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| Wednesday, May 24, 2006 |
11:51 am
The moment you've all been waiting for... after having an empty blog for almost 3 months, I've finally managed to pick myself up off my increasingly large arse and actually write something. Now I can't promise anything spectacular but it I do promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Well... for the most part at least. But before I begin I would first of all like to say a big thank you to my almost siamese twin, the pop bitch himself, Nathan Casey, without whom this blog would not exist (so blame him if it's shite alright!).
Why today? Well, nothing particulary exciting has just happened that I feel the need to share, I just have some free time on my hands so I thought I'd put it to good use instead of just looking at other people's blogs all day. For anyone who may have stumbled upon this site who doesn't know me (unlikely but just in case), I'm a British girl (I use the term 'girl' loosly as I am actually getting on a bit these days) teaching English in the true 'inaka' (countryside) of Western Honshu, Japan. Today my students have a mid term test, hence why I have bugger all to do. Actually there's lots I could and probably should be doing but sod it, today I can't be arsed. So here I am!
This weekend I had both a truly great and a truly horrific experience. The great thing was that I was invited to spend a weekend with a Japanese family. The first 'real' invite I've received since I got here almost 2 years ago. Don't get me wrong, the Japanese are friendly bunch, but it takes a while for them to really let you in. Anyhoo, I had my doubts at first. The invite came from a teacher at my school, one I have a bit of a love hate relationship with. I love him because he always includes me at school, invites me to small group enkais (work parties) and generally just isn't afraid of me being a strange foreigner. I hate him because he insists on telling me how cute I would be if only I lost a few pounds (on a par with Anna Kornakova apparently - he's an ex-soft tennis pro and clearly had his beer goggles on at the time) and he loves to tell everyone how much I late night munching I do because he ONCE discovered me eating spaghetti at an izakaya (Japanese bar/restaurant) at midnight. It's a free country right!
I was sceptical about the homestay not just because I thought he would have me doing some kind of weight loss boot camp but also because he didn't want me to take my car (I'd be trapped) and his wife apparently loves English (weekend long English class - eek!). Anyway, as it turns out, he has the most adorable family and they took fantastic care of me all weekend. We visited lots of places, they took me for lunch at the parents house, I got to spend time with one of my old students, who they'd also taken under their wing, and generally had a fantastic time. I even made a new friend, his two year old daughter Sakura who is possibly the cutest little girl I've ever met. At one point she tried to pull me into her Anpanman play house (for those of you who don't know Anpanman is possibly the best superhero ever to be invented - look him up!) and when she realised that was working she came out and tried to shove me in. Unfortunately said playhouse was only built for a little units and I never got to go in and play.
The weekend also made me kinda sad. Being in a real house, eating real homecooked food really made me miss my own family. I hadn't expected this at all and when I got home to my wee box of an apartment, I turned into a blubbering mess (sorry Sweaty Arbuckles, and thanks for listening). Made me realise just how important my friends are here. So, thanks for keeping me sane (well relatively), I love you!!!!
Now for the nasty thing that happened... On Saturday night my host family dropped me off in Taki (a lovely wee town on the coast) for a party at some cabins with a few friends. Generally speaking I had a good time, drank far too much chu-hi, had a yummy BBQ, the cabins were gorgeous, there was even a sauna, and most importantly I got to catch up with some good friends I hadn't seen in a while. What could possibly go wrong? Well... Shove a bunch of strong characters into a small space with lots of booze, encouraged along by the 'Never have I ever...' drinking game, close proximity to the sea, and there's your answer. After a few squabbles, some crying (not by me for a change) and a some drunken ejits going for a late night swim, I awoke to a cabin that looked like a bomb had exploded in it, covered in sand (that's the cabin, not me) and stinking on fish (again not me!). When I had passed out my friend Cat had been in the bed next to mine but when I opened my eyes, a naked boy was there instead. Not a good thing to face with a hangover, unless said man is Brad Pitt of course). Turns out Cat left in rage after discovering some dead fish had been put in her car and in the mean time another person had woken up to find one next to his bed! Hence the smell of fish! Or so I thought! But, as I was packing my stuff the smell of rotton fish grew stronger. I started to get paranoid, shit was it me after all? Surely not! How embarrasing would that be! Then I found it, the source of the smell, wrapped up, in amongst my work clothes, staring up at me above a pool of it's own slime, the very un-funny practical joke, a dead fish! I can still smell it, it's haunting me! The culprit owned up and apologised but unfortunately by that time I'd already had to face throwing it away and cleaning my clothes. Then to make things worse, my host family isisted on washing the clothes properly as I couldn't seem to get rid of the stench of rotten fish guts. Truly gross! So please, if your reading this and ever get the urge to put a dead fish (or anything dead for that matter) in someone's stuff, DON'T! Your victim will likely puch you or throw up on you, one or the other!
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