

I am a gaijin.

15. As I said in one of my previous (ever so eloquently written) blogs, everyone here is Japanese. I have become part of the ethnic minority for the first time in my life. With this new status come some perks, and some other things which aren’t so perky.

14. Being a foreigner who speaks English is a bit of an advantage over all those other foreigners who don’t. In Japan, English is taught inprimary school, and continues right up to the nearly ripe old, grown up age of 18. So, the basics are there. HOWEVER, in most cases, they’re actually not. I know this means that I need to pull my finger out and actually crack on with this learning Japanese malarkey, but I doubt that any Japanese lesson is going to teach me how to say, ‘can you help me steal this Japanese baby?’ (I realise that this isn’t a normal phrase found in the Japanese/English curriculum, but they’re just so damn cute.)

13. Before you decide that I am a horrendous human being who just cannot be bothered respectfully to learn the language of the country in which I reside, I have mastered a few essentials. Namely, ‘3 gin and tonics please,’ ‘My name is Rebecca,’ and the most important of all,‘where is the toilet?’ Which I can proudly boast I am able to say in 6 languages (naturally counting American as separate from English.)

12. One thing that comes with notbeingfromJapan is the whole etiquette issue. Manners are totally different here. It took me a long time to stop starting my drink before everyone else had theirs, and I’m nearly there with getting my bow at just the right angle with the perfect amount of longevity in the descent and ascent.

11. If you are at one with the basics of Japanese etiquette, which really is quite a big thing over here by the way, you will find yourself greeted with an acknowledging smile, maybe even a clap here and there, and of course the obligatory round of ‘aaaaaah!’

10. Another way to make you, and your ego, feel pretty darn good is to whap out the little Japanese you do know, specifically at work parties. It has be known for me to only say ‘konnichiwa’ to be applauded and congratulated on how really very excellent my Japanese is. Thank you, I do try, sometimes, not really.

9. Now, there is a down side to everybody thinking that you’re fabulous; I believe it’s known in the medical trade as ‘cockiness.’ It has taken weeks of self-counselling to be able to admit that I have fallen prey to this ‘cockiness.’ One, two, three, or maybe even nine gin and tonics down the line and I become Lebecca Losu; teacher, and all knowing master of Japanese, sometimes even venturing to correct those who do actually, in sober reality speak Japanese, pretty fluently really, because they are in fact…Japanese.

8. Being stared at on the train is something I’ve worryingly started to get used to. Normally the owner of the stare is between the age of 0 –11 and adorable. However when the owner of said stare is a quite smelly, 50 something, sitting too close to you old man, adorable doesn’t seem to be quite the right adjective to use…

7. However, I’ve come up with a battle plan for all those unwanted stares. Simply put, I pull a funny face back. More often than not this does the trick, as most Japanese people will realise that they’ve possibly been staring at someone who’s just been released from some kind of institute, and therefore shouldn’t try to startle the mental foreigner lest anything upsetting should occur.

6. When I’m feeling a little less like an escapee from Dr. Ivegotamassiveneedle’s asylum, I welcome the incredibly kind folk, who usually have flawless English, as they come up to me in train stations when I’ve got my ‘I’m lost!’ face on, to then guide me through the tangled cobweb that is the Japanese railway system. Arigatou gozaimasu.

5. It has been known for the one being stared at to change roles and become the staree. I have fallen into this trap. The problem occurs when you spot a fellow foreigner in the distance, in the same shop, or sitting in the same train carriage. I have stared, and done so unashamedly…let me tell you why;

4. As I mentioned before Japan is very Japanese, therefore we foreigners are relatively few and far between, especially the more rural you go. So, when do you do spy someone who doesn’t quite look like they fit in properly, the immediate reaction is to stare, work out if you know them, guess what job they do, and where they’re from. Naturally the problem with this is that one can start to stare for a tad longer than is perceived reasonable and polite, that when they turn to meet your gaze, all you can do is feign familiarity; nod, smile, and wave that weird little wave you thought only the queen did. The mix of feelings after such an encounter usually consists of awkwardness,embarrassment, camaraderie and stupidity. Ah well, we’ve all been there and done the ‘I’m waving at you but have now realised that I completely don’t know who you are so I will continue waving as though I know the person behind you,’ wave. Admit it.

3. Work brings its own special little highlights for the token non-native. At work parties (held fairly regularly throughout the year) I have been asked to perform When the saints go marching in wearing a multicoloured afro wig, sing Amazing Grace, and also sing the school song, solo, in Japanese, at a pitch suitable for an 11 year old eunuch. Obviously, I have always stepped up to these challenges.

2. At times, I have to admit that there are those rare occasions when my fuse gets rather short and the language barrier becomes one that neither party is able to penetrate. When such occasions arise, I have simply had to mumble the niceties I’ve now got down to a T, walk out of whichever establishment I’m in, and go and buy myself some chocolate from a vending machine that won’t speak to me. Sugared and prepped, I’m ready once more to be a nice person.

1. The most important point I much stress about being a slightly longer than temporary visitor here, is that I have never encountered such kindness and thoughtfulness from such a large group of people before. Japan is a place where politeness and respect are paramount. Any problems I have, or any silly little questions I need answering, are solved and answered as quickly as possible. Yes, there are times when things are off putting or frustrating, but I really do feel incredibly welcome and as though I’ve made some friends for life. Now, let’s just find me a husband.