This Week On The Impulse Purchase Rack

Next to the register at the local drug store...

Blue Means Go

Traffic lights here have the same familiar three colors I have seen my entire life - red, yellow and green. But in Japan, they call the green light "blue."
Sure, a rose is a rose... but that light ain't blue.

Desperately Missing English

Not too long ago on a Friday I stopped in at the local grocery store to pick up a carton of milk, since I thought I would want to make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast the following morning.
Not knowing any kanji, I walked to the milk section, grabbed a carton and went home.
The next morning, as planned, I made the pancakes. I noticed the batter was a little runnier than usual, and thought to taste one of the pancakes. It tasted just fine, and with freshly melted chocolate in my mouth I poured myself a glass of the milk I bought and had used in the pancake batter.
I took a giant swig to quench my thirst but immediately recoiled. What I drank was probably the most rancid thing to ever cross my lips. I spit it out immediately (half in the sink, half on the floor) and once I stopped gagging, I checked the expiration date on the milk. Still had a week to spare.
"What the fuck?" I asked aloud, not quite sure who I was asking, but desperately hoping someone would provide an answer to the cause of that foul, borderline noxious taste still lingering on my lips.
I grabbed the carton searching for an answer. After poring over the carton, I spotted some small English writing in a corner, and could not believe that I had actually bought "Hokkaido Drink Yogurt." I let out a series of expletives for anyone within a three block radius to hear and not understand.

As much fun as I have on a daily basis being able to speak in very inappropriate ways (today two 6-year old students went on about having two basketballs, and I asked them if they like playing with their balls), the other side of that coin is not being able to read signs on trains, ask salespeople in stores to compare two similar products, or understand vital containers in the supermarket.

The ups and downs of not speaking the local language continue...

Labu-labu

It's Valentine's Day.

Awesome.

No, really, it's awesome. Japan has a nice way of celebrating it, for those of my gender. Men do nothing. Women give men chocolate on the 14th of February. Men's only responsibility is to eat it. What a great day.

There is White Day here, which comes in 28 days (March 14th) in which the men are supposed to reciprocate. Part of me thinks the next 4 weeks is a great time for guys to break up with girls. Take your chocolate and run for the hills.

Flowers, nice dinners, cards, and the other V-Day paraphernalia make an appearance here too, but a much more muted one than in the States.

I recently have loved sharing a conversation I had with a high school gym teacher of mine, Mr. Pink, when I was a junior.
"Mr. Pink, doing anything special for your wife on Valentine's Day?"
"Nope."
"No?"
"No, we don't do anything on the 14th."
"Really?"
"We prefer the 15th."
"Why?"
"Well, roses and chocolates are a third of the price, and we can get a table at any restaurant in town. It's great."

And the path of least resistance wins again.

Pu-rla-ne-to A-su

I was watching TV in the dining room of the hotel we stayed at last weekend, and a nature show was on. When the katakana "pu-rla-ne-to a-su" came on, I started to laugh. Very hard.
I was sitting with a Japanese friend and she asked what was funny. I wrote down the katakana (by now it was no longer on the screen), and asked her to read it.
"Prla-ne-to a-s."
"Right."
"Planet Earth, right?"
"Right. What's funny about that?"
"It also says 'Planet Ass.'"
Not knowing the definition of "ass," I explained it to her, as I pictured a giant pink rear end floating through space.
By far, the best katakana-ization of any English yet.

Deibido-sensei, daijoubu?

asks the heart-broken eyes of 3 year olds this past Monday as I walked into class with my sling. ("are you okay?")

The kids' reactions to my injury has been pretty interesting.

For a vast majority of them, I am this invincible being. I am bigger and stronger than most anyone they know. I pick them up with ease, toss them around like rag-dolls, and take their strongest punches, high-fives (well, actually, low-low-fives) and headbutts with a smile. As I am always smiling, and constantly entertaining, their worlds came crashing down as they realized that, yes, even Superman can be harmed. Their emotions were a mix of heartbreak, fear, and wariness as we explained they were not to touch my injured arm.

Others - who have viewed me with fear since Day 1, and have never strayed from that vantage point, have suddenly reconsidered. Hey, maybe he isn't so scary after all. He can be hurt! They are suddenly a lot more open to me.

As many of the students ask me what happened, I answer them in almost-correct Japanese (this is the longest string of Japanese I have ever uttered). As most American 5-year olds don't know "dislocation" at their age, their Japanese counterparts don't know the Japanese word for it ("dakkyu"). I definitely get a small kick out of teaching them a word Japanese. My explanation of the term, however, has brought many an adult to laughter. Roughly translated, it's, "My shoulder bones came apart, then were put back together, but now they really hurt."

But I can't let the myth of Supa-Deibido die. Instead of telling the kids it was my first day ever on a board, they all believe I was doing a 360 jump with a backflip and just missed the landing. "Coooooolll!!!" they exclaim. After explaining this to one girl, she couldn't wait to answer another student's question to me asking me what happened. Super-David lives on.

What do you think this is?

When watching TV the other day, I came across the funniest katakana-ization of any English I have seen.

pu-rla-ne-to a-su

Su-po-tsu, Pa-to 2

I almost titled this post something along the lines of "Guess what! I interacted with a foreigner!"

In my previous post, I neglected to mention a conversation I had with Naoya not too long ago. One of my soccer teammates was unnecessarily complimenting my ability after a game in which I played quite poorly. When I asked Naoya later why the guy went on as he did, Naoya explained to me that this guy felt "honored to be playing with a foreigner."
"What? Why??"
"Because he's never had that opportunity before."
"OK... I don't quite see the honor in that."
But if he's happy, great.

I went snowboarding this past Saturday for the first time in my life. I was picked up at 3:30AM and we drove a few hours to the mountains. Saw the sun rise over an absolutely gorgeous landscape.


The only thing which really stuck out at me as different between the winter mountain sports here and what I've experienced in the States was the ratio of snowboarders to skiers. I've always seen about a 40/60 ratio, skiers outnumbering boarders. This time, though, the ratio was about 90/10 boarders to skiers.
I gained a basic level of proficiency as the day went on, going down the shortest slope, and was enjoying myself. I was surprised at this, as the last few times I had gone down a snow-covered mountain I was not that enthralled with the experience. I started to think about continuing to snowboard in the future.

However, that all came to an abrupt stop when I fell badly and dislocated my left shoulder. The ski lodge did not have a doctor or trainer on site, and the nearest hospital was a very long 30 minutes away by car. After about an hour after the fall, we finally arrived. And that's when the fun began.
Upon walking in, we immediately encountered the check-in desk reserved only for skiers and snowboards. I checked in, and sat down with other shoulder dislocations, a broken ankle, and a couple concussions.


The extreme pain I was in was lessened by the hilarity I found (and had a hand in creating) in the situation. The two other dislocators were called ahead of me, and I couldn't help but laugh hysterically as I watched them each hobble into the treatment room. "You're my brother!" I called to one of them, noting I was walking the same crippled way. After a couple minutes, each of them came out of the room smiling, arm in sling, relieved their bodies were put back together. Great, I thought, this will be a cinch.
I knew that putting a dislocated joint back into its socket is a painful experience, but one in which the pain subsides immediately after its completion. I was prepared for this. Eventually I was called in, and the doctors showed me the X-rays and eased me out of my jacket and shirt. They had me lie down, and my friend translated to me that they wanted me to relax as much as possible. I did, and the doctor began to put my arm back in place. But he couldn't. In the most incredible pain I can remember, I couldn't help but scream out. When the nurses yelled at me to relax more, I yelled back (in English), "Are you out of your fucking minds? I can't relax any more than this!"
My very mild-mannered friend starting yelling at the nurses saying that they helped the other shoulder dislocators with ease. Then my friend was asked to leave. I was thrilled to be left without a translator. However, she was called back soon thereafter and it was explained to me that my muscles were "too big" and so they couldn't get my arm back into its socket without giving me general anesthesia. Just one more way that my "huge" size doesn't fit in this country. Am I too big? Or are they too small?
So a mask was put on me and they told me to start counting. I did, and when I reached 10, the mask was removed. But I was not asleep, and I kept on counting. I heard the nurses' stunned Japanese as they realized they hadn't given me enough nitrous. I'm sure they gave me the dosage for the typical Japanese-sized person, but as I had recently proven to them, I am a smidgen larger than that. So they gave me a second dose, and I finally went under.

When I woke up, I was so loopy that I started singing "Leaving On a Jet Plane" as I was wheeled past the other patients to have a second X-ray taken. Some of the patients waiting to be seen were pre-teens, and they were absolutely terrified because they heard my earlier screaming, and thought, "If they made someone that size scream, what the hell is going to happen to me???" It was explained to them that their injuries were far less severe than mine, but *cough* more importantly *cough*, I was a foreigner, so I didn't know how to hold in my pain. Uhh... riiiiiight.

When I reached a semi-coherent state, I asked the nurse if she could get my friends. She came back a couple minutes later and told me there was no one there. I asked her to check again. She did, and still no one. I could not help but belly laugh to tears at my predicament - in the middle of Japan (still not all that sure where) without a wallet or phone (my friends had taken those from me earlier) or any ID, not knowing where we were staying for the night, and speaking very little of the language. Clearly I hadn't completely sobered up yet as I found myself in uncontrollable laughter.

On top of this all, I found out later that I had been covered in a Winnie the Pooh blanket. When my friends finally did arrive back at the hospital (they had gone to the hotel to check in), they took pictures of me with my blankie.


When I left the hospital, the look on nearly everyone's face was "thank goodness he's leaving here." I sure gave plenty of people some stories to share.

Here's one last picture which really hits home the size problems I have in this country. This was taken in our hotel room. Yes, if I walk upright, I hit my head on doorways. All the time.


The last bit of sports I wish to share is of the annual unofficial American holiday of the Super Bowl. Kickoff was at about 6:15PM Eastern, which was 8:15AM Monday morning local. As I had to go to work, I could not watch the game. It was also incredibly hard to find it on television (it was broadcast here, but not on any station I get). I was able to find the video of it on the internet, though, and got to watch it two days later. 14 hours ahead, but 2 days behind, I felt very American watching the Super - er, I mean, the Turnover - Bowl. I was not rooting for either team, but I am happy for Peyton Manning, Tony Dungy and the rest of the Colts. They've been the hard-luck losers for the last couple years. Glad to see them finally rise to the top.