where cider meets condensed milk: December 2006

where cider meets condensed milk

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Hey Jude! Meet Slash.

Proudly introducing SLASH Black and SLASH Silver, folding bikes to the stars (of Kibichuo). They may be small, but if they worked together, I think they could take on Judy-Juuudy judyjudyjudy (JU-DAY!!) in a fight. The girl who took our photo was either coming from a Dress Like A Ho Version of a Member of the Claus Family party... or she was going to work.

At Megamart, I pushed the helper call button in the bicycle shack, and 3 guys came running. Sadly, the stylin' ones were too slow and we were stuck with a dorko sunflower that started shaking when he saw Bruttney's looming shadow. I finished our police registration forms, and he pointed to a blank space:

Helper: Yes, you need to write your name in kanji.
Me: (meaningful pause) My name is only in katakana...
Helper: (blank look) It needs kanji.
Me: ...because I'm a foreigner.
Helper: (terrified, confused)
Me: How about romaji?
Helper: (hyperventilates)

Really, were you surprised by lack of Japanese names? Was it our black shiny hair and vacant giggles that confused you? Was praying that the J-clerkboy with spiky hair and sparkle-sparkle earrings would stroll in again (which is not a thought that often crosses my mind), but no dice.

posted by Raychaa @ 2:10 AM 1 comments

Monday, December 11, 2006

Christmas party at Okayama-shi children's home

Is this not the freakiest mask you've ever seen? Rudolph looks like he could be Billy Bob's sidekick in "Bad Santa."

Domo arigatou, Yusuke Roboto! We had about 50 JETs and company come to Shintenchi Children's Home again this year for Christmas, but we had to pack into the gym because of rain. Most of the kids here are not orphaned, but have been abandoned or removed from their family's care for various reasons. Many of them are also unable to enter the foster system or be adopted because their parents specified it as such when they were taken to the home. It makes sense for those kids that are short-term or temporary residents, but many of them are left in the home until they finish high school.

Lauren with a teacher and some of the junior/senior high boys.

That's Pinku-chan (the stuffed pig), Tomami (the girl), Ari-chan (the baby), and Sharky (the census guy in Tamano). The kids were bouncing off the walls to begin with, and then they got their presents, and then we gave them sweets and snacks. With 2 remote control helicopters and countless cars zooming around, I kept thinking "You'll shoot your eye out, kid!" but everyone made it through the day unblinded.

This was my tiny little space cadet, Kaito. I gave him Anpanman building blocks, mostly because I wanted to play with them, too. He is 3, but I would put his developmental level at that of an 18- or 24-month old. (Even thinking that makes me itch to read my mom's subscription to Parents magazine. I shouldn't admit that out loud.) I really want to hang out at the nursery school when I have time to visit more often this spring because I miss little guys like him.

posted by Raychaa @ 5:48 PM 1 comments

Friday, December 08, 2006

It's back! It's back with strawberry!

Winter means white soda time. But who's meeting whom this season?
Bonjour, ménage à trois...

Cider: Well, well, well. I do believe we've met before...
Condensed milk: Ah, ma chérie!!
C: Don't pull that French charm on me, milkman. Would it have killed you to call? Maybe the only thing you HAVEN'T met is the telephone.
CM: Do not be angry, ma petite bubblyette! La Fraise meant nothing to me. NOTHING!

Wrong? No! Oh, so right.
Well, maybe a little wrong.

posted by Raychaa @ 2:28 PM 1 comments

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Look Ma, I'm in the paper!

My first piece published in a real newspaper-- mission accomplished! (Read it within a week or you have to register on the JT site.) Now I might be able to explain to my school why I keep spending free periods on my keitai, huddled in the smoking room, calling up women's shelters. Awkward much?

http://www.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/fl20061205zg.html

I should credit my (lack of) journalistic training to the Whitman College Pioneer. There, I learned how to type really fast and how to track down the basketball team for an interview on 1 hours' notice. These skills will serve me well: the typing for obvious reasons, and the athlete-stalking in case I want to become a jersey-chaser. My biggest moment was when the Washington Secretary of State came to our little town and none of the editors could interview him, so I got the front-page feature. I pulled an all-nighter to perfect my pieces, opened the paper that week, and saw myself credited as "Sraff Writer." But those heady days on sraff are gone... I'm freelance now, baby.

posted by Raychaa @ 12:42 AM 1 comments

Monday, December 04, 2006

Of Cruiser Pants and Referees

Men's cruiser pants: what is he cruising for? And what man would be able to fit in those shorts if that tiny little woman can wear them? It is helpful of them to label them as Men's, since they aren't modeled as such. Much less confusion than with Men's Pocky, which is made with bitter chocolate, or Men's Latte, which is espresso taste. And... men are strong and bitter? Logic what?

"Pants" apparently means "underpants" in every country but America, and is also 'pantsu' in Japanese. It took me a few months to clue in. I do remember a highly awkward conversation where my principal noted that I changed my clothing after biking to school. As I was wearing a skirt, I explained that I needed to wear pants while biking. I just chalked up his reaction to my perpetual faux-pas-force-field, but in retrospect I'm horrified at myself. Would you walk up to your boss and tell him, "I'm not wearing any underwear," even if he were hot enough to be a Calvin Klein Cruiser Pants model? No, hussy, you wouldn't. Now I will only say trousers, which has less to do with Anglophilia than not inadvertently saying dirty things for which I should be charging 199yen a minute.

So, this is the only photo I took in Hiroshima, but the weekend had nothing to do with Cruiser Pants. I saw some friends, had okonomiyaki and gossip, and took a dull Japanese test. Most of the day was spent sitting and waiting and resting and waiting and listening to instructions. Then again, maybe they repeat the Instructions For Morons so many times because so many people who take the test do stupid things. After multiple warnings to not open the booklets, the girl next to me promptly flips hers open, and the puffy-haired proctor promptly gives her a yellow card. They set it up like it's a football match, even though we are all sitting silently and there is little, if any, danger of a headbutt. No one got a red card, and no one vomited during the test as happened 2 years ago. (For the record, that will get you a yellow card. And if you leave the room, you forfeit the test completely, whether it was you or your seatmate that spewed all over the place. In that case, everyone stayed in the overheated room, and the rest of us quietly gagged until time was up.) I know Puffy was just hoping for a bit of drama, as it must be a bit embarassing to be a referee in a Japanese test. At least with any other language there might be some ruffians or some cuss words being thrown around, but no such luck with Nihongo and all of us dorks that study it. Gambatta, ne...

posted by Raychaa @ 10:32 PM 0 comments

So wrong it's right. And then wrong. And then wrong again... welcome to the inaka.

About Me

Name: Raychaa
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About Me: “No man, not even a doctor, ever gives any other definition of what a nurse should be than this - 'devoted and obedient'. This definition would do just as well for a porter. It might even do for a horse. It would not do for a policeman.” (Florence Nightingale)
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