Happy Halloween

I remember Halloween parties growing up as involving all sorts of games. Mostly games like bobbing for apples or getting blindfolded and sticking your hands in bags of gross slimy stuff and having to guess if it was brains or guts. And, of course, haunted houses, which if staffed by school kids or church people, usually served to create more laughs than fright. Anyhow, as I got older, Halloween turned from trick-or-treating to something a little more risqué, perhaps. That’s because once you pass a certain age, you can’t just dress up as a witch, you have to be a hot witch. If you want to be a fairy, you have to be a sexy fairy. And if you have any thoughts of dressing up as something cute and furry, it had better be a Playboy Bunny. No haggard, frightful shrews to scare away the boys – just lusty temptresses. I think I prefer the scary to the seductive (I would personally rather intimidate than entice), but my costumes become scantier and scantier every year.

At any rate, I am getting off track. The whole point of this story is to share how my participation in a Halloween game at the age of 26 nearly led to ingestion of a fake nail.

So, we arrived at the Miyakonojo Halloween party. Luke as a boxer and I as a fairy. I was thinking we would have some drinks, mingle, maybe dance a little. But, no. First there was a little talent portion – some singing witches who collectively sounded like the Japanese version of the Chipmunks. Followed by a game called, “Pass the Parcel,” or something like that, where you stand in a circle and pass around gift and when the music stops you get to unwrap it. If you’re the one to unwrap the last layer, you get to keep the present. After that, it was time for, for lack of a better name, “Inhale the Large Cream Puff Before Anyone Else.” I was roped into this messy display against my will, as they were in need of another gaijin (foreigner/outsider/stranger, whichever you prefer) participant. So anyway, I was paired up with a Japanese girl who actually spoke quite a bit of English, and we agreed that I, being the American, would do the eating.

So, it works like this. The person eating sits in the chair with her hands behind her back, while her partner, blindfolded, feeds her the pastry. Fine, I thought, I can do this (see, I forgot about that Japanese hot dog guy who holds the world record, so I thought that as an American, I had the contest on lockdown, except for Luke of course, who would kick my ass at pastry eating in the row behind me). Upon taking my seat and prepping to chow down on this giant, powder-covered, baked good, I suddenly realized that my partner had some very long acrylic nails. Yes, long, long, fake fingernails. And, while long nails really gross me out, I decided to forget about it and forge ahead.

It was all fine and good – except for the fact that I was really a slow eater – until we neared the end of the contest and in my hurried chewing I came across a foreign object. Thinking it was plastic from the pastry box or something, I pulled it out of my mouth only to discover my partner’s fingernail. All, I can say is that it tops the list of grossest things that have ever happened to me. And, the worst part was the ensuing awkwardness. I didn’t know if I should tell her that I almost swallowed her fingernail, and hence make her feel embarrassed for wearing cheap nails, or if I should just pretend like I never came across it. I opted for the latter. Surely, she’s still wondering what happened to her nail, probably assuming that it was swept away in the mounds of cream covering the table at the end of the game. But, I will always have to live with the fact that I almost swallowed an acrylic nail while participating in an eating contest at a Halloween party in Southern Japan. Weird.

The remainder of the party was somewhat lackluster in comparison to what could have turned into a digestive debacle. I spent much of the time pulling filo dough and dried cream off my costume and face, while attempting to communicate, in drunken tones, with partygoers who spoke no English. Tired and sticky we made an abrupt exit, escaping all invitations to continue the revelry in great Japanese fashion at a karaoke bar.

Back in the Jo

I had a feeling I would find my way back to Miyakonojo. I just didn’t think it would be quite this soon. But, here I find myself, about two-and-a-half months after my last trip, wandering incompetently throughout this relatively unknown Japanese town. It’s kind of a trip. And wander is kind of a lie. I just got in last night, and thought I’ve ventured to the vending machine for some excellent Japanese coffee, I have mostly been catching up on work and getting glimpses of the World Series on the TV guide channel.

You see, they do televise these games here, because of Daisuke and Matsui, but it’s only on cable, and Luke doesn’t have cable. But one of the channels is split into 16 tiny screens so you can see all broadcasts simultaneously. So, I am watching Rockies baseball players the size of ants take on the Red Sox in a tiny corner of the screen. And, since I can’t see the score, I have to check ESPN.com periodically for an update.

Anyhow, it’s strange to be back here – I mean, who visits Miyakonojo regularly? That’s right, no one. Except for me – driven by the desperation of a long distance relationship to spend thousands of dollars and travel thousands of miles. It’s kind of fun, though. I feel like a jet setter. Yesterday at the airport I felt quite experienced and important finding my way through the familiar routine of getting from one continent to the next. Even another foreigner sought my advice at the entrance to customs. I must look like I know what I am doing.

So, last night, Luke picked me up in Miyazaki – it was raining, of course, because it always rains whenever I go anywhere – and we made the short drive back to Miyakonojo. It’s definitely a lot different to visit this time. The weather is much, much better. Still humid, but a lot cooler. (I worry about having to readjust to the cold when I get home, but I guess it will be nice to be warm for a few more weeks, before I become a skiing popsicle on the slopes of Vail.)

It smells different, too. When I walked out this morning to get some coffee, it was the first thing I noticed. It must be the smell of fall, but it’s much sweeter here than it is in Colorado. Unlike the subtle dry, leafy odor we drink in all through October, this is pungent and thick. I like it though – it complemented well my peek into the temple grounds next door.

I’m not sure what I am going to do today. Luke is at work until late afternoon. He’s actually going to be working the whole time I’m here, which is probably good. I plan on spending the time working and studying for my GMAT. Yuck. But, it sounds like we have some weekend trips planned, and Luke has arranged an archery lesson for me! I am so excited for that.

Hopefully, I will be able to relax and get out a little more on this trip. Last time I was here I had so much work to do, and this short visit seems to have landed fortuitously in a small chunk of time between completion of a few projects and initiation of a few more. So, that’s good.

I think this concludes my first entry. Unless something fascinating happens to me on the way to the Lawson convenience store – you never know!

Sayonara, Part II

And a later date it is. The whole point of my story is now moot. I was trying to explain how my return tickets were for different days. I was to fly out of Miyazaki on August 13 and then out of Nagoya on the 16th. But, as it turns out, I was able to get a flight back to the states right away, so no dillydallying in Nagoya for me – thank goodness!

I suppose that wraps up my trip to Japan. My last week was spent hanging out in Miyakonojo and taking some daytrips with Luke. This adventure culminated in the biggest festival of the year, the Bonchi Matsuri (they must have known I was leaving!). For such an occasion, Luke and I decided to wear traditional Japanese clothing – a yukata, or summer kimono, for me, and a jimbe for Luke.

I was fitted for a yukata at a local kimono shop with some help from Yasue. After trying on a few different patterns, I settled on a dark red robe covered in sakura, or cherry blossoms, and a marigold obi belt.

In preparation for the festival, I put my hair up, as you’re traditionally supposed to do, and left plenty of time to get dressed. I thought it would take me a while to arrange the yukata and conquer the challenge of tying the obi belt, but I managed fine, and we were off to the matsuri.

Luke arranged for us to dance in the parade with the Miyakonojo International Association. We had about 10 minutes to learn the two dances, which no one in the group was really able to pick up. It involved a fan, fancy footwork and a bunch of clapping. I wasn’t too worried, though, as we were in a sea of people, so no one would notice if we were out of step.

I attempted to dance for a little while, but eventually resorted to just sort of walking in the back while fanning myself, running off to the side, every now and then, to snap a photo of Luke looking totally perplexed as he tried to follow the dance leader.

After the parade, we sampled all the festival food and watched performances and drumming in the streets. It was a fantastic way to cap off my trip.

On Sunday, I bought a few last minute souvenirs and packed up before heading out for my last taste of real Japanese sushi – for a while anyway.

But no worries, I think there is more Japan in my future – hopefully sooner than later.

Sayonara, Part I

This entry finds me sitting on the floor at Nagoya Chubu International Airport. I flew in from Miyazaki this morning, and now I’m waiting for a United agent to show up and decide my fate.

You see, when I booked this crazy trip, it was a little last minute and I didn’t have many travel dates to choose from since I used miles to buy my ticket. Luke arranged for my flights between Nagoya and Miyazaki, also using miles. My return tickets . . .

(And, I’ve just been asked to remove my plug from the outlet. For some reason, they don’t want me plugged in and have actually sent someone to tell me so. I wonder how long, first of all, it took for them to muster the confrontational skills to decide I needed to be told to unplug, and then to find someone to translate into English. Hard to say. But, as I’m about to run my battery, this will have to resume at a later date.)

Do you like Kentucky?

At about 10 o’clock on Saturday morning, my new Japanese friends, Shiho and Ichan, picked Luke and me up for our shopping excursion to Kagoshima. Shiho drives a white Toyota 4Runner with a spoiler – an unusual addition to an SUV, I thought, until we got on the expressway and Shiho proved, at high speed, why she probably needs such an accessory.

Anyhow, we drove about an hour and half, making chitchat, via Luke. I asked them what they were shopping for – Shiho, a watch, and Ichan, new clothes. We also talked a little about music and work, all the while learning new words in each other’s languages.

When we go to Kagoshima, we made our way to a big mall connected to the station. And thus, six hours of shopping commenced.

The malls here are interesting in that, the stores aren’t really defined. Everything is in kind of an open space with vague partitions. It all sort of runs together. This mall, according to the girls was pretty good, but we would be going somewhere later for a better clothing selection – I could only hope.

Admittedly, I was not inspired to buy much, clothing-wise, at this mall. You see, the apparel here . . . how can I say this? Sucks? And I say this objectively. I think that empirically, anyone would find that when material, quality and style are all factored in, clothing in Japan leaves a lot to be desired. Not to mention that it’s expensive. Even if I had found something I sort of liked, I probably wouldn’t have made a purchase, because I could find something more my style at home, for a lot less.

So, I held out for mall number two. In the meantime, I did find a good Engrish t-shirt and actually almost bought a winter hat, deterred only by the fact that it was real fur and real pricey.

Sometime near the end of our stint at mall number one, Ichan approached me, and in her best English, asked, “Do you like Kentucky?”

“What?” I said, thinking, does she mean the state. And then quickly concluding that there’s no way she knows what Kentucky is, much less enough about it to inquire after my opinion.

She asked again as Luke came over, switching to Japanese so he could translate. Turns out she was asking me if I liked Kentucky Fried Chicken. I don’t, but I said I did, because it is too hard to say, “no,” in this culture.

And that is how I found myself eating lunch at KFC in Kagoshima, Japan. It wasn’t too bad, actually. But the portions were significantly smaller than in America. And as my teeny, tiny Japanese friends struggled to consume their bite-size sandwiches and small order of fries, I was begging Luke to go up and order more for me. In the end, I resorted to finishing Ichan’s fries.

After lunch we made our way to mall number two, where the supposedly better selection of clothes was waiting. That is, a better selection, if you spend most evenings lurking on dark street corners. And, I don’t say that to be mean at all. My Japanese friends are totally charming and adorable – not at all slutty. I guess they just pull off the style.

Needless to say I didn’t find anything here, though Shiho desperately tried to get my foot crammed into a pair of sparkly, emerald stilettos – bless her heart (they really wanted me to find something cool, I think).

The highlight of the day definitely came when Luke and I saw a very pregnant woman contemplating the purchase of a shirt that, in no uncertain terms, declared the wearer was a fellatio fanatic. It was pretty unbelievable.

About five or six hours passed before we called it a day. And a day it was. Luke, unaccustomed to shopping, was totally wiped. As was I. For Shiho and Ichan, it seemed par for the course. They were totally unfazed by that many hours spent browsing racks of the latest styles.

On the way home, we listened to Destiny’s Child’s greatest hits, and chatted a little more, but I think we were all tired of trying to communicate in another language. So, they gabbed in the front seat about who knows what, while Luke and I contemplated the repercussions of Barry Bonds’ upcoming home run.

Lowrider

It turns out the Lowrider knows no bounds. While the sight of this is common enough in Colorado, I never expected to see a shiny white truck, decorated with Mexican flags, glide by, just inches above the ground, in Miyakonojo. They don’t even have Mexican food here, and if you tried to order a margarita, the bartender would look at you like you had three heads.

Not to mention, it was captained by two Japanese dudes. Pioneers of this Mexican-American phenomenon, I guess, who might as well have been cruising the streets of L.A. or San Diego.

Thankfully, they were oblivious to the gaijin girl (me) chasing them down the street to get a picture. Not that they would have done anything about it anyway – the might drive the car, but the attitude is far behind.

Coastal Tour

Luke’s international driving permit is about to expire, and because he’s staying in Japan for another year, he has to get an actual Japanese driver’s license. Basically, he has to make like he’s 16 again and take driving lessons and a test. It’s a long, drawn out, inconvenient and expensive process for a foreigner to get licensed to drive in this country, requiring several trips to Miyazaki city and lots of yen. It sucks for Luke, but for me it means extra trips to the beach and the crazy Japanese shopping mall.

One such visit to Miyazaki city for this whole licensing debacle led to a trip to Mos Burger, “Fine Japanese Burger and Coffee.” (This so-called fast food actually involved a 20-minute wait at the window for our teriyaki burgers, fries and shakes, and yes they do screw up orders just as badly here as they do in the States.) After which we began a long drive down the Southern Coast of Kyushu. Luke’s Coastal Tour remains one of the best parts of my trip so far. We stopped at a secret swimming hole where we jumped off rocks into the ocean, and wandered around looking at tide pools. Then we found a shrine hidden deep in a valley next to a beautiful waterfall. And finally we visited Cape Toi, the home of a herd of wild horses. All along the way we saw monkeys hanging by the roadside and more hawks than I could count gliding just above.

I still can’t believe how tropical and exotic this part of Japan is. It’s such a contrast to the concrete Jungle that is Tokyo.
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On my next visit to Miyazaki city, Luke dropped me at the Starbucks while he attended a driving lesson. Yes, that’s right, Starbucks. Globalization finally reared its ugly head (first time this trip!), and I found myself drinking iced coffee under the all too familiar green sign. In my defense, I will say that I had a lot of work to do and not knowing the area, I decided this would be the most reliable option. In this part of Japan, there’s not exactly a thriving freelance culture, and therefore not many coffee shops catering to the needs of struggling writers and trust funders.

Anyhow, after I compromised my morals at Starbucks, we made a trip to the mall for ice cream and to shop for souvenirs and Engrish. No such luck, although it was kind of fun to see Japanese shopping mall culture. It’s basically the same as at home – families and teenagers killing time on a weekend afternoon.

This weekend I am going to the mall in Kagoshima to kick it with my new Japanese girlfriends. Luke, much to his chagrin, has to go along as my translator. I am really looking forward to it – should be interesting to experience an outing with the girls, Japanese style.