Today, however, was particularly remarkable. First, on my way to the Post Office, I was asked for directions to the bank. Not by a foreigner, and not in English. Why in the world they asked me, I haven’t the slightest clue, but not only did I understand the question, but I answered with accurate directions in Japanese.
When I got back to my apartment from the Post Office, I sat down to another cup of the same nasty instant coffee I’ve been drinking since arriving in Kawasaki. Now, don’t get me wrong. There is coffee in Japan, even multiple types of hot and cold coffee in the vending machines. However, when it comes to beans—ground or whole—they can’t be found in my area. So, I decided to make a trip to Ogawara (the closest bigger city) to find some proper bean coffee.
On the way, I saw a really nice looking park and decided to get out for an afternoon walk. After strolling for a few minutes up the hill, I started to see what seemed to be stylized sculptures along the path. While I found this odd, my inability to read the inscriptions inhibited any further investigation. When I reached the top of the hill, there was a clearing with more sculptures. By this point, I had the feeling that I had wandered somewhere I shouldn’t have, so I made my way back to the car. I altered my route slightly for a more direct path down the hill, and when I got to ground level, there was an ankle-high fence next to a Shinto(Native Japanese religion) shrine. As I left the “park” I could help shake the feeling that I had trespassed at best.
In Ogawara, I found an enormous supermarket that seemed to have potential for bean coffee. I managed to find what appeared to be the Japanese equivalent of Folgers. When I went up to the register, I asked the cashier if it was real coffee (honto ko—hi--). She seemed confused by my strange question and answered that it was, indeed, drip coffee.
Now, I could have had McDonalds or KFC while in O-Town(apparently the hip name for Ogawara), but I settled on a restaurant with a pig logo. Once at my seat, I proceeded with my go-to option of, “what do you recommend?”. This is usually a savvy option as I am able to at least learn how to pronounce the names of the menu items. This time, however, there was a section of the menu actually called “recommended dishes”(in Japanese, of course) and the waitress misunderstood me to have already ordered one of the recommended sets. I have been largely adventurous every time I have gone out to eat, and in an attempt to be polite, I have eaten everything served. Well, this meal tested my limits. And I will leave it at that. The accompanied dessert was delicious, though: iced coffee and green tea flavoured ice cream.
Having completed my mission, I headed back to Kawasaki. When I arrived at the main drag of my town, I saw a multitude of elderly people wearing yellow T-shirts and waiving to passing cars. Now I’d seen these T-shirts before. Over the past week, people of the same enthusiasm and shade of shirt have been driving around the town with a loud speaker attached to their car yelling a routine of phrases including “I hope we work well together!” The first time I heard this commotion, I thought it was some sort of natural disaster community notification protocol and rushed out of my apartment in a panic. After that unfortunate incident, I dismissed it as an overly zealous cleaning company.
Well, here they were again. The yellow T-shirt people. And en-masse. I decided to drop off my coffee at the apartment and make my way to the gathering, if only to figure out what organization had been disturbing the silence all week. When I arrived, it was a literal barrage. Every other person was a blank stare and those that weren’t were speaking to me in rapid-speed Japanese. I--completely confused as to what was going on, why there were so many 60+ year olds gathered in matching T’s on a Saturday night, and a bit shell shocked by the flood of Japanese--must have looked like a stunned rodent. I heard a lot of dozo’s, so I decided to take the cue and enter the event. Finally, I saw a familiar face: a woman I had bet at the Board of Education the day before. And while it was comforting to a degree, the scene’s only change was that the incomprehensible flurry of Japanese was accompanied by a spark of recognition. And that she proceeded to introduce me to every person in sight as the new middle school ALT. When this happened, I was directed by the crowd of amused elders to the dining area. Hence, more dozo’s. After a short exchange of polite refusal and eventual acceptance, I was sitting down to a second dinner in a room of yellow T-shirt people who watched me as I ate rice and miso with such skill. They were particularly impressed when I used proper etiquette in serving myself vegetables from the communal bowl(you turn your chop sticks around to use as a serving utensil). I was not able to do much eating, though, because the entire time, people were trying to ask me questions and clarify what they correctly perceived as my immense confusion. One lady kept suggesting that this was the “plus evento”, which didn’t help much. Another man seemed very proud that he had remembered the word “president”, which also wasn’t much of a clarifying factor. Finally, one lady pointed to what seemed to be a local candidate’s campaign sign and said “A….B……A!”. Which I understood to mean that I was currently attending the election celebration for the mayor of Kawasaki Town. And in perfect timing, our favourite loud-speaker car rolled up. The man from the poster gave heart-warming speech of gratitude to all of his supporters, and the event dispersed. I am very sorry I do not have any photos of the scene, but I already felt conspicuous as not only the only foreigner, but the only individual under the age of 50.
Austin-
ReplyDeleteYou are going to have an interesting time! Enjoying my nice hot cup of coffee.
dad