Being a giant colourful blonde in Tokushima gives me the certifiable status of Bonafied Curiosity. Most of the time this works to my advantage; unlike my coworker Maz, I appreciate random starngers and teenagers walking up to practice their English on me. You never know; I might get an opportunity to learn some new Japanese words as well! However, last night my "otherness" worked to my distinct disadvantage.

A little back-ground: about a week ago Denise (another Nova-Sensei from Nova Scotia) and I decided to get together for sushi. There's a little sushi place across the street form my apartment (and I do mean directly across the street... it's about 6 paces from my front door) and so we met up and went in. The inside was miniscule; room enough for a long sushi bar and about 15 stools along it. Every person inside spoke not a word of English, so Denise and I relied on each other's spotty knowledge, "hai, nigiri onegaishimasu, oiishi..." (loosely translated: yes, sushi please, delicious!). We pointed and rubbed our tummies and consulted Denise's travel-guide, which was pretty useless. There was an old guy on each side of us; both kept up a running dialogue, asking us questions and speculating on our origins in quick Japanese; they repeatedly said Denise must be from Spain while she ascertained over and over that she was from Canada. Eventually I just started speaking completely in English, speculating on what they were saying. "Oh, really? So you're saying that if I want a really good deal, I'm going to have to dance for my dinner? Well, I'm afraid that I just can't do that, it's against my morals... no, I don't really think you should look into getting a hairpiece, your bald head is quite alluring, actually." Denise was choking on her miso soup. We had a delicious meal; tiny baby clams were loaded into the soup ("Oh! Kawaii!" I exclaimed when I was shown the pinky-fingernail-sized clams before they were put in my soup. "I-e... kawaii-nai! Oiishi desu!" The cook replied-- "No! Not Cute! Tasty!"). During the course of the meal Denise overheard the word fugu, and quickly put down her chopsticks. "Fugu? We're eating fugu?!" I had no idea what the problem was; the blubbery white stuff was quite tasty... turns out fugu is that poisonous puffer fish that can kill you if it's not prepared properly. I really had no intention of seeking it out while I was in Japan, but now that I've had it, I can tell you that it's not bad stuff. I'm still kicking, after all!

Anyway-- to the point. I went back there on my own after work last night, seeing as it's close to home, inexpensive, and the cook had treated us well despite our ineffective Japanese language skills. There was only one other patron inside, and he- like the men before him- spoke no English at all. This didn't stop him from trying to communicate, and so I in turn made an effort to understand and reply. He asked questions as the friendly cook assured me that this man was his tomodachi (friend) and that he was a daijobu (OK) guy. I struggled to explain where I worked, and that I was from Canada, and that yes, I like Japan. As my meal was prepared and served, the man continued to consume his sake and smoke his Marlboros and ask me questions. He started to get wobbly as I was about half-way finished, saving my tuna and eel for last, as usual. My Japanese sucks, but I can understand a few words, and I can definitely understand body language. The man said something about skebe... I think he was asking whether I thought Japanese men were skebe (perverts). I backed off a bit, giggled nervously, and tried to say no, I didn't think so, I didn't really know, hadn't had any negative experiences, when he reached out and grabbed a handful of my hair and sniffed it appreciatively. Now, this is where the Japanese-English phrase books are completely ineffectual; I have 35 ways to ask how to catch the train to Beppu, but no way to say "That was completely inappropriate, please don't sniff my hair!" I said "dame", crossed my wrists in the 'no' gesture and backed off even more. The cook came over, concerned, warning his friend-- then the guy started talking about my breasts, asking if they were big, making grabbing motions in the air. The cook intervened, telling his friend to knock it off, I suppose. I did what I could, hoping my tone of voice would make up for my lack of language... "HEY! Dude, that is so rude, I was just starting to get along with you and then you had to get all rude and grabby and shit! Don't be talking about my oki opai, they're none of your business!!" Anyway, I hastily finished my eel and gathered myself up; the cook repeatedly asked if I was daijobu, and he gave me one hell of a good deal on the meal; an apology-price, I assume. Anyway, if I go back, it won't be on my own, and I'd like to go armed with some more useful Japanese phraseology! It's Big Brother's and Bubu's for me until I get a better hang of the language... good thing I love Okanamayaki!

Sumiko's visit was quick and fun. (Ume's plane was cancelled, so she'll be coming this coming weekend instead.) I took Sumiko to Big Brother's as soon as she was off the bus, where she repeatedly exclaimed "sugoi, ne!" (wow, it's great, eh?) as forienger after foriegner walked through the front door. I introduced her to my friend Brian, whose boyfriend had recently moved back to China. She later told me in an awed voice that Brian was "first time I meet gay person!" The day consisted of much shopping and eating and more shopping; she spoiled me rotten, buying my just about anything I looked at; earrings, a bunch of roses, a fancy pudding... it was a little overwhelming, to be honest. I had to be very sneaky to manage to pay for our dinner without her noticing, and she was quite angry with me when she found out! We walked about the Shin-Machi, stopping to listen to a teen-aged girl and her guitar-playing boyfriend perform a song at the peak of one of the walking bridges, and to watch the hippu-hoppu boys break-dance in the deserted shopping arcade. I took her to Ingrid's in the evening for karaoke... it was just me, Ingrid and Sumiko for a good hour, and I performed like a monkey, singing one off-key song after another while Sumiko and Ingrid discussed travel and life and love in hushed Japanese. Thankfully Ingrid sang a song to break the monotony of my uncertain voice; she belted out a Japanese woman's 'survivor' type song, and was met by much cheering and clapping from me and Sumiko. Sumiko left early, as she had to catch her plane early the next morning.

There's so much more that I want to say! But I have to get home and tricked-out in my business wear and start the long bike-ride out to Kitajima for my night-shift. I'm still loving the job and my students, and the wonderful richness they bring to my days. Last week I was role-playing with a student, and he had to imagine he was my boss, giving me advice for dressing better for work. He said, "I think your clothing is a little... hmm... trashy. Yes... maybe it's... shady." This guy cracks me up! I found out that the word he was looking for was 'shabby' and then I had to explain to him what 'trashy' meant... I made the mistake of saying that it meant 'too sexy' and so he proceeded to ask, "So, if I see a beautiful woman in the bar, I can say to her, you are very trashy?"

Explain your way outta that one!