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.

I will become a God in the new world someday

With the beginning of a new academic year in full swing, I felt it was high time to get on with blog number 16, and what subject could be more appropriate than school? So, turn to page 24, get your pencils ready and pay attention, I will be testing you at the end.

16. People say that first impressions are key. If this really is the case then Japanese schools certainly do not start their academic personalities with a silver spoon in their mouths, rather a grubby thumb instead. The schools are ugly, grey, concrete cubes with windows dotting the sides like a monochrome Rubik’s cube. Imposing definitely doesn’t cut it.

15. Look around a little more and you’ll spy large expanses of what looks like desert. This is the sports ground, kept impeccably by the students under the ever watchful and glaring eye of the token scary PE teacher on duty.

14. It’s all looking rather bleak, isn’t it? I’m afraid that once inside; things don’t get a whole lot better. The grey-ness continues for the internal décor, think prison chic meshed with office a la beige. Posters for universities decorate the walls alongside the glass presentation cabinet displaying the school’s winter and summer military-esque uniforms.

13. Now I’m not being totally fair, the good thing about all this grey is that once the flower arranging club (of which I’m a member) get their heads together to create something faaaabulous dahling, their posies and slightly sparsely arranged bouquets stand out brilliantly and start to bring a little character to our dear grey school.

12. The mention of a club brings me to an integral element of school life. Nearly every student belongs to a club, whether it be track and field, baseball, photography or calligraphy. If you’re not in a club, you’re buggered. Either that or you’re entirely socially inept. Being in a club controls everything outside your everyday lessons. It’s not just a ‘once a week I’ll go along and have a go, even though I can’t really be bothered’ kind of affair that we associate with clubs in England. Here you go before school, after school, at the weekends, holidays and any other time that isn’t taken up with school work, eating, sleeping and going to the loo. Clubs are beyond intense, they’re the be all and end all.

11. ‘Well if the students are in school doing their “clubs” all the time, surely there should be a responsible adult or two there to keep an eye on them?’ I hear you ask. Let me introduce the typical Japanese teacher. Schedule: Wake up at 5:30, arrive at school at 7:30, check your club activity, teach a full timetable, have a nap somewhere in the middle, 3:20 lessons finish, answer any questions from lingering students, check your club activity, mark some exams, leave school at 19:00/20:00, eat, sleep, repeat. Minus the lessons, this schedule applies to Saturday and Sunday and school holidays too. Somehow they still manage to struggle through the little English they know to be overbearingly polite when they see me. Teachers back at home thought they had it tough, they don’t know the half of it.

10. The teacher’s ‘haven’ of sorts is the staff room. Now, anyone I know would imagine a room-come-kitchenette with sofas, coffee machines, the odd notice board here and there and the obligatory pigeon holes. Not in good ole Japan. The staffroom can most appropriately be called an office. Regimented tables assigned to each teacher, ordered according to which year group you have to shepherd around. On every wall is a notice board filled with information which I will never be able to read (I can do the numbers though). The deputy head sits prominently to keep her beady eye on anyone who isn’t doing their work (I sit as far away from her as humanly possible…) However as office-y as it is, it’s still quite a good place for a chat, albeit a slightly awkward one.

9. Right, on from the staffroom and into the classroom. The classroom is the student’s haven. Each form has its own homeroom which they look after. All their lessons are taught there as the teachers move amongst the different groups bestowing all their knowledge, in my case, ‘Turn right at the bakery and go straight for two blocks.’ Students have individual little desks which can be moved round independently. Luckily there are no fat students at my school as I really don’t know what they’d do.

8. The students themselves are the most well behaved 15-18 year olds I have ever met. The worst disobedience I come across is one of them having a wee nap in my lesson. Usually I balance stationery on their heads until they wake up, however this then means a good 5 minutes is wasted looking for their favourite rubber that I had so excellently placed only moments before.

7. This obedience, I imagine, has only been established through the entrenched discipline that comes with a typical Japanese school. When I was at the equivalent of a Japanese senior high school, my hair was a mix of reds, purples, blondes and pinks. If I was late or didn’t do my homework no one really said anything. I drank alcohol (I know, what a rebel), drove a car, kissed my boyfriend in public (yes I did have a boyfriend, I’m no liar) and I had a Saturday job. If I had done any of this in Japan, the school would have come down on my harder than a tonne of pointy hard things. School IS your entire life. Even when not in school you are representing it, so no jobs please, no hair dye and definitely no quick snogs in the bus stop. Thank you very much.

6. As the only foreigner in school (bar the Mexican exchange student, but I never see him so I like to imagine myself as foreign royalty) I tend to attract some attention. Cycling to school, walking through the corridor, or standing by the side of the football pitch, I always hear a trail of nasal ‘kawaii’s’ following me. To all of you who don’t know, this is the standard school girl chant of ‘you’re so cute.’ Lovely and flattering at first, eardrum rupturingly irritating eventually.

5. Having said that discipline is inherent, I rarely hear any shouting. If I do, it’s usually because some stupid boy has decided it’s a good idea to go running through the girls changing room dressed as a girl himself (as all boys would) OR it’s a teacher-on-teacher battle. THAT’S RIGHT I have witnessed teachers arguing, only twice, but it still happened. It was one of my scariest, awkward moments to date.

4. As in any good school, we have assemblies. In a school of around 1000 students this is no mean feat, and as ever the Japanese carry it out effortlessly with students impeccably dressed, sat cross legged in orderly rows in a giant gym facing the stage from which the teachers will preach.

3. Not being a fluent Japanese speaker, I usually switch off whilst intermittently understanding the occasional Japanglish-ism. ‘Undawea’ or ‘sutokingu’ are particular favourites of mine. (Pronounce them phonetically, it’ll all become clear.)

2. Any good assembly ends with a hearty song. In my school we have a jolly good romp of a school song which the students sing quarter-heartedly and my retired teacher friend Iimori-sensei (who always sings the British National Anthem when we go out for dinner) bellows it decibels above everyone else in his surprisingly good tenor voice. No one else stands a chance against him.

1. It’s the end of the school day and I guiltily leave before all the other teachers, creeping out of the staff room bidding a feeble ‘sayonara’ to the vigilant, hardworking teachers that remain. Hopping onto my bright orange mono-geared bicycle, I zoom (or at least I like to think I zoom) off into the distance, overtaking all the students and dribbling at the thought of a nice cold glass of umeshu.

Test time: what is brown and sticky?

I want to touch various cultures

My first Christmas away from home, what to do? My travels took me to the sunny climes of Thailand along with my 3 other very British friends Alex, Steve and Michael. Oh, and what an adventure we were about to have… 

17. Haggling – when first stepping foot out of the airport it was apparent that our bartering skills would be needed from the off. What we first thought was a great price for a taxi, we quickly discovered we’d been rinsed like the wealthy tourists we were. Quick, sharp, I was soon haggling for Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses (the real deal of course, darling) for a mere 200 baht (that’s £4 to you and me, a steal) By the end of the holiday I found myself haggling in my dreams. 

16. A multitude of smells – Another thing to hits you upon arrival. Some pleasant, some definitely not. I’m sorry to say that those unpleasant smells rather overpowered the pleasant ones and have imprinted themselves on my memory…ooo is that rotting fish? 

15. Dirt cheap – once you’ve got your haggling skills honed you can grab all the bargains you desire, from novelty shell elephants, golliwogs (yes, I’m afraid to say they were for sale) to delicious street vendor catfish. ‘Cheep’ like the Budgie. 

14. Taxis – once bitten and twice shy when it comes to getting a taxi for the right price. Taxis will drive you for far less than you would like to imagine. Our most successful haggling technique for our friendly taxi drivers was to offer a price, then if we were refused we’d turn and start making tracks. 80% of the time it worked. If it didn’t, no matter, one of the other 1,000,000 would be sure to give us a ride. 

13. Thai time – when asking how long anything would take to anywhere we were offered two time scales, ’10 minutes’ or ‘long time.’ 10 Thai minutes can last from anything between that instant or 1 hour. If you happen to be told that it’ll take a ‘long time’, well all I can say is gird those loins of yours. You could be there for days. 

12. Spicy-ness – When the Thai say it’s spicy, don’t order it. Your brain will melt. 

11. Even if you’re not understood, you will always feel like you have been.  

‘How do I get there?’ 

‘mmm yes’. 

Brilliant. 

10. Thailand is overrun with tourists (I know I can’t talk)– as much as it’s great that tourists can provide an income for many Thais, I’m afraid to say that in most of the large cities it feels as though it’s ravaging the country. If you want the authentic Thai experience DON’T stay in all the recommended places. Go off the map a little, it may be a little harder, but it’ll certainly be authentic, and then at least you won’t run in to Gav-laa and his posse of ladz on tour… 

9. Even when it’s raining it’s hot. We found this out on Christmas day. Swimming in the pool overlooking the sea with the warm rain. 

8. Toilets. Good luck finding anything more than a glorified, porcelain-ed hole in the ground. Don’t even bother looking for soap. 

7. Coach travel – this was the majority of our travelling around Thailand, and our buses/coaches varied massively. From plush leather VIP video playing mini-buses to dripping faulty air-conditioned beasts. I feel that I have experienced my fair share of coaches now. Yes, that will be one limousine taxi with pull-out bed and Jacuzzi to transport me everywhere, please. 

6. The Thai are incredibly friendly and not afraid to give you a hug. Lovely. 

5. They know how to run a bar, especially a beach bar. We found our fair share of them and a good time we had too. New Year's Eve spent at a beach bar offering 2 for 1 gin and tonics, watching fire works and lanterns rise and burst in the sky. 

4. Fireworks are no safety hazard for the Thais – I nearly got blown up. I got away with ringing ears. Living life on the edge folks. 

3. The lady boy game – not much more needs to be said. Spot the lady boy. 

2. Treacherous drivers – dear god man DO NOT watch what the driver is doing or how he is driving, you will soil yourself. Guaranteed. 

1. It really is rather beautiful – so all in all, we have a country full of tourists, hagglers, friendly lady boys, terrifying taxi drivers and pyromaniacs. Not a bad lot for an exciting holiday really. All topped off by how incredibly beautiful the country is. My mind was blown, and shall be permanently. 

No other river is longer than Jupiter

My last entry veered ever so slightly away from the whole point of this blog, and so I shall endeavour to get back on track and discuss the matter in hand – Japan (AKA Japland). Now I would like you to recall any foreign language lessons that you may have attended, mine is French. Mrs. Bedson was the fuel behind my A grade French GSCE, not that I’m one to brag…We all remember those shopping lessons ou est les bananes s’il vous plait? If only I’d had the same lesson in Japanese before embarking on my weekly food shop…

18. My first Japanese food shop took a hideously long time to do. Fruit and veg was relatively self explanatory, but it was the sugar and salt that presented the greatest challenge. After what felt like half an hour of careful deliberation, I decided, according to the size and shape of granule, which was which. I WAS RIGHT. For future reference, folks, salt is slightly smaller and smoother. (not taking into account rock salt, caster sugar, or icing sugar)

17. Another pair of superficially identically twinned condiments: oil and vinegar. Another half hour flew by, and this time my careful decision process relied on recognizing the thickness of the liquids in question. Feeling confident and full of bravado after my ‘sugar-high’, I made my decision. I was wrong. It would seem that cooking chicken in vinegar tastes rather odd…

16. After 3 hours of the most confusing shopping experience and with no one coming to your aid as they should for such a damsel in distress, you arrive at the till. A word of caution, DO NOT try and offer to use your own bags. Say no to a plastic bag and the reaction will be as if you have just put salt in their tea and cooked their food in vinegar whilst slowly carving away at their leg with a set of western style cutlery.

15. Staying on the bag topic, the Japs have got one thing right, a separate area for packing your goods. None of this waiting-for-the-person-in-front-of-you-to-finish-packing-their-17-cans-of-tuna-before-you-can-be-served nonsense. Here, you have everything put through the till, back in your basket, you pay and away to the separate packing table it is with you, fully equipped with sellotape, spare bags and handy bits of spare paper for those more delicate items.

14. That ‘self packing area’ is only in food shops. When it comes to all your other luxury items, well, well, it would not be decent to walk around with an open plastic bag, now would it? You must leave with a tiny bit of plastic joining it together at the top. God forbid anyone should see what kind of saucy knitwear you may have just bought.

13. There is an unhealthy amount of department stores, at least two per train station. Once you enter, you’ll be lucky to leave in one piece and without buying a pair of novelty socks. It’s as if you’ve entered the labyrinth of a slightly smarter looking east London market, but inside a building. Beware of the shop assistants.

12. As soon as you walk into any shop, your ears start to ring. There are two reasons for this:

11. Reason number 1 – It would seem that according to Japanese law, all shop keepers must have a very nasal and very high pitched voice, reminiscent of Joe Pasquale on prozac. There’s a reason dogs aren’t allowed in.

10. Reason number 2 – The sheer volume capability of these seemingly coy, cute and petite shop keepers is alarming. Nurses are on standby for those inevitable ear bleeding related emergencies.

9. This shouting is supposed to be a way to lure you in to their dens. Japanese shop keepers are probably the most forcefully polite people I have ever met. Anytime anyone walks into their shop a chorus of shop assistants break out into song.

8. But perhaps there is a legitimate need for all this earsplitting shouting. I often have difficulty working out whether or not some places are shops. Shop look like houses, and houses can often look like shops…

7. One shop that isn’t hard to spot is IKEA. Do not fret, dear friends, it’s exactly the same. I do love a good meatball.

6. Despite the excessive number of department stores, the number of convenience stores easily quadruples them.

5. I will say this for the Japanese, they are damn good at queuing…perhaps so good that they’re at risk of stealing Britain’s closely guarded ‘best queue-er’ award.

4. Once at the end of the queue at one of the 3,498,386,112 convenience stores Japan boasts, and having had my lunch put through the till, the assumption game begins. ‘You can use chopsticks?! Are you sure you don’t want a fork instead?’ I’ll show you what I can do with chopsticks, madam.

3. The excellent thing about our local convenience stores, is that the majority of them are open 24/7. Not the case with all other shops. It would seem that shop keepers here enjoy a good lie in and don’t often open until 10 or 11 am. Nice and easy does it.

2. Once in one of these tardy shops, the world of luxury items is your oyster. But the next challenge is trying things on. Once you’ve worked out where the changing rooms actually are, there are a couple of crucials that you must abide to so as not to offend the whole nation. TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF. Ah! OK! I’m sorry! Done. Next, cover your head with a silly looking, slightly see-through, paper bag. The idea is that you protect the clothes from the gallons of makeup you must be wearing. Sorry, but I’m just not going to fall for that one. There’s clearly some sort of reality TV show here that secretly films those foreigners who fall for the trick, put on the silly looking, slightly see-through, paper bag, then fall over whilst trying on a pair of trousers that clearly won’t fit because they have become a giant in the land of tiny people.

1. Finally, after you’ve worked out which is the salt, nursed your ears back to health and fallen over trying on tiny trousers with a bag on your head, it’s time to pay. Don’t even bother trying to pay with your card. It’s a completely cash based society here. So, now it’s completely fine to go around with wads of cash on your person. Feel like a proper gangster now don’t you?

So, there it is, shopping in Japan. What have we learnt? Don’t put that bag on your head…that is unless it’ll protect your ears.