Awkward Conversations in the Staff Room

I'm not a stranger to weird, personal questions, but this ranked a 9.5 on my Awkward Meter

On Monday, the ladies at my school congregated around the snack table and talked about nothing in particular. This was typical, but today was special because all the men were out for the day, which caused unfiltered conversations amongst the women.

The school nurse flipped through the pages of a newspaper and eventually stopped to point out a weight-loss ad. The ad showed a chesty women with measuring tape wrapped around her impossibly small waist. The school nurse admired the woman's breast but noticed something off about her face. I speculated that the woman has multiple procedures done to enhance her looks, and I also pointed out her boob-booty disparity. Then my school nurse said, "Speaking of boobs, my friend had on a nipple pack the other day." Apparently her friend is currently trying to bleach her nipples, from brown to pink, using a blend of yogurt, cucumbers, and lime (or lemon) juice.* How she puts it into a "pack" is beyond me, but supposedly it's working.

 I was kind of dumbfounded by the weird things Japanese people do for vanity, but my astonishment was cut short because a teacher asked me, "Are your nipples pink or brown?"

So far, I've been asked fairly innocent questions about my weight, height and age. I've even heard stories of other female ALTs who were asked about their three sizes. However, I think this tops ALL awkward inappropriate-ish questions. I'm a good sport so when she asked, I laughed and said I didn't know.

I can't say that this is a Japan-only situation because I've had all female coworkers in the U.S., and those conversations were always...interesting. 

*Don't try this, like, ever!

When a Pet Passes Away While You're Abroad

It's not easy to hug a hedgehog, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try.

A downside to living abroad is that anything can happen to your loved ones while you are away. In actuality, it's my biggest fear because it's something that I cannot predict or circumvent. Before I came to Japan, I entrusted my five* pets to my parents knowing very well that two of the five were advanced in years, and that I might not see them alive upon my return. 

This morning my boyfriend informed me that my hedgehog, Mrs. Pricklepants, passed away. During my visit in the summer, I noticed that she had thinned - a drastic contrast from the rest of my pets that my mother fattened - and seemed a bit sluggish. Nevertheless, I hoped beyond reason that she would live past the extent of her hedgehog live span. 

That just didn't happen.

To my sweetest pet that loved booty scratches,

Goodbye (´；ω；`)

RIP Mustang and Mrs. P.

Five Pets

1. Chin Chin (cat) - 15 soon!

2. Napoleon a.k.a. Nappi-poo (Red-earred slider; turtle) - 10

3. Panda (Shih Tzu) - 7

4. Tiger (cat) - 7

5. Mrs. Pricklepants - 6

By the way, I don't consider Feisty (cat; 14) as my pet even though she's an indoor cat. 

3,776 Meters Above the Sea Level

Having lived my life at sea level, what would compel me to climb Japan's highest and most revered mountain? 

I'm "delightfully delusional"

As a sacred site, a source of inspiration, and the symbol of Japan, Mount Fuji has welcomed over 300,000 visitors per year and was recently named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Although it's common to hear of JETs attempting to climb this "active" volcano, I planned to climb unassisted, unescorted, unaccompanied, companionless and, in other words, alone. All my coworkers thought I was crazy. The look on their faces, as they spat their tea after they heard my plans, made me wonder if I was crazy. The one person who I thought would worry to death, my mother, said I could climb Mount Fuji alone because she knew I was crazy.

Do you even squat?

The plan was to climb Mount Fuji during the morning, and stay most of the evening and part of the night at a mountain hut and then continue to the summit and watch the sunrise. Due to limited availability, I reserved the mountain hut before I purchased the flight. Then, I reserved a hostel near Shinjuku and a round-trip bus ticket to Mount Fuji's 5th Station. After the logistics, I devised a strict workout regiment, which consisted of daily 5ks with a squat challenge in order to build up my endurance. 

#FaithinHumanityRestored

In late July, I flew to Tokyo a day before my expected climb and toured the city. The next day, I awoke at the ungodly hours of the morning and made my way to the bus terminal, stopping briefly at a combini. The bus terminal was packed with Mount Fuji climbers who were 'turnt' in their professional hiking gear, while I stood there in my Uniqlo cargo pants and shirt from Forever 21 - fashionable, but probably not efficient. As I took my seat on the bus, I was in disbelief that I was on my way to Mount Fuji. My excitement eventually waned, and I napped for the remainder of the trip. When I arrived at the 5th station and exited the bus, I almost collided with another Westerner who carried several wooden walking/stamping sticks. He asked if I needed one but when I inquired about the price, he told me it was free and to "have a nice day."

Mount Fuji 5th Station was Disney-esque with its crowded stores that sold souvenirs and hiking gear. I quickly purchased a kawaii Mount Fuji towel and a can of oxygen, just in case, and made my way to the Yoshida Trail. I started to climb around 9:30am and watched the exhausted faces of the people who passed me in order to descend. I wondered if I too would look like that during my descent, but I pushed the thoughts away as I began the first portion of the climb. I slowly ascended and silently thanked the 5k/squat gods for the strength in my legs.

No love for that bug

The Yoshida Trail was recommended for first-time climbers due to its abundance in huts and first-aid stations. The Yoshida Trail zigzagged up the mountain and, although the trail was mostly gravel, there were parts of the trail that resembled rock climbing. Since I was climbing on a Thursday, the hordes of climbers I was forewarned about were absent; so I enjoyed the perfect weather and peace while I climbed at my own pace. For the majority of the trip, I put away my iPod and just listened to the lava rocks crunch underneath my feet. My serendipity was cut short around the 6th station because I was harassed by a bug. I couldn't tell if it was a fly or a bee, but it was attracted to my pink iPhone case (most likely a bee). It annoyingly buzzed around me for four frickin' hours! It didn't end well for the bee though, because I stomped it to death around the 8th station.

From 1 to Mordor, how hot was it?

After seven hours of climbing, I reached the mountain hut where I felt the dull pain of an oncoming headache. After check-in, a staff member showed me to the sleeping quarters. Actually, the "bedroom" was one large room full of bunk beds. The room was divided by gender, and I was expected to sleep, shoulder to shoulder, in between two elderly Japanese women. Although I was unhappy about the sleeping arrangements, I quickly slathered Vicks Vapor Rub on my forehead and laid down to rest.

A couple hours later I was called to dinner, but my headache had worsened. Shortly after dinner, the staff announced that they would shut off the lights until 2am. I settled into the genie-lamp-sized bed once more, but this time I was accompanied by the two Japanese women. The combined body heat due to the close proximity felt like Mordor, and I felt nauseous (nauseated; for you grammar nazis). I grabbed my can of oxygen and moved into the cool air of the main room. As I inhaled pure oxygen, I noticed that there were a few empty futons. I sneaked into bed and continued to inhale oxygen until a staff member approached and quietly asked me if I was ok. The futons were reserved for late comers, but I explained that I felt ill. He asked me to wait while he set up a separate futon inside the main room where I could sleep in peace. I slept until 2am and awoke without a migraine.

Land of the Rising Sun, indeed

The night portion of the climb meant that I needed to don warm clothes and a headlamp. I continued up the mountain until I saw what looked like two large lion-dog statues in front of a torii gate. Was this the end? I couldn't tell, but I kept walking until I saw another hut that served ramen. I continued past the gate and up the hill to look around. I scared myself half to death when I looked down into Mount Fuji's crater. I frickin' made it!

I had about 45 minutes until sunrise, so I doubled back to the hut in order to keep warm and eat breakfast. The summit was packed with climbers facing the east and at around 4:30am I set up my camera and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. It felt like forever. In my mind, I saw perfect image of the sun peaking from behind the horizon - like a backwards sunset - but what I didn't expect was a tiny red ball emerging from a sea of clouds.

The trek down the mountain was the worst part. My boots had no traction and I slid the entire way down. My thighs were overworked from trying to keep balance but luckily I never fell. Once I reached the 5th station, I waited for the bus to my hotel, where I showered, dressed and left to the Ghibli Museum. Yep, after climbing up and down Mt. Fuji, I visited the Ghibli Museum. #NoRagrets ;)

If you're wondering, the next day I had the hardest time walking down stairs. My thighs were so sore. Overall, it was a great experience. Would I do it again? With the weather I had before, sure!

TL;DR? Check out the video!

Be sure to turn on the subtitles, because I was uncharacteristically soft spoken!

Long Hair I Do Care 2

Gorgeous hair is the best revenge - Ivana Trump

I refused to step foot into a another Japanese beauty salon after my dreadful experience in this post. I decided I would wait until my visit home in August for some "hairapy." The problem was that my hair faded, my roots grew in about 4 - 5 inches, and my ends split. I looked like a walking disaster, and it took the strength of Jesus Cristo for me to not to shave my head a la 2007 Britney Spears.

The day after I landed in Miami, I saw my beautician and she worked wonders with my hair. I kept my natural ash blond roots, but she changed my warm blond ombre to match my new cool blond look. Now I would no longer need to dye my hair while in Japan, but she suggested that I at least cut it.

Fast forward to four months later during recess when my 5th grade student told me that my hair looked bosa bosa or "unkempt."

Japanese kids are brutally honest and so when a student told me that my hair looked bosa bosa, I left work and drove straight to a nearby and well-known salon. Luckily, there was an opening and the owner asked me to sit in a swivel chair so that she could check my matted hair. I asked for a trim, and she followed up with basic questions about my part and layers. After a short discussion she went to work on my hair.

My dry hair. 

She literally cut my hair while it was still dry. 

She also cut my hair dry while it was parted to the side.

I was so confused.

I waited it out, and I was eventually asked to move to the washing station. There, I received the hair wash and neck massage of my life. It felt great, but I was still a bit worried about my hair cut. Afterwards, I was placed back in the chair where two assistances finger dried my hair into a Hagrid-like state. Once it was 90% dry, they introduced round hair brushes and continued to dry. I waited for the flat irons or curling irons, but they never came. The owner cut my hair a little more and asked if I wanted to balance/thin the right side of my hair. No thank you!

This is my "I don't know what the f*&$ is going on"  face

The verdict

Although I was unhappy with the procedure or the lack of styling, the cut looked amazing. My now thick and healthy ends naturally curled inward - including the back! Unfortunately, my hair was 4 inches shorter (thanks a lot imperial-system Obama!), but it was healthy and free of split ends. Now that I know what to expect, this may be the last rant/post about beauty salons in Japan.

Do anyone have Japanese beauty salon blunders that they would like to share?

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)