All the old posts from the old Your-Japan.com on the Your-Japan Blog Network

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Thanks for the all the comments and mail! My apologies to those I haven’t had time to reply to yet.

A lot of guys have been writing in saying their interactions with J-girls tend to stall out in fluff conversation and never turn sexual. What guys tend to forget is that getting to sex is fundamentally about moving forward physically, from casual touching to more intimate touching, to kissing, to sexual touching, to sex. All else is simply means to deal with roadblocks that arise in the physical escalation.

On that note, for anyone not satisfied with their escalation and wondering how to ramp it up, I’ve created an "escalation pyramid" (please excuse the poor ascii). If you find your interactions not getting any fire in them, try this: Start at the base and if you run into a roadblock move up to the next level.

/
/ ??????
/__________________________________
/
/ Interactive (eliciting values, getting rapport)
/__________________________________________
/
/ You-Talking (Fun/Excited–>Passionate–>Sensual)
/__________________________________________________
/
/ Physical (Anchored Touch, Caveman Style)
/__________________________________________________________

So you meet a girl, you start physical escalation immediately, and see how she reacts. Of course you are careful to anchor your touch — only touch her at her "high points" when she is in the grip of a genuine laugh or other good feeling.

If she reacts very well you can try caveman style right away, maybe finding an excuse to lift her up or tickle her (tickling is much riskier). If she doesn’t react badly, you can push quite a bit further with it and a sexual undercurrent will be established solidly for the whole interaction - problem solved.

If she reacts well to this, I would advise trying for an immediate "blitz" close - but in this situation "he who hesitates at all is lost."

But until you ascertain her comfort level you go gradually, checking her reaction at each step of the way. If you run into a roadblock with pure physical, you move up to verbal game. Don’t ask many Qs - instead start talking, telling stories, etc. Maybe let her get her Qs out first, as most J-girls will have some for you. Then just ramp up the stories/routines, starting with fun, moving to what you are passionate about, and then taking it in one of many possible directions from there. I personally like to take the passionate story and add in demonstrating personality followed by increasingly potent sensual elements (not sexual - the storytelling stops at or before deep kissing). You could alternatively go into NLP patterns or even sex talk (high risk, high return).

If you find she is not responsive to your basically one-sided verbal seduction attempts, you can try something more interactive, like trying to figure out what her values are (that is, what you have to to do to lay her) or building more rapport and/or comfort.

All the while, you are still working the physical game, and as soon as it moves forward you press the advantage and close right away if possible. Likewise with the verbal game - if after eliciting her values you find that now your (recalibrated) stories are having an impact then keep laying it on thick until her face goes "doggie-dinner-bowl" (DDB). Once you see DDB it means you could have kissed her already, so do, and make it very passionate thrusting straight into extraction, past LMR and into the close.

With experience and practice you’ll start to identify the little signs that let you know when you can escalate with J-girls, using the pyramid to remind you what is fundamental and what is not. (For all non-Japan readers, the same principles hold worldwide, but timing and the amount of calibration needed may vary.)

So much has happened since I became his girlfriend. That incident between he and I happened almost a month ago- and not too long before our final exams. Also, only two days passed before I became really sick. I think I had the flu or something, but I can’t be sure. All I know is that I felt like I was going to DIE. In fact, by the time I got over whatever was raping my internal organs, I was WISHING for death. Maybe it was something I ate at the hanami. All I know was that I was out of school for nearly a week and I was NOT a happy camper. I took my "time off’ from school to update my posts, but then once I got back to school, I had work up the ass to catch up on. So, with that, I fell behind again. My apologies.

You all will be happy to know that Fujiomi took care of me while I was sick- but so did Sukiko, Youto, and their parents, so don’t squeal with glee just yet. I think he just took advantage of me while I was incapacitated, and intentionally pissed me off as much as possible. Besides, no matter how much I coughed or sneezed in his direction, he NEVER got sick! Bastard.

When we returned to school, I was feeling much better, but I was dreading the kind of attention and rumors that were going to be focused solely on yours truly. When I got there, however, they all seemed to be glad I had returned and that I was feeling better, but something didn¡Çt feel right. That¡Çs when I remembered what Firefly and Azrael had said about the reality of Japanese feelings. Japanese RARELY tell you what they really feel or think out loud, and they would rather suck it up and be friendly to someone they don¡Çt like to ¡Èkeep the peace¡É than cause a disturbance and call attention to themselves. Of course, where I¡Çm from, it¡Çs very rude to hide your feelings and people appreciate your honesty when you say how you feel. We understand that it¡Çs NOT easy to voice your opinion, so people that do so are given respect and consideration. So- if I don¡Çt like someone or someone doesn¡Çt like me, we express our dislike for one another- then move on. The End.

Here, though, I saw that the people who had been nice to me before really didn¡Çt feel that way. They just THOUGHT that they should act that way towards me, because it was what was expected of them. I don¡Çt know how to explain it, but perhaps living here taught me the subtle difference of a fake smile and a real smile, and that day I took not of all the fake smiles- and all the real ones. I admit, it was hard for me to accept the fact that ¡Èthat¡Çs just the way Japan is- their culture is different from mine¡É. It took a lot for me not to snap, ¡ÈIf you don¡Çt like me, stop being a pussy and TELL ME SO!¡É like I would in America. For those of you who come here, I think each of you will have your own epiphany like I did, and see the ups AND downs of personal interaction in Japan.

We had gym class right before lunch- WORST CLASS EVER. Just so you know, MY gym class back home consists of twenty five girls in comfortable t-shirts and shorts and tennis shoes, lounging around on the bleachers for half an hour. Then, the teacher does roll call, and we pretend to stretch while we keep talking to our friends. We roll out our mats, and pop in a ten-minute beginner¡Çs yoga video, and make fun of the weird guy in a Speedo as we half-heartedly do the different poses. After that, we go back to the bleachers and sip our Starbucks for the rest of the forty minutes. That¡Çs. IT. Gym class in Japan is DRASICALLY different. Think boot camp meets American Gladiators and THAT is a gym class in Japan. First of all, I HATE the uniforms. We wear t-shirts like in America, but the bottoms, well, I reject those bottoms. They can¡Çt even be called shorts! They¡Çre like swimsuit bottoms, but they go all the way up past my belly button! Excuuuuuuse me, but I DON¡ÇT want my ass on display three times a week while I run around and DIE in the heat. No thank you. They make us do relay races, sit-ups, push ups, balance beams, chin-ups, splits, back-bends- if I had wanted to be a contortionist, I would have joined the circus. Most of it is OUTSIDE, too, which is AWFUL. In the South, I¡Çm used to the heat. The heat is nooooo problem for me. I laugh at people who complain that they¡Çre dying of heat stroke when it¡Çs barely 90 degrees outside. In New Orleans right now, it¡Çs around 98 in the SHADE. Heat isn¡Çt an issue. It¡Çs the humidity. Or, to be more specific, the LACK of humidity. Just a note: dry heat is much, MUCH worse than wet heat. I¡Çd rather be in a sauna than a desert, y¡Çknow? When you walk outside, it¡Çs like all the air has been sucked dry and I can¡Çt breathe! And it¡Çs barely in the high seventies!

Anyway, that day for gym class the FAT ASS TEACHER was putting us pitiful students through our ritual torture exercises when she got a note from the office and EVERY GIRL collapsed onto the grass. Some of the girls looked behind us and said that they boys were about to go onto the field for their gym class. The boy¡Çs gym class is SO much easier! While I¡Çm going through Full Metal Jacket training camp, the boys get to play basket ball, volley ball- and soccer. If y¡Çall recall, Fujiomi is co-captain of the soccer team, and I got to see him in full soccer uniform. Talk about WEIRD. There is NOTHING weirder for a sports fan than seeing a tall, lanky Asian boy in full-fledged soccer uniform, including short shorts and high socks. All of the guys were following him onto the field, and they were talking and laughing together while the girls chatted and giggled. It wasn¡Çt until then that I realized just how popular Fujiomi was. He commanded a lot of respect, and he seemed to unconsciously be right ALL THE TIME about EVERYTHING. Maybe that¡Çs what pisses me off the most about him. It¡Çs that he¡Çs right and he KNOWS it. And he makes sure that YOU know it, too. Bastard.

It was odd, but I felt sort of¡Ä how do I put this¡Ä. Proud, maybe? That I had outsmarted Fujiomi and tricked him into being my boyfriend. It finally felt like he and I were on the same level. While all the girls pointed out the guys they liked (and Fujiomi was named plenty of times) I was smirking on the inside that he was my boyfriend- and there was nothing ANY of them could do about it.

Oh, by the way, if I could have taken a picture of Fujiomi¡Çs face when I said, ¡ÈYOU. I want to be YOUR girlfriend,¡É I would have. I might as well have told him that I was pregnant with his child (don¡Çt get your hopes up).

We haven¡Çt gone on a ¡Èdate¡É yet, but between final exams and graduation, we just haven¡Çt had time. I DO want to tell y¡Çall about making him a bento box, though.

After a few days, when all of Japan had had time to hear the news that I was Fujiomi¡Çs girlfriend, I began to have competition. All kinds of girls came out of the woodwork, trying doubly hard to get Fujiomi¡Çs attention. For those of you with dicks reading my blog- this is an important girl fact that you should know. As SOON as you get a girlfriend, nine times out of ten, that girl is going to tell EVERYONE that you and she are a couple. After that, THOSE girls are going to mention it, and so on and so forth. Within a week, you should have an entire entourage of women that you don¡Çt even know hitting on you and openly flirting with you, most of whom know your girlfriend. Why? Because they want your attention. They are trying to prove to themselves and all the other girls that they are more desirable than the girl you¡Çre dating. Plus, if you¡Çre girlfriend says anything to them, they can play dumb and say, ¡ÈI wasn¡Çt flirting with him. He¡Çs your boyfriend. I was just being nice.¡É It can be a real power struggle if you notice the signs and looks the girls give each other. Some key phrases to look out for if you think your girlfriend¡Çs friend is hitting on you, but you¡Çre not sure are: ¡ÈYou¡Çre so nice!¡É ¡ÈI really appreciate your help with _____¡É ¡ÈWow! I¡Çm impressed!¡É ¡ÈAre you always so funny/cute/smart/polite/other complimentary adjective ?¡É ¡È[Your girlfriend¡Çs name] is so lucky to have you!¡É

Anyway, moving on- THAT¡ÇS what these girls were doing. But don¡Çt forget, this is Japan. The women here are ALL husband hunters, and they start at a young age. The girls hitting on Fujiomi were VICIOUS, bringing up embarrassing traits about each other, telling Fujiomi about each other¡Çs sexual and hygiene habits, etc. I¡Çve never seen anything like it. They were also really grabby with him. American girls flirt with glances, giggles, and smiles. MAYBE a light touch on the shoulder. This was way different. I saw girls hugging him almost all the time, or asking him to feel their forehead ¡Èfor a fever¡É, o reach into her pocket to ¡Ègrab something for her¡É. Sukiko told me that one girl tried to grab his butt but missed. I didn¡Çt see that. I don¡Çt even know what I would have done about it if I HAD seen it.

One night at dinner, we were all talking, and Sukiko¡Çs dad said that on his way home from the train station, he had seen two boys from our school hanging out outside the gate of the house. When they saw him approaching, though, they walked away. When asked, Fujiomi said that it wasn¡Çt any of his friends, they would have called before coming over, and they wouldn¡Çt have run away at the sight of his dad. Sukiko said that they were probably boys for me, and that we should check the mailbox for a love letter. She was just kidding, of course, but Fujiomi took her seriously and asked, ¡ÈJeez- hasn¡Çt all of that foolishness stopped yet?!¡É

Sukiko: It¡Çs not foolishness! Pandora-san is very popular with the boys.

Fujiomi: Yeah, and I can think of only two BIG reasons why she¡Çs so popular. *Looks pointedly at my breasts*

Sukiko¡Çs Mom: Fujiomi! That¡Çs enough! You apologize right now!

Sukiko: Yeah, you should be nicer to her if you want her to be a good girlfriend.

I was expecting Sukiko¡Çs mom and dad to be at least a LITTLE shocked, but nope. Not a single eyelash fluttered. Even Youto looked like he was bored by the news.

Fujiomi: If she¡Çs my really girlfriend, then those other guys should leave her alone. Pandora- tell those guys to quit hassling you. It¡Çs annoying.

Me: Then you tell those other girls to stop hassling you. THAT is something really annoying.

Fujiomi:¡Ä¡Ä¡Ä¡Ä¡Ä.Eh?

I looked at Sukiko, not quite sure how to tell him he was being molested more than a choir boy in a rectory, and she took over and told him that the other girls were hitting on him, trying to compete with me for his attention. Fujiomi¡Çs response?

¡ÈThat¡Çs stupid. Girls are stupid.¡É

Wow. That witty observation has left me dumbstruck by your genius.

Sukiko¡Çs mom suggested that I make him a bento for lunch the next day. It¡Çs part and parcel of being a Japanese girlfriend, apparently, but I suck at cooking. I¡Çm barely adept at making cereal for myself, let alone try my hand at Japanese cooking, but Sukiko and her mom promised to help me. Fujiomi butted in and said that most of it had to be by me, though, and that he would be able to tell the difference between their cooking and mine. Fine, ya damn cooking nazi- I¡Çll make the freakin¡Ç bento.

The next morning Sukiko¡Çs mom shook me awake early and I followed her into the kitchen and watched as she made breakfast for the family and then prepared the bento boxes. Sukiko has a pink bento box, and they even found an Inuyasha bento box for me! Fujiomi¡Çs bento box¡Äis really plain. It¡Çs like a black cookie tin with a silver dragon on the lid. O-kaaaaaaaay.

Luckily I didn¡Çt have to make fresh rice, and browning meat into a hamburger wasn¡Çt too far beyond me, but I declined Sukiko¡Çs mom when she offered to show me how to make carrot stars and other vegetable shapes. No thank you- I¡Çd like to keep all of my fingers today, if that¡Çs possible. I made a normal hamburger steak thing, put it over the rice, and flambé-d some vegetables. They were supposed to be boiled. Don¡Çt ask. I only melted one spatula, so it¡Çs not that big of a deal, okay?

Fujiomi left before us to catch up on his student council stuff, so he didn¡Çt even get to see me cooking, which kind of put me out. Though, I wouldn¡Çt have wanted him to see me torch those vegetables. By the time I arrived at school, he would have psychically spread the information all around Japan.

Fast forward to school, but remind me to tell you about my creepy stalker otaku guy.

Classes sucked, I didn¡Çt get some of the notes because my aunt Flow is visiting again, yadda yadda yadda. Lunch.

I did my usual trip to the school store for some Pocky and Ramune. The guy that works behind the counter there is really nice, and has gotten into the habit of talking to me in some English for practice. He doesn¡Çt know too much about sentence construction, but his pronunciation is pretty good. He says he learned by watching American television over the internet. His favorite show? Will and Grace.

The instant he whips out a ¡ÈFABULOUS!¡É I¡Çm gonna die laughing in his face, no lie.

Anyway, I went back to my homeroom, and I hear this loud SLAM! and I twitched so badly I almost dropped my food. Theeeeeeere was Fujiomi, standing by my desk with about half of my class standing around him. He looked piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed. He had hit the top of my desk when I walked in and I gave him the, ¡ÈWhat-the-HELL-was-that-for?!¡É look.

Fujiomi: You¡Çre late.

Me:¡Ä¡Ä¡Ä¡Ä¡Ä Huh?

Fujiomi: Lunch started almost eight minutes ago. You should have been here waiting for me.

Me: I went to get a drink!

Fujiomi: That can wait until I get my food.

See, Fujiomi was hungry. Fujiomi gets VERY MAD when he¡Çs hungry. He wolfs down all of his food and hardly EVER talks during dinner. He¡Çs all about the food.

Me: Your bento box is in my desk. Get it.

The girls looked sort of put out that I had made him a lunch, I guess because that ¡Èofficially¡É meant he and I were going out. But Fujiomi shook his head.

Fujiomi: Give it to me.

WHAT?! You fucking douchebag! You are RIGHT BY MY DESK! Your hand is ON my desk! USE YOUR HAND and lift the top to achieve ownership of your GODDAMMED lunch, you cunt wad!

But good girlfriends don¡Çt say that. Soooo. I had to WALK over there, PUT my stuff down, OPEN my desk top- but when I went to grab his lunch box and give it to him?

He walks away.

WTF?!

There I am, standing at my desk with HIS bento that he ¡Èwaited for¡É and made ME get FOR him- and the fucktard WALKS AWAY?! He walked right out of the classroom! I just stood there in shock. Was there some sort of Japanese telepathic message that I wasn¡Çt picking up on? Did he make me get it for him just to piss me off, and was now leaving to get a different lunch? I though the second prospect was more likely, and I got piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed, too. I didn¡Çt burn my fingers SEVEN TIMES (SEVEN!), cut two fingertips and bruise my hip on the stove so he could get a 320 teriyaki sandwich, dammit!

Mai asked me what was wrong, and I told her what happened using what Japanese I could hobble together along with a string of English curse words. She explained to me that Fujiomi was waiting for me to present it to him, while he was in HIS classroom in front of HIS friends. She said it was a male pride thing to have a girl go through the trouble of making and bringing a guy she liked food she had made, and that Fujiomi wanted me to do the same.

So- what she was telling me was that Fujiomi¡Çs ego was so HUGE that he needed ME to walk to his classroom, and formally present him with his lunch, just so he could show off in front of his friends and have them all tell him what a lucky guy he was to have The American make him lunch. Mai told me to act ¡Ècute¡É and ¡Èspunky¡É, but also a little bit ¡Èshy¡É and ¡Èmodest¡É.

Me: So, act like an shojo anime girl?

Her: Yeah. Basically.

Me: You¡Çre on.

I hiked up my skirt as high as I could, readjusted my boobs and blouse to show off maximum cleavage, and let my hair down. One quick swipe of Mai¡Çs mascara and my lip gloss, and I was ready. Mai and some of the other girls wished me luck, and I sashayed down the hall. That got me a LOT of attention- most of it towards my chest. I heard more than one, ¡ÈSUGOOOOOOI!¡É.

Animals.

But- they did give me the confidence I needed to throw open Fujiomi¡Çs classroom door and smile as I walked in and looked around the room for him. He wasn¡Çt that hard to spot- I just pretended not to see him.

Me: -singsong voice- Oh, Fuuuuuuuuuuuuji-kuuuuuuuuun! Where aaaaaaaare yoooooou?

I ¡Èspotted¡É him and gave a little gasp and a jump, and I smiled real big.

Me: THERE you are! I found you! Heeheehee!

I walked over to his desk, swaying my hips and stepping hard to make my boobs jiggle. Hey- don¡Çt judge me. Just because I don¡Çt do that kind of thing all the time doesn¡Çt mean I don¡Çt know how. Every girl knows how to be sexy, and she uses her skills when she has to. I had to. This was a matter of pride. If he could act all macho and boss me around in front of my friends, the least I could do is ruffle his feathers in front of his. There isn¡Çt a word in any language that could describe just how shocked my classmates were. I was acting like the very girls I hated most of all, and they all knew it. Fujiomi was comatose in his seat, looking right at me and blinking repeatedly.

Fujiomi¡Çs friends: OUWAH! PANDORA-SAN!!

Boy 1: Fujiomi-kun- Look! Look! Do you see that?! That¡Çs Pandora-san!

Boy 2: You look really pretty, Pandora-chan!

Boy 1: What brings you here to our classroom?

Aha- so he hadn¡Çt told his friends about ordering me to bring him his lunch. No wonder he was touchy about me being late to my classroom. It was probably difficult to explain where he was going without them following or at least pressing him for information.

Me: -Anime smile, complete with semi-shut eyes and little giggle- I¡Çm here to bring my Fuji-kun his lunch! I made it myself this morning.

Boy 3: Ah! Wow- she really DID make you a lunch!

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Boy 1: Maaaaaan. I want to taste some of her cooking, too!

No, you don¡Çt.

Boy 2: I know, right? Pandora-chan¡Çs cooking must be wonderful!

No, it¡Çs not.

Boy 1: American girls are really good at cooking! They make the best food.

No we don¡Çt. Hamburger Helper was invented for a reason. Where the hell did you get that from, anyway? How many American girls have you dated?

Boy 2: Plus, that lunch is filled with all of Pandora-chan¡Çs love and tenderness!

I hope Fujiomi chokes on it.

I put the lunch on Fujiomi¡Çs desk, beeeeending over reeeeeally low so that the front of my shirt hung down a bit. ¡ÈHere- let me open that for you,¡É I said sweetly. I SAW his eyes flick towards my chest. I SAW it. I mean, I guess they WERE right in his face, but still, I felt victorious. Why? I¡Çm still working that out.

Then, he looked down at the food, and he made my ¡ÈWTF?!¡É face.

My victorious feeling went right out the window.

Fujiomi: What is this?!

Me: Hamburger steak over rice with¡Ävegetables.

The other guys leaned in and looked.

Boy 3: Ah! She made an American hamburger! She did it American style!

I didn¡Çt really get the difference. I mean, I browned meat in some butter, added minced garlic and slivered onions with salt and pepper, and tada! Hamburger. Right?

No. I learned later that Japanese Hamburger steak involves a much more different process, including a large amount of oil, some soy sauce, and a raw egg. I didn¡Çt get too much from Sukiko¡Çs explanation, but once I heard ¡Èraw egg¡É I had heard enough.

Anyway, while the other boys ooh-ed and ahh-ed over ¡Èreal American cooking¡É, Fujiomi picked up his chopsticks and prodded around a bit. He picked up one of the most burnt, shriveled carrots and held it up.

Fujiomi: What¡Çs this?

Me: Uh- That¡Çs American style, too.

Fujiomi looked at me like, ¡ÈYou¡Çve GOTTA be kidding me. You suck at lying.¡É

He and the other guys asked me about my cooking some more, and Fujiomi picked at the lunch, eating nibbles of rice and the caramelized onions. I had some difficulty with the Japanese they used, but I was feeling overall accomplished with my work. Then trouble started brewing. A girl came over and started speaking to Fujiomi in spit-fire, REALLY complicated Japanese. I didn¡Çt need to really know what she said; her smile and the way she shifted from one foot to the other and twirled her hair spelled it all out for me. And Fujiomi just talked right back to her! Talk about feeling LEFT OUT. That really made me mad, and I bit my lip to keep from snapping at them. Fujiomi looked up at me, but I looked away. Whatever. He can talk to her if he wants. I don¡Çt care. He even called my name. Nope. Not answering you, buddy.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and PULLED me down, and I almost fell in his lap. He looked up at the girl and said clearly.

Fujiomi: Pandora. She¡Çs my girlfriend.

She looked at me, then back at him, then back at me. I looked back at her, all of my American spirit returning. Bring it on, ho. I¡Çll tear you a new rice paddy if you try anything with me.

Skank: But it¡Çs just a bet, right? You two are only playing. You should be free to date other women if you want, Fujiomi-san!

Me: I¡Çm not ¡Èonly playing¡É.

I took a page from Snuzzlebunnie¡Çs book (Az must be cringing) and bent over Fujiomi¡Çs shoulder and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my boobs to the back left side of his head, smiling at the girl. I don¡Çt think Fujiomi appreciated that too much because he jerked down on the tie of my sailor blouse so my face was next to his. Then, he tilted his head sideways so our temples touched.

Fujiomi: And there is no other woman I want to date right now. Plus-Pandora makes an awesome bento.

The girl kind of frowned and walked away, and Fujiomi let go of my scarf/tie thing.

Fujiomi: Get back to you own classroom now. Lunch is almost over.

I wasn¡Çt really in a good mood, but I was too tired to argue with him so I said, ¡ÈFine,¡É and waved good bye as I went back to my own classroom. I fixed my skirt and blouse and hair to how they were before and I got to inhale my lunch right before the bell rang. The rest of the day passed, and I hovered between being bored and being pissed. School ended, and I walked with Sukiko to the school gates.

¡ÈPANDORA!! HEY- PANDORA!¡É

What the- I turn around and it¡Çs Fujiomi, screaming my name and running after me like and idiot. He was grinning like an idiot, too. Was he sick? Just as I was about to ask him if he hit his head, he gave me this HUGE bear hug, and lifted me off the ground about eight inches. A bit startling, to say the least. After he put me down, he was still holding onto me and he said in my hear, ¡ÈThanks for the bento. You¡Çre a good girlfriend,¡É before letting go, waving at Sukiko, winking at me, and jogging back into the building. EVERYONE was staring, and once again, I was left standing there, a huge, ¡ÈWTF?!¡É expression on my face. I looked at Sukiko, and she asked, ¡ÈHas he always called you by your first name?¡É I thought about it, and realized he¡Çs NEVER used an honorific with my name. He¡Çs always addressed me as just ¡ÈPandora¡É.

Bastard.

This post is taking forever, so the love letters will have to wait unless something more interesting happens that I want to write about. I AM going to write about taking my finals and graduating from Japanese high school (I get the feeling that post is gonna be long, too), but I think I¡Çd like to change my pace a bit.

With my next, post- Send in your questions.

That¡Çs right- any question ANY of you have, submit it in comment form, and I¡Çll be sure to answer every single one of them to the best of my ability. Ask about Japan, school, food, clothes, Sukiko- and I think a few of you might even ask about Fujiomi, right? Well, it¡Çs your lucky day. I¡Çm feeling generous, so send in those questions! I¡Çll update on Wednesday (American time) with my answers, so feel free to send in more than one as you think of them, and tell your friends to send in questions, too. Regular comments are always appreciated as well, of course.

Oh, and Ari (or Ali, I¡Çm not sure), the first one I subscribed to was Things to Avoid While In Japan. That gave me a lot of cultural hints. As far as language, I suggest Japanese class, but it¡Çs a video cast, so you might not be able to watch it on your iPod, but it¡Çs really good for an introduction to sentence construction and correct grammar. Also, try to look for Japanese podcasts that are supposed to teach English. It can be interesting to listen to.

With that, this is Pandora, signing off.

I updated, so you’ll have to go back to "and this happened how?!"

I’ll be deleting this post after y’all read it, so any comment you have, add them to that post. I would hate to delete your precious comments.

_pandora

ARGH!!!!!!!!

HOW MANY TIMES?!!!! How many times will my internet crap out RIGHT BEFORE my post is complete?! This isn’t funny anymore! It’s passed up funny and headed straight into "God MUST hate me" territory.

I mean, not ONLY am I being black-mailed into being The Demon’s girlfriend, AND I’m just getting over a very bad cold, but now THIS?! I’m not even allowed to finish my post so that I might get some sympathy from my loyal readers?

Ugh……My life…..

I think I’m gonna go throw up now…

This isn’t funny anymore, God. Go pick on Azrael.

Here is the final part of the story that explains how I ended up becoming Fujiomi’s girlfriend. Don’t wet yourself just yet- let me explain.

That day at school, there were very mixed feelings. Some people- who had already heard through the grapevine about Fujiomi’s return to hating me- ignored me or gave me weird, almost hostile looks. Others, who were still clueless and thought everything was still going fine, chatted with me openly and were very friendly.

Let me pause for a moment to say that the entire population of Japan MUST BE psychic. There is NO OTHER explanation as to how half the student body found out about Fujiomi and I, unless they, too, had been listening during my phone conversation. You¡Çll come in contact a lot with this in Japan- the small glances or gestures that have the power to convey entire conversations. It¡Çs creepy, to say the least, and I¡Çm usually caught in the dark a lot of the time when this goes on.

The first half of my day was an emotional rollercoaster. One minute, I was pissed because someone ignored me or gave me a haughty look- the next, I was elated when someone else greeted me in the hallway. By lunch time, I was NOT willing to put up with a crowd of curious classmates surrounding me, asking me personal questions and trying to verify various rumors they had heard about me.

Do you see where I¡Çm going with this yet?

Thank God for Sukiko, who kept most of the vultures at bay. The Japanese love two things- suffering and gossip. If you are Japanese, you do both simultaneously, and you enjoy every minute of it. However, none of us were really able to eat. Mai and Nana also helped out, and I felt bad for putting them in that position. About halfway through lunch, the room got quiet and the crowd parted.

Crap.

Fujiomi came in the room, and he was immediately assaulted by questions as well, though they didn¡Çt seem to want to invade HIS personal space. He walked up to me, with that ¡ÈI¡Çm-such-a-badass¡É grin that makes him look like a cheesy drama villain, and asked me in English:

Fujiomi: Enjoying your lunch?

Me: (In Japanese) I¡Çm not an idiot; You can speak to me in Japanese.

Fujiomi: (In English) But I thought you hated it when people talked to you in Japanese too fast. You said it sounded like the wailings of a drunken cat. All I am doing is making it easier for you.

Me: You¡Çre mocking me. Stop it.

At this point, there are students running to their desks for their English-Japanese Dictionaries, and two of them hurtled down the hall, calling for the English teacher to come and translate. Fujiomi¡Çs friends showed up- the same ones from the hanami- and one of them looped his arm around Fujiomi¡Çs neck and started giving him a noogie. I¡Çm not even kidding. I seriously thought that Fujiomi was going to bite his hand off.

Boy 2: What- still picking on Pandora-san?

Boy 3: She¡Çs a nice girl. Leave her alone, Fujiomi-kun.

Fujiomi: I¡Çm not picking on her. I¡Çm being nice. However, she doesn¡Çt seem to appreciate talking to me in English. Strange gaijin.

Me: Your English skill is really impressive, Fujiomi. You should come with me to America, where everyone speaks English. You would fit right in over there. No one would even know you were Japanese.

Note: If you don¡Çt want to piss a Japanese off, DON¡ÇT SAY THIS. Don¡Çt say anything LIKE this. Don¡Çt even THINK it, because their Japanese telepathy will pick it up. This is the WRONG THING to say. I know that. I knew it when I said it, but I didn¡Çt care.

See, there are a lot of hypocrisies in Japan. One of the main ones is about English. The Japanese love English: they like to use random English words EVERYWHERE, and they admire native English speakers. English has its own fan base in Japan, much like Japanophilia is growing rampant in the States. However, there is a down side. The Japanese don¡Çt want to appear too English-obsessed, for fear of looking unpatriotic. Elementary school kids that have an easy time at picking up English are teased a lot by their classmates from what Youto tells me. The interest they have in exploring something different clashes with the need to blend in with the crowd, which explains why many of them get so antsy around foreigners. By saying a comment like mine, not only was I drawing special attention to his English ability, but I was setting him apart from his culture and associating him instead with me and my own country. Obviously, this was a big no-no, and Fujiomi did NOT appreciate it.

Almost as soon as I finished my last word, I could feel the beginnings of rumors start to form in the minds of my classmates, each making their own assumption as to how Fujiomi was so good at English. Fujiomi LOST IT.

Fujiomi: SHUT UP! You don¡Çt know ANYTHING! And I would NEVER want to go to your stupid, filthy country! You¡Çre only here on a passing wish- to eat our food and go to our school and wear our clothes. This is a vacation for you! Soon, you¡Çll go back to your own life and laugh with your friends about our ¡Èsilly culture¡É and then you¡Çll forget all about us! You¡Çre nothing but a lying gaijin- trying to fool yourself into thinking you¡Çre Japanese! Stop pretending, and GO HOME!

I¡Çll admit, that hurt. And that¡Çs just what I UNDERSTOOD. He really said a lot more. PLUS- I actually SAW a teacher standing in the doorway of the room while Fujiomi was yelling! You know what that teacher did?! He sipped his coffee, shook his head, and WALKED AWAY! I couldn¡Çt believe it! Right then, I knew I would have to take care of Fujiomi myself.

Me: Listen! Don¡Çt talk down to me! I worked hard to get here!

Unfortunately- that¡Çs about as far as I got before I ran out of Japanese. I was really angry, and I was struggling to put my English thoughts into coherent Japanese sentences. Because I was defending my right to be in Japan, I didn¡Çt want to make an ass of myself by piecing together chopped up Japanese. After a few moments, I sucked it up and switched to English.

Me: I¡Çm not lying about anything! I KNOW that I¡Çm a gaijin- I KNOW that I don¡Çt really belong here, and that I never will. But is that wrong?! Is it WRONG of me to want to visit this country, to want to really experience life here as more than another tourist?

Fujiomi answered me in Japanese.

Fujiomi: See? You don¡Çt even know enough of our language to explain yourself. If you could even ACT Japanese, I might be able to accept you. But everything about you is American- the way you speak, the way you think, how you sit and walk and laugh. If you really tried, you could blend in a lot more. But you insist on standing out.

Me: (In Japanese) I don¡Çt TRY to stand out! Gaijin naturally attract more attention in this country.

Fujiomi: (In English) Your hair.

Okay- PAUSE. Let me just say that at this point in our conversation, half of our classmates have had aneurysms from trying to follow along. Now that I type it all out, I¡Çm surprised at how much he and I switched from English to Japanese. (For the record, I enlisted Sukiko¡Çs help with this post to recall the event as accurately as possible. Sukiko has known all along about my blog. She promised not to tell Fujiomi about my blog, if in return, I let her practice her practice her English and write a post on here one day.)

Me: (In Japanese) What? My hair? What about it?!

Fujiomi: (J) It sticks out. It¡Çs gotten lighter and lighter since you¡Çve been here, until you¡Çve become a walking ¡ÈGAIJIN¡É sign.

Me: Lots of other girls dye their hair!

Fujiomi: But it¡Çs obvious on you. It makes you stick out.

Me: So if I didn¡Çt dye my hair, that would make me more Japanese?!

Fujiomi: NOTHING could make you more Japanese. There¡Çs no way you could ever pull it off.

Me: I could so!

Fujiomi: Not to my standards.

Me: (In English) Wanna bet?

Then, Fujiomi¡Çs friend shouted. Well, to be honest, it¡Çs not really a shout. If you ever get the chance, watch Japanese television on Youtube. Not the anime or the dramas, but the game/variety shows. Watch how the Japanese react to certain situations. They make SOUND EFFECTS. It comes off as cheesy at first, but they MEAN it. One of the main sound effects they make is a surprised shout, like when something shocks them or they heard something suprising. It sounds like, ¡ÈOUWAH!¡É like they tripped or something. Fujiomi¡Çs friend made this noise REALLY LOUD, and everyone looked at him.

Boy 2: Hey, hey- make a bet! Make a bet! Fujiomi-kun- why don¡Çt you bet Pandora-san that she cannot be Japanese! We¡Çll make it an event!

Boy 3: No, no- do what we said yesterday! Let¡Çs see if Pandora-san can be the ¡Èperfect Japanese girlfriend¡É !

Class: OUWAH!

The crowd of students didn¡Çt know about our hanami conversation, so they all started asking questions, wanting to be filled in. Fujiomi shook his head.

Fujiomi: No. No way can she do it. Whose girlfriend would she be?

Boy 1: MINE!

Boy 2: Shut up- you already have a girlfriend!

Boy 3: Damn- I¡Çm taken, too.

Boy 2: Be my girlfriend, Pandora-chan! I¡Çll help you be the best girlfriend ever!

Talk about pandemonium. Almost every single guy in class was offering to be my boyfriend to help me ¡Èwin the challenge¡É. Everything was happening really fast, and I couldn¡Çt really speak up because I was busy trying to keep up with the rapid-fire Japanese around me. Sukiko was talking to her brother, and they were arguing, and Mai and Nana were sifting through the boys, picking out ¡Ègood¡É guys for me to date. A teacher walked by and told us to keep it down, but no one really listened and the teacher walked away. Fujiomi slipped away from Sukiko and said to me in English, ¡ÈWell, gaijin? Do you accept my challenge? If you can meet my standards, I will submit that you are a good woman and you are good enough to be Japanese. If not, or if you give up, you have to bow to me and admit that you should have never come here in the first place.¡É

Me: (In Japanese). . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Fine. I agree.

Now, the only issue was whom to pick. The other classes hadn¡Çt even heard about it yet, and I was trying to think about boys in other classes, and who was taken already. Also, there were still about twenty guys in front of me, clamoring for my attention. It sounds great, sure, but from my perspective, it¡Çs a pain in the ass. I¡Çve always gone to an all-girl¡Çs school, so suddenly finding myself in the midst of a class full of boys each dying to be my boyfriend makes me wanna throw up. Sukiko got close to me and whispered, ¡ÈPick Fujiomi!¡É

Me; WHAT?!

Sukiko: (still whispering) He¡Çs counting on you picking the wrong person and failing. Plus, anyone else that you pick will have to answer to Fujiomi. You already live with him, so what better way to ensure you win?

I thought about it, and I didn¡Çt really like it. Living with him, there was less I could get away with, and Fujiomi would be more able to point out my mistakes. Plus, Fujiomi could act like a total duckweed and sabotage my efforts himself. I had been considering picking Rin as my boyfriend. He already had a crush on me, and he was nice and easy to get along with. Without missing a beat, Sukiko whispered, ¡ÈPick Fujiomi, or I¡Çll tell him about your webpage.¡É

THAT was unexpected. The Sukiko I knew was never vindictive or malevolent, so to have her say that in such a cold voice really shocked me. I looked at her like, ¡ÈBitch,-is-you-CRAZY-?!¡É but she just shook her head and said it was for my own good.

I turned and looked at Fujiomi, who obviously had NO IDEA what his sister, The Demon, had just said. I knew Sukiko was serious, and what would happen if Fujiomi really did read my blog, so I sucked it up, pointed at Fujiomi, and said, ¡ÈYOU. I want to be YOUR girlfriend.¡É

To be continued¡Ä

For those of you who don’t know, I DID add on to my previous post. Go back one to finish reading it, then feel free to return. I don’t mind waiting.

Ready? Okay- so to continue where I left off, my cell was ringing and I had to go into the kitchen to get it. This was odd for many different reasons. First of all, no one in Japan really has my cell phone number. One, because even thought I’m IN the country, it still gets charged as an international call because Sprint is a faggot. Two, because I don’t really like to give my number out in the first place. Three, because there IS a difference between text messaging and phone mail, and Japanese people do NOT know that.

So it’s about one in the morning, and I’m wondering who the hell is making my phone belt out the Friends theme song. I reach into my purse, flip it open to silence the ring, and answer it. The following conversation happened within seconds:

BOLD words are in English. Italicized words are in Japanese.

Me: Hello?

Girl: Hey, there- what’s up?! It’s been FOREVER.

Me: What the hell?! Who is this?!

Girl: Um- HELLO! You there?!

Me: What are you saying, woman?!

Girl: Are you speaking Japanese?! That is SO cool!

Me: (Thinks: Oh, English.) Sorry, but- I dunno Engrish. I apologize.

Girl: Very funny, Pandora. You don’t know English. And I’m Winnie the Pooh.

FINALLY- the lightbulb turned on, and I shook my head at my own stupidity. Winnie the Pooh is a big in-joke with my friends and I, and I instantly knew who it was on the phone. I slapped my forehead and shut my eyes, and said in my NORMAL voice- in ENGLISH- "Hey. Sorry ’bout that."

She laughed about it after I told her what happened, and I went back into the living room with my phone. It was my best friend from back home, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed hearing her voice. Being here really takes a toll on you at first, getting used to the rapid-fire Japanese and lack of subtitles, and the high-pitched nasally quality of everyone’s voice. So when you finally hear a friend- or even yourself- speaking in normal English, it sounds like the weirdest thing in the world. Sort of like that feeling when you’re dreaming, and you KNOW your dreaming, but you still can’t wake up.

She and I talked for HOURS. Of course, it was three in the afternoon back home, so she hadn’t really thought about it when she called me. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to hear her voice, and to be reminded of all our silly quotes and inside jokes that we had made up over the years. It made me miss home- a LOT. It also reminded me just how far away I was, and how different the culture is here. When I told her I wasn’t feeling well, and that I might have to get a mask for my face, she was HORRIFIED. "Like- a JASON mask??" I was taken aback- before I remembered that in the States, wearing a surgical mask over your face is NOT a common thing to do.

She asked me a lot about being here. She and I email every day, but between school work and trying to have a social life here, I don’t really get the chance to type everything out, and tell her everything that goes on here. I told her about my daily routine, about Harajuku and the people I had seen in Yoyogi park. I told her all about the hanami and the photoshoot, too, and her interest perked when I mentioned Fujiomi fixing my yukata.

Her: So he’s treating you better now?

Me: Kinda. But I can’t figure him out.

Her: What do you mean?

Me: Fujiomi’s really distant with me. Even though we’re getting along better now, and he doesn’t try to piss me off intentionally anymore, he still treats me differently than other girls. He’s nicer to them. More polite. He talks a LOT more to them, and doesn’t seem like he has a stick up his ass- more relaxed and open, y’know?

My friend told me that it was because I wasn’t LIKE those other girls. She said the main factor was probably because I wasn’t Japanese. "Like it or not," she said, "they’re going to treat you differently. You knew that when you went over there." She reassured me and told me not to sweat it, and she made some jokes to make me laugh. I still didn’t feel better, so she asked me if I wanted to vent. I told her that I did, so she let me.

I let it ALL out- how much I hate wearing that slutty school uniform, how much I loathe the Japanese train system, how I dream of eating real food with flavor, how I hate sitting on the floor like a hippie- EVERYTHING, right down to the calluss I’ve gotten from using chopsticks. Then, I started in on Fujiomi. I told her all about how mean he was when I first arrived, all the sarcastic comments he made, and how I hated how he treated me differently.

My friend laughed, and agreed. She even brought up some things I had forgotten in my rage, like the onsen incident, and I ranted about those things, too. Finally, when I was all done, it was nearly four in the morning. She and I stayed on the phone for maybe another half hour, and she told me briefly about all the goings-on back home. Thoroughly exhausted from my venting, I told my friend good-bye and I managed to crawl into my futon for a few hours’ sleep before I was waken up for school again.

I dressed and went down for breakfast. Sukiko’s mom made me a plate and I ate, feeling almost hung-over from my lack of sleep. Fujiomi came into the kitchen with Sukiko, and they ate, too. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Normal. Until Sukiko’s mother left the kitchen. Fujiomi, not even looking up from his bowl of soup, asked me , "Did you sleep well, Pandora?"

I was still bleary-eyed and unfocused, so I answered him back in English.

Me: Yes, I slept fine.

Fujiomi: Didn’t know you could sleep at all on our hard hippie floors. Doesn’t the lumpy pillow give you neck pain?

Me: What…?

Fujiomi: I’m suprised you can even eat the gruel in front of you. So much fish and rice all the time- it’s like a prisoner’s diet.

Me: (Thinks: Wait- what is he saying…? Where have I heard that before…?)

Fujiomi: But don’t listen to me. I’m just a spiky-haired pretty-boy with no fashion sense and nothing better to do than cut you down. All I ever do is think about new ways to ruin your life.

It’s at this point that I realize he’s speaking to me in FLUENT ENGLISH. At this shock, I re-think everything he’s said, and my mouth drops with horror. He had heard my conversation last night. Not only that, but he UNDERSTOOD what I had said, and was now parroting it all back at me in perfect English.

Shit.

I didn’t even know how to respond. What do you SAY to that??? Fujiomi shot me this LOOK, before cleaning his plates and leaving. Sukiko was totally in the dark the whole time, and looked between Fujiomi and I. She obviously didn’t understand too much English, and when he left, she asked me what he had said to me. I sighed. I really, really, REALLY did NOT want to tell Sukiko about what I had said the night before. Fujiomi was one thing, but Sukiko is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. All she had done was take me around, showing me her country and help me adjust to her culture and school. The LAST THING I wanted to tell her was all the horrible things I had said about her country and her way of life.

I compromised by telling her that I had spoken to my friend last night, and that I was tired and upset from the hanami. I explained how I vented to my friend about Fujiomi, and I told Sukiko some of the things I had said about him. Sukiko immediately understood- she knew right away that Fujiomi must have heard me, because he is the only one in the house- besides the mom- that’s really good at English. Sukiko explained that their mom had spoken to Fujiomi in English when he was growing up so that he would have an easier time of it in school. However, by the time Sukiko and Youto had come along, their mom was busier around the house and had to quit her job, so they didn’t get the same advantage.

She and I walked to the train station talking about it, but we fell silent on the train. Even when we got off the train, she and I walked in silence. GOD, I was furious. FIRST, because Fujiomi had eavesdropped on me. I don’t care what ANYONE says, he must have been listening to me talk for over twenty minutes to hear all of that. There’s no way he just "walked by" and overheard me. Second- and this is what REALLY got me- he spoke English! Not just Engrish like everyone else, but REAL, FLUENT ENGLISH!! You would THINK that he MIGHT have mentioned that a bit sooner. I thought back to all the times he laughed at me while I struggled to pick up Japanese, and how he gave me a hard time when I would email my friends in English. Not even once did he try to help me out, or translate something for me, or even acknowledge that he spoke any English at all. Ugh- I remember all the times over the past WEEKS I talked badly behind his back in English, calling him all sorts of awful things, smug in my ignorance that he couldn’t understand me. He was probably laughing to himself that whole time, thinking what an idiot I was.

All these thoughts and more rushed through my head on that walk to school, and by the time we arrived I felt like I was dragging around a two-ton weight.

Things didn’t get interesting until lunch.

(To be continued. After I finish the next post, I might include some of the compliments and notes I’ve recieved so far from the boys here. I’m always happy to take other requests, so if there’s something you want to hear about, feel free to ask!)

Have you ever just felt completely beaten down by the world? Like, your whole life is a never-ending series of "Who-or-what-can-ruin-my-day-the-most"? That’s how the past two weeks have been for me.

Now that I have a short "holiday" (*cough-hack-wheeze*), I plan on killing myself by updating EVERY DAY for the rest of the week to catch up. Let’s get started, shall we?

After I left off, Fujiomi and I were getting along. WERE. Past tense. He and I talked, and afterwards, a much more peaceful atmosphere was prevalent throughout the house. No, more than the house. I think the whole nation of Japan was at peace while Fujiomi and I got along. The sun was brighter, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. I even had a better time at school. Since the rest of the students now had Fujiomi’s go-ahead, they talked to me a lot more. And so did the guys. I think I got hit on more times in those few days than I ever had in my whole life. It got to the point of ridiculousness- I found notes in my gym bag, in my desk, in my shoe cubby, and about a million phone numbers would be added to my phone when it wasn’t strapped to my side. I didn’t know guys were ALLOWED to do that- just steal a girl’s phone and add their number in as they pleased. I got asked out a lot after school- mostly on group "dates" to a tea shop or for karaoke. Trust me- they all had a great time when I got up and started singing the few anime theme songs that I know. I also performed my rendition of "Dirrty", which was a real crowd pleaser. Everything was going great.

I even went to a hanami. I can’t TELL you how excited I was. There was a neighborhood function two weekends ago, sort of like a festival but without as many games. There were a ton of food carts, though. I was happy because I got to wear one of Sukiko’s yukata. It was difficult at first- I’m a bit more curvy than she is, so her mom had difficulty folding it in the right places, but int he end it fit well. I was suprised at how hard it is to move in, though- you have to take these really short steps, with your feet right in front of each other, or the yukata starts to slip open. It was hard to get used to- but easier to get used to than the STARING I got.

If there is one thing a foreigner has to get used to here in Japan, it’s staring. I know that. You know that. We ALL know that. When a foreigner even opens their mouth to say, "Hai’, or picks up a pair of chopsticks, it’s like every person in Tokyo drops what they’re doing to STARE OPENLY at you. So to dress in "their" clothes is even more shocking for them. Fujiomi was certainly suprised. He was in a yukata, too, and I laughed at him. He was so obviously uncomfortable in it,a nd it didn’t really suit his surly attitude or modern haircut. I said he looked like an old man getting out of the bath- and he whipped around and said I look like a bad foreign prostitute. But we both knew the otehr was joking, so it was all good.

The hanami was great. Everyone said hello to everyone else, and the cherry blossoms were wonderful to look at. Sukiko met up with her boyfriend, and told Fujiomi to escort me. He mumbled something like, "Shut up. I’m not gonna run away from her." and told me to walk faster. He and I went around to where most of the teenagers were hanging out, while Sukiko’s mom and dad stayed where all the food carts and petty dealers were. Whenever there’s some kind of neighborhood gathering, salesmen from all over start coming out of the woodwork, and set up booths trying to sell you everything from radish slicers to computer parts. Fujiomi and I avoided that, and turned right. We ran into a lot of our classmates, and it was a nice mix of traditional and modern clothes. You really get a sense of Japan’s culture when you see people in kimono standing next to people in jeans. However, WAY too many girls tried to get a peek under Fujiomi’s yukata, in my opinion. A hint for you men out there, Japanese women are NOT the serene, gentle blossoms you think they are. They will dig their nails into you and NOT LET YOU GO until they have picked out apart from the inside out. At least, that’s my impression. I was suprised at how calmly Fujiomi delt with them, though. He was really polite and conversational, talking to them all, not picking favorites and smiling and being all around friendly. I ran into Mai, and a few other girls from our class, and we walked around a bit. I was kind of the center of attention for a while- with my bright hair and a green yukata, I stand out, and I know it. Some of the boys asked me to pose underneath a really pretty tree full of cherry blossoms, and they wanted to have my picture. I was flattered, and said yes. Unfortunately, this is where things started to get out of hand.

A tip for girls: if you go to Japan, there WILL be strange people asking for your picture. This is normal. However, if these people have PROFFESSIONAL looking cameras, and tehre is more than three of them taking your picture, RUN AWAY.

In my case, it was only a few boys from school. Thsoe few boys turned into about fifteen boys, whipping out cameras and shouting for me to do different poses. "Touch your hair." "Look this way!" "Shut your eyes!" "Smile over here!" "Smell the blossoms" "Look over your shoulder!" "Show me your wrists, please!" This caught the attention of everyone else walking by, and suddenly I had HALF THE IMMEDIATE UNIVERSE surrounding me by that damn tree. It was around this time that I started getting nervous, but I couldn’t see Mai or Fujiomi or anyone I knew. Really bright flashes were going off, and I was being asked for my name and address. I tried to get away from the mob, but they wouldn’t part to let me out. FINALLY, I had to turn around, walk BEHIND the tree, and climb over the tree roots and rocks to get away from them. This effectively RUINED my yukata, and I felt it start to come loose.

Well, I thought, the best course of action is to go home now. Maybe someone will be there that can help me with this freaking robe, and I can call Sukiko and meet up with her. About two blocks from the house, I saw Fujiomi and three of his friends up ahead. They were walking pretty slow, and I wasn’t sure if I should approach them, or slow down. I called out to Fujiomi, and they all turned around. The boys smiled and said hello to me, but Fujiomi asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

One of the other boys asked me if the ghost from the cherry tree had gotten me*, and while the rest of them laughed, I told Fujiomi that some people had been taking my picture and gotten carried away. His friends said that otaku guys always snap pictures of pretty girls to "look at" later, and Fujiomi asked me who had taken my picture.

*There is a Japanese legend that says there are bodies buried beneath the sakura trees, and the blood of the dead is what stains the blossoms pink and red. They say that if you anger the ghost that lives in the sakura tree, you and your family will be cursed for as long as that tree stands, or something. In any case, it was a really corny joke.

Me: I dunno. A lot of people. At first it was just a few boys from school, but then more people came around, and girls and boys from other schoold took my picture, too. There were a few guys with really fancy cameras, too. They looked proffessional.

Fujiomi: Professional?

Boy 1: Like a paid photographer?

Me: I guess. There were a few of them- they had funky clothes on, like low-rank yakuza.

Fujiomi: What did they say to you? Did you give them your name or address??

Me: NO! I ran away- and my yukata came loose, so I rushed back here. That’s all that happened.

Boy 2: Sometimes guys like taht just pose as photographers, but they’re really perverts that like to take and sell pictures of pretty girls.

Fujiomi suggested that we all get in the house, and the other boys went ahead into the living room while he kept me in the entrance way to fix my yukata. There are two sashes and some kind of elastic belt that go to yukata; for me, the second sash had come loose, so Fujiomi had to stand behind me while I held my arms out,a nd he reached around me to re-tie it in the front. I remember thinking at the time that Fujiomi uses WAY too much product on his hair, but that no one could really tell from far away. He kept muttering to himself in Japanese, cursing while he tried to re-tie it; he’s not really the patient kind, and he would tell me to stand up straighter or hold my arms out more. He finally got it, and he told me to serve his friends tea while he went back to make sure I hadn’t been followed. "Tell them I went to the corner store if they ask. I’ll be back soon." he said. Bossy, bossy.

But- I did what he suggested, and went to serve the other boys tea. Kneeling on a tatami mat in that yukata is NOT comfortable unless you’re used to it. Every time I adjusted my position, I had to make sure the front of my yukata wasn’t wide open. They other boys thanked me for serving them, and said that they were lucky to be served tea by me. this led to the topic of their girlfriends.

Boy 1: My girlfriend doesn’t do anything for me anymore. She used to visit me in class and make me food, but now all she does is whine about her parents and make me buy her things.

Boy 2: At least you HAVE a girlfriend. Fuumi-chan dumped me over two months ago and I still haven’t gotten over it.

Boy 3: I just started dating my girlfriend, and she’s already smothering me. Everywhere I look, there she is. She’s nice, but way too attached to me. It’s creepy.

Nice to know that the efforts of Japanese women are paying off.

They asked me about relationships in MAerica, and I told them that back in the States, the rules about dating and friendship were much more relaxed. People held hands and kissed in public almost all the time. However, girls were a bit more picky when it came time for sex. At least, the girls where I’m from are that way, anyway. Also, Americans wait longer to get married, and the women are more independant. they asked me what kinds of things I did for my boyfriend, and I had to admit I had never really had a steady boyfriend before.

Hysteria errupted.

They began telling me all kinds of things that Japanese girlfriends did for their boyfriends, and the little rituals that boys would do in return, like giving the girl the second button off his jacket, sharing umbrellas, and taking her shopping. The girls, apparently, were supposed to bake and cook for their boyfriends, write them notes, and act all-around cute.

Boy 1: The perfect girlfriend would be innocent and demure, with a cute sense of humor. She would have big eyes and plump lips, and blush when I complimented her. She would wear adorable, girly clothes, and have long smooth hair. All the time, she would follow me and tell me what a great boyfriend I was, and make me a bento every day for lunch. And at night, she would let me kiss her and hold her as long as I wanted. Ahhhh…where does a girl like that live?

Boy 2: In your dreams.

Boy 3: In date-sim games.

I couldn’t have said it better.

It wasn’t long after this that Sukiko came home, and she helped me out of my yukata. When she and I got back downstairs, Fujiomi was back. They otehr boys had told him about our girlfriend conversation, and Fujiomi only shook his head. He agreed that there was no "perfect girl" out there- but the other boy insisted.

Boy 1: If there isn’t a perfect girl out there somewhere, then why do people fall in love?? Men don’t marry kogals- they marry nice, innocent, cute girls! They have to live SOMEWHERE.

Fujiomi: There isn’t a hidden colony where they all live, or anything. And people marry because they want to, I guess. But there is NO GIRL out there that’s really the way you described- all perky and flirty and innocent. Doesn’t exist. I doubt there’s even a girl that could act that way if she TRIED.

Boy 2: I don’t know- my ex had me going for a while. She seemed like the perfect girl, until she went crazy on me and dumped me a week later. Girls have all kinds of masks and tricks they use.

Sukiko and I nodded openly. We girls are well aware of the ploys we use to get guys’ attention, and any girl that tries to deny that is a filthy lying whore. The boys saw us agreeing, but- once again- Fujiomi got it wrong.

Fujiomi: What? You think either of you could act perfect? Be the perfect girlfriend? Huh- no way.

Sukiko said she already HAD a boyfriend that liked her for who she was, THANK YOU very much. I, however, took it as a challenge.

Me: I could so. What you’re describing is insanely easy to pull off.

And I twirled hy hair around my finger, batted my eyelashes, and gave a giggle, "Oh, Fuji-kun, you’re sooooo smart! I wish I was as smart as youuuuu!". I dropped the act, looked him deadpan in the face and said, "It’s not hard to do. Just moronic. No self-respecting girl WANTS to look like a helpless idiot."

Fujiomi sighed and shook his head, and the other boys and Sukiko laughed at my impersonation of "the perfect girl". They talked about that more for a while, before switching over and changing the conversation. I think about an hour passed before the boys went home. Fujiomi changed out of his yukata and went with them. He came back while me and the rest of the family were having dinner.

The odd thing was, I wasn’t tired at all. Normally after a full day, I fall asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow. However, that night- even after a full dinner, a warm bath, and lounging in the living room- I was STILL wide awake. Sukiko’s parents said I could stay up as long as I wanted, but to not be too loud, so I stayed in the living room and watched tv- variety show after variety show. Joy oh joy.

I think it was about one or two in the morning when I heard my cell phone ring. It was still in my purse in the kitchen, but as I went to get it, I thought- Who the HELL is calling me NOW?!

To be continued…

Recently I’ve just re-read the book Wrong About Japan, by the Australian-born author Peter Carey. The story is a personal tale of a trip he takes to Japan with his pre-teen son. A search of hidden meanings behind manga and anime, and what they may reveal about Japanese culture and history. His writing is fast, flowing and oftentimes, just plain hilarious.

As an author, he has the opportunity to interview some amazing people - Yoshindo Yoshihara, 10th generation swordmaker and Yoshiyuki Tomino, originator of the Mobile Suit Gundam series, to name a few.

Carey does a lot of research on various aspects of Japanese culture and anime, making interpretations throughout. He offers his opinions to those he interviews… most often getting it, as the title indicates, totally, utterly, completely wrong.

A really good read, entertaining and educational, all in one!

I’ll leave this with an extract:

Arriving at Starbucks fifteen minutes later, we found Takashi already ensconced in a tall plush chair that made him - uniformed as he was, and coiffed with such spiked precision - look like a member of the Earth Federation Mobile Suit carrier, White Base.
"You like muffin?" he enquired. "Miruku?"
The u ending suggested an English word recently adopted by the Japanese, but in the case of milk, that made no sense at all, so I asked Takashi was there no other word for milk.
"Oh yes, of course."
"So why do you call it miruku?"
"Miruku is more modern."
"But what’s the matter with the other word?"
"Not so hygenic."
"How is that?"
"The other word is gyuunyuu." He wrinkled his nose. "It means liquid from udder. Miruku is better."

Are the Japanese really an honorable and honest people as most people seem to think or are they just like everybody else? A lot of people seem to think they are. Some say it is because they are of one race and ethnicity. Some say it’s because of the group mentality thinking. Others say it’s because of their deep rooted culture based on codes of the samurai with bushido and the similar codes of the Yakuza. Others say it’s because of their morals and upbringing. And, still, others say it’s because of the dense population and close proximity to each other that one has to think about another’s feelings so as not to disturb their “Wa” (harmony). I don’t know the correct answer, but I do know one thing, and that is, in one experience of mine, I was grateful that at least one person was honest and honorable.

This experience occurred when I was a university student. I also had a part-time job teaching English to businessmen and college students at a small school I worked at during the week and on Saturdays. We were always paid in cash on the 25th of the month. I had adopted the bad habit of carrying around one of those long rectangular wallets that I had received as a gift from a friend of mine. Maybe you’ve seen them. They are thin, sometimes made out of leather or silk, and are long enough to hold Japanese bills without them being folded. A lot of businessmen carry one in the inside breast pocket of their suit jacket as do many Yakuza and Chinpira (young Yakuza in Training)

It was a fashion trend back then to have one prominently sticking out of your back pocket as it kind of made you look cool and fashionable. (And we all know how important it is to be fashionable and “with the times” in Japan.) Why they were carried like that I don’t know because they could easily be lifted from your back pocket and pickpockets are well known in Japan. However, I was told that that was rare.

Anyway, to look like I “belonged” and cool, I started carrying one about two months prior. When I got paid this particular day, I put the twelve 10,000 notes in the wallet, stuffed it in my back pocket and started out for home after my classes ended at 9pm. I got a seat on the train and slept most of the way.

When I got to my train station I proceeded up the stairs with the crowd to the ticket taker. I reached around for my wallet to show my train pass and it was gone! It had everything in there, my train pass, my money, my bank card, important phone numbers, student ID, etc. Luckily it didn’t have my gaijin card in there as back then it was a little booklet that wouldn’t fit in any kind of wallet and I always kept it in the other back pocket.

It’s amazing how many thoughts can go through one’s head in a split second. I instantly panicked thinking how I was going to pay my rent and bills this month. I knew for sure right then and there that I would never see it again and it was gone forever. I figured I was pick-pocketed while walking to the train or getting off. With Shinjuku station being so crowded and with the crowd getting off the train, I could understand how easily someone could have lifted it without my ever knowing it.

I explained my plight to the ticket taker and he pointed me to an office. I went in and explained my predicament to the station master. He asked me for a complete description of the wallet and its contents. He also asked for proof of who I was and luckily I had my gaijin card. I explained that I probably lost it after I got on the Odakyu line at Shinjuku as I had to show my train-pass for entry. He wrote everything down and made a few phone calls to the major express stops along the Odakyu line. From his conversations I knew he wasn’t having any luck. After his last phone call to Shinjuku station he hung up the phone, looked at me apologetically, and said that I might have better luck checking back with him in the morning.

Even though our conversation was conducted in Japanese, he never seemed surprised that I could speak Japanese, nor did he try to speak to me in English. He was professional throughout and treated me, I guess, as he would any Japanese person.

I went down the stairs of the train station and walked home in utter despair. I kept thinking how stupid I was to carry that thing in my pocket like that knowing that it could’ve been so easily lifted. I had no money on me whatsoever save for a couple of 100 yen and other coins and the banks and ATM’s were closed. Being single, I usually ate dinner out as it only cost 4 or 500 yen and I couldn’t even eat that night. I did have some ramen, eggs and bread at home though, so it wouldn’t be a total loss.

When I got home, I was still so despondent that I wasn’t even hungry. I just sat at my kotatsu and stared into space thinking about the 120,000 plus yen that I had just lost. I quickly did some calculating, got out my bank book, and figured that all was not that bad as I still had just enough money in the bank to pay my rent and bills and buy a new train pass. Then I thought about my student ID as I couldn’t buy a student-discount train pass without one; and my bank card. I couldn’t even go to an ATM. It would take a couple of days to get a new student ID and at least a week to get a new bank card.

After about an hour or so I thought that I was not going to let this screw up my life. It’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. I chalked it up to a “stupid tax” that one pays going through life’s experiences. Besides, there is still tomorrow. Even if I just got back the wallet with my student ID and train pass I would be happy as the train pass cost me about 7,500 yen for a three month pass and I just bought it the previous month!

I was now feeling a bit hungry and decided that I was going to go out to eat and get drunk. I wandered over to the little snack across the street from my apartment and asked the mama-san if I could pay her tomorrow and explained what had happened to me. Without so much as a second thought she told me not to worry about it and that I could pay tomorrow or whenever I could. I quickly ordered a beer and some food.

After a while my good friend Suzuki-san walked in with his ever present dog, Jiro, on his back. Mama-san explained to him what had happened. He immediately said that he was paying my tab that night and I was not to worry. As I ate and we talked, I thought about what a great country this is and what good friends I had made. Here a foreigner loses his months pay and his Japanese friends step in to help him out. Mr. Suzuki even offered me 10,000 yen to tide me over, but I refused as I told him I would be going to the bank in the morning.

We drank and sang a few songs and then I went home. As I lay in the futon waiting for sleep to befall me, I still couldn’t stop thinking about the lost wallet.

I awoke the next morning, started up the kerosene heater, put my futon away, made some coffee and watched a little TV. After about an hour I got out my bank book and my hanko (official seal with my name on it), put them in my bag, turned off the heater, and ventured on up to the train station and the station masters office in the hopes that someone may have found my wallet and turned it in. But I still highly doubted it.

The station master was a different person, but he had all my information. When I told him who I was he said, “hai, hai,” yes, yes, and went on to explain that my wallet had indeed been found and I could pick it up at Hon-Atsugi station, a short distance away, as that was where it was turned in. I breathed a sigh of relief and asked him if there was any money in it. He said he didn’t know. I was just so glad that at least I might get back the train pass, my student ID card, and my bank card. I wasn’t so much worried about the train pass and my bank card as, unless it was a young person who pick-pocketed me, they wouldn’t be able to use my train pass as it had “STUDENT” stamped in bold kanji on it. Also, they couldn’t use my bank card either as they didn’t know my PIN number.

As I had enough money to buy a ticket to Hon-Atsugi, I didn’t bother wasting any time going to the bank as, if my money was indeed stolen, I would go to the bank at Hon-Atsugi station. I purchased a ticket and a can of hot coffee from one of the vending machines and sat on the bench waiting for my train to arrive.

It was a sunny day. A brisk March wind was blowing and I was warmed by the coffee. It was one of those days when the sun was bright, the air was crisp with just a hint of spring, the sky was picture perfect blue, and you were just glad to be alive. I just hoped I would feel the same after getting my wallet back.

After about five minutes I heard the familiar female voice announcing that the train was arriving and to stay behind the yellow line. I boarded the first car as I usually did and stood behind the engineer as I always enjoyed the view from this perspective.

Five stops later I was at Hon-Atsugi and found my way to the station masters office. I told him who I was and produced my gaijin card as proof. He asked me to identify the contents in detail and I did. He then went around a partition and after a few agonizingly long minutes came back. He had my wallet and a piece of paper in his hand. I was relieved as all hell. He laid my wallet on the counter and explained that the piece of paper he was giving me had the name, address, and phone number of the person who had found my wallet and turned it in. He said that I should call them and thank them. I said that I would. He asked if he should write the information in romaji and I told him that he needn’t bother as I could read Japanese. He then asked me to check the contents of the wallet. As I opened it I was dumbfounded that every single item in my wallet was still there right down to the money! Nothing was missing, not even a 500 yen note! It was all there! I signed a piece of paper accepting my wallet and it’s contents and that nothing was missing. This time I put my wallet in my bag and vowed that I would use a normal wallet from now on. No more trying to look cool.

As I left the station masters office I bowed and thanked him and headed for my train back home. I still couldn’t help but be awestruck that my wallet was turned in and that nothing was missing. I really expected the money to be gone at least. If this happened in the States, I’m sure I’d never see it again. The odds there were against me especially with all that cash in it. But some kind person may just as well have turned it in there also.

As I rode the train home I just couldn’t get over it. I had heard that the Japanese were an honest people, but this was just unbelievable. I looked at the paper and the name on it written in Japanese. It was a woman’s name and she lived in Atsugi city.

After I got to my own station I went immediately to a phone booth and dialed the number. A lady answered and it was she. I immediately guessed she was probably in her 40’s or so and told her who I was. I thanked her for finding my wallet and turning it in. She seemed more worried than I was as it had my bank card and train pass in it. She said that she noticed it on the seat of the train after I had gotten off. As the doors were already closed, she decided to turn it in at her station after finding no phone number for me in the wallet. She said that she worried about it all night as she knew I would be bothered by my loss. Leave it to the Japanese to be more concerned about the other person! She complimented me on my Japanese and I thanked her profusely and finally said good bye. Come to think of it, I’m sure I was also bowing my head while thanking her on the phone.

After hanging up the phone I immediately went to a nearby post office where I purchased an envelope. I asked for a sheet of paper from the postal person and wrote a thank you note in Japanese to this kind lady. After I signed my name, I reached into my bag for my wallet, opened it and removed a 10,000 yen note. I placed the note in the envelope and sealed it up; wrote down her address in Japanese and turned it in to the postal person. I had learned somewhere that it is a custom in Japan to pay a reward to the person finding, and turning in, a lost item. I fulfilled this custom.

As I left the post office and headed home I was more than happy that I was living in a country where some people do think about, and feel for others, including foreigners. The golden rule, so far as I knew, applied to Japan. And, as a side note, I still have that green silk wallet to this day. Once in a while I’ll go through my boxes, see it, and remember this experience.