C'est trop cool! Fin, c'est trop chouett-euh!!! Et, pourquoi pas?! Amusez-vous bien, mes chèrs!
"Pourquoi pas moi?" video from Mareva Galanter's album "Ukuyéyé."
By the way, if you want to know the lyrics so you can sing along, click here. :)
26 December 2006
25 December 2006
Merry Christmas!
This is one of my favorite holiday movies (and by far the best holiday album) and it is brought to you by the good people at YouTube - thank you to whoever put this up!
I wish you a lovely, happy, festivus-ian Christmas! Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown (and friends)!
Now, enjoy the flick! :)
I wish you a lovely, happy, festivus-ian Christmas! Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown (and friends)!
Now, enjoy the flick! :)
21 December 2006
7 monks injured in clash over monastery
I'm sure it's very sad and unfortunate that people were injured in yet another religious dispute, but... this is frickin' hilarious. It sounds like something from a Steven Seagal movie. I'd like to especially show love for the following quote:
"[The] monastery is the scene of a long-running dispute between Orthodox Church authorities and rebel monks..."
Oh, to be the guy who got to type "rebel monks" in an article due to be released all over the world by the Associated Press. This is almost as cool as (ready for it, Maggie?!?!?!) my inclusion of "The Progressive Grocer" on my list of references for an International Econ paper (Because how often do you get to cite "The comphrehensive source for food retailers" when you're an int'l. relations major?) I had to write for the dreaded Prof. Cohen. May his Belgian-loving ego and brain rot in... Wallonie.
Somewhere in the world, another Brussels-lover is out there, hidden, having fallen off the face of the Earth (you all know I'm talking about our lovely Sof). But if our favorite Greek regularly accessed this blog, I know she'd be happy to see a willage - any Greek willage - being reported on by the AP. To any one who has even sporadic contact with
Happy
7 monks injured in clash over monastery
By COSTAS KANTOURIS, Associated Press Writer
Wed Dec 20, 5:38 PM ET
Rival groups of monks wielding crowbars and sledgehammers clashed Wednesday over control of a 1,000-year-old monastery in a community regarded as the cradle of Orthodox Christianity, police said.
Seven monks were injured and transported by boat to receive treatment. They were released after several hours, police said. No one was arrested but three monks were banned from re-entering the Orthodox sanctuary of Mount Athos, located on a self-governing peninsula in northern
Esphigmenou monastery is the scene of a long-running dispute between Orthodox Church authorities and rebel monks who occupy the facility. Both Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I, leader of the Orthodox Christian church, and
The rebel monks vehemently oppose efforts to improve relations between the Orthodox Church and the
The fighting Wednesday broke out between the rebel monks and a group of legally recognized monks who were outside. The outsiders attempted to force their way into the monastery's offices in Karyes, the administrative center of the monastic community, to begin construction of a new building.
Occupying monks attacked those outside with crowbars and fire extinguishers.
Esphigmenou's rebel abbot, Methodius, said his monks had been provoked.
"We were attacked and had to respond," he said. "They should be ashamed to call themselves men of the cloth."
In October, a court in the nearby city of
Esphigmenou is one of 20 monasteries on Athos, where women are banned.
18 December 2006
17 December 2006
Have yourselves a merry little...
I want to post. I really, really do. I really would love to finish the three or four posts that I have lined up, just screaming to be finished and published. But, this week is gonna be a doozy. I'm hoping to have finished with all my students (haha - all - haha! I have like 3 students!) by tomorrow and then I still have a kanji test on Thursday and then my Beginner II Japanese final test on Friday. If I don't pass these tests, it is "do not pass go" -land for me and I'll be stuck having to repeat Beginner II writing and grammar again! So, I will do my best to write after I get back to California.
By the way, I'll be back in CA from the 23rd to the 6th. I hope I have to chance to either see or speak to everyone while I'm home. Also, I definitely want to try and get in at least one class at Ballet Pacifica, so if any of my dance people out there wanna join me, let me know!
My US cell number is unchanged, as usual! Call me, babes!
Until next time (hopefully not so long as "next year"), I leave you with this video to warm your hearts and soften your minds. Joyeux Noël and Happy New Year!
This video courtesy of the "JoMik YouTube Broadcasting Corporation."
By the way, I'll be back in CA from the 23rd to the 6th. I hope I have to chance to either see or speak to everyone while I'm home. Also, I definitely want to try and get in at least one class at Ballet Pacifica, so if any of my dance people out there wanna join me, let me know!
My US cell number is unchanged, as usual! Call me, babes!
Until next time (hopefully not so long as "next year"), I leave you with this video to warm your hearts and soften your minds. Joyeux Noël and Happy New Year!
This video courtesy of the "JoMik YouTube Broadcasting Corporation."
06 December 2006
No more "Prized" Monkey Business - a.k.a. my 2nd "Oh sh&%!" moment
NOTE: Revised and commented on - December 11, 2006.
Several weekends ago I had to elevate my Culture Shock Threat Advisory code to at least an orange, if not almost a burnt umber.
"Why?" you ask.
The answer: My gaijin rite of passage - being the Monkey.
It is apparently something all of us (including the hafu, meaning "half-Japanese") gaijin have to go through at some time or another. In my previous Tokyo stint, I never had that much interaction with large groups of Japanese or, really, any Japanese I wasn't related to somehow, so I was never forced to experience this particularly trying and uncomfortable gaijin rite.
Allow me to set the scene and give the background for the story...
Since moving toTokyo
About a month ago, B went so far as to invite me to attend an ikebana show with her, followed by lunch, and observing her pastry class. I agreed readily because 1) the ikebana show would be free (she had an extra ticket), 2) B is nice enough, and 3) she asked. So, that weekend many weeks ago, I went with B to the ikebana show - we'll call it "B Outing #1." The flower displays were very impressive and the place where the flowers were exhibited was even more impressive (Meguro Ga Joen). Not only did I get to see beautiful flowers as well as traditional Japanese rooms (okay, REALLY NICE traditional Japanese rooms), but I also got my first glimpse of B's rather intense personality. Again, she's nice, just very, um, energetic and, shall we say, enthusiastic (read: a little spazzy). When we first arrived at the exhibition, she literally (no Californexaggeration here) grabbed my hand, pulled me through the extremely crowded gift shop area, and ambushed the ikebana artist. B said hello, thank you for the tickets (they are acquaintances). He asked her if she got the tickets. She said yes. (Was this not obvious by the fact that we were in the exhibit area or was he just completely not paying attention to what she was saying?) He then, just as intensely, took off to the autograph table spurring B once again into action. She went for the calendars and postcards like a starving woman at a Sizzler's, hastily selected a packet of postcards for me (a gift, very nice of her) and a book for her, then took off for the autograph table. Her path was quickly checked by one of the saleswomen who kindly instructed her to first pay for the items before getting them autographed. B made a sharp 180 and a swift march down the packed aisle for the cashier. I was still standing by the calendars, confused and awed by her sudden movements.
Having paid for the items, B's determination turned again to the autograph table. She hooked me on the way back and we were 2nd and 3rd in line, respectively. When the artist came back to the table, he obligingly signed all of B's postcards and book and one of my cards. To be honest, I didn't want him to ruin all my pretty postcards - I had no idea who this guy was!! After getting our items signed, we were able to start perusing the ikebana exhibits at a less-than-leisurely-but-still-not-toooo-fast pace. B kept us moving though, because we had a schedule to adhere to.
So, after the exhibition, we ate lunch and then went on to her pastry class. I had assumed (you know what they say when you assume...) that the class would last a maximum of about 2 hours, right...
FOUR hours later, we were on our way home. During the class, I had stood around and watched B and a group of other women learn how to make Japanese-style cheesecake. B used this opportunity to try to translate what the teacher was saying from Japanese into French. It was a noble and kind attempt, but really more distracting than anything else considering I was trying to practice Japanese by listening to what he was saying and also the fact that her vocabulary doesn't include enough cooking words to fully accomplish the translation and it was mostly communicated with hand gestures.
I started to get a sneaking suspicion over the course of the class that I was a bit of a "Show and Tell" item for her. Basically, she was saying: "Look, everyone, I have a gaijin friend. She lives in my building. She speaks French. And I speak French with her." She made sure to tell everyone all this information. I understand the novelty that I am to her, so I didn't begrudge her this. No one else really made that big a deal of me, except the teacher/pastry chef who kept smiling awkwardly at me when he stood next to me observing the students at their stations. Anyway, evening over, B and I headed home, cheesecake samples in hand and me ready to get down to some Japanese studying.
Fast forward one week, to "B Outing #2." This time, A had invited me to go with her on a Saturday night to eat okonomiyaki (a sort of cabbage-egg pancake - it tastes a lot better than it sounds) with some of her French classmates at her friend's restaurant. Again, I agreed to this for several reasons: 1) She asked and I thought that was nice, 2) I don't remember having ever tried okonomiyaki, and 3) It would be easier to assure that my meal was vegetarian because she had the restaurant hookup. So, B and I met at Ikebukuro station Saturday evening and made our way to the train station where her friend's restaurant is located. After exiting the station, where her French classmates were waiting, she didn't really introduce me, just said hello to everyone and let's go. Everyone was, of course, staring at me, like, "Who is this chick?" So I introduced myself. Then we followed after B to the restaurant. Once in the restaurant, the Monkey business began...
"But, Miki, what is Monkey business?" you might be wondering. This is basically the term that I came up with during my Post-Traumatic Monkey Distress Disorder (PTMDD) breakdown. It's full meaning will become more clear as my story continues and I'll give you a full definition at the end.
Meanwhile, back in Apartment 4D...
Oh, wait, wrong story...
Meanwhile, back at the okonomiyaki resto...
We sat down at a table with a griddle built in to it - we were going to prepare our own food. This was great, because I'd be sure that nothing non-veg would go in my food. The people at my table were very cool with me setting aside my own little corner at the table and the restaurant people didn't even act like I was a complete freak when I asked for my own spatula. So far so good.
Then, after the food was ordered, we finally had a chance to just sit and talk. B began speaking in French. Fine with me, except pretty much no one else understood what we were talking about. Despite the fact that nearly all of the group had studied French for several years, most of them don't really have a practical knowledge of it. I know that if I'd never lived in France, I'd be in the same position, so I understood where they were coming from. Plus, we were spread out across 2 tables and the restaurant was crowded and loud. Not only could they not understand me, but I couldn't really understand them because of their accents and vocabulary, etc. I'm pretty good with French on my own and in conversation with other speakers of my level or higher, but it's really hard to speak to people at a lower level of a language other than your own because it's hard to know how to adjust your own vocabulary and grammar, etc. I felt bad that I wasn't fluent enough at French to make this adjustment and they were embarrassed that I couldn't understand them. So, what's the logical thing to do? Switch languages, right? So, I did - to Japanese. Am I not in Japan for the sole purpose of learning the language? So I tried my hand at some beginner Japanese, knowing that although I wouldn't be able to contribute much witty repartee, they'd at least be able to understand what little I did say and I'd at least be able to follow some of their conversation among themselves.
B, however, would have none of it. She kept speaking to me in French, even though it was clear that I was basically the only one who understood her. I kept trying to respond either in Japanese or English (much more widely understood, if not spoken, than French). Not only did B refuse to speak in Japanese, but she also acted soooo surprised that I could say simple sentences along the lines of: "I like eggs," "I do not like radish," "Could I have some water please?," and so on and so on. Again, I cannot say this enough, B is very nice and I have no doubt that she was being genuine in her behavior and friendliness toward me. However, I did start to become a little uncomfortable that she refused to speak in any language other than French and insulted that she would be sooooo surprised that I had managed these AMAZING feats of grammar and vocabulary. I know I may look as Latina as they come, but I've got the red passport to prove my citizenship and the embarrassing yochien (Japanese kindergarten) pictures to prove that I am half-Japanese and have had exposure to the language my whole life AND the receipts to prove that I am currently attending Japanese school five days a week and had been, at that time, for a month! I knew that B wanted to be able to show off her French skills and her gaijin neighbor to her friends, but I was starting to feel that I'd been brought along as the entertainment rather than as a guest and a friend. I was questioned the entire night about why was I in Japan, why did I want to learn Japanese, how do you say this in English, how do you say that in French, how do you say this in French, how do you say that in English, etc. Basically, it felt like I was there to give a free language lesson. Do you hear the monkey howls yet? Or, in French, les howls? I barely found out anything about anyone else other than their language backgrounds. But, whatever, I kept my cool and just kept switching between French, English, and Japanese - needless to say, by the end of the night, my brain was as fried as the okonomiyaki.
Over the course of the meal, I ate the following:
Potato slices - shared with full table
Eggplant - shared with full table
Monja - veg version, ate by myself
Okonomiyaki - veg version, ate by myself
1 Coke
1 Oolong tea
Here's what the rest of the people ate/drank:
Potato slices - shared with full table
Eggplant and octopus - shared with full table
Monja - regular version
Monja - they liked my version so much, they ordered a round for themselves
Okonomiyaki - the house special, made by the chef, a couple of servings each
Kim chee hot pot - name is self-explanatory, but, FYI, the pots were big enough for each person to have several servings
Several rounds of beer
Several rounds of Coke
Clearly, I ate significantly less and significantly cheaper than everyone else. I assumed that my meal would probably cost around $25 bucks. When the end of the
meal arrived, everyone talked of moving on to another restaurant for dessert. B disappeared for a moment and then came back. No one mentioned anything about money. I didn't know what was going on, but I figured I'd be able to pay B at some point and I didn't want to make waves in case there was some custom going on here that I didn't know about - ha! If only I knew what was to come...
We got to the next place only to find it closed. It was here, while standing in a circle, that B announced it was time to settle the bill. She started to do calculations in her head and out loud, dividing the amount (total, and therefore breakdown, yet unknown) equally by nine. I tried to discreetly interrupt her to ask her how much mine would be since I had eaten 2 fewer courses (not to mention several fewer animals and beers).
EEEEERRRRREREREREREERE!!!!!! It was like that nightmare where you walk into a party and the music stops and everyone turns to stare at you.
Except the look on their faces and then the embarrassed looks away from me were very real. Clearly, I had just stepped squarely into my second "Oh Sh%&!" pile. B hesitated, then said, oh yeah, and told me to pay 2000 yen and everyone else 2200 yen. 200 yen difference. That's less than $2. I felt humiliated. My cheeks started to burn. I felt like a complete ass for 1) having broken the obvious - though previously unknown to me - custom of splitting everything evenly (they don't teach this at kindergarten!), 2) like a cheapskate because it looked like I was making a big deal about 200 yen, and 3) ripped off (!!) for paying only $2 less than the other eight people who easily ate and drank twice as much as me!
I don't know if there'd been some discussion prior to the meal or during the meal in Japanese, but I was definitely not expecting for their meals to be so cheap. What they ate should have normally cost at least $50 a person, if not more, in any other restaurant. I thought we might get some discount, but obviously not that much. So, you can understand why I wouldn't have wanted to pay $40-50 for some cabbage and a coke. In any case, B never told me how this was all going to work, so I just assumed that we'd pay her for what we'd eaten. Baka gaijin, as they say.
The next day, as I recounted this story to my dad - at which time I started to cry from embarrassment, frustration, and a sense of having been used (and, salt to my unemployed and poor-ish wound, having paid to be used!!), I verbalized how I felt by saying, "I'm not some monkey to be carted out to entertain and amuse the locals!" My dad attempted to comfort me by saying that, at least, I was a prized monkey! That I should be happy that at least I'm a monkey that B wants to show off! He pointed out, correctly, that if I were Chinese or Filipino, I wouldn't be nearly as prized - us Western monkeys are much more interesting. I said I don't care how prized or odd or freakish or entertaining a monkey I may seem to them, I am NOT a monkey and refuse to be one - unless I'm getting paid! At least in that situation, there's no presumption of friendship. There's no false sense of inclusion, at least in the activity. (I know it won't happen - correction - societally, that's just how it works here. **See Tangent on Cultural Differences below.) A lot of gaijin do this. They agree to go out for a meal or an event, speak English, make corrections, listen politely and speak slowly, etc. All in exchange for a free night out or some serious cash - in the second circumstance, the girl is probably a "hostess." Personally, I'd rather not resort to this, but, at the same time, I'd rather knowingly agree to this than be tricked into it, whether intentionally or not.
**Tangent on Cultural Differences: No matter how long you've been in Japan, no matter how much you've absorbed the culture or embedded yourself in it, no matter how linguistically and culturally fluent you become, no matter if you're half- or full-Japanese so therefore have a knowledge of Japanese culture but were raised outside of Japan, you will never be considered nihonjin (full-on Japanese). I, and others like me, can attest to this being a statement of fact. This does not mean that gaijin or hafu are not socially included, but rather, societally excluded. For some people, this is a problem, for others it is not. This works out for the best for many/most gaijin because it's what excuses us when we make faux pas. Japanese people don't expect us to know, or ever figure out, most of the subtleties and nuances of being Japanese (of course, particularly at the beginning, but still, interestingly, even after living here for 20 years, for example). It's also noteworthy that the word "gaijin" translates in meaning to be "non-Japanese" (and non-Asian), rather than simply "foreigner." For example, some Japanese people when they are not in Japan, still refer to non-Asian, non-Japanese people as gaijin. Asians who are not Japanese, are referred to as chukokujin (person from China) or kankokujin (person from Korea), etc.
Another way of thinking about this/these differences is how it is completely normal and rather easy to be "hyphenated" in places like the States or Canada. It's commonplace to be Japanese-American, Chinese-American, British-American, Indian-American, etc. It's easy to embrace your ethnic background and your national identity all at once. This does not happen in Japan. That's not to say that this is a good thing or a bad thing, it just is. And it is the way it is in America, and that's not good or bad either. It just is. I can be Japanese-American in America, but here I'm hafu or American. Hyphens don't happen here; it's just not a concept that exists in Japan. Japan does not have the immigration and, thus, ethnic diversity that places like the States have. So, it's no surprise that there's not a lot of incorporation/absorption of other ethnicities into mainstream Japanese culture or society. However, while one may be able to intellectually understand this, that doesn't preclude an emotional reaction that just doesn't care what your brain says.
And I do claim some extra insight into this situation because of my hyphenation. Thanks, Mom and Dad! :) I've gotten the inside scoop, behind-the-scenes look, backstage pass my whole life. I know what it's like from both sides of the aisle, if not from personal opinion (e.g. I'm not nihonjin, remember), then from personally witnessing these opinions or having them expressed to me. I have heard talk and conversation and been privy to discussions that wouldn't happen, or wouldn't happen in English, if there were gaijin friends around. I also claim extra insight into the Culture Shock phenomenom and the living-abroad-and-what-that-does-to-your-brain/emotions phenomenon and, more specifically, the experience of living in Japan as a non-nihonjin, because of my background of having lived in several countries throughout my life, both with my family, but more often, on my own. This is my umpteenth time around on this ride, and, yes, it gets easier every time and, yes, I do learn more every time and when stuff like this happens, at least I can usually pinpoint the cause now, but that still doesn't make the experience "Oh Sh%$!"-proof. Besides, who would want that? What would be the fun or the adventure in that? If there were no risk (really, guarantee) of Culture Shock, then that would mean there is no difference in culture, and that would be a terrible thing. Disastrous. Sad. Highly lamentable. Really sucky. Truly, the end of the world.
I used the word "socially" above, but I misspoke. Socially, the Japanese are more than happy to include whoever. I have several Japanese friends who don't think of me as a freak or a show-and-tell item. We're just friends, it's great. They're great! I'm just Miki and they're just who they are. So, I'm not disparaging any unfriendliness in terms of the Japanese people and/or culture. It is, in fact, much easier, in my experience, to get to know and become friends with locals in Tokyo than it was to do the same in Paris. Actually, it's always more difficult to befriend locals rather than transplants or newbies because locals have already got their lives set up - they've got their family and/or circle of friends, they may or may not be complacent about this, etc. However, for some reason, I found it (and heard the same from others, even those with French boyfriends) a lot harder to make friends with French people than I have found it to be with Japanese people. I don't think it's any surprise that the people I did/have become friends with in each place were themselves rather internationally-minded. I won't speak to my time in Belgium; you all know my opinion on that experience.
Anyway, it's been a while since this all went down. I'm not pissed off at B or myself about it anymore and I learned a lot of valuable lessons about hanging out with Japanese people of a "certain age" and up (this kind of thing doesn't happen with younger Japanese people, friends my age, as they're a lot more used to seeing gaijin around Shibuya and sometimes talking with or working with gaijin) all in one go - kind of like removing the proverbial bandaid. B hasn't asked me to do anything else and I don't plan to accept if she asks again. She's great on a one-on-one basis around the building, but going out with her in groups or around other people is no longer an option.
Like I said, prized or not...
Several weekends ago I had to elevate my Culture Shock Threat Advisory code to at least an orange, if not almost a burnt umber.
"Why?" you ask.
The answer: My gaijin rite of passage - being the Monkey.
It is apparently something all of us (including the hafu, meaning "half-Japanese") gaijin have to go through at some time or another. In my previous Tokyo stint, I never had that much interaction with large groups of Japanese or, really, any Japanese I wasn't related to somehow, so I was never forced to experience this particularly trying and uncomfortable gaijin rite.
Allow me to set the scene and give the background for the story...
Since moving to
About a month ago, B went so far as to invite me to attend an ikebana show with her, followed by lunch, and observing her pastry class. I agreed readily because 1) the ikebana show would be free (she had an extra ticket), 2) B is nice enough, and 3) she asked. So, that weekend many weeks ago, I went with B to the ikebana show - we'll call it "B Outing #1." The flower displays were very impressive and the place where the flowers were exhibited was even more impressive (Meguro Ga Joen). Not only did I get to see beautiful flowers as well as traditional Japanese rooms (okay, REALLY NICE traditional Japanese rooms), but I also got my first glimpse of B's rather intense personality. Again, she's nice, just very, um, energetic and, shall we say, enthusiastic (read: a little spazzy). When we first arrived at the exhibition, she literally (no Californexaggeration here) grabbed my hand, pulled me through the extremely crowded gift shop area, and ambushed the ikebana artist. B said hello, thank you for the tickets (they are acquaintances). He asked her if she got the tickets. She said yes. (Was this not obvious by the fact that we were in the exhibit area or was he just completely not paying attention to what she was saying?) He then, just as intensely, took off to the autograph table spurring B once again into action. She went for the calendars and postcards like a starving woman at a Sizzler's, hastily selected a packet of postcards for me (a gift, very nice of her) and a book for her, then took off for the autograph table. Her path was quickly checked by one of the saleswomen who kindly instructed her to first pay for the items before getting them autographed. B made a sharp 180 and a swift march down the packed aisle for the cashier. I was still standing by the calendars, confused and awed by her sudden movements.
Having paid for the items, B's determination turned again to the autograph table. She hooked me on the way back and we were 2nd and 3rd in line, respectively. When the artist came back to the table, he obligingly signed all of B's postcards and book and one of my cards. To be honest, I didn't want him to ruin all my pretty postcards - I had no idea who this guy was!! After getting our items signed, we were able to start perusing the ikebana exhibits at a less-than-leisurely-but-still-not-toooo-fast pace. B kept us moving though, because we had a schedule to adhere to.
So, after the exhibition, we ate lunch and then went on to her pastry class. I had assumed (you know what they say when you assume...) that the class would last a maximum of about 2 hours, right...
FOUR hours later, we were on our way home. During the class, I had stood around and watched B and a group of other women learn how to make Japanese-style cheesecake. B used this opportunity to try to translate what the teacher was saying from Japanese into French. It was a noble and kind attempt, but really more distracting than anything else considering I was trying to practice Japanese by listening to what he was saying and also the fact that her vocabulary doesn't include enough cooking words to fully accomplish the translation and it was mostly communicated with hand gestures.
I started to get a sneaking suspicion over the course of the class that I was a bit of a "Show and Tell" item for her. Basically, she was saying: "Look, everyone, I have a gaijin friend. She lives in my building. She speaks French. And I speak French with her." She made sure to tell everyone all this information. I understand the novelty that I am to her, so I didn't begrudge her this. No one else really made that big a deal of me, except the teacher/pastry chef who kept smiling awkwardly at me when he stood next to me observing the students at their stations. Anyway, evening over, B and I headed home, cheesecake samples in hand and me ready to get down to some Japanese studying.
Fast forward one week, to "B Outing #2." This time, A had invited me to go with her on a Saturday night to eat okonomiyaki (a sort of cabbage-egg pancake - it tastes a lot better than it sounds) with some of her French classmates at her friend's restaurant. Again, I agreed to this for several reasons: 1) She asked and I thought that was nice, 2) I don't remember having ever tried okonomiyaki, and 3) It would be easier to assure that my meal was vegetarian because she had the restaurant hookup. So, B and I met at Ikebukuro station Saturday evening and made our way to the train station where her friend's restaurant is located. After exiting the station, where her French classmates were waiting, she didn't really introduce me, just said hello to everyone and let's go. Everyone was, of course, staring at me, like, "Who is this chick?" So I introduced myself. Then we followed after B to the restaurant. Once in the restaurant, the Monkey business began...
"But, Miki, what is Monkey business?" you might be wondering. This is basically the term that I came up with during my Post-Traumatic Monkey Distress Disorder (PTMDD) breakdown. It's full meaning will become more clear as my story continues and I'll give you a full definition at the end.
Meanwhile, back in Apartment 4D...
Oh, wait, wrong story...
Meanwhile, back at the okonomiyaki resto...
We sat down at a table with a griddle built in to it - we were going to prepare our own food. This was great, because I'd be sure that nothing non-veg would go in my food. The people at my table were very cool with me setting aside my own little corner at the table and the restaurant people didn't even act like I was a complete freak when I asked for my own spatula. So far so good.
Then, after the food was ordered, we finally had a chance to just sit and talk. B began speaking in French. Fine with me, except pretty much no one else understood what we were talking about. Despite the fact that nearly all of the group had studied French for several years, most of them don't really have a practical knowledge of it. I know that if I'd never lived in France, I'd be in the same position, so I understood where they were coming from. Plus, we were spread out across 2 tables and the restaurant was crowded and loud. Not only could they not understand me, but I couldn't really understand them because of their accents and vocabulary, etc. I'm pretty good with French on my own and in conversation with other speakers of my level or higher, but it's really hard to speak to people at a lower level of a language other than your own because it's hard to know how to adjust your own vocabulary and grammar, etc. I felt bad that I wasn't fluent enough at French to make this adjustment and they were embarrassed that I couldn't understand them. So, what's the logical thing to do? Switch languages, right? So, I did - to Japanese. Am I not in Japan for the sole purpose of learning the language? So I tried my hand at some beginner Japanese, knowing that although I wouldn't be able to contribute much witty repartee, they'd at least be able to understand what little I did say and I'd at least be able to follow some of their conversation among themselves.
B, however, would have none of it. She kept speaking to me in French, even though it was clear that I was basically the only one who understood her. I kept trying to respond either in Japanese or English (much more widely understood, if not spoken, than French). Not only did B refuse to speak in Japanese, but she also acted soooo surprised that I could say simple sentences along the lines of: "I like eggs," "I do not like radish," "Could I have some water please?," and so on and so on. Again, I cannot say this enough, B is very nice and I have no doubt that she was being genuine in her behavior and friendliness toward me. However, I did start to become a little uncomfortable that she refused to speak in any language other than French and insulted that she would be sooooo surprised that I had managed these AMAZING feats of grammar and vocabulary. I know I may look as Latina as they come, but I've got the red passport to prove my citizenship and the embarrassing yochien (Japanese kindergarten) pictures to prove that I am half-Japanese and have had exposure to the language my whole life AND the receipts to prove that I am currently attending Japanese school five days a week and had been, at that time, for a month! I knew that B wanted to be able to show off her French skills and her gaijin neighbor to her friends, but I was starting to feel that I'd been brought along as the entertainment rather than as a guest and a friend. I was questioned the entire night about why was I in Japan, why did I want to learn Japanese, how do you say this in English, how do you say that in French, how do you say this in French, how do you say that in English, etc. Basically, it felt like I was there to give a free language lesson. Do you hear the monkey howls yet? Or, in French, les howls? I barely found out anything about anyone else other than their language backgrounds. But, whatever, I kept my cool and just kept switching between French, English, and Japanese - needless to say, by the end of the night, my brain was as fried as the okonomiyaki.
Over the course of the meal, I ate the following:
Potato slices - shared with full table
Eggplant - shared with full table
Monja - veg version, ate by myself
Okonomiyaki - veg version, ate by myself
1 Coke
1 Oolong tea
Here's what the rest of the people ate/drank:
Potato slices - shared with full table
Eggplant and octopus - shared with full table
Monja - regular version
Monja - they liked my version so much, they ordered a round for themselves
Okonomiyaki - the house special, made by the chef, a couple of servings each
Kim chee hot pot - name is self-explanatory, but, FYI, the pots were big enough for each person to have several servings
Several rounds of beer
Several rounds of Coke
Clearly, I ate significantly less and significantly cheaper than everyone else. I assumed that my meal would probably cost around $25 bucks. When the end of the
meal arrived, everyone talked of moving on to another restaurant for dessert. B disappeared for a moment and then came back. No one mentioned anything about money. I didn't know what was going on, but I figured I'd be able to pay B at some point and I didn't want to make waves in case there was some custom going on here that I didn't know about - ha! If only I knew what was to come...
We got to the next place only to find it closed. It was here, while standing in a circle, that B announced it was time to settle the bill. She started to do calculations in her head and out loud, dividing the amount (total, and therefore breakdown, yet unknown) equally by nine. I tried to discreetly interrupt her to ask her how much mine would be since I had eaten 2 fewer courses (not to mention several fewer animals and beers).
EEEEERRRRREREREREREERE!!!!!! It was like that nightmare where you walk into a party and the music stops and everyone turns to stare at you.
Except the look on their faces and then the embarrassed looks away from me were very real. Clearly, I had just stepped squarely into my second "Oh Sh%&!" pile. B hesitated, then said, oh yeah, and told me to pay 2000 yen and everyone else 2200 yen. 200 yen difference. That's less than $2. I felt humiliated. My cheeks started to burn. I felt like a complete ass for 1) having broken the obvious - though previously unknown to me - custom of splitting everything evenly (they don't teach this at kindergarten!), 2) like a cheapskate because it looked like I was making a big deal about 200 yen, and 3) ripped off (!!) for paying only $2 less than the other eight people who easily ate and drank twice as much as me!
I don't know if there'd been some discussion prior to the meal or during the meal in Japanese, but I was definitely not expecting for their meals to be so cheap. What they ate should have normally cost at least $50 a person, if not more, in any other restaurant. I thought we might get some discount, but obviously not that much. So, you can understand why I wouldn't have wanted to pay $40-50 for some cabbage and a coke. In any case, B never told me how this was all going to work, so I just assumed that we'd pay her for what we'd eaten. Baka gaijin, as they say.
The next day, as I recounted this story to my dad - at which time I started to cry from embarrassment, frustration, and a sense of having been used (and, salt to my unemployed and poor-ish wound, having paid to be used!!), I verbalized how I felt by saying, "I'm not some monkey to be carted out to entertain and amuse the locals!" My dad attempted to comfort me by saying that, at least, I was a prized monkey! That I should be happy that at least I'm a monkey that B wants to show off! He pointed out, correctly, that if I were Chinese or Filipino, I wouldn't be nearly as prized - us Western monkeys are much more interesting. I said I don't care how prized or odd or freakish or entertaining a monkey I may seem to them, I am NOT a monkey and refuse to be one - unless I'm getting paid! At least in that situation, there's no presumption of friendship. There's no false sense of inclusion, at least in the activity. (I know it won't happen - correction - societally, that's just how it works here. **See Tangent on Cultural Differences below.) A lot of gaijin do this. They agree to go out for a meal or an event, speak English, make corrections, listen politely and speak slowly, etc. All in exchange for a free night out or some serious cash - in the second circumstance, the girl is probably a "hostess." Personally, I'd rather not resort to this, but, at the same time, I'd rather knowingly agree to this than be tricked into it, whether intentionally or not.
**Tangent on Cultural Differences: No matter how long you've been in Japan, no matter how much you've absorbed the culture or embedded yourself in it, no matter how linguistically and culturally fluent you become, no matter if you're half- or full-Japanese so therefore have a knowledge of Japanese culture but were raised outside of Japan, you will never be considered nihonjin (full-on Japanese). I, and others like me, can attest to this being a statement of fact. This does not mean that gaijin or hafu are not socially included, but rather, societally excluded. For some people, this is a problem, for others it is not. This works out for the best for many/most gaijin because it's what excuses us when we make faux pas. Japanese people don't expect us to know, or ever figure out, most of the subtleties and nuances of being Japanese (of course, particularly at the beginning, but still, interestingly, even after living here for 20 years, for example). It's also noteworthy that the word "gaijin" translates in meaning to be "non-Japanese" (and non-Asian), rather than simply "foreigner." For example, some Japanese people when they are not in Japan, still refer to non-Asian, non-Japanese people as gaijin. Asians who are not Japanese, are referred to as chukokujin (person from China) or kankokujin (person from Korea), etc.
Another way of thinking about this/these differences is how it is completely normal and rather easy to be "hyphenated" in places like the States or Canada. It's commonplace to be Japanese-American, Chinese-American, British-American, Indian-American, etc. It's easy to embrace your ethnic background and your national identity all at once. This does not happen in Japan. That's not to say that this is a good thing or a bad thing, it just is. And it is the way it is in America, and that's not good or bad either. It just is. I can be Japanese-American in America, but here I'm hafu or American. Hyphens don't happen here; it's just not a concept that exists in Japan. Japan does not have the immigration and, thus, ethnic diversity that places like the States have. So, it's no surprise that there's not a lot of incorporation/absorption of other ethnicities into mainstream Japanese culture or society. However, while one may be able to intellectually understand this, that doesn't preclude an emotional reaction that just doesn't care what your brain says.
And I do claim some extra insight into this situation because of my hyphenation. Thanks, Mom and Dad! :) I've gotten the inside scoop, behind-the-scenes look, backstage pass my whole life. I know what it's like from both sides of the aisle, if not from personal opinion (e.g. I'm not nihonjin, remember), then from personally witnessing these opinions or having them expressed to me. I have heard talk and conversation and been privy to discussions that wouldn't happen, or wouldn't happen in English, if there were gaijin friends around. I also claim extra insight into the Culture Shock phenomenom and the living-abroad-and-what-that-does-to-your-brain/emotions phenomenon and, more specifically, the experience of living in Japan as a non-nihonjin, because of my background of having lived in several countries throughout my life, both with my family, but more often, on my own. This is my umpteenth time around on this ride, and, yes, it gets easier every time and, yes, I do learn more every time and when stuff like this happens, at least I can usually pinpoint the cause now, but that still doesn't make the experience "Oh Sh%$!"-proof. Besides, who would want that? What would be the fun or the adventure in that? If there were no risk (really, guarantee) of Culture Shock, then that would mean there is no difference in culture, and that would be a terrible thing. Disastrous. Sad. Highly lamentable. Really sucky. Truly, the end of the world.
I used the word "socially" above, but I misspoke. Socially, the Japanese are more than happy to include whoever. I have several Japanese friends who don't think of me as a freak or a show-and-tell item. We're just friends, it's great. They're great! I'm just Miki and they're just who they are. So, I'm not disparaging any unfriendliness in terms of the Japanese people and/or culture. It is, in fact, much easier, in my experience, to get to know and become friends with locals in Tokyo than it was to do the same in Paris. Actually, it's always more difficult to befriend locals rather than transplants or newbies because locals have already got their lives set up - they've got their family and/or circle of friends, they may or may not be complacent about this, etc. However, for some reason, I found it (and heard the same from others, even those with French boyfriends) a lot harder to make friends with French people than I have found it to be with Japanese people. I don't think it's any surprise that the people I did/have become friends with in each place were themselves rather internationally-minded. I won't speak to my time in Belgium; you all know my opinion on that experience.
Anyway, it's been a while since this all went down. I'm not pissed off at B or myself about it anymore and I learned a lot of valuable lessons about hanging out with Japanese people of a "certain age" and up (this kind of thing doesn't happen with younger Japanese people, friends my age, as they're a lot more used to seeing gaijin around Shibuya and sometimes talking with or working with gaijin) all in one go - kind of like removing the proverbial bandaid. B hasn't asked me to do anything else and I don't plan to accept if she asks again. She's great on a one-on-one basis around the building, but going out with her in groups or around other people is no longer an option.
Like I said, prized or not...
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