I was going through the stack of notebooks that I brought from my dad’s place and found a makeshift journal I had kept while in Japan. Some of it was clever and fun, other parts were melodramatic and much to inward-facing to be interesting to anyone but me. Here are excerpts from the more interesting parts.
August 2, 2002. After returning a movie, Tomo and I meet some of his friends at a bar.
Leaving the apartment, it had stopped raining, and the sky looked scrubbed and shiny. Bits of star poked out and looked around, but with little commitment to stay.We returned the video, “Sen to Chihiro no Kamikaoshi”… I’ll own that one someday.
We were late, but Tomo said it was ok. Yu, in bright green plastic slippers, met us outside the station and took Tomo to the bank so he could pay for the night… and then he asked me my age. I guess I broke laws in both Japan and the US tonight.
Then we followed his green plastic slippers to another building and rode a smoky coffin of an elevator up to the 2nd floor. We arrived with much cheering and “kanpai!” and several Engrish “How do you do.”s I was told everyone’s name, but I already don’t remember. I’d recall their faces and wave if I saw them, but other than that…
A few minutes later, this “kid” in a business suit arrived and everyone yelled and screamed again. After handing his jacket to someone, he walked right up to me and grabbed my hand. “Very nice to meet you!”. At this point I figured I must be famous.
Tomo ordered some beer, and I ate bits of whatever had been ordered before. Kazu, the 8-year-old businessman, headed for the door suddenly and shot me this comical look and announced “I’ll be back for you, babe”, and cheers and yelling followed…. (It gets boring after this. )
August 9, 2002. After arriving in Kochi, Tomo’s hometown, I wrote down some first impressions:
Kochi is beautiful. Trees that scratch the sky by tippy-toeing from the tops of steep hills. Leafy skyscrapers, really. ….I like this home. I like his dad. His mom is unbelievably sweet, and they are all so patient. Tomo on the other hand, changes dramatically in their presence. He becomes the Punk Kid… elbows on the table, too loud, with little respect. He never looks his parents in the eyes when having a conversation. Dissapointing and kind of a shock, but that’s just how it is.
August 15, 2002. Thoughts about heated toilet seats and the Yosakoi festival.
I’ve decided that I don’t like the heated toilet seats. they make me think that a really really fat person just got off the toilet. I sit down and think of that fat man’s ass pressed against where my ass is now, and get the yicks. I also worry that if I pee in the wrong direction, I might get electrocuted. Not to mention what might happen if the seat malfunctioned and the temperature kept rising… some unsuspecting person might end up with a toilet seat-shaped burnscar…Yosakoi Matsuri. Imagine a hybrid of modern pop-techno music and traditional melodies exploding out of the backs of large parading semi-trucks, the bass lines audible from several miles away, followed by psychedelic lights and several hundred dancers per act. Wow. Won’t ever forget this. And to think that it goes on for about 18 hours straight.
I miss Japan. I’m glad I wrote stuff down. Don’t ever want to forget.
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