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On Sunday I cut my hair short and dyed it dark brown.
My students at my low level school pointed out the fact that my hair had changed when I walked into class on Wednesday. This began a lengthy time-wasting conversation about the original colour of my hair (close to blonde) and ended with Koshiya (possibly the Asian devil) saying that I wanted to become Japanese.
Japanese people are great, but I don't want to become one anytime soon...not to mention the fact that it's almost physically impossible to convert myself into a Japanese person. I saw what happened to Michael Jackson. A Race change is not for me.
Over the last few days I began to think about why Koshiya had said this, but in the end I concluded that he was probably just being an arrogant little shit. Despite this conclusion it mystified me that just because I had cut my hair and coloured it dark I had, in the eyes of an Asian person, turned Asian.
Now there are a number of western freaks here who are way more Asian than me. Sure, I might bow when someone gives me change...and I’ve been guilty of creating a shark fin with my right hand and using it to maneuver my way through a crowd whilst saying sumimasen/excuse me (extremely affective, and a popular action among old men especially when drunk and stumbling) but I don't read manga, dress in costume every weekend, pretend to know cool Japanese words, have tea ceremony alone in my house, or kneel unless I think I just saw a coin roll under the vending machine.
There are some real weirdos living in Japan who are utterly obsessed with Japanese culture, and if god hadn’t blessed them with translucent-albino skin, freckles and a mop of violent red hair, you could actually mistake them as being Japanese.
I love Japanese culture, but I can never be Japanese. For starters, I could never weigh 35 kilos and still look healthy. I can however appreciate its many layers and incorporate things I love about it into my life and personality without changing myself!
Besides, I really only cut my hair short and coloured it dark cause I secretly want to be Chinese.
I was trying to remember if I ever had a date on Valentines Day.
So I flicked all the way back to 19 when I had my one and only REAL valentines date.
Me and (lets call him Stan) had been dating for a few months. Things weren’t that great between us but for some reason we hung onto the relationship for way too long. Stan always tried to be romantic, but he never quite got it right. He used to steal me stuffed toys during his night-fill shifts at the local department store and rip flowers from the neighbours garden before he showed up at my door. Once he bought me some pet mice…which I quickly gave back to him.
For Valentines Day he insisted I wear a stupid blindfold for the entire 1 hour car ride to the secret destination he had planned. His car had no air-conditioning, so the windows were down the whole time. I eventually persuaded him to let me take the blindfold off. It was hot, my mascara was running and I’m pretty sure the neighbouring cars thought he’d abducted me or something.
Stan took me to the place where we had had our first date a popular Sydney beach. So popular, that everyone else had the same idea as Stan. It was Valentines Day, so it was crowded and full of sappy couples re-living their first dates.
We grabbed some fish and chips and stole a beachside table from a couple who’d gone to make out on the sand. Stan whipped out some tea-light candles he’d no doubt stolen from his mother’s cupboard or from work. It was windy so the candles kept blowing out. We ate our fish and chips in the dark.
The couple next to us began to fight. Suddenly the girl ripped off her engagement ring, threw it at her fiancé and stormed off in a huff. The guy didn’t follow her. Instead, he got down on his hands and knees in the dark and started looking for the engagement ring. Stan got up and helped look. I halfheartedly kicked my toe around in the sand but figured it was pretty much useless – the ring could be anywhere.
The man never did find the ring anywhere, but he and Stan ended up bonding. Our Valentines dinner was quickly forgotten in favor of a blokey conversation about moody women.
How romantic.
Is a 6 month friendship worth saving?
I rarely get homesick, but on a recent trip overseas it hit me really bad.
It was my birthday. Here I was in a remote Asian country with no phone, no email and no presents. Even though I was in the company of a great bunch of friends from Japan, I couldn’t talk to the people who I love the most.
The night wasn’t going to plan. Typhoon like rain had cancelled our party plans on another Island and my best friend had horrific diarrhea and was back at the bungalow asleep. I was left as the decision maker on one of the biggest nights of the year (I share my birthday with a big holiday). I didn’t want to be responsible for entertaining the other 7 people who kept throwing the “it’s your birthday, you decide” line at me.
About 6 months ago I formed a fast and close friendship with an American who had just moved to Japan. We bonded outside a bar toilet after a few drinks. I felt comfortable talking to him, it didn’t feel forced like some of the friendships I have formed in Japan do.
On my birthday night I confessed my homesickness to him. I trusted him, and felt that he of all people could understand where I was coming from. In a moment of loneliness, I expressed my wish to be with my friends and family from Australia. I thought he understood.
About a month after returning to Japan I still hadn’t heard from my friend. I knew he missed his boyfriend, and had just assumed he was loved up and shacked up with his man. It wasn’t until we both attended the same party that I realized he wasn’t talking to me and I had no idea why. After a few drinks, another friend dished the dirt. Apparently he was offended that I wasn’t happy with the company I was with on my birthday night and now he doesn’t want anything to do with me. A weak excuse if you ask me, and if that is the main reason then I can’t help feeling a little betrayed.
The thing is, this friend won’t talk to me about it, so I’m left confused and wondering what the hell actually DID happen.
I’ll be seeing him this weekend at a friend’s birthday party. Should I confront him or just leave things as they are? I miss the friendship, but it has been almost 2 months now.
We both knew our friendship could never last forever (we live in different countries) but is it worth fixing what we had…?
Sunday night I met some friends for a drink.
They’d spent the day drowning themselves at the Sapporo Beer Factory, had flown back to Tokyo and then somehow ended up at the Pub with a couple more beers in hand.
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tokyo
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Our white skin, long limbs, fiery red hair and bright clothing draw the Japanese eyes towards us. Intrigued by our differences they’ll offer a smile or shyly drop their gaze toward the ground. Occasionally a Japanese stranger will pick a few English words, stumble over them in an attempt at conversation. We’ll smile back encouragingly jumbling together English and Japanese to form a response.
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Yesterday I briefly mentioned that a junior high school student got stabbed near my town, but I was drugged and dopy from insecticide poisoning so I neglected to elaborate on the facts.
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I think I’ve been poisoned.
Aching muscles, blurred vision, headaches, dizziness all symptoms of poisoning, right?
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I have big feet.
Size 10, Australian.
Lifes hard for us size 10ers
I used to hate shopping for school shoes.
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Comment by Lex
on White Herons
What do you mean?
There is a dance of the heron called Shirasagi no mai which has been done every year since the 17th century.
Most famously at Asakusa. The costumes are beautiful.