tokyo rose

Fall Frustration

2008-09-29T04:54:00.000-07:00

This afternoon, I trudged out in the rain to do some grocery shopping. 10 minutes later I’m in the checkout line, with my basket empty except for some veggies and take-out sushi. Yes, it is the day before payday and my stomach and wallet are a little depressed. Nevertheless I am waiting patiently, staring into space a la starved model, deer in headlights look. My left hand grips the basket, and I have to stop myself from digging into the sushi before it is rightfully mine. Thoughts of my imminent meal are suddenly interrupted by an older man’s voice behind me. The gentleman proclaims, “すてき,” as he stares into my eyes. I ignore the compliment and nonchalantly stare back down at my sushi as I curse this country and myself. He obviously doesn’t think I can understand him. I wish I couldn’t, for I can’t help feeling that if I was one of a countless number of my co-workers, oblivious of this world and its language, life would be rainbows and butterflies.

I am doing everything right. I am silent, my feet are together and pointed slightly inwards, my basket is pushed up to the customer’s in front of mine. My wet umbrella is in its plastic condom so that it does not drip all over the supermarket floor. My wallet is already out, my coin purse unzipped. Even so, in this moment I feel ridiculously “gaijin,” or dare I say, like the monkeys I sympathetically locked eyes with at the Ueno zoo a few months back. I muster up the courage everyday to speak this language to the best of my ability and try to abide by all cultural and social expectations. I try to suppress my American outbursts of excitement or frustration when in public and have even ceased my walking with Starbucks latte in hand tradition. I rarely step foot in Roppongi, aka gaijin central, except to see English speaking docs. I date Japanese men and read Japanese fashion magazines. Even though I really try to immerse myself in this culture, which is my prerogative as a citizen and admirer of Japan, it has become an exhausting nuisance more than anything else.

My existence here has no permanence in my eyes. I am a born complainer. I do not have a cute girly laugh. I am not a size 2 with perfect skin and hair. I like to cross my legs, which is considered an overtly sexual way of sitting here-haha! I am entitled to my opinion despite being a woman. I do not need my tampons in an opaque, dark plastic bag, which drugstore clerks insist upon, nor do I need to conceal my choice of literature on the train in a bland book jacket. I miss my fold-up umbrella-which is ridiculously discriminated against and the occasional nauseating yet delicious culinary treat from Taco Bell. I can’t even get the retort I desire from giving the finger or shouting expletives. Long story short, last weekend at a club in Tokyo, a Japanese man speaking bad English called me a liar for telling him that I was from here. Granted, I do not look completely Japanese but this guy quickly turned into a bonafide jerk. I eloquently gave him the finger and he returned the favor, accompanied by a blank look and shrug of the shoulders. I walked away, baffled by the lack of emotion, as I was pushed and shoved by hundreds of Japanese swaying to techno music. As I start my 10th month here, I realize that absence truly makes the heart grow fonder. What keeps me up at night is whether I can go back to the life I left behind with open arms, ready to embrace it for all its own faults and shortcomings.

Karma

2008-07-17T17:51:00.000-07:00

I was not a cute baby. I came into the world looking very much like our ancestors the Neanderthals. At 12 months, I was still hairless but had completely embraced my mother’s culture by freakishly resembling a sumo wrestler. All photos from that period of my life have disappeared except for one in which there is so much flesh I cannot tell if the picture was taken inside or outside. I am the foreground and background. Despite the weight problem, I sat proud in my stroller, my chubby legs splayed out on the sides of the contraption, me on my throne of dignity. I shouted defiantly the only words I could, “akachan!” and “hana!” I took a comment made by a complete stranger, “what are you feeding your child???” with stride-she was only jealous I was stealing her thunder by being my cute self. But with a limited vocabulary that was useless in an English-speaking country, I decided to communicate with the public with my stare, which my grandfather fondly nicknamed the “whammie.”

While I have since learned that it is quite impolite to stare at someone, no matter how disfigured, uncouth, or foreign they may be, as a mere infant I was way too uninhibited for such futile social norms. I would stare at anyone in any location-my stare escaped social and racial boundaries. However, this was not a cute look of curiosity accompanied by the sweet coo of a little person discovering the world around her. No, this was what some may call an evil eye, a death stare, a “what are you looking at” that may make most receivers of this stare cringe or at the very least, avert their gaze and reassess their sheer existence on this earth. Some thought I was strange, some may have thought it was a vacant look resulting from the food coma I was in from 1986 to 88 when my brother was born and there was another mouth to feed. A few brave souls took up the challenge and stared back: my first official staring contest occurred when I was a mere infant who had caught the attention of an innocent man in an airport. Yet he was so overly confident in his staring capability that he informed my parents that he was taking me up on the silent offer. I don’t remember who won.

If there is one thing on this earth that I find some solace believing in, it is karma. While my Zen Buddhism professor last semester informed us that there is no such as good and bad karma, only karma, I would like to believe otherwise to help keep my sadistic tendencies to an acceptable level. As a half-Japanese with strong Western features, I stick out like a festering, bleeding, football-sized thumb here in the outskirts of Tokyo. When I step out of my apartment and face the world, I know I will encounter stares of the worst kinds at an average ratio of 1 for every 5 eyes I pass. Most look at me with a look that can only be described as “who the hell are you?” The more daring will stop in their tracks, on foot, bicycle, or car-mode of transportation does not matter. Double takes are everyday occurrences, as are the sneaky stares and fixed stares while walking-the Japanese have amazing peripheral vision. Occasionally the stare has commentary, such as the Japanese equivalent of “amazing!!” or “fabulous!” as in “what an amazing view!” and “this meal is just fabulous!” Depending on my mood, I may ignore or stare back with all the intensity I can muster. Sometimes I soak in the celebrity, too busy and famous to even notice a million eyes. Other days I lower my brows and return the gaze, cursing myself for not toting around my Japanese passport to wave in the faces of compatriot haters. While there may be no such thing as bad karma, every time I pass by a stare so intense I can sense it from any direction, I can’t help but think that karma truly is a bitch.

the first 6 months...

2008-06-24T07:10:00.000-07:00

SO i thought it would be fitting to commemorate surviving the 6 month mark living in Japan by reliving the most memorable moments thus far....apparently if you survive the first 6 months in a foreign country, you can stay forever!!! GREAT! i can't wait to be a 40 year old jaded single american woman teaching english....

Moments that managed to bring humor/life experience/a good story into my monotonous daily life (in no particular order):

-Learning to ignore the creepy men who stare and approach me regularly. no, i DONT want to meet you tonight at the train station. Since when is a polite "No Thank You" permission to continue following me?!

-Waging World War III against the vile cockroach kingdom.

-Shouting "FUCK!" on the street just as a pastor pedaled by on his bicycle.

-Being one of two (at the moment very self-conscious) Americans in a packed concert hall listening to Japanese musicians play "America the Beautiful"

-Getting food poisoning for the first time in my life. I am deeply indebted to Lop-Nor Chinese Restaurant for aiding in my half-hearted dieting efforts.

-Foolishly laughing at the Sex and the City episode where Charlotte has to make a life-altering decision regarding breaking up with the sweet but face-mauling licker of a dog, i mean man she was dating....ONLY to have it happen to me. I have a whole new level of respect for my favorite show. WWJD? Charlotte and I both listened to Samantha's advice on this one.

-Having a 007 moment, where I, in a dress and 4-inch heels, ran up my three flights of stairs narrowly escaping possible rape or attack as a 30-something year old Japanese creep chased me up the stairs after he asked me to come over and talk to him for a little bit.

-Going on an amazing first date with an 18-year old Japanese pop star look-alike.

-Losing a bet that I would not drink alcohol less than 24 hours after the handshake.

-Countless moments at work including:
-modeling for 20 minutes during a lesson for an amateur boxer/photographer student.
-helplessly listening during an interview as a potential student weeped at my feet, recounting the death of his father and dealing with being homeless and depressed. He then wiped his tears and asked me to join his chuch.
-helplessly listening during an interview as a potential student told me how much he needed sex.
-Reprimanding my class of 8-year old girls when they refused to do their homework until I had a baby. They then asked for confirmation that women can indeed have babies without having a boyfriend.

-Watching in absolute fascination as a Japanese woman stole laundry detergent from a store in broad daylight.

-Continuing to struggle with the Japanese language-despite the fact that I have been speaking it since birth. For example,
shouting out to a student in the hallway at work the Japanese equivalent of "HELLO JCPENNYS!!!!!" No one else seemed to agree with me that Masanori and Maruhiro (the high-class Walmart down the street) sounded quite similar.

-Trying to be a cool local by riding my bicycle everywhere-and failing miserably. I realized the relationship was over after I nearly killed an old man.

-Experiencing the ideal relationship: I converse in English once a week with my dapper 85-year old Japanese student, who takes me out for coffee and sushi regularly just because he enjoys talking to me!

-Buying my first manga! No I do not strive to be an otaku but I like finding creative ways to improve my Japanese. Really.

-Eating the best food I have ever had in my life on a daily basis and loving the fact that a temple is nestled in between apartment buildings down the street.

my inspirations

2008-05-14T07:36:00.001-07:00

So my dear friend here in japan has started a blog which got me thinking-why have I never created a blog? I think the answer is quite simple-I have been living a fun yet quite routine and perhaps uneventful life as a jersey girl, but of course without the big hair and other ridiculous yet hilarious stereotypes. Now that I have graduated college and decided to make the seemingly "adult" decision to live alone in a foreign country, it sure seems like a good enough reason to start a blog! For my own sanity and creative release more than anything else...

Why the name? No I do not idolize those Japanese broadcaster chicks of WWII, it's just what my dad's eccentric father insisted on naming me when I was born. While I will always be grateful to my parents for choosing otherwise, it was always a favorite story of mine, and now I can grant him his wish, if only as a blog name. Even though I never really knew him, I was always fascinated by anectodes such as the Big Macs he would leave on the window sill half eaten to savor again throughout the week, or the strange sightings of my grandfather outside his house in Vermont days after his death. Anyway, there is no way I can even compete with his stories so I'm not going to try...but I hope to come across many interesting people and experiences, and the occasional scandal and hilarity :)