September 10, 2010

I have figured out the Japanese High School male population and their activity affiliation:

Tan + Athletic build + Self-satisfied = Baseball

Pale + Athletic build + Self-satisfied = Basketball

Tan + Athletic build + Timid = Tennis

Pale + Scrawny + Self-satisfied = Table tennis/Ping-pong

Tan + Scrawny + Timid = Marching Band

Pale + Scrawny + Timid = Art Club

* Few exceptions
* There are no fat Japanese boys. They are either skinny with muscles, or sticks.

WHERE DO I FIT IN!!???


September 12, 2010

Yesterday afternoon, after a lovely skype date with Bailey Glazer and Amy Murray, I embarked on a long and treacherous exploration of biking to the Izumo mall in search for stargazing/cocktail attire. Now, I had been to the “you me” mall once before, but it had been moneyless and only for a brief time between classes. My exploration began by scouting out the route. This entails climbing on the 3rd floor roof of my house and locating the massive hot-pink cube that rests on the 4th floor roof of the “you me” mall. It wasn’t hard to spot, but getting there once on ground level proved to be more of a nuisance.

This mall is nothing like any other mall I’ve seen. There is a Wal-Mart sized grocery store on only half of the first floor, and the stores are not enclosed by walls, nor do they have official entrances. They are more just open spaces outlined by the walkways. Each of these stores plays music very loudly, and since they are all open, walking into the mall is like walking through the fairgrounds—hundreds of attractions constantly competing for your attention. The first artists I recognized playing were Motion City Soundtrack and Joanna Newsom. Katy Perry is also pretty prevalent. I probably paced each story of the mall about 4 times before actually finding where I wanted to go. Buying things in Japan hasn’t been much trouble thus far. Employees are overly courteous, very much unlike the ones I’m used to who seem too absorbed in their own self-interests to even meet your glare. When you walk into a Japanese store, an employee will immediately thank you just for considering the store and offer any help you might need. When you feel the need to try something on, you barely have the time to lift your head in search for the fitting room before someone is at your side, taking your clothes and loading you with more gratitude. Of course, you remove your shoes before entering the fitting room, and there are even face covers provided which you slip on in case…actually I don’t really know why you would want to cover your face when trying on clothes—maybe to keep your makeup flawless or something. I wore one for the thrill of putting a translucent bag over my head. When you are ready to make your purchase, the staff will usually give a slight bow and further thanks upon your approach to the counter. To pay, you generally put your yen or credit card in the money tray, which is a definite companion to every register in Japan. The register member will always hand your card back with two hands. Always. And will probably give another slight bow as well.

I had never had trouble making a purchase in Japan until my last one yesterday evening. For some reason, there was a question about my card that could neither be delivered nor received with my little knowledge of Japanese and the staff’s completely absent knowledge of English. After what seemed forever of both parties embarrassingly apologizing for the communication troubles, the customer in line behind offered to do her best to translate.
*Note: The difference between Americans and Japanese—While an American employee would be clearly aggravated by a foreigner’s attempt to buy something without speaking the native language, a Japanese employee embarrassingly regrets that he/she does not know the foreign language, and relieves the situation with excessive apologies.

Final result: Employees speaks to the customer/translator behind me for a good 15 seconds, passing on what she means to ask me. Customer/translator looks at me, points to the card, and says, “One, or two?” I look around at each of the staff members, eagerly leaning over the counter and hopefully awaiting a clear answer. Still no trace of what subject is being numerically questioned, I say one. Thankfully, the moment I respond, simultaneous sighs of relief break from each participant, and the transaction is finally complete. I don’t think I will ever know the significance of the bizarre things that were never communicated at that store.

Aiko just tried to teach me to make an Origami crane. I failed, but followed it with a tadpole, which I am quite fond of.