That Time I Punched A Guy in the Face

 You know that saying “bad luck comes in threes?” I think it should be “bad luck comes in a baker's dozen,” because everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong that particular night. 

Proof that I smiled at some point

 

 Strike # 1: She (i.e. Me) Doesn’t Even Go Here! 

This past July, I attended a farewell party that I was not originally invited to. I sound like a party crasher, but it was a parting celebration for a specific person who I knew, but not very well. I was invited at the last minute but looking back, I shouldn’t have gone in the first place.

Strike #2 & 3: Naha, Why You So Far?

& Sober Sister Status!

The party was going to start at an izayaka (bar/restaurant) in Naha, make a pit stop at a bar, and then migrate to a local club. Naha, the capital of Okinawa, was about an hour away from Ginoza via highway and due to Japan’s strict no-drinking-and-driving laws; I would be plagued with sobriety.

Strike #4: So You’re Telling Me I Have to Pay for Alcohol I Won’t Drink?

When I arrived at the izayaka, I was told that nomihodai (all you can drink) and tabehodai (all you can eat) was around ¥3,000 (around $30). Apparently, the original price I was told, around ¥1,600yen (around $16), was for either nomihodai or tabehodai, but not for both.

***

That’s cool!

 I’ll just do the tabehodai, since I’m obviously not drinking!

Wait, I can’t?

 We all need to pay ¥3,000?

They can’t split it?

But I’m not even drinking!

Shoganai (it can’t be helped, so just accept my fate), huh?

Ugggh!

***

Strike #5: The Price is Too Damn High 

Thirty dollars may not seem much for foodies, but the problem was that the food was mostly skewers, fries, salads, and sushi – basically finger food. As a pescatarian, I had a limited choice of mainly sushi and salad. I couldn’t believe I was paying ¥3,000 for sushi and salad, a meal that is less than ¥1,000 ($10) in Japan. Ugh!

Strike #6: Asshole Says I’m Not “Easy on the Eyes,” Except for, Like, My Eyes.

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one to pay for their sobriety, but my sister in sobriety wasn’t limited by the selection of food though. We all left the izakaya, where I reluctantly paid my ¥3,000, and migrated to a nearby bar. Although I was salty about the izakaya and the fact I was sipping water at a bar, I had a good time talking to my fellow OkiJETs. However, that good time didn’t last very long, because we were interrupted buy another JET who told me,

“I hate everything about you but your eyes.”

Normal people would just say, “I love your eyes,” so I was a bit confused. I thought he was just throwing some playful shade, so I retorted, “That can’t be true! Everyone loves my hair!” To which he replied, “No, I don’t like your hair. It’s whatever” and discussed why my hair sucked. I would never consider myself a ten, but my hair? That shit is perfect! You couldn’t find better hair on Jesus, who is the personification of perfection! Insult my hair, and you insult my hair kami (spirit). I don’t know what the hell kind of stunt this guy tried to pull. Was he trying to knock me off my “pretty-girl pedestal” that I wasn’t even on? I don’t know! Why couldn’t I just be left in peace?

 Bonus #1: Save ALL the Money! 

I was agitated with the way the night turned out, and I could feel myself falling into a resting bitch face. However, we were headed to a club where I could dance to my hearts content, so it would be OK – or so I thought.

At Club Fantasy Space Okinawa, we were given a group discount, but I noticed a few particular problems: the cramped space and the disproportionate amount of women to men. Clubs in the U.S. usually strive for more women attendees than men, but this club had men outnumbering women by 15 to 1. It was a horde of sexual harassment and I was about to dance in the middle of it. A few ladies and I formed a protective circle and made our way to the dance floor. 

Strike # 7 : Creepers! Creepers Everywhere! 

The music was great, but the foreign men, who I assume were high-ranked American military personnel were treating the club like their personal frat party. They began to mosh around and crash into anyone nearby. I had to push a few guys to prevent them from jumping on me and my petite friends. After the moshing ceased, the harassment began. Guys, both Japanese and foreign, would snake their arms around my waist in an attempt pull me back onto their denim cocks. Others would grab my forearm, and a few would stand too close and just stare.

Those who have been to the club with me know that I react very aggressively. I will push away arms in disgust or blatantly tell a guy to “back the f*ck up.” Even at my most drunk, I would never succumb to those sort of sexist advances. That being said, I was disappointed to see that some women did.

Strike #8: M.A.C. Lipstick: $18; Punching A Guy in the Face: Priceless

As the number of ladies in our protective circle dwindled to three, we moved to the back of the dance floor. While dancing, I felt two hands grab my hips and pull. I quickly removed the hands and turned toward the guy, a Japanese guy, and said “No!” When I turned around to face my friend, I felt it. I felt a hand grab and squeeze my butt cheek through my silky pants. (#YesALLWoman)

I turned around to see his hand retreat, but he faced his friend and LAUGHED at his flagrant violation. I attacked instantly and punched him in the face with my right hand, which was reinforced by my hard clutch. He fell, but when I moved forward to continue my chonga assault, I noticed my phone on the floor. All the contents of my purse spilled out onto the dance floor. I recovered most of my belongings expect for my M.A.C. lipstick.

Strike #9: F*ck Me, Right?

The bouncers came and removed the guy and his friend from the club, while I found a chair and sat there for the remainder of the night. When it was time of leave, I made my round of goodbyes, stopping to talk to a few friends. One JET expressed how sad she was that the girl, whose party this was for, was leaving. I said, "Yea, imagine how you'll feel when (sober sister) and I leave!" I didn't know how drunk she was, but my words pushed her to the verge to tears. Naturally, I moved forward to hug and console her, but I was shoved away.

I got into my car and drove home; the best part of my night.

Disclaimer: This telling of events is in my perspective. Also, my bad mood in the beginning of the night did not have a factor in whether or not I would have punched that guy in the face. I would have done it even if I had a wonderful time. I don't tolerate being touched, ever. For the sake of privacy, I omitted names. However, I didn't sugar coat any of the "strikes." I don't live in a world of unicorn kitties, and neither should my blog. (-`ェ´-怒)

Arigato and Sayonara: Teachers

In the U.S. it is faily common for teachers to work at the same school for over ten years; however, in Japan (or atleast in Okinawa) that is simply inconceivable. Principals, vice principals, and teachers spend three to five years at one school before they are transferred, while assistant and supporter teachers' employment are based on a yearly contract. Teachers can be transfered to any part of Okinawa and its outer islands, and sometimes teachers are transfered to and from Mainland Japan. As a foreigner, it is difficult to understand the logic behind these transfers, but it is seen as a way to share the talent of skilled teachers and purge the inept.

 In early January, I overhead talks of transfers, and in February I watched as the teachers wore their best suits to hand in their resumes to the board of education. By early March the transfers were decided and the news spread throughout the schools. Although I had braced myself since January I became distraught when I discovered that some of my favorite teachers were leaving. It sounds selfish, but I formed strong bonds with these teachers as they helped me adapt to the Japanese work enviroment for the past eight months. I had become confident in both the staffroom and the classroom, and now I would have to adapt once more to new teachers and new methods. In all honesty, I was mostly upset because my closest coworkers, the three librarians and the young assistant/supporter teachers (including my trouble buddy), were all transferred.*

Although not as exaggerated as Big Bang Theory's Sheldon Cooper, I am someone who dislikes change and becomes flustered when it is thrusted upon me. What can I say, I like to feel control in a world full of chaos.

In the usual Japanese fashion, we bid the teachers farewell at a lavish party. Most JETs with multiple schools will focus on one specific school for these events; but since I love to party, I decided to spread myself thin and attend all three. Two were held on a the same day and time, so I split my time between the two. I tend to 'turn up' at these events by wearing something scandalous, so I wore a cut-out dress. In the U.S., this would seem like a church dress, but in Japan anything that shows your back in considered extremely sexy. Once the teachers got a glimpse at my back, I heard gasps and exclamations that they wanted to touch me. And my 'me,' I mean my back. And by the female teachers, of course.

That back though!

The last one, with my favorite school, was the most fun as I had a great time pulling the male teachers onto the dance floor and accompanying other teachers to a salsa club. It was great to see everyone loosen up, but it was also nice to hear their tear-jerking farewell speeches. Bless that waterproof mascara.

One consequence of the transfers was the sense of closeness I felt with the teachers who were staying. They also felt anxious about the new teachers and expressed their worry about work compatibility. Meanwhile, the teachers who transferred schools within my town were relieved that they knew at least one person at their new school, me.

I know that I will eventually adapt to the change, but for now it does not alter the extreme wave of loneliness that I feel that my favorites are gone.

*P.S., The staff member who reprimanded me in the previous post retired early ;). 

The Finest Wilderness is Beneath the Waves (Part 2)

The weekend of the ocean dives occured a couple days before a typhoon slammed into Okinawa. However, we were given the green light to dive and I once again met with Jan and my dive-mates. This time, I was given a full-body wetsuit, since I almost froze in the pool during the contained dive, and, to my relief, a significantly smaller thank. Jan made a passing comment that anyone under 50 kg. ( or 110 lb.) required a smaller tank and elaborated that he had never met an American under 50 kg. (I withheld the tidbit that I am ethnically Hispanic, teehee).

Once we placed the gear in the boat and arrived at the dive spot called, I was geared up and pushed into the water. I mean that quite literally because Jan literally pushed me into the water. It was actually just a small nudge, but I found it hilarious. Nevertheless, my mirth was cut short as a series of issues began to unravel. I misjudged the circumference of my waist as my weight belt (which also adds weight for controlled buoyancy) began to slide down my hips and around my thighs making it difficult to tred water. Because of this issue, I removed my repirator to inform Jan that I was in trouble. This was a huge mistake! The waves slammed into me in all directions as I shouted, causing me to inhale water. I became exhausted in my struggle to tread and quickly lost my breath. Jan instructed me to swim to the boat and hold on to a side rope while he readjusted my weight belt. With the regulator back in my mouth, I was able to slow down my breathing and catch my breath. In retrospect, I should have dived down, hunched over and adjusted it myself, but whatever. Once that dilemma was over, it was time to dive down and check out the the underwater forest.

Okinawa has an amazing array of sea life from the ugly and harmless to the beautiful and deadly. During my descent, I watched a sea snake pass above me as I tried to hug shoo'ed fish that invaded my personal space. Within the first 10 minutes, I encountered the venomous Lion fish (a.k.a. scorpion fish; a.k.a. that fish with zebra stripes)! I learned from multiple aquarium visits to keep away, but it was fascinating to see the fish up close (as little as 10 feet) in its natural habitat. I also played with a large sea cucumber and and felt the underside of an extremely large starfish. Moreover, Jan guided us to the illustrious Blue Cave located in Maeda Point, where we performed our dive skills

Fact: 99.9% of monsters found in animes are based on real animals (source: Me) 

Even with my life hack jotted down into the deepest portions of my mind, I was unsure if my abilities as I begrudgingly looked up to check the distance to the surface; just in case. When it came to my turn, I slowly let water into my mask, closed my eyes to protect my contacts, and breathed to calm my nerves. Then, I took in a large breath and used my life hack to blow out the air through my nose. I opened my eyes slightly and realized that I cleared about half the mask. It was working! I took in another breath and cleared the rest. Suc-f&*%ing-cess! In another dive, it was required that I remove my mask, return it, and clear the mask. For this skill, I closed my eyes and began to remove my mask. This should have been effortless, but my mask snagged on to my hair making it difficult to remove. As I floated with my eye closed breathing into the regulator, I felt a hand on my leg. I opened by eyes in surprise, but closed them a split second later as I mentally cursed in the realization that I may have ruined my contacts. In my efforts to detangle my mask, I kicked causing me to slowly ascend. Jan brought me back down and I continued to detangle my mask. Once it was free, I place it back on my face and cleared my mask without realization. Bam! Later, I would perform other skills such as the Tired Diver's Tow, Controlled Emergency Ascend, Buddy Breathing, Regulator Recovery and compass skills, as well as a written test to complete my Open Water Diver certification.

<3

The JET Program: Official McTicial

The spring semester was coming to an end, and I put all of my focus into polishing my thesis. On another random Tuesday, I was sitting with my friend, who also applied for JET, outside of the FIU Greene Library. It was slightly after 5 p.m. and she was telling me her latest boy-toy horror story [it was a goodie]. I casually mentioned that we should be hearing from the Miami Consulate soon and seeing that it was Tuesday, the same day we got our interview email,, I refreshed the email on my phone. That is when I was textually slapped in the face by the email. The only words I said were, "Oh my God," as I quickly skimmed through the email and read that I had been short listed. My friend freaked and quickly went to refresh her email. It was a moment of tremendous patience because either I was going to have to comfort her or we were going to celebrate together. The email finally appeared and she was also short listed. We both screamed and began to hug jump. Yes, simultaneously hug and jump.

It's official McTicial! I am going to live in Japanland!

With this news, I celebrated with my closest friends! 

Party face and the hangover rabbit food