JAPAN XXI (December 2nd)

Surviving Sayonara
or "I imbibed too many spirits"
Sometime in July the JET community had a big party to say goodbye to JETs that were going home or moving on to different jobs in Japan. The location was the Shin Hankyu Beer Garden, the theme was James Bond meets Hawaiian Luau, and the festivities included the passing out of awards from the results of the "most likely to ______" questionnaire. There were also some squirt gun fights, as many 007 impersonators had brought their side-arms. As most beer gardens in Japan, the Shin Hankyu in Kochi City is "Viking" - all you can eat and drink. As such, the festivities also included a lot of drinking. After one beer, I went the Japanese businessman route of whiskey and ice. It was a simple recipe that I had picked up from going out to karaoke with Muroto High School teachers, though they usually watered theirs down with hot water. I felt no need to do so. The whiskey was decent, and the Viking buffet was not so decent. I would guess that the menu was not decided by a nutritionist, but by an accountant. In retrospect, I would much rather have had the menu arranged by a sponge manufacturer - I drank quite a bit too much. I had a great time, until we arrived at the evening's karaoke spot. Perhaps the walk had helped my bloodstream to deliver the alcohol to my brain, and perhaps it was merely the passage of time. In either case, I remember holding onto the railing and watching a few songs before I had to retire to the bathroom. It was, apparently, my turn to be the-guy-who-throws-up-in-the-bathroom. And I wasn't going to take this responsibility lightly. I went into the one-person bathroom, but I wasn't even sure I was in the men's room or not. After removing some of the alcohol-soaked buffet from my stomach, and after repeated knocks on the door, I opened the door (leaving my mess behind) and stumbled past the next bathroom-bound person. Not to shirk my responsibility as the-guy-who-throws-up-in-the-bathroom, I went directly into the adjacent bathroom and let my digestive system continue to earn its keep. It was by some miracle that I found Dan and received the key to his apartment, at which I had arranged to stay (afterwards, he confessed that he did not even remember giving me the key). After a short taxi ride, in which I spoke Japanese more fluently than I ever had, I wandered up the alley towards Dan's place. My stomach managed a few minutes of double overtime, and then I went about the difficult task of finding Dan's apartment. I tried the key in several doors before finding the right one. To continue my streak, I let my guts out into Dan's toilet, cleaned up, and then made my bed. I considered the possibility that I would continue to be the-guy-who-throws-up-in-the-bathroom, so I passed out for a few hours in Dan's shower room for fear that I would be called an overachiever. Luckily, my body was done for the night, so I went to bed.
Dan, when he finally arrived, was not so lucky. After a few minutes in his room, I heard his footsteps running into the hall, and a great sloshing noise as he became the-guy-who-throws-up-on-the-floor-of-his-own-apartment. It was an aural ballet, as I listened to him lumbering about to clean it up, spray an air freshener about, and return to bed. It was not a nasal ballet, however, so I soon yielded the room to Trevor (who had by that time returned from the all-night, post-karaoke dance party). I stumbled around Dan's neighborhood, found a vending machine, and began the long process of re-hydrating my body. I found a place to get breakfast, force-fed myself, and then found a place to get a shampoo and a shave. Invigorating, but foreigners beware: tell the barber beforehand that your whiskers are thicker and harder than Japanese whiskers. Yowch! Despite the barbering, as I returned to Dan's place I felt as though I was still drunk - my body had never been so weak. I think it was an authentic hang-over, and it's not something I ever want to experience again. It wore on as I went to Ya-Sea park, watched a beach-volleyball tournament, played Go at the club, took a swim at the Muroto cape, and force fed myself again at Sakamoto sensei's house for dinner. By the time I got home I had resolved never to be the-guy-who-throws-up-in-the-bathroom again.

The Lunar Eclipse
Or "I saw Avalon"
There was a lunar eclipse a few months ago at 2 in the morning. My plan was to drive to the local sport park and camp out on the grass with a blanket, but my plan had two faults. First, the sport park gates close at five in the afternoon. Second, I couldn't find the moon because the sport park is nestled into the northern side of a mountain. I finally found a spot with a good view of the moon, and rolled down my window. The eclipse was hard to make out because of the cloud cover. For a few moments as the eclipse occurred there was only a spot of light in the sky which came and went as the clouds passed over the moon. Then I saw it disappear, and when it did I saw an island in the sky. It was a long, misty coastline that I saw. At first I thought I was seeing Shirahama, the beach at Kochi City, but the coastline was floating much higher in the sky than where the horizon should have been. Then it was an island, and I felt impelled to go towards it. Could I swim there? Could I fly there? If I took my eyes away, would it disappear?

Weight Fluctuation and the JET Soccer Tournament
Or "How I burned my blubber"
I was 65 kilograms (144 pounds) when I first arrived in Japan. A year later, my weight had gone up to 70 kilograms (157 pounds). I thought that I was retaining more water because it's so humid in Japan in the summer; in Colorado the air pulls the water out of me, and in Kochi the air tries to push water in! My other theory was that there was no serious winter, so I didn't have any opportunity to burn off my blubber. When I came back from my summer vacation I danced Yosakoi and Awa Odori and didn't see any change in my weight. I practiced with the soccer team and didn't see any change. I joined my night school students for weight training and missed the next day of school because I couldn't get out of bed. And I didn't see any change. I was beginning to wonder if 70 kilograms was my proper weight. Finally, there was the All-Japan JET soccer tournament. The Kochi team was in high spirits and we played admirably. Many members of our team had never played before, but were encouraged by a sideline of enthusiastic cheerleaders. We were a force to be reckoned with. The fields at Awajishima were grass, much to everyone's surprise and pleasure, though sliding on the grass quickly revealed that it was sitting lightly atop a layer of skin-tearing sand. We played four games and walked away with a 2-2 record. In addition, I refereed another three games, bringing the overall color of my cheeks and ears to a nice "Ye gods, where's the sunscreen?" color. On the upside, my next visit to an onsen (bath/spa) saw me weigh in at 64 kilograms (142 pounds), and everyone lived happily ever after. Except for Richard Longstaff, on whose head a portable chalkboard had fallen. Japan: home of the freaky winds.

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