Tokyo nights

Oh, the irony!

For those who live in Japan, or are in the know when it comes to insulting remarks in Japan, let it be known that there is a brand of shoes called "Yellow Cab."

I'll just leave you with a link so you can snigger at the brand yourself. Click here to see some of their wares.

The shoes are trashy and tasteless. Intentional, or funny coincidence?

Puzzled

So now that I've renewed the lease on my apartment (that echoing sound you hear is my empty wallet), I've decided to invest a bit in making my apartment more livable. My first order of business is to get rid of my old sofa/day bed since sleeping on that thing gives me chronic back pain.

Herein lines my dilemma; I dunno how to get that fucker downstairs to the garbage room of my building.

When I first got the sofa, it took two heaving, sweating men from kuroneko to lug it inside my door. It's so heavy that just sliding it over about 20 cm requires effort. It's also a two seater, so it's too big for me to carry out the door anyways, regardless of it's weight.

How do I get the damn thing down to the garbage room?

I checked with the garbage website for my ward and they will not pick up large garbage at your home unless you're a senior or disabled in some way. All my male Japanese friends are smaller or frailer than I am, so the weight of the sofa might snap them like dry sticks. 

Recycle shops won't take it because Mochi's claws of doom have done their work on both front ends.

The only thing I could think of was to inquire with a benriya-san (a kind of handyman service in Japan that does almost anything). I just got a quote from one of them back today and it was 9000 yen just to bring the sofa downstairs. Nine...thousand...yen. WTF? For that price I could buy a cheap new sofa! I think it shouldn't cost more than 4000 to 5000 since I'm not asking them to take it away and throw it out for me!

Anyone who lives in Japan, feel free to give me suggestions on how to rid myself of this inconvenient piece of furniture!

Racism

Short post 'cuz I have a virus trying to rape my immune system as I type this.

I was sitting in my office today going through the phone book-sized March publication of Suumo magazine (real estate listings) and bemoaning the hard time foreigners face finding a place to live in Japan with or without guarantors. I went on a wee tirade about the racism in Japan, only to be met by my second favorite coworker's shocked response, "There's no racism in Japan!'

Okay all of you foreigners living in Japan, you may go laugh now. I'll wait right here.

Done?

Right, back to the story!

So I turn around to him and say, "How can you say that? Do you know how hard it is to get a cell phone if you're foreign? An apartment? A credit card?" To which he replied, "I know. A friend of mine is Chinese and he had a terrible time getting an apartment." See, to me this would illustrate my point, but he just didn't get it. "Foreigners,"he continued innocently, "are  kind of like pets. Not many buildings want them. That's not racism, that's just the preference of the landlords."

I was bouncing in my chair and spitting by this point. "Don't you see that it's racism? It's like foreigners are considered to be undesirable animals! Like because we're foreign we'll damage the apartment! They expect us to piss on the floor and scratch up the walls! Don't you see how denigrating that is?!? What are we, cockroaches? And treating us different from Japanese people may not be violent, but it's still a form of racism! Denying services to a racial group, imprisoning them without evidence or access to a lawyer, harassment, the inability to vote unless we give up our citizenship; all that is RACISM!" I went off on this topic for quite a while, as you do. The lack of large, affordable housing for foreigners on or near the Yamanote line may have added a little fuel to the fire.

Eventually, to stem the flow of wrath coming his way, he turned to me and said, "I guess you're right. Japanese people don't understand what racism really means, so they don't realize they're doing it. We usually think it means violence towards another racial group, but it can be more subtle than that."  YES! YES! Now if only every other Japanese person on this island could have the same breakthrough! Then I could get my fucking Visa and Mastercard applications approved and move into that sweet 20 mat apartment near Tokyo station!

Go wrath! Changing one Japanese person's mind at a time! Put me on national TV and I"ll browbeat the nation!

Woher...spazieren sie?

The only foreign language that matters is English, didn't you know? That's what JR's train staff seems to think. Anyone who can't speak English or Japanese is a waste of time and should be brushed off and gotten rid of (unless we're running a bid to host the Olympics! Then we love all people! Multiculturalism, yah!).

Seems harsh, but this was exactly the kind of attitude I witnessed on Sunday when I was coming back from my extravagant cheese shopping (a post on my food blog is soon to come). This poor foreign woman with a back pack was trying to ask directions somewhere from the train staff. They kept shrugging their shoulders and making shooing motions at her to move away from the ticket window. I was really pissed off by their behavior. Cops in Japan are notorious for this whole "fuck off it's too challenging to help you" bit, too.

Remembering what it was like when I first came to Tokyo, I decided to intervene and help the woman. She was standing in front of the big area map in the station with a very upset look on her face. I approached with a smile and asked if she was okay. In perfect English with no accent, she responded, "I don't speak English." Fair enough. After two long blinks (my way of processing surprising or unpleasant information), we established she spoke German. Bugger, bugger! Why couldn't it be one of the foreign languages I still speak well? Why not French or Spanish? Okay, no need to panic! I took two years of German in University.....6 years ago. I was reading Goethe in the original language...with a dictionary. I wrote a huge thesis on Faust in German...with a little help from Babelfish. I can give simple directions!

It took us less than 3 minutes of conversation to establish that I now speak about as much German as I do Greek. I could understand exactly where she wanted to go, yet couldn't find the words to explain how to get there. I couldn't even remember how to say right or left and some bits came out in Japanese. This travesty in several languages went something like this:

"Wir sind hier...und du, woher gehen sie? Nach Asakusa-bashi? Spazieren?!?..um, Kottotori-dori, ano Kottotori strasse...muss...zu ....gehen. Hai. Es ist sehr....tooi yo. Uh, *nervous laugh* Es ist besser....um...densha...er, le, zie, der tren aus gehen. No, the TRAIN. TRAIN. Ja, choo choo? Locomotiv? "

I was right pissed at myself by this point because I'd let my German deteriorate. Plus, her map didn't show anything past Iriya station. We were closer to Kita Senju, so fat lot of good the map did us. I wasn't sure how to get her back down to Asakusa-bashi without having her backtrack all the way to Iriya. I tried to ask one of the train staff to give me a hand, but when they saw another foreign face, they assumed I was with the woman from " one of the unpopular countries that don't speak English" and they refused to assist me.

Finally, I got the woman to understand that rather than spend the next hour and some change walking around lost, she should just hop on the Hibiya line and then take the train from Akihabara to Asakusa-bashi. She could be there in about 10 minutes. She gave me a dubious look, thanked me in German (I replied in Japanese by accident) and then disappeared off into the world.

Tokyo is confusing until you've gotten lost here enough times.

I was going to rant on how the xenophobic people of Japan need to get their act together and welcome foreigners more if they want a strong economy and birth rate but...I can't be arsed right now. It's snowing!

MySpace Eikaiwa?

Before Facebook was a household name, I admit that I made a MySpace page back in the day. I made the MySpace page when I moved out to Fukushima, because I craved contact with people who were not other English teachers (my views on the male English teacher in Japan are well documented on this site).

I didn't use it all that much, but over time managed to build up a fairly big list of friends. Then the ex and his stalker came along, and I deleted my account. I did start up another one eventually, but just found it so boring I couldn't be bothered to update it much. I mean, MySpace can't hold a candle to the FarmVille application, right?

To be fair, I have met some nice people in Japan through MySpace that have become good friends. We go for dinner, go to clubs, watch concerts, etc. It's pretty nice. BUT there is a dangerous animal on MySpace that you have to be careful of when you start adding Japanese people to your friends list. This organism preys on foreign people in the city with only one objective in mind: free English lessons.

It will start out very innocently, of course. You will connect on MySpace somehow (you search them, they search you, a friend recommends them, etc.) and you send a few emails. At first it's all generosity on their part, with invitations to show you around the city, introduce you to new places you haven't seen before, etc. Excited and touched to finally break through the exclusive clique that is Japanese society, you agree. Remember you are just looking for friends, not a relationship.

Before accepting any of these invitations you should have the following:

1) Your excuse to leave early. My favorite is to have a friend call me with an "emergency" or "forgotten plans"

2) Your cell phone. Otherwise #1 will be useless.

3) Your escape route, complete with train schedules. Otherwise you may be trapped in whatever place they choose to bring you.

If you're really lucky, you'll get the hybrid. This is an organism that not only wants to practice their English with you for free, but is also willing to sleep with you, should they be lucky enough to get you inebriated.

Let me give you a case study to further illustrate my point:

Girl A (who in no way resembles me. *cough* ) unwittingly met a hybrid on MySpace. On the surface he seemed friendly and interesting, if somewhat eccentric, and she agreed to go out for karaoke. Now, Girl A is no fool, and she chose a very public area for their meeting. She also had prepared all 3 suggestions on the list above, and therefore considered herself safe enough. They met in Shibuya (his choice, she hates the Hachiko meeting place with a passion), and they wandered off to their destination.

Only 5 minutes into their night out, Girl A realized she'd made a mistake of epic proportions. Eccentric did not even begin to cover the behavior of the hybrid, as he sang with more passion than necessary, stamping his foot on the floor (off the beat, no less) for emphasis during emotional parts of the lyrics. He also had a tendency to sing with his eyes closed, throw his head back, and was the most off key singer she'd ever had the misfortune to cross. Trying not to giggle, Girl A downed as many tequila sunrises as she could during their two hour stay and sent hilarious play by play texts of the hybrid's antics to her friends on her cellphone.

When they exited Karaoke, Girl A wanted to escape, but tenacity is the hybrid's most outstanding feature. He suggested an Okinawan pub up the road, coaxing Girl A with tales of delicious island cuisine and Orion beer. Within 5 minutes of sitting down, the hybrid laid out the first part of his agenda: He wanted to improve his English. What does he suggest? Why nothing but a STUDY SCHEDULE that Girl A could partake in to teach him English. During and after the Soki Soba and Goya Champuru, the hybrid continued to suggest study aids he would like Girl A to bring and the "benefits" (wink, wink) that she could enjoy if she helped with said studying. Girl A never ate so fast to get out of a restaurant in her life.

After leaving the bar, the hybrid changed tactics and went into phase two of his agenda: sleeping with a foreigner. Pathetic attempts to grab Girl A's sympathy ("I came here from Yokohama. There's no more trains, and I'll be stuck here overnight") were put into play with little effect. When the whole "let's get naked in a love hotel, we're not far from the hill" ploy failed to gain him access to Girl A's panties, he tried to get her to take him home to her apartment.

At this point, Girl A was feeling tired, disillusioned, and a fiery wrath backed up by delicious tequila. She looked him straight in the eye and told him to fuck off. It's a crude, but effective way of getting rid of the hybrid. She left him to find his own place to stay for the night/way home and returned to her apartment in a huff. Though she was tired and somewhat drunk, she also took the time to block his ass from her MySpace page.

The story should end here, but didn't I say hybrids are tenacious? Soon the hybrid discovered one of Girl A's friends on MySpace and began using that person as a method to get information on Girl A. He also kept changing his cell phone email so that he could bombard her with text messages even after she blocked him. Weary of his ways, Girl A finally had her then boyfriend call up the hybrid and threaten him with bodily violence if the hybrid did not leave his woman alone. And there ends our story.

The moral of this story is that MySpace is no longer just the home of angsty tweens desperate for strangers' approval through photo comments or people from third world countries looking for VISAS by marrying foreigners. It is now home to several types of predators that are on the lookout for innocent whiteys in Japan. Men are as vulnerable as women, although I believe men encounter more hybrids than women do. Use MySpace at your own peril!

Lights, camera, action!

When you're a teacher in Japan, you are essentially a product to be marketed. You are a money maker, a PR Patsy, a sweetner, if you will, to draw in those money making bees (i.e. students or parents of students). This means that when your school is doing a PR drive to bring in new students, you might be "volunteered" to take one for the team and be in a commercial. You will end up with your face on the billboards of train stations, in newspapers and pamphlets, on websites, and on TV (unless you're not photogenic. Ugly teachers are hidden away until students have already payed their non-refundable membership fees).

This seems wrong, but in Japan your public image is everything. This is why if your school has only a surplus of ugly teachers, you should contact modeling agencies and hire foreigners for the day to pose as your staff. The professional photographers will take pictures of the models sitting in the school with "students", and make up a bunch of posters and pamphlets. If you could afford premium models, you're all set! The handsome young men on your website will attract horny, unfulfilled housewives who control their husband's money, and who think they might like to learn English as a hobby. Not REALLY learn it, and like study or anything, just sit around repeating the good looking teacher's words and giggling. It's a social thing! Get your girlfriends together and oggle a foreign man up close for an hour a week! It's cheaper than a host club! You can go for coffee after and discuss how young and handsome he is, in Japanese!

Some people don't give a shit about being used for PR and just do whatever is asked of them. I, on the other hand, prefer to avoid having my picture taken at any cost. But when you're trying to make sure you're employed next year, and your boss is holding your new contract hostage until you do his bidding, it's funny how your vocal damnation of whoring out teachers for profit can change. Next thing you know, you're smiling uncomfortably and making stilted small talk with a blank student in front of a camera crew during your lunch hour.

Yesterday afternoon I was warned by my coworker that she and I had been chosen to appear in the promotional video of our school (the school wasn't going to tell me until right before the shoot, so I wouldn't run away. Sneaky bastards). Lucky us. Our mission was to make small talk with students on camera to show how wonderful our English program is. Let's get one thing straight about my ghetto school right now; despite several kinds of English classes they have to take (reading, writing, conversation, grammar, etc.), some of our kids still can't spell "study" by the time they're 3rd years. We aren't exactly running a world class second language program here, and our kids aren't exactly eager, bright eyed waifs starving for knowledge. I wasn't sure how the director was going to work magic and fool people into thinking our school is the next Waseda Jitsugyo.

We gathered in a classroom to begin filming at exactly 12:45. The schedule promised that they only needed a few seconds of film and that we would be done by 1 p.m. Falser words were never spoken. The director of this fuckery was a perfectionist who took it all way too seriously. I hate perfectionists. It's  probably because I'm so far from being a perfectionist myself. If it's done half-assed, who cares? It's done! That's my motto! I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare with Joaquin Phoenix, Mariah Carey and Tyra Banks. We had to repeat our pathetic dialogues several times so that the director could get the cameraman to move around and film us from different angles. We also had to try different locations in the classroom. My smile began to slip after the seventh take and I could feel my bitch face was just itching to make a guest appearance.

The chosen students were, to be frank, not the brightest crayons in the box. Most of them were from the athlete classes and half of them look at books like they're alien artifacts. We do have a few smart kids in our advance classes, but none of them were chosen. I asked them simple questions, the kids looked at me blankly. I prodded them, they gave a completely wrong answer. I smiled, they looked desperate. This is how our lunch hour went. The director had us redo several takes because the kids weren't facing the camera or were refusing to answer my questions. Eventually I broke down and asked if we couldn't speak in Japanese, or at least allow me to help them in Japanese since they were so nervous and uncomfortable. I was given the most emphatic NO and told the whole point was to show the kids "having fun speaking in English." I shrugged and struggled on.

After going through the multitude of camera angles (that would do the Wachowskis proud), and going over our dialogue several times, I was allowed to escape about 40 minutes after taping had begun. 10 minutes to eat my lunch, get my class materials ready and hit the bathroom before next class! Alright!  As I was walking out the door, I asked the director if the taped conversations were okay, considering the broken English of the students. His reply was, "Oh, don't worry about that. We're going to dub a speech by the Principal over your dialogue, so no one will hear the English anyways. It's not important"

I am still enveloped in a rosy cloud of pride that I didn't stoop to violence. It was a near thing I tell you.

Traditions

Since my first January in Japan, I visit a few shrines every year during the new year's holiday. Part of my resolution this year was to get more exercise, so I decided to walk all the way around the northern part of Taito ward (or at least it felt like it), walking to four shrines and two temples I like.

The first one I visited was 鷲神社　（おおとりじんじゃ）. Before you bitch about my kanji; yes, that is the way it's written, and yes, I know that it's read as washi and not ootori. Take that up with the shrine, cuz that's how they romanized it. *shrugs*

 

Sorry about the shot. It's right near the street, so the only way I could get a great shot would be from across the street with zoom and no traffic.

Anyways, I discovered this little gem of a shrine when I was trying to walk to Asakusa with the ex in January of 2009. We knew we were on the right track because the traffic signs said Asakusa, but we still had to rely on GPS to find it. On the way, we stumbled across this wonderful place. They have the cutest love charms you have ever seen. They come with your love fortune inside. I think I posted one last year, but here's my new one:

Unfortunately, it was not a good fortune like last year. I got 末吉. Basically, that's what some temples give you at new year instead of 凶, which is the worst fortune you can get. Boo. It DID say that my 赤い糸の相手 [fated person. Japanese people believe soul mates or perfect partners are joined by a piece of red string tied to their fingers. We can't see it, but it joins two people meant to be together] was very close to me. It also suggested I date either someone from Tohoku (one of my coworkers I have a crush on is from Akita!) or someone from the south (drunk love confession guy #1 is from Okinawa). Under 縁談 (marriage proposals) it said if I show any hesitation, I should reject the person asking. lol.

That was a specific omikuji for love, so I decided to get a regular one, too. I got it at another temple closer to Ueno station on Asakusa dori. This shrine was a new discovery for me! I must have walked by it before, but it's down a little side street. I wouldn't have noticed it if people hadn't been heading that way. It's called 下谷神社 (shitaya jinja) and is my new favorite place! Why, you ask? Because they have PET OMAMORI! Omamori are good luck charms that you can buy at temples. They usually come in a brocade bag (which you shouldn't open) and can be general good luck, or specific things like traffic safety, passing exams, etc. Of course, I got one for Mochi! He is wearing it as I type! Very cute! It's made of chirimen silk.

 

A closer view of the charm:

Too cute, right?

As for my regular fortune, it was also pretty spot on. Luckily, even though my love luck isn't so good, I got 中吉 (medium happiness) again this year. The fortune told me to stop worrying over the misfortunes of my family (my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer right before Christmas) and to leave things up to heaven. Constant worrying will only cause me pain and won't be productive. Be patient, and calm, and things will get better. Too true. Sage advice. 

I don't know if I believe in them, but it's always fun to get my fortune and compare notes with my friends. The discovery of the pet good luck charms was also a bright spot in the day along with walking 10,000 steps!

Lazy bastards

I did not make it to the bank on time today. I had good reason, as I was nursing a wine hangover from my birthday yesterday. This means that until January 4th, I have to survive on a little over a hundred bucks (all I have left in cash after said birthday). My savings account is not accessible by ATM, so I'm in trouble. No partying or buying much of anything (except convenience store dinners) for just under a week. Bugger.

I realize that January 1st to 3rd are national holidays, but how can they be closed on the 31st?!?! Even if the bank was just open in the morning, it'd help a lot of people. Banks here already have the worst hours, closing at 3 p.m. on weekdays and not open on weekends. Bank tellers in Japan are lazy bastards. How do I get a job in a bank here?

To bush or not to bush

This post may seem a little crass so for those not into such kind of talk, please move on.

I had a few girlfriends over two weeks ago for a visit (the official statement being that it was to see me, but we all knew they were there to play with the cute cat) and the conversation suddenly veered south off into the realms of the gutter.

Not that I minded.

Not in the least. My mind lives there a good part of the time anyways.

Not that that surprises most of you, but for those precious few who might still think otherwise, I wanted to clear that up.

Anyways, what kind of shocked me were the people who brought up the topic. These two lovely ladies and I have never had the kind of friendship (until now) that turned to such vulgar conversation, so I was surprised our relationship was heading into those waters.

Not that it bothered me, mind you.

Not in the least. I could talk about such things forever. Well, not forever. Eventually even I would get tired of it. I think.

I answered any questions they asked, but was surprised when it seemed that as the person with the most experience (no, I am not that kind of girl. The other two girls led a very sheltered life), somehow I was becoming the sexpert of the group. WHAT?!? Suddenly I had a flash of Sue Johanson and the Sunday Night Sex Show (Okay, I need to go on a small tangent here to talk about Sue Johanson for a second. Sue Johanson is a very popular sex educator with shows in the states, Canada, Brazil, Israel and 20 european countries. I thought she was the coolest little old granny to ever pick up a dildo until I had the misfortune of covering her talk at a community college back when I was doing the journalism thing. She smashed my idealistic image of her when she turned out to be a total cunt. She freaked on a fellow journalist about something and totally deserved the title of Queen Bitch. My world was shattered and I will never trust another granny peddling sex advice).

Anyfameturnspeopleintotyrants, having been the only girl out of the three of us to have slept with a Japanese man, I was brought to the witness stand to give a statement clearing up the many myths surrounding ...Japanese equipment.

Now, while I may have seen a few in my day, I haven't sampled a broad enough cross section of the population to have a rock hard argument (pun intended) on what's true for the group as a whole. All I could offer was an educated guess as to the accuracy of some claims.

While all the speculation and theory was flying around the room, we somehow got onto the topic of bushes. Namely that Japanese people as a whole seem to prefer it out and proud. This of course, goes against the grain of anyone who was raised or spent a significant amount of time in North America. We do not like it out and proud. We seem to prefer it beaten, on the run, or better yet, non-existent (thanks to some brilliant techniques imported from Brazil).

This bush effect goes both ways in the gender stakes and during my many, many hot springs visits I have witnessed some bushes that could be nominated for the guinness book of world records. You'd think the girls were wearing furry "t-backs" as they call thongs here. (Am I the only one who has misread "T-backs" in katakana as tea bags and then got all weird because they were advertising men's thongs? Only me? Okay, where was I? Ah, yes, the bushing.) Now, these furry ladies weren't limited to your typical onsen grannies, but also included young women. Fashionable young women who might be the toast of the town in Shibuya or Omotesando. I was shocked to the core. Surely these girls had seen enough episodes of Sex and the City to know that it is verboten to be running around with the equivalent of hairy DIY underwear?

A few muttered conversations with foreign male coworkers under cover in crowded Japanese pubs let me know that things weren't much better on the other side of the partition. "It was like a walnut, no a hazelnut, sticking out of a huge bush." said one shell-shocked Canadian. "The bush was so big I couldn't see anything at all. From the waist down it could have been a girl with John Cleese legs," said an amazed American.

I consulted my Japanese girlfriends to get the lowdown. They were all shocked that I wanted to bushwhack nature's nether garden. "Why would you do that?" asked my friend A aghast. The ex also had similar views on messing with what God gave me. "Why would you wax or trim? When it grows back it's more coarse and prickles. Soft and natural is best."

While I have slowly been adapting over the years to Japan's different culture, I don't think there will ever be a time when my protests to the bushes majoricus of Japan will roll over and die. While I think every woman should be in charge of her own garden, there are certain aesthetic standards that should be the norm (just as there is an acceptable length for the grass on your front lawn).

Maybe Japan should do public service announcements about it on the trains. It would certainly be more greatly appreciated and enrich more lives than this does:

Drunken hijinks

The company party

Yes, in Japan company drinking parties are an absolute must. No worker in Japan can truly bond with his coworkers without that all important social lubricant known as alcohol.

I thought being an educational company, my workplace wouldn't bother with all that. Ah, how naive I was.

When I first hear about it, I was thinking about skipping the party since it was on a Friday night and I have better things to do with my time than sit with people I see in the office all day. My other foreign coworker promised to go if I went, and frankly the mention of free alcohol and food ended up being too good to resist, so I found myself signing up.

The meeting place was a convention hall that often does weddings. We were to assemble by 5:30 as the party would start promptly by 6 p.m. Always one to spot an opening to leave work early, I convinced my coworker to leave with me at 4 so that we would have about an hour to hang around and drink coffee at Starbucks before the start time of the party. We arrived promptly at 5:30 and were asked to draw a piece of paper from a box. Naively thinking it was for some kind of prize draw, I happily complied. Then I found out it was for my seat at the tables. I was not amused. While the people who work in my office with me are truly wonderful people, the same cannot be said for the surrounding offices. All I needed was to end up at the same table as my supervisor or the principal.

Once people started to trickle in I noticed that a lot of them weren't employees at our school. Who were these people and why did I have to sit next to them? Turns out our company invited not only staff from our high school, but also people from the several juku (cram schools) they own and the kindergarten they just bought out. Since our school is adding on a junior high school next year (I am so outta there before that!) all they need now is an elementary school and they will have a full elevator school system (you can keep moving up through your education without sitting entrance exams). The top brass of the company were also in attendance, sitting at the same table as the principal.

Once we were all in, the doors were shut. Kinda made me feel like we weren't allowed to escape. This feeling was reinforced when the principal began his extremely long speech. Then the juku principals were all introduced, and the Encho (principal) of the kindergarten, then all 13 of the teachers from the kindergarten (along with their bios, hobbies and what kind of children they were). It was the longest 30 minutes of my life.

Eventually we were allowed to eat and food was wheeled out for us. Pretty nice fare actually, with a nice fish dish, meat filled dumplings, salads, potato gratin, cake, etc. We also received a few of the big bottles of beer and oolong tea. Then the drinking began...

Damn. While I will never condone the rampant alcoholism of Japan, I can sort of understand why some salary-men get into such bad condition that they can't get home on their own. Every time I took a sip from my glass of beer, another staff member showed up at my table to fill it up. It's this weird custom that if you are a new member of the company (kouhai - or junior, if you like), you have to pour beer for all the senior staff. Even I had to get up a few times and pour the beer around. I knew that at least once during the evening I had to pour for the principal of the school, but every time I swooped by his table, another enterprising staff member had beat me to the punch and filled his glass.

I spent so long trying to get my chance to pour beer for the principal that my fish became a cold, congealed mass, my potato gratin was eaten by another person, and my cake given away. All in all, I had two bites of salad and one small dumpling the whole night. Oh, and about 2 tall bottles of beer thanks to the never ending beer pouring parade. By the end of the night, I was a swaying, word slurring mess.

Towards the end of the dinner, after glad handing and pouring my little heart out, I did get to top up the already full glasses of the principals (my own school's and the kindergarten's). My duty fulfilled, I went back to my seat with a sigh of relief just in time for the karaoke to start. I had been warned that the principal was a fan of Enka (kind of like Japanese blues) and sure enough, he stumbled up on stage and began to sing with the help of one of the science teachers.

After about another 30 minutes, the first party was over and we were free to escape. The second party was going to be at a karaoke place but no one was under obligation to go. As for me, being the karaoke freak that I am, I got my other foreign coworker in a headlock and demanded he accompany me for at least one hour. We all stumbled the two blocks down to the karaoke place through a maze of hostess bars (losing a few teachers on the way, casualties of the seductive lure of huge hair and too much make up).

Within the first half of Karaoke, I witnessed the principal wearing a cushion cover on his head, singing on the table, the English teacher confirming my gaydar by not only singing a Morning Musume song, but dancing the choreography as well, and the strict, scary music teacher boogieing out to some country song while kicking like some Russian Cossack dancer. It was, in short, hilarious.

After screaming a few songs with the staff, cheering on the drunken Enka antics of the brass, and trying to no avail to find and sing with my teacher crush, I gave it up for the night and stumbled out into the rain.

Drunk and disoriented (the company party was in a city I have never stopped in before), I ended up in a maze of hostess bars and seedy snack pubs. I stumbled around for a good ten minutes or so before I ended up asking for directions. Seems that in our drunken stupor, the whole group of us ended up walking around in circles to get to the karaoke place when it was just a straight walk from the event hall. The station was literally a two minute walk in a straight line on the same street.

It was an interesting party, but the drunken hijinks and food don't make up for the boring speeches and inability to get through a meal. I don't think I'll go to the next one.