I did not time my trip to Iran very well apparently. During Ramazan, it is illegal to smoke, eat or drink anything from sunrise to sunset, making for some very lethargic and quick-tempered days. There are a few places that serve food 'under the table' so I managed to eat a couple blackmarket pizzas from time to time, but I usually had to buy food and eat it in a disgusting squat toilet like the filthy infidel that I am. Ramazan was a good oppurtunity though to confuse locals by asking them if they had decorated their Ramazan tree yet or what they were asking Mohammed for Ramazan this year.
Iran isn't the most exciting place in the world but it is pretty interesting. The people are amazing, by far the friendliest, most hospitable people I have met. I actually had to flee towns in the middle of the night because they kept insisting that I stay with them and eat their food. It was a little awkward sometimes when they wanted me to sponsor their immigration to Canada though. One guy in particular was a huge ex-boxer who acted out Condoleeza Rice and Ariel Sharon making out while he jabbered at me in Farsi about the Zionist occupiers. I usually just agreed to sponser them and gave them some of your email addresses and phone numbers. It should be funny to see how that turns out.
After hanging out in a city near the Turkish border called Tabriz for a couple days, I went to Tehran. Tehran is huge and filthy. It does have some really good Death to America/Israel propaganda all over the city though. I hung out with some Aussie idiot for a day who kept referring to EVERYTHING as fantastic. Like, his fantastic egg and dry bread breakfast, his fantastic time exchanging money that morning, and his fantastic new white shirt. I refrained from giving him a fantastic punch to the nose and left Tehran for Esfahan.
Esfahan is a really nice city with huge mosques and bridges and parks and squares blah blah blah. I was here for Qod's day, which is the Iranian holiday in support of the Palestinians. They had a huge anti-US/anti-Israel demonstration in the main square, with a banner over the main gate suggesting that Israel be wiped off the map. I quickly swallowed the rest of my bagel, took off my yarmulke and joined in the 'Down with USA! Down with Israel!' chants. The square was packed with angry Iranians but I managed to get to where they were burning Bush, Rice and generic Israeli dolls and we all had a good time smashing the effigies with sticks. I got a few stares. A few people came up and talked to me, asking about where I was from, what I thought of Bush, my religion etc. They really like tourists and are big fans of Christianity but became less enamoured with me when I told them my own personal theory of God not existing. I found this ended a lot of conversations. I wish it ended the following conversation I had with some guy in a park in Shiraz:
(Guy sees me, comes over, sits down next to me)
Iranian guy: Hello!
Bouche: Hello
IG: Where are you from?
B: Canada.
IG: Ah! Very good. Welcome to Iran.
B: Thank you.
IG: Do you have boyfriend in Canada?
B: You mean a girlfriend?
IG: Ah, girlfriend. I have 4 girlfriends.
B: Wow, not bad.
IG: And 10 boyfriends.
B: Pardon?
IG: Boyfriend for suck, girlfriend for fuck (Uses gestures for my benefit).
B: Oh, pretty good system I guess. It even rhymes.
IG: Yes. You boyfriend?
B: (I pretend not to understand) So, you are from Shiraz?
IG: Yes but can't go to my home because parents are home, park is better.
B: Better for what?
IG: (Makes vague gesture at his pants)
B: What? I don't know wh-- Oh. I see you have an erection. Awesome. Nice erection.
IG: (Shrugs, looks at me like something has to be done about it)
B: Ok. Did I mention I don't believe in God?
IG: I don't care about God.
B: Dammit. Ok, well I should get going. (Start to get up)
IG: It's big and beautiful.
B: Is it? Well, good for you. (I quickly walk away).
I avoided parks for the rest of my time in Iran. So after a couple weeks of mosques, deserts, kebabs, and conversations in broken English about the existence of a higher power, I made my way back to Istanbul. If I compared my trip to a sexual encounter, China would be an awkward makeout, Russia, Ukraine and Bosnia would be some intense foreplay, and Iran would be an orgasm. The short time after Iran, which consisted of a 30-hour bus ride, 2 flights and a night in a London airport Burger King, would be sleepy and flaccid. And now I'm home.
Bouche
P.S. Somebody give me a job please.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
No More Beer
Ah, Istanbul, where East meets West, secularism struggles with tradition, men battle with deodorant, and carpet salesmen harrass me everytime I walk down the street. Do I look like I can afford a giant, fucking carpet? I haven't shaved in a month and my laundry is done in grimy hostel sinks. Do you think a carpet is really high on my priority list? Maybe they have some exotic fish or farm equipment I can take a look at as well. Idiots. Aside from that Istanbul is a wicked city and takes a week to really explore. I met an old hippy from Oregon (who worked in the porn industry for 30 years and had great stories) and an Aussie girl at my hostel and hung out with them for awhile. It was good times.
I went shopping with the Aussie girl one day and was looking for some cheap pants because it's getting colder and I have nothing but shorts. We found a store and this is how ıt went:
Aussie girl: You should get these ones.
Bouche: Yeah they look cheap. I suck at haggling though.
AG: Let me do it, I love shopping.
B: Sweet, thanks. (To the shop lady) How much are these pants?
Turkish lady: $54
B: (Chuckles and motions for my friend to take over)
AG: C'mon now, that's ridiculous.
TL: These are good pants! Ok,Ok. Maybe $52.
AG: $51!
TL: OK!
B: What?!
AG:(Gives me a wink and pats me on the back) See?
TL: (To her friend) Allah akbar, durka durka durka. (I dont speak Turkish but I know she was laughing and calling me a douchebag)
B:(Gritting my teeth, I hand over the money) Here you are.
TL: (Trying not to laugh) Thank you.
(We walk out)
B: You didn't buy anything?
AG: Nah, that place was waaaay too expensive.
So don't let people barter for you. After a few days, I hopped on a bus for the Aegean coast. Buses in Turkey are surprisingly good. They give you drinks and stuff and they usually have tons of leg room. One thing I've discovered though, is that farting on a bus while listening to an ipod is trouble. This is because you have no idea how loud the fart was and dont know if people heard it. I always seem to forget this and so after I fart, I get this terrified expression on my face. Everyone of course then knows who farted as Im the only one looking guiltier than a priest at a Cub Scouts meeting. I was not popular with my fellow passengers.
I stopped at a few places down the coast including Gallipoli (the site of a famous WWI battle), Ephesus (ancient city ruins) and Pamukkale (a weird white mountain thing formed by calcium deposits). Gallipoli was beautiful, and interesting not so much for the WWI battle between Aussie/Kiwi troops and Turks that took place there, as for the tearful, embarrassing reactions that Aussies get when they visit. This battle took place 92 years ago. Not one Aussie I was with had any relatives that fought in it. I'm sure it was tragic when it happened, but you don't see me blinking back tears whenever someone mentions the Louis Riel rebellion.
Anyways, after all that I went on a 'Blue' cruise in the mediterranean for 4 days. That was really relaxing (not that I'm in need of relaxation) and I had a pretty cool group of people with me. We basically just swam and read and ate for 4 days. Trying to be cool one day, I swam under the boat and managed to cut my foot on some barnacles. It is now swollen and I think it's infected. And I am still not cool. I was with a bunch of girls and a couple guys from Singapore so I always had plenty of food, which was sweet. One of the Singapore guys (Singaporeans?) didn't speak English and couldn't swim. He spent the cruise bobbing up and down in the water with a lifejacket on, staring off into the distance with a goofy smile on his face. I liked him. Our captain was this short, hairy, round Turkish man with one of the best mustaches I have ever seen. He spent his days napping and poking people in the ribs and giggling. He was the closest I have come to falling in love with another man.
After the cruise I felt I needed to relax some more so I went to Olympos and lay on the beach for 2 days, having a few beers and doing Sudoku. I stayed in an actual treehouse in this hippy commune thing for cheap. The downside was there was this ugly duck who seemed to think he owned my treehouse and hissed at me everytime I tried to go inside. 'Listen duck,' I said to the duck, 'Fuck off or I'll kick you.' The next morning, the duck cock-a-doodle-doed outside my door, starting a good 3 hours before dawn and lasting until 2 hours past it (Thinking back, it was more likely a rooster than a duck. Im not very good with birds). I tried but failed to kick the duckrooster.
The next stop was Cappadocchia, which is an area of central Turkey with crazy caves and rock formations that İ can't really describe so İ won't try. And now I'm in Eastern Turkey, which is very different from the rest of Turkey. İ'm only here for a few hours though because after 6 weeks of planning and over $200 in visa fees, İ'm heading to Iran. It's good timing to be going to a country where they don't have beer because with the beer gut İ have developed, İ'm beginning to look like İ'm in my second trimester.
Bouche
P.S. If I meet one more girl from Melbourne who is working in London, has worked in London, or is heading to London to find work, I'm coming home. The last 9 people I have met have been from Melbourne.
I went shopping with the Aussie girl one day and was looking for some cheap pants because it's getting colder and I have nothing but shorts. We found a store and this is how ıt went:
Aussie girl: You should get these ones.
Bouche: Yeah they look cheap. I suck at haggling though.
AG: Let me do it, I love shopping.
B: Sweet, thanks. (To the shop lady) How much are these pants?
Turkish lady: $54
B: (Chuckles and motions for my friend to take over)
AG: C'mon now, that's ridiculous.
TL: These are good pants! Ok,Ok. Maybe $52.
AG: $51!
TL: OK!
B: What?!
AG:(Gives me a wink and pats me on the back) See?
TL: (To her friend) Allah akbar, durka durka durka. (I dont speak Turkish but I know she was laughing and calling me a douchebag)
B:(Gritting my teeth, I hand over the money) Here you are.
TL: (Trying not to laugh) Thank you.
(We walk out)
B: You didn't buy anything?
AG: Nah, that place was waaaay too expensive.
So don't let people barter for you. After a few days, I hopped on a bus for the Aegean coast. Buses in Turkey are surprisingly good. They give you drinks and stuff and they usually have tons of leg room. One thing I've discovered though, is that farting on a bus while listening to an ipod is trouble. This is because you have no idea how loud the fart was and dont know if people heard it. I always seem to forget this and so after I fart, I get this terrified expression on my face. Everyone of course then knows who farted as Im the only one looking guiltier than a priest at a Cub Scouts meeting. I was not popular with my fellow passengers.
I stopped at a few places down the coast including Gallipoli (the site of a famous WWI battle), Ephesus (ancient city ruins) and Pamukkale (a weird white mountain thing formed by calcium deposits). Gallipoli was beautiful, and interesting not so much for the WWI battle between Aussie/Kiwi troops and Turks that took place there, as for the tearful, embarrassing reactions that Aussies get when they visit. This battle took place 92 years ago. Not one Aussie I was with had any relatives that fought in it. I'm sure it was tragic when it happened, but you don't see me blinking back tears whenever someone mentions the Louis Riel rebellion.
Anyways, after all that I went on a 'Blue' cruise in the mediterranean for 4 days. That was really relaxing (not that I'm in need of relaxation) and I had a pretty cool group of people with me. We basically just swam and read and ate for 4 days. Trying to be cool one day, I swam under the boat and managed to cut my foot on some barnacles. It is now swollen and I think it's infected. And I am still not cool. I was with a bunch of girls and a couple guys from Singapore so I always had plenty of food, which was sweet. One of the Singapore guys (Singaporeans?) didn't speak English and couldn't swim. He spent the cruise bobbing up and down in the water with a lifejacket on, staring off into the distance with a goofy smile on his face. I liked him. Our captain was this short, hairy, round Turkish man with one of the best mustaches I have ever seen. He spent his days napping and poking people in the ribs and giggling. He was the closest I have come to falling in love with another man.
After the cruise I felt I needed to relax some more so I went to Olympos and lay on the beach for 2 days, having a few beers and doing Sudoku. I stayed in an actual treehouse in this hippy commune thing for cheap. The downside was there was this ugly duck who seemed to think he owned my treehouse and hissed at me everytime I tried to go inside. 'Listen duck,' I said to the duck, 'Fuck off or I'll kick you.' The next morning, the duck cock-a-doodle-doed outside my door, starting a good 3 hours before dawn and lasting until 2 hours past it (Thinking back, it was more likely a rooster than a duck. Im not very good with birds). I tried but failed to kick the duckrooster.
The next stop was Cappadocchia, which is an area of central Turkey with crazy caves and rock formations that İ can't really describe so İ won't try. And now I'm in Eastern Turkey, which is very different from the rest of Turkey. İ'm only here for a few hours though because after 6 weeks of planning and over $200 in visa fees, İ'm heading to Iran. It's good timing to be going to a country where they don't have beer because with the beer gut İ have developed, İ'm beginning to look like İ'm in my second trimester.
Bouche
P.S. If I meet one more girl from Melbourne who is working in London, has worked in London, or is heading to London to find work, I'm coming home. The last 9 people I have met have been from Melbourne.
Croats and Bosnians and Serbs! Oh My!
Budapest was good times. The hostel I was at was pretty dead but the city itself was really cool. Tons of history and goulash. I went to a bathhouse as well which was really relaxing but kind of unsettling as there are water jets on the bottom of the pools facing upwards, and Hungarians young and old like to squat over them. And they do this without shame. I tried not to make eye contact with these perverts. After a few days, I headed to Croatia.
My train to Croatia was sweet. It was just me and this old, Croatian grandmother in the compartment and as night fell, we realized that we might be able to lie down on the empty seats and actually sleep. She closed the curtains and locked the door so that the people getting on the train wouldn't come in, securing our luxurious situation. We cackled gloriously as big, awkward, backpacker-shaped shadows walked back and forth in front of our compartment, desperate to find seats as we took up 3 apiece. 'Ha!', I said to her, 'They can sleep in the fucking toilet.' And she seemed to agree. Then, like an hour later, two French guys barged in, sweaty and exasperated, ruining everything. They asked us something about how we could take up so many seats when people were obviously looking for them but I was so shocked with rage and astonishment that Frenchmen had succeeded in invading something, I couldn't respond. I was so mad, given a dull knife and a plane ticket I would have sacked Paris in revenge. The rest of the night was not comfortable.
Croatia was really beautiful but also really expensive. There aren't many hostels so you usually have to find private accomodation, which gets expensive if you are by yourself. Enter Emma, the English girl I teamed up with to split the cost, who was as dumb as a goldfish. She got through 20 pages of her book in 3 days spent on the beach reading. She was good to party with and I usually managed to lose her in the daytime though, so she didn't bother me too much. When we did get to talking, however, it was unbearable. One of our conversations:
Emma: God, I was soooo drunk last night, you dont even know.
Bouche: Yes, I do. You tried to pole dance three times and fell on your head each time. Everyone knew how drunk you were.
E: Oh yeah. I'm usually really good. (We walk past a fish shop) Hey! That's a herring isn't it?
B: That enormous fish right there?
E: Yeah.
B: No. That is not a herring.
E: Oh. Fish are gross. I can't believe how drunk I was last night.
B: Yes.
E: I mean, I was soooo drunk. I feel kinda sick. I might throw up on you, watch out (She laughs).
B: If you throw up on me, I will smash you in the face with a rock.
E: Ha ha, yeah right. Wow, the stars are out!
(I casually pick up a rock)
E: That one is the North Star.
B: That's south.
E: So?
B: Um, the North Star is in the north.
E: Wot? How'd you know that?
B: How did I know that the North Star is in the north?
E: Yeah.
B: (Sighs) I dont know, university.
E: I mean, I can't honestly believe how drunk I was last night!
B: Oh god. OK, let's go over--
E: I was so, so, so, so, so drunk!
(I smash her in the face with a rock)
On our last day, she insisted on walking around in the heat to find a place to eat an English breakfast, despite it being 3pm. We finally found a place where they had $10 omelettes and the waiter seemed taken aback we actually wanted them. I spent the rest of the day trying to take $10 out of her purse to pay myself back. Despite her, Croatia was great. I really have to learn that I don't suntan though.
Bosnia was much cheaper and, although there weren't beaches, a lot more fun. There are still a lot destroyed buildings from the war and the tension between Muslims and Serbs is really high, but the people and the food are great. Sarajevo especially. I stayed in an awesome hostel with a great group of people and 3 days flew by with the help of cheap, 2 litre bottles of beer.
A very funny thing happened in Sarajevo. I won't get into the details, but it involves me, sleepwalking, and a poor Finnish Art student in the other room who was tragically sleeping in what was the urinal in my dream. I can't imagine a worse thing to wake up to. I didn't believe her and her friends when they told me, and I'm still a little suspicious that it was all an elaborate scheme to cover up her pissing herself, but I did wake up in their room, standing in just my boxers, so I suppose they were telling the truth. We all had a good laugh about it the next day, including the Finnish girl surprisingly. Pervert.
Then I went to Serbia. Belgrade is an alright city, not much to do in the day, but it's supposed to have a really good nightlife. Unfortunately, my hostel companions consisted of a dangerously hungover Danish girl, a British guy I refused to spend time with, and a South African who managed to keep my streak alive of hating every South African I've met. But it was the middle of the week anyways and I needed a break after Sarajevo. Now I'm in Istanbul and surrounded by mosques and kebabs.
Bouche
My train to Croatia was sweet. It was just me and this old, Croatian grandmother in the compartment and as night fell, we realized that we might be able to lie down on the empty seats and actually sleep. She closed the curtains and locked the door so that the people getting on the train wouldn't come in, securing our luxurious situation. We cackled gloriously as big, awkward, backpacker-shaped shadows walked back and forth in front of our compartment, desperate to find seats as we took up 3 apiece. 'Ha!', I said to her, 'They can sleep in the fucking toilet.' And she seemed to agree. Then, like an hour later, two French guys barged in, sweaty and exasperated, ruining everything. They asked us something about how we could take up so many seats when people were obviously looking for them but I was so shocked with rage and astonishment that Frenchmen had succeeded in invading something, I couldn't respond. I was so mad, given a dull knife and a plane ticket I would have sacked Paris in revenge. The rest of the night was not comfortable.
Croatia was really beautiful but also really expensive. There aren't many hostels so you usually have to find private accomodation, which gets expensive if you are by yourself. Enter Emma, the English girl I teamed up with to split the cost, who was as dumb as a goldfish. She got through 20 pages of her book in 3 days spent on the beach reading. She was good to party with and I usually managed to lose her in the daytime though, so she didn't bother me too much. When we did get to talking, however, it was unbearable. One of our conversations:
Emma: God, I was soooo drunk last night, you dont even know.
Bouche: Yes, I do. You tried to pole dance three times and fell on your head each time. Everyone knew how drunk you were.
E: Oh yeah. I'm usually really good. (We walk past a fish shop) Hey! That's a herring isn't it?
B: That enormous fish right there?
E: Yeah.
B: No. That is not a herring.
E: Oh. Fish are gross. I can't believe how drunk I was last night.
B: Yes.
E: I mean, I was soooo drunk. I feel kinda sick. I might throw up on you, watch out (She laughs).
B: If you throw up on me, I will smash you in the face with a rock.
E: Ha ha, yeah right. Wow, the stars are out!
(I casually pick up a rock)
E: That one is the North Star.
B: That's south.
E: So?
B: Um, the North Star is in the north.
E: Wot? How'd you know that?
B: How did I know that the North Star is in the north?
E: Yeah.
B: (Sighs) I dont know, university.
E: I mean, I can't honestly believe how drunk I was last night!
B: Oh god. OK, let's go over--
E: I was so, so, so, so, so drunk!
(I smash her in the face with a rock)
On our last day, she insisted on walking around in the heat to find a place to eat an English breakfast, despite it being 3pm. We finally found a place where they had $10 omelettes and the waiter seemed taken aback we actually wanted them. I spent the rest of the day trying to take $10 out of her purse to pay myself back. Despite her, Croatia was great. I really have to learn that I don't suntan though.
Bosnia was much cheaper and, although there weren't beaches, a lot more fun. There are still a lot destroyed buildings from the war and the tension between Muslims and Serbs is really high, but the people and the food are great. Sarajevo especially. I stayed in an awesome hostel with a great group of people and 3 days flew by with the help of cheap, 2 litre bottles of beer.
A very funny thing happened in Sarajevo. I won't get into the details, but it involves me, sleepwalking, and a poor Finnish Art student in the other room who was tragically sleeping in what was the urinal in my dream. I can't imagine a worse thing to wake up to. I didn't believe her and her friends when they told me, and I'm still a little suspicious that it was all an elaborate scheme to cover up her pissing herself, but I did wake up in their room, standing in just my boxers, so I suppose they were telling the truth. We all had a good laugh about it the next day, including the Finnish girl surprisingly. Pervert.
Then I went to Serbia. Belgrade is an alright city, not much to do in the day, but it's supposed to have a really good nightlife. Unfortunately, my hostel companions consisted of a dangerously hungover Danish girl, a British guy I refused to spend time with, and a South African who managed to keep my streak alive of hating every South African I've met. But it was the middle of the week anyways and I needed a break after Sarajevo. Now I'm in Istanbul and surrounded by mosques and kebabs.
Bouche
You Say Ukraine Weak?!
Ukraine is great. It's a lot like Russia but easier to get into and you don't have to avoid the police as much as an Eastern European man avoids showers. Ukraine hasn't been ruined yet by cheap flights like other Eastern European countries now plagued with hoards of Brits and Germans, so everything is really cheap and there aren't really any tourists there.They also really liked me for some reason. I think it's my beard, they seem to respect masculinity over there. The old woman selling me a train ticket actually blew me a kiss. My bus ride into Ukraine wasn't so smooth however, as the bus driver forgot his passport in Warsaw and we had to wait at the border in the bus, amidst the most potent B.O. stench I have encountered, for 5 hours while the driver's buddy came from Warsaw to deliver the passport. My Ukrainian companions were not pleased.
My first meal in Ukraine was also pretty interesting. I went to this outdoor patio-type place where Ukrainians seemed to be buying chicken wraps. So I went up and said, 'Chicken wrap please', this of course not being understood at all, but the lady started food-making motions anyways so I didn't care. Until she presented me with a whole fucking chicken on a plate. So I took my chicken and beer and tried to get cutlery, making a cutting motion with my hands. I was offered bread. I tried to explain how bread wasn't the greatest cutting utensil but was shooed away angrily. I have to say though, after the intial shock of having my fingerprints burnt off, eating a whole animal with your hands is probably the most satisfying way to eat something. Although I did need a shower after as I was covered in grease. Still only cost me 4 bucks though.
That was in Lviv, a very nice town blah blah blah. Then I took a train to Kiev and was joined by about 30 Ukrainian military guys who thought I was pretty special. They 'made' me drink beer and this Ukrainian cognac until 3am. If you've never heard of Ukrainian cognac, there's a reason. It's not their speciality. Our good rapport was maintained until one of the guys, a rather large paratrooper, got really drunk and told me that he 'needed' me to stay with him at his house and started giving me long stares. Everyone got a little awkward after that. But Kiev was fun, lots of partying going on. Despite the Norweigan guy who ran the hostel I was at, who kept lecturing me about the 'slant eyes' and 'curry munchers' stealing all of 'our' natural resources, there was a lot of good people in Kiev. I went out with a bunch of Swedes and Ukrainians one night and remember buying a few bottles of vodka at a grocery store and very little after that. I woke up in a different hostel in someone's bed. I don't know where they slept, maybe in my hostel in my bed but that seems pretty unlikely. The bad thing about partying with Swedes though is that I'm always the ugliest one there. The Brits are much better to party with.
Then Odessa. Odessa is full of Russians and, consequently, full of cigarette butts and beer bottles. It was like it was halloween and the only costumes being sold were 'washed-up prostitute' and 'aging male go-go dancer'. I have never seen so many mesh shirts on men before. It was nice though, in that drinking by yourself was once again socially acceptable, if not expected. This one guy on the bus (named Golya I would soon learn), at 10am on a Tuesday, accompanied by his mother, stumbled into his seat, mumbled/burped something to me, and promptly passed out. He was so drunk his mother couldn't wake him up at their stop. So she started hitting him and screaming at him. Then an old man came and started hitting him and screaming at him because he wanted the seat. Then other people started hitting him and I felt bad for poor Golya until I started hitting him. It was quite fun and his mother actually thanked me when Golya woke up/threw up.
But the weather wasn't so great so I headed to Moldova. If you know anything about Moldova (including where it is on a map), you're my hero. It's pretty weird. It's Europe's poorest, most corrupt country, it has a crazy communist breakaway republic in it, and it is really, really good at making wine. A nice bottle of wine costs a dollar. I went to a winery which had 2 million bottles of wine and we had to take a bus through the 55km of wine cellars. My inciteful comments at the wine tasting included, 'This wine is very bold, I enjoy the boldness very much','This wine tastes a little winier than the last one', 'I like the bubbles', and 'Do you have a bathroom in the immediate vicinity?' I didn't impress the guide very much.
After two bottles of wine to myself, the bus ride to Romania was fairly blurry. I do remember some Moldovans trying to smuggle stuff into Romania and getting caught when the bag they had hid under the bus got caught in the wheel and was dragged around the parking lot when the bus started to move, much to everyone's amusement. Those guys didnt make it into Romania. Poor Moldovans, you'll never win. I arrived in Bucharest in the morning, took a look around and immediately booked a train out of Bucharest. Bucharest is a hole. It has some interesting things to see but they don't make up for the packs of disgusting straydogs, scheming gypsies, and general filth. Not getting the exchange rate quite down, I took out $1000 out of an ATM. I tried vainly to shove it back in but that doesn't work. So now I am a walking jackpot for pickpockets and the odds are very good that I will lose a significant amount of money very soon. After a few somewhat uneventful but relaxing days in Transylvania, I am now in Budapest. Being in the EU is nice in some ways because people speak English and occasionally use logic but the prices are crazy. What cost me a couple of healthy chickens and an arm's length of sausage in Ukraine now cost me hundreds of dollars. But Budapest is sweet.
Bouche
My first meal in Ukraine was also pretty interesting. I went to this outdoor patio-type place where Ukrainians seemed to be buying chicken wraps. So I went up and said, 'Chicken wrap please', this of course not being understood at all, but the lady started food-making motions anyways so I didn't care. Until she presented me with a whole fucking chicken on a plate. So I took my chicken and beer and tried to get cutlery, making a cutting motion with my hands. I was offered bread. I tried to explain how bread wasn't the greatest cutting utensil but was shooed away angrily. I have to say though, after the intial shock of having my fingerprints burnt off, eating a whole animal with your hands is probably the most satisfying way to eat something. Although I did need a shower after as I was covered in grease. Still only cost me 4 bucks though.
That was in Lviv, a very nice town blah blah blah. Then I took a train to Kiev and was joined by about 30 Ukrainian military guys who thought I was pretty special. They 'made' me drink beer and this Ukrainian cognac until 3am. If you've never heard of Ukrainian cognac, there's a reason. It's not their speciality. Our good rapport was maintained until one of the guys, a rather large paratrooper, got really drunk and told me that he 'needed' me to stay with him at his house and started giving me long stares. Everyone got a little awkward after that. But Kiev was fun, lots of partying going on. Despite the Norweigan guy who ran the hostel I was at, who kept lecturing me about the 'slant eyes' and 'curry munchers' stealing all of 'our' natural resources, there was a lot of good people in Kiev. I went out with a bunch of Swedes and Ukrainians one night and remember buying a few bottles of vodka at a grocery store and very little after that. I woke up in a different hostel in someone's bed. I don't know where they slept, maybe in my hostel in my bed but that seems pretty unlikely. The bad thing about partying with Swedes though is that I'm always the ugliest one there. The Brits are much better to party with.
Then Odessa. Odessa is full of Russians and, consequently, full of cigarette butts and beer bottles. It was like it was halloween and the only costumes being sold were 'washed-up prostitute' and 'aging male go-go dancer'. I have never seen so many mesh shirts on men before. It was nice though, in that drinking by yourself was once again socially acceptable, if not expected. This one guy on the bus (named Golya I would soon learn), at 10am on a Tuesday, accompanied by his mother, stumbled into his seat, mumbled/burped something to me, and promptly passed out. He was so drunk his mother couldn't wake him up at their stop. So she started hitting him and screaming at him. Then an old man came and started hitting him and screaming at him because he wanted the seat. Then other people started hitting him and I felt bad for poor Golya until I started hitting him. It was quite fun and his mother actually thanked me when Golya woke up/threw up.
But the weather wasn't so great so I headed to Moldova. If you know anything about Moldova (including where it is on a map), you're my hero. It's pretty weird. It's Europe's poorest, most corrupt country, it has a crazy communist breakaway republic in it, and it is really, really good at making wine. A nice bottle of wine costs a dollar. I went to a winery which had 2 million bottles of wine and we had to take a bus through the 55km of wine cellars. My inciteful comments at the wine tasting included, 'This wine is very bold, I enjoy the boldness very much','This wine tastes a little winier than the last one', 'I like the bubbles', and 'Do you have a bathroom in the immediate vicinity?' I didn't impress the guide very much.
After two bottles of wine to myself, the bus ride to Romania was fairly blurry. I do remember some Moldovans trying to smuggle stuff into Romania and getting caught when the bag they had hid under the bus got caught in the wheel and was dragged around the parking lot when the bus started to move, much to everyone's amusement. Those guys didnt make it into Romania. Poor Moldovans, you'll never win. I arrived in Bucharest in the morning, took a look around and immediately booked a train out of Bucharest. Bucharest is a hole. It has some interesting things to see but they don't make up for the packs of disgusting straydogs, scheming gypsies, and general filth. Not getting the exchange rate quite down, I took out $1000 out of an ATM. I tried vainly to shove it back in but that doesn't work. So now I am a walking jackpot for pickpockets and the odds are very good that I will lose a significant amount of money very soon. After a few somewhat uneventful but relaxing days in Transylvania, I am now in Budapest. Being in the EU is nice in some ways because people speak English and occasionally use logic but the prices are crazy. What cost me a couple of healthy chickens and an arm's length of sausage in Ukraine now cost me hundreds of dollars. But Budapest is sweet.
Bouche
Welcome to Prague. The Local Time is 7:35am, 1995.
It's awesome, every supermarket is pumping Ace of Base, Haddaway, or The Cardigans and I even saw some guy wearing turquoise jeans (although, to be fair, that might not be a 90's thing, just a Czech thing). Also, apparently I just missed a Wu-Tang concert in Prague. By my calculations, that would be their 'Enter the 36 Chambers' Tour.
Moscow was really big, expensive and cool. It has more billionaires than anywhere else on the planet and everyone seems to drive black mercedes with darkened windows.They actually have this thing at clubs called 'face control'. This means, quite simply, that they control the number of ugly faces getting into the club. So, I didn't go out clubbing much in Moscow, and spent most of my time either lining up for things or walking around Red Square, trying to get into the background of other people's pictures. Moscow is packed with historical stuff so I was pretty entertained. It's also packed with tourists who don't know how to line up for things. What is with people from 3rd world countries (I'm including Italians here) and not knowing how to line up? What stage of economic development does making an orderly line become accepted? Some English guy and I almost got into a fight with some Brazilians trying to samba their way into the front of a 2 hour line to see Lenin. Lenin, by the way, is not looking so hot 80 odd years after his death.
I met some interesting people in Moscow. Alexei, some guy I met on the train, spoke really good English and showed me around one day. Alexei was a good guy but fairly racist (as many Russians are). He asked me 10 minutes into our first conversation what groups of people I don't like. I told him that I fucking despise Bolivians but he didn't seem satisfied so I added the French, which he agreed with. He then told me all about Kazakhs, Jews, and Armenians and what was wrong with them. Apparently there's a lot wrong with them. I also met Sean, a walking, breathing Irish stereotype. Sean was always drunk. Always. Having coffee at 9am one morning I heard Sean come in with 2 large beers. After recognizing who I was, he offered me one of the beers, claiming he got it for me, despite not knowing I was going to be there. He then raved for an hour about some potato place he found that was really good. I was half-expecting him to carbomb something and start a paranoid rant about someone taking his lucky charms.
From Moscow, I went to St.Petersburg. St.Petersburg is lovely and I don't use that word to describe things very often. Aside from frequent attacks on non-whites and the occasional mugging, it is packed with history and bridges and parks and goodness. After exhausting myself on the historical crap, the guy who ran the hostel I was at took me out to the bars in St.Petersburg, which were fun and quite cheap. Now I'm no Fred Astaire, but Russians are the worst dancers I have ever seen. I guess ballet doesn't translate to hip-hop or techno. It's very odd watching a dance floor of hot, young, Russian girls dance like fat, middle-aged, drunken white guys. Very entertaining though.
After a few days drinking cheap beer and vodka and lounging in the loveliness, I flew to Prague. Trying to offset the cost of the flight, I drank as much free beer and ate as much salted peanuts as I could. I arrived in Prague a bit drunk, very salted and thoroughly disliked by all the flight attendants. I stayed with my friend Julie which was great because I no longer had to eat alone in restaurants, pretending to read or wait for my 'friend' to show up, and she showed me around and spoke Czech for me. My birthday was a bit of a blur but I was awake for some of it. Beer in Czech is delicious and the food is horribly bad for you. After eating 2 blocks of fried cheese I didn't think I was going to poop again and if I did, I suspected it would be awfully cheezy. Other notable events in Prague include the reappearance (however brief) of my mustache and the frequent sighting of statues with penises. Anyways, five days flew by and I went to Poland to meet my Mum.
If St.Petersburg was lovely, Poland is pleasant. A little less interesting but the people are much nicer. Krakow was great and I think it was partly due to the fact that we were there in the middle of the week, and thus weren't plagued with gangs of British stag parties shouting things like 'Oi' and 'bollocks' and generally offending everyone with their bad teeth and ugly women. I then took the bus down to Zakopane (which does not, I realized after 3 intensely confusing conversations, sound like windowpane) and did some really good hiking for a couple days. Zakopane is a little like Whistler except that the food and beer is cheap and there are no Australians. In other words, it's all I want in a town. And now I'm in Warsaw which is very blah. I'm going to Ukraine tomorrow. Some Swiss guys in St.Petersburg told me there is a 5-week long techno festival in Ukraine that is amazing. I don't really like techno that much but I am very interested to see how people can survive a 5-week festival centred around techno. I don't believe there are enough drugs in the world to keep that going. I have a feeling it's just those swiss guys I met, a big bag of drugs, and an iPod.
Bouche
Moscow was really big, expensive and cool. It has more billionaires than anywhere else on the planet and everyone seems to drive black mercedes with darkened windows.They actually have this thing at clubs called 'face control'. This means, quite simply, that they control the number of ugly faces getting into the club. So, I didn't go out clubbing much in Moscow, and spent most of my time either lining up for things or walking around Red Square, trying to get into the background of other people's pictures. Moscow is packed with historical stuff so I was pretty entertained. It's also packed with tourists who don't know how to line up for things. What is with people from 3rd world countries (I'm including Italians here) and not knowing how to line up? What stage of economic development does making an orderly line become accepted? Some English guy and I almost got into a fight with some Brazilians trying to samba their way into the front of a 2 hour line to see Lenin. Lenin, by the way, is not looking so hot 80 odd years after his death.
I met some interesting people in Moscow. Alexei, some guy I met on the train, spoke really good English and showed me around one day. Alexei was a good guy but fairly racist (as many Russians are). He asked me 10 minutes into our first conversation what groups of people I don't like. I told him that I fucking despise Bolivians but he didn't seem satisfied so I added the French, which he agreed with. He then told me all about Kazakhs, Jews, and Armenians and what was wrong with them. Apparently there's a lot wrong with them. I also met Sean, a walking, breathing Irish stereotype. Sean was always drunk. Always. Having coffee at 9am one morning I heard Sean come in with 2 large beers. After recognizing who I was, he offered me one of the beers, claiming he got it for me, despite not knowing I was going to be there. He then raved for an hour about some potato place he found that was really good. I was half-expecting him to carbomb something and start a paranoid rant about someone taking his lucky charms.
From Moscow, I went to St.Petersburg. St.Petersburg is lovely and I don't use that word to describe things very often. Aside from frequent attacks on non-whites and the occasional mugging, it is packed with history and bridges and parks and goodness. After exhausting myself on the historical crap, the guy who ran the hostel I was at took me out to the bars in St.Petersburg, which were fun and quite cheap. Now I'm no Fred Astaire, but Russians are the worst dancers I have ever seen. I guess ballet doesn't translate to hip-hop or techno. It's very odd watching a dance floor of hot, young, Russian girls dance like fat, middle-aged, drunken white guys. Very entertaining though.
After a few days drinking cheap beer and vodka and lounging in the loveliness, I flew to Prague. Trying to offset the cost of the flight, I drank as much free beer and ate as much salted peanuts as I could. I arrived in Prague a bit drunk, very salted and thoroughly disliked by all the flight attendants. I stayed with my friend Julie which was great because I no longer had to eat alone in restaurants, pretending to read or wait for my 'friend' to show up, and she showed me around and spoke Czech for me. My birthday was a bit of a blur but I was awake for some of it. Beer in Czech is delicious and the food is horribly bad for you. After eating 2 blocks of fried cheese I didn't think I was going to poop again and if I did, I suspected it would be awfully cheezy. Other notable events in Prague include the reappearance (however brief) of my mustache and the frequent sighting of statues with penises. Anyways, five days flew by and I went to Poland to meet my Mum.
If St.Petersburg was lovely, Poland is pleasant. A little less interesting but the people are much nicer. Krakow was great and I think it was partly due to the fact that we were there in the middle of the week, and thus weren't plagued with gangs of British stag parties shouting things like 'Oi' and 'bollocks' and generally offending everyone with their bad teeth and ugly women. I then took the bus down to Zakopane (which does not, I realized after 3 intensely confusing conversations, sound like windowpane) and did some really good hiking for a couple days. Zakopane is a little like Whistler except that the food and beer is cheap and there are no Australians. In other words, it's all I want in a town. And now I'm in Warsaw which is very blah. I'm going to Ukraine tomorrow. Some Swiss guys in St.Petersburg told me there is a 5-week long techno festival in Ukraine that is amazing. I don't really like techno that much but I am very interested to see how people can survive a 5-week festival centred around techno. I don't believe there are enough drugs in the world to keep that going. I have a feeling it's just those swiss guys I met, a big bag of drugs, and an iPod.
Bouche
Attention!
My God, Russia is funny. I love this country. The women all look like prostitutes from the early 1990's and the men all look they're from those old music videos where they had big, synchronized dance fights. Everyone has mullets and pointy shoes, techno pumps from every car and drinking time starts after you brush your teeth in the morning. Russian guys would actually be pretty terrifying (they travel in packs and are never without large beer bottles) if they weren't usually sporting hangbags and fancy belts.
I arrived in Russia via train from Mongolia. In my cabin were a quiet Mongolian woman, a very talkative Mongolian man, a wiry Finnish woman, and me. The Mongolian man, whose name was Gorgie, was one of those people who felt the need to fill any silence with some sort of conversation. Unfortunately for me, this train ride was around 36 hours long. Eventually, he had exhausted every stream of conversation and would just spout random words at me like, 'Canada', 'Newfoundland' (he had been in an airport there), 'Canucks', or on one occasion, 'Money, money, money,Scaaaaaaaaat' (This was how he pronounced my name).There is no way to reply to these kind of outbursts. Despite Gorgie, the train ride was alright and the scenery crossing Mongolia into Siberia was pretty cool.
The Finnish woman started off as pretty cool but I slowly realized how batshit insane she was. Apparently our destinies were interwined as she was staying in the same hostels I was and had the same itinerary I did for at least 5 days. During these 5 days, she either didn't change out of a yellow puma t-shirt and fishing vest or she had 5 sets of this unlikely outfit. She also didn't stop talking and had seemed to enjoy offending every normal person we encountered, isolating herself, and, by proximity, me. It's not like losing someone in Eastern Siberia is exactly easy either. She eventually met up with a friend of hers and this allowed me to slip away unnoticed.
Siberia is pretty amazing. I stayed for 2 days on an island in Lake Baikal, the deepest lake in the world and what felt like the coldest. This island had some of the best scenery I have ever seen. I met some fat Russian women through this old French guy who translated for me and they drowned me in vodka. They were very jolly and gave me lots of food and we had a good time. Near the end of the night however, the fatter one handed me this dried up fish. I asked her what she wanted me to do with it. They explained to me that you just eat it. Like, the whole thing. So I did, and was of course sick for almost all of the following day. What made it worse was that the French guy had left another one of these fish by my pillow for breakfast. Not a good sight to wake up to with a bad hangover.
After Eastern Siberia, I jumped on a 55 hour train ride westward in 3rd class, which is quite the experience. Everyone is working-class Russian and its very sweaty. Twice a day I would go to one of the only two open windows and have a 'fresh air shower'. I had an old Russian woman across from me and an older, dull Russian couple above me. The old woman had gold teeth and scowled at everything I did. I was terrified of her. I pretty much sat with my hands in my lap for the first 6 hours. One time during the trip she gave me this impossibly creepy smile to which I didn't know whether to smile back or just cower under my blanket. She also got up (and I counted) 3 times in 55 hours. This lack of fresh air showers made her very smelly. After the first night I met an Aussie couple in the next car and so the rest of the trip was a little more social. Apparently, their train companions included a guy who was just let out of a Siberian prison after 14 years for murdering someone, and an angry looking drug addict who, by the looks of him, had definitely not kicked the habit. I met the murderer and he was pretty nice but was so scary I couldn't look at him. All in all, old 'goldie fangs' in my compartment didn't seem so bad anymore. The drug addict would later glare at me consistently for being around this Russian girl he was in love with and apparently told some of the other Russians that he was going to rob me blind.
Through the female half of the Aussie couple, who spoke Russian, we met some of the less criminal Russians on the train as well. There was a school group from Siberia heading to the Ukraine for English camp. Although it felt a lot like I was back in Japan speaking caveman English to kids, we had some fun playing charades and such. One of the older kids, Pavel, was awesome. He knew quite a lot of English and wasn't afraid to use it. He would precede any sentence with a firm, 'Attention!' so that people would listen to him. He would do this even if no one was talking. If someone failed to heed this warning, he would follow it with 'Stop talking now!' Anyways, so we were playing charades and when you play charades with Russian students who don't really speak English and Australians (who tend to have a limited vocabulary unless it's to do with strange animals native only to Australia), guessing the answers is very easy. Things like 'bird', 'car', 'kangaroo' and 'hello' don't take too long to figure out. So when it was my turn, Pavel leaned over to me and, with a very smug smile on his face, whispered in my ear:
Pavel: Attention.
Bouche:You're whispering in my ear, you already have my attention.
P: I have good one.
B: Ok.
P: Little crocodile (Immediately bursts into excited giggles).
B: What?
P: Do little crocodile.
B: Really? That's it?
P: Yes Yes! They never get it.
B: Alright.
(Pavel waits with eyes wide in anticipation. He looks like he has to pee).
(I do a gesture for little)
Aussie guy: Small!
Aussie girl: Little!
(I give the thumbs up. Do a gesture for crocodile)
Aussie girl: Um, mouse trap!
(Pavel cannot contain his glee at this point)
Aussie guy: Alligator!
Aussie girl: Crocodile!
(I nod, gesture them to put it together)
Aussie guy: (A little sceptically) Little crocodile?
P: I don't believe it! He do it!
I've never seen someone with such a deflated look before. I felt bad. I think little crocodile was his little parlour trick he used whenever he played charades and I think I ruined it for him. He didn't talk much after that.
So then I went to Yekaterinburg for a day and saw where the Romanovs were murdered during the Russian Civil War and other pleasant sights. After that I went to Kazan, the capital of the Tatars, makers of that delicious sauce. Now I'm in Moscow. It is very nice. Ok, enough for now.
Bouche
P.S. All I've eaten in over a week is sausage, bread, cucumbers and beer. These 4 things are so cheap it's silly not to buy them. Not feeling so hot though.
I arrived in Russia via train from Mongolia. In my cabin were a quiet Mongolian woman, a very talkative Mongolian man, a wiry Finnish woman, and me. The Mongolian man, whose name was Gorgie, was one of those people who felt the need to fill any silence with some sort of conversation. Unfortunately for me, this train ride was around 36 hours long. Eventually, he had exhausted every stream of conversation and would just spout random words at me like, 'Canada', 'Newfoundland' (he had been in an airport there), 'Canucks', or on one occasion, 'Money, money, money,Scaaaaaaaaat' (This was how he pronounced my name).There is no way to reply to these kind of outbursts. Despite Gorgie, the train ride was alright and the scenery crossing Mongolia into Siberia was pretty cool.
The Finnish woman started off as pretty cool but I slowly realized how batshit insane she was. Apparently our destinies were interwined as she was staying in the same hostels I was and had the same itinerary I did for at least 5 days. During these 5 days, she either didn't change out of a yellow puma t-shirt and fishing vest or she had 5 sets of this unlikely outfit. She also didn't stop talking and had seemed to enjoy offending every normal person we encountered, isolating herself, and, by proximity, me. It's not like losing someone in Eastern Siberia is exactly easy either. She eventually met up with a friend of hers and this allowed me to slip away unnoticed.
Siberia is pretty amazing. I stayed for 2 days on an island in Lake Baikal, the deepest lake in the world and what felt like the coldest. This island had some of the best scenery I have ever seen. I met some fat Russian women through this old French guy who translated for me and they drowned me in vodka. They were very jolly and gave me lots of food and we had a good time. Near the end of the night however, the fatter one handed me this dried up fish. I asked her what she wanted me to do with it. They explained to me that you just eat it. Like, the whole thing. So I did, and was of course sick for almost all of the following day. What made it worse was that the French guy had left another one of these fish by my pillow for breakfast. Not a good sight to wake up to with a bad hangover.
After Eastern Siberia, I jumped on a 55 hour train ride westward in 3rd class, which is quite the experience. Everyone is working-class Russian and its very sweaty. Twice a day I would go to one of the only two open windows and have a 'fresh air shower'. I had an old Russian woman across from me and an older, dull Russian couple above me. The old woman had gold teeth and scowled at everything I did. I was terrified of her. I pretty much sat with my hands in my lap for the first 6 hours. One time during the trip she gave me this impossibly creepy smile to which I didn't know whether to smile back or just cower under my blanket. She also got up (and I counted) 3 times in 55 hours. This lack of fresh air showers made her very smelly. After the first night I met an Aussie couple in the next car and so the rest of the trip was a little more social. Apparently, their train companions included a guy who was just let out of a Siberian prison after 14 years for murdering someone, and an angry looking drug addict who, by the looks of him, had definitely not kicked the habit. I met the murderer and he was pretty nice but was so scary I couldn't look at him. All in all, old 'goldie fangs' in my compartment didn't seem so bad anymore. The drug addict would later glare at me consistently for being around this Russian girl he was in love with and apparently told some of the other Russians that he was going to rob me blind.
Through the female half of the Aussie couple, who spoke Russian, we met some of the less criminal Russians on the train as well. There was a school group from Siberia heading to the Ukraine for English camp. Although it felt a lot like I was back in Japan speaking caveman English to kids, we had some fun playing charades and such. One of the older kids, Pavel, was awesome. He knew quite a lot of English and wasn't afraid to use it. He would precede any sentence with a firm, 'Attention!' so that people would listen to him. He would do this even if no one was talking. If someone failed to heed this warning, he would follow it with 'Stop talking now!' Anyways, so we were playing charades and when you play charades with Russian students who don't really speak English and Australians (who tend to have a limited vocabulary unless it's to do with strange animals native only to Australia), guessing the answers is very easy. Things like 'bird', 'car', 'kangaroo' and 'hello' don't take too long to figure out. So when it was my turn, Pavel leaned over to me and, with a very smug smile on his face, whispered in my ear:
Pavel: Attention.
Bouche:You're whispering in my ear, you already have my attention.
P: I have good one.
B: Ok.
P: Little crocodile (Immediately bursts into excited giggles).
B: What?
P: Do little crocodile.
B: Really? That's it?
P: Yes Yes! They never get it.
B: Alright.
(Pavel waits with eyes wide in anticipation. He looks like he has to pee).
(I do a gesture for little)
Aussie guy: Small!
Aussie girl: Little!
(I give the thumbs up. Do a gesture for crocodile)
Aussie girl: Um, mouse trap!
(Pavel cannot contain his glee at this point)
Aussie guy: Alligator!
Aussie girl: Crocodile!
(I nod, gesture them to put it together)
Aussie guy: (A little sceptically) Little crocodile?
P: I don't believe it! He do it!
I've never seen someone with such a deflated look before. I felt bad. I think little crocodile was his little parlour trick he used whenever he played charades and I think I ruined it for him. He didn't talk much after that.
So then I went to Yekaterinburg for a day and saw where the Romanovs were murdered during the Russian Civil War and other pleasant sights. After that I went to Kazan, the capital of the Tatars, makers of that delicious sauce. Now I'm in Moscow. It is very nice. Ok, enough for now.
Bouche
P.S. All I've eaten in over a week is sausage, bread, cucumbers and beer. These 4 things are so cheap it's silly not to buy them. Not feeling so hot though.
Sayonara Japan, Ni-Hao China
Well I'm out of Japan and back on mainland Asia where everything is cheap and the sewers are open. My last couple months in Japan flew by, not much happened. I travelled around a bit and mostly spent my time trying to figure out how to get rid of all my shit (sending stuff home is expensive and garbage disposal in Japan is stupidly strict). I dumped alot of it at one of my classrooms and at neighbouring buildings. Saying goodbye to all my kids was a little sad and a little awesome, depending on the kids. I gave little presents to the kids I liked and psychologically abused those I didn't one last time. Then I flew to China.
The first thing I noticed about China (after the constant fog of pollution and overbearing heat) was the fact that Chinese people are cartoonishly rude. Coming from Japan probably didnt help. If you left your first-born in a dumpster with a wad of bills in his mouth in Japan, the Japanese would wash him, feed him, buy him clothes, return him to your door with the money and probably apologize to you for not washing him thoroughly enough. Chinese people would eat him and then spit on you. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but my point is the same. My impression at first was that Chinese people weren't very good at English but it's not that, they just don't use most of the common English phrases like 'Excuse me', 'Sorry', 'Thank you', 'Welcome', and 'Watch out, I'm about to spit on your foot'.
China does, however, have some amazing things to see. I flew into Shanghai and had a couple days there. Really cool city, especially the ultra-modern, ultra-Phallic architecture. I also made tons of Chinese friends. They all seemed to be students and all seemed really nice and all seemed to have an art gallery or tea house or interesting antique store that I should see. They never wanted to talk about anything I wanted to talk about though. Our conversation:
Random Chinese Person: Hello!
Bouche: Hello
RCP: Where are you from?
B: Canada
RCP: Ah! Toronto or Ottawa?
B: I have to choose huh? I'd say Ottawa. But a little closer to Vancouver.
RCP: Vancouver is the 3rd largest city in Canada.
B: That's an odd thing for you to know.
RCP: You speak English very well.
B: Thank you, I studied it in high school.
RCP: Do you speak Chinese?
B: Not a word.
RCP: (Grins) Good. Where are you going?
B: The Shanghai museum.
RCP: Oh, I see. Maybe it's closed today.
B: Don't think so.
RCP: Well, do you like Chinese art?
B: Im pretty indifferent.
RCP: You should see our art gallery, it's very close.
B: Maybe, I've heard the museum's art gallery is nicer though.
RCP: Well, do you like Chinese tea?
B: I guess.
RCP: OK! Let's go to a tea house I know and become friends.
B: I thought we were already friends. Anyways, I have to go to the museum. Is it this way?
RCP: No, it's that way, and its closed I think, come to the tea house.
(I start speaking French)
They always sent me in the wrong direction too. I had talked to a few people who actually went along to these tea houses and got dinged for like $200 bills for tea. Anyways, after Shanghai I went to Yellow mountain, a really famous mountain in China. Did some amazing hiking there and then went off to Beijing.
Beijing is big and dirty but the Great Wall and Beijing's other sites are pretty impressive. The food is amazing too, despite it having previously unheard of amounts of grease on it. China has obviously welcomed foreign companies to exploit it more than the French welcome invading armies. In the Forbidden City, China's ancient city where all the emperors lived and held court, probably the most sacred place in China, there is a Starbucks. In all other famous sights, there is at least one Starbucks and a few McDonald's, Dairy Queen's. etc. In all though, it's a really interesting city.
What is less interesting about Beijing is the Mongolian embassy where I spent most of my time. For some reason, the guy who works there, knowing full well that his major weaknesses include accepting Visa applications and processing such applications, decided to work in the Visa section of an embassy. In one day, he honestly got through maybe 10 people. I managed to get in the embassy (most people had to wait outside) and I thought I was to be one of the chosen few to get my Visa. This, however, was thwarted by some dumb, ugly, stupidhead Russian woman who took 50 minutes of the previously mentioned Visa-phobic employee's time arguing about bortsch or perogies or something. I wanted to send her to a gulag. Really, if you are taking that much time in a line, you should either let people go ahead of you, or kill yourself. Anyways, I didn't get my Visa that day and it meant I could only spend 30 hours in Mongolia instead of 4 days.
So considering how many important sights there are in China and how big China is, nine days isn't close to being enough. If, however, you consider how hot China is and how angry I was after that Visa thing, nine days is about right. I finally made it to Mongolia which is a much cooler country. The capital city (and really the only city) was pretty nice and Mongolian people are really cool. Having only 30 hours there I didn't get to see much of the countryside but I did do a day trip and got some hiking in and stuff. I also went swimming in a river with some Mongolian orphans who spoke better English than my Japanese kids. After swimming for like 30 minutes, their douchebag British teacher was like, 'Oh, I hope you didn't go in the water, it's really polluted. It has shit and stuff in it.' Oh, thanks for the info, no I was just sunbathing here in my underwear with naked Mongolian orphans. Not to worry. I took a long shower after that.
So now I'm in Russia. Russia is very Russian. The people are fucking hilarious and I could sit around and take pictures of them all day. Even I have more fashion sense than these people. If you want to wear a Hawaiian shirt with plaid shorts, black socks and sandals, you'll fit right in. But I'll wrap this up.
Bouche
The first thing I noticed about China (after the constant fog of pollution and overbearing heat) was the fact that Chinese people are cartoonishly rude. Coming from Japan probably didnt help. If you left your first-born in a dumpster with a wad of bills in his mouth in Japan, the Japanese would wash him, feed him, buy him clothes, return him to your door with the money and probably apologize to you for not washing him thoroughly enough. Chinese people would eat him and then spit on you. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but my point is the same. My impression at first was that Chinese people weren't very good at English but it's not that, they just don't use most of the common English phrases like 'Excuse me', 'Sorry', 'Thank you', 'Welcome', and 'Watch out, I'm about to spit on your foot'.
China does, however, have some amazing things to see. I flew into Shanghai and had a couple days there. Really cool city, especially the ultra-modern, ultra-Phallic architecture. I also made tons of Chinese friends. They all seemed to be students and all seemed really nice and all seemed to have an art gallery or tea house or interesting antique store that I should see. They never wanted to talk about anything I wanted to talk about though. Our conversation:
Random Chinese Person: Hello!
Bouche: Hello
RCP: Where are you from?
B: Canada
RCP: Ah! Toronto or Ottawa?
B: I have to choose huh? I'd say Ottawa. But a little closer to Vancouver.
RCP: Vancouver is the 3rd largest city in Canada.
B: That's an odd thing for you to know.
RCP: You speak English very well.
B: Thank you, I studied it in high school.
RCP: Do you speak Chinese?
B: Not a word.
RCP: (Grins) Good. Where are you going?
B: The Shanghai museum.
RCP: Oh, I see. Maybe it's closed today.
B: Don't think so.
RCP: Well, do you like Chinese art?
B: Im pretty indifferent.
RCP: You should see our art gallery, it's very close.
B: Maybe, I've heard the museum's art gallery is nicer though.
RCP: Well, do you like Chinese tea?
B: I guess.
RCP: OK! Let's go to a tea house I know and become friends.
B: I thought we were already friends. Anyways, I have to go to the museum. Is it this way?
RCP: No, it's that way, and its closed I think, come to the tea house.
(I start speaking French)
They always sent me in the wrong direction too. I had talked to a few people who actually went along to these tea houses and got dinged for like $200 bills for tea. Anyways, after Shanghai I went to Yellow mountain, a really famous mountain in China. Did some amazing hiking there and then went off to Beijing.
Beijing is big and dirty but the Great Wall and Beijing's other sites are pretty impressive. The food is amazing too, despite it having previously unheard of amounts of grease on it. China has obviously welcomed foreign companies to exploit it more than the French welcome invading armies. In the Forbidden City, China's ancient city where all the emperors lived and held court, probably the most sacred place in China, there is a Starbucks. In all other famous sights, there is at least one Starbucks and a few McDonald's, Dairy Queen's. etc. In all though, it's a really interesting city.
What is less interesting about Beijing is the Mongolian embassy where I spent most of my time. For some reason, the guy who works there, knowing full well that his major weaknesses include accepting Visa applications and processing such applications, decided to work in the Visa section of an embassy. In one day, he honestly got through maybe 10 people. I managed to get in the embassy (most people had to wait outside) and I thought I was to be one of the chosen few to get my Visa. This, however, was thwarted by some dumb, ugly, stupidhead Russian woman who took 50 minutes of the previously mentioned Visa-phobic employee's time arguing about bortsch or perogies or something. I wanted to send her to a gulag. Really, if you are taking that much time in a line, you should either let people go ahead of you, or kill yourself. Anyways, I didn't get my Visa that day and it meant I could only spend 30 hours in Mongolia instead of 4 days.
So considering how many important sights there are in China and how big China is, nine days isn't close to being enough. If, however, you consider how hot China is and how angry I was after that Visa thing, nine days is about right. I finally made it to Mongolia which is a much cooler country. The capital city (and really the only city) was pretty nice and Mongolian people are really cool. Having only 30 hours there I didn't get to see much of the countryside but I did do a day trip and got some hiking in and stuff. I also went swimming in a river with some Mongolian orphans who spoke better English than my Japanese kids. After swimming for like 30 minutes, their douchebag British teacher was like, 'Oh, I hope you didn't go in the water, it's really polluted. It has shit and stuff in it.' Oh, thanks for the info, no I was just sunbathing here in my underwear with naked Mongolian orphans. Not to worry. I took a long shower after that.
So now I'm in Russia. Russia is very Russian. The people are fucking hilarious and I could sit around and take pictures of them all day. Even I have more fashion sense than these people. If you want to wear a Hawaiian shirt with plaid shorts, black socks and sandals, you'll fit right in. But I'll wrap this up.
Bouche
The Silver Samurai is No More
Summer has arrived in Japan. We had Spring for only about a week and so I didn't have time to buy new t-shirts to replace the ones I sweated through last summer. I am now frantically searching for t-shirts, which is really annoying as finding a t-shirt in my size in Japan is about as easy as finding a respectable Australian or someone of voting age at The Stone Temple.
My bike was stolen. It's horrible. The Silver Samurai is no more. It's partly my fault I guess, I should never have showed off its blazing speed and sleek design around town as arrogantly as I did. The few Japanese friends I have assured me it was stolen and I sulked around for a few days giving anyone on a bike suspicious glares, but then I saw some sign that had a bike on it and a phone number. After trying to decipher it for about an hour, I realized that it said that bikes left overnight were towed to this location, and it gave a map. With newfound enthusiasm, I took a cellphone picture of the map and set out.
This "bike jail" could not have been in a more obscure location. It was like they wanted you to prove yourself before getting your bike back. The Japanese system of addresses did not make this easier. There is pretty much no system. They just built huge cities without remembering to organize anything so Japanese neighbourhoods are hedge mazes with narrow, winding, alleys and no street names. I think my address actually means "Osaka City, head southwest for awhile until you come to a medium-sized mountain, walk for 30-50 minutes, turn left, face the sun, and it's the 3rd floor." Anyways, after an hour of back alleys and coming across the same goddamn rice paddy three times, I went to a post office and got new directions. Then I came across the schoolkids.
I've found that kids in Japan are pretty varied in their reactions to foreigners. Some are fairly indifferent, "Oh look, there's a foreigner. But look over here! There's a rock." Others think foreigners are mythical creatures and don't even try to hide their surprise. "Oh my God! What the hell is that? Don't look, don't look! It might see you. Holy fuck. It's a big one. Buddha, I hope it's not hungry. Ok, ok, you make a run for it, I'm just going to sit here and start to cry." Most, however, especially when in large groups, want to shout English at you. This is cute at first, but gets really annoying. It will start off with a few "Hellos", and when you respond they giggle and whisper to each other like they didn't actually believe it would work. If they left it at that, it would be ok, but they don't. Especially when you are wandering around their neighborhood, walking past them time after time, lost beyond belief. Then they just keep shouting "Hellos" or "How are you? Im fine thank yous" like you are having a conversation. I got a few "I love yous" too, which was a little unsettling and I soon became the pied piper of Japan, with scores of Japanese schoolchildren in my wake. Thank god I finally realized that traffic lights on Japanese maps mean that the light doesn't actually have to exist, just the feeling that a traffic light could be there is enough, and I found the bike jail.
There were tons of bikes there. I was sure I was going to find the Samurai. The craziest old Japanese man with googly eyes greeted me with some sort of grunt and I gave him my bike's registration number. He looked through the records and didn't find anything but then took me around the yard to double-check. He was talking to me but his pronounciation of Japanese was as bad as my listening ability and I was lost in his googly eyes so I wasn't really paying attention anyways. The Samurai wasn't there after all and old crazyface left me with the suggestion that I drink green milk and practice the flute (He might as well have, I have no idea what he was talking about). I thanked him profusely and suggested he practice his Japanese. So it turns out, my bike was actually stolen and I should have listened to my Japanese friends after all as Japanese people are much wiser
than I am, despite being ruthless bike thieves.
No bladder accidents recently. It's been kind of nice. Although there are a couple kids who I have wanted to drown in the toilet, most of my students are nice and a lot of them are really cute. Like, ridiculous, make you want to cry, kidnap-material cute. I'll let you in on a secret. I'm going to bring one back to Canada. I explained the plan to her but she's only 4 and her vocabulary is limited to irregular shapes and rare flowers so I dont know if she got the details. I'm pretty sure she's ok with it though because she told me her brother is mean and she hates him.
For little kids in Japan, foreigners are pretty weird. When you live in a country where 99% of the population looks and talks the same, a big freckly foreigner is a mystery that needs to be discussed openly. So this is how a lot of my classes start:
Student 1: (Walks in) Whoa, a foreigner.
Bouche: I'm not a foreigner, I'm Japanese.
S1: (Confused look) No, you're a foreigner.
B: Yeah, you're right, I'm a foreigner.
S2: (Wallks in) Whoa, foreigner teacher.
S1: He speaks Japanese!
S2: Really? (Speaks really fast in Japanese to me)
B: I don't understand.
S2: No he doesnt!
S1: You're really tall.
B: I know.
S2: He DOES speak Japanese! (Again, jabbers something at me)
B: I don't understand.
(They are bewildered. Japanese kids have troubling understanding how someone can only know a little bit of Japanese. They think I either know it or I don't)
S1: (A little distrusting) You have blue eyes.
B: Yes. You have brown eyes.
S2: You have hair on your arms! (Proceeds to pull the hair on my arms)
B: Stop that.
S1: You have weird spots on your arms too!
B: They are freckles. You wish you had freckles.
S2: Your hair is curly.
B: Yes. (Conversations with Japanese children definitely reassure you of what you are).
S2: Haha, you have a hole in your sock.
S1: (Falls over in hysterics. Holes in socks are the funniest thing a Japanese child can imagine for some reason).
B: Dammit.
S1: You're going bald.
S2: You look like a grandfather.
So the reassurance thing can backfire sometimes. Anyways, I did some traveling around recently to Shikoku, a pretty rural area of Japan. It was refreshing to see some nature after living in the urban sprawl that is Osaka. Im headed to Hokkaido (the northern island of Japan) at the end of the month to do some hiking and hot-springing. Aside from that, things are pretty much the same. Too bad about the Canucks, though I'm pretty glad they didn't win the Cup when I was here.
Bouche
My bike was stolen. It's horrible. The Silver Samurai is no more. It's partly my fault I guess, I should never have showed off its blazing speed and sleek design around town as arrogantly as I did. The few Japanese friends I have assured me it was stolen and I sulked around for a few days giving anyone on a bike suspicious glares, but then I saw some sign that had a bike on it and a phone number. After trying to decipher it for about an hour, I realized that it said that bikes left overnight were towed to this location, and it gave a map. With newfound enthusiasm, I took a cellphone picture of the map and set out.
This "bike jail" could not have been in a more obscure location. It was like they wanted you to prove yourself before getting your bike back. The Japanese system of addresses did not make this easier. There is pretty much no system. They just built huge cities without remembering to organize anything so Japanese neighbourhoods are hedge mazes with narrow, winding, alleys and no street names. I think my address actually means "Osaka City, head southwest for awhile until you come to a medium-sized mountain, walk for 30-50 minutes, turn left, face the sun, and it's the 3rd floor." Anyways, after an hour of back alleys and coming across the same goddamn rice paddy three times, I went to a post office and got new directions. Then I came across the schoolkids.
I've found that kids in Japan are pretty varied in their reactions to foreigners. Some are fairly indifferent, "Oh look, there's a foreigner. But look over here! There's a rock." Others think foreigners are mythical creatures and don't even try to hide their surprise. "Oh my God! What the hell is that? Don't look, don't look! It might see you. Holy fuck. It's a big one. Buddha, I hope it's not hungry. Ok, ok, you make a run for it, I'm just going to sit here and start to cry." Most, however, especially when in large groups, want to shout English at you. This is cute at first, but gets really annoying. It will start off with a few "Hellos", and when you respond they giggle and whisper to each other like they didn't actually believe it would work. If they left it at that, it would be ok, but they don't. Especially when you are wandering around their neighborhood, walking past them time after time, lost beyond belief. Then they just keep shouting "Hellos" or "How are you? Im fine thank yous" like you are having a conversation. I got a few "I love yous" too, which was a little unsettling and I soon became the pied piper of Japan, with scores of Japanese schoolchildren in my wake. Thank god I finally realized that traffic lights on Japanese maps mean that the light doesn't actually have to exist, just the feeling that a traffic light could be there is enough, and I found the bike jail.
There were tons of bikes there. I was sure I was going to find the Samurai. The craziest old Japanese man with googly eyes greeted me with some sort of grunt and I gave him my bike's registration number. He looked through the records and didn't find anything but then took me around the yard to double-check. He was talking to me but his pronounciation of Japanese was as bad as my listening ability and I was lost in his googly eyes so I wasn't really paying attention anyways. The Samurai wasn't there after all and old crazyface left me with the suggestion that I drink green milk and practice the flute (He might as well have, I have no idea what he was talking about). I thanked him profusely and suggested he practice his Japanese. So it turns out, my bike was actually stolen and I should have listened to my Japanese friends after all as Japanese people are much wiser
than I am, despite being ruthless bike thieves.
No bladder accidents recently. It's been kind of nice. Although there are a couple kids who I have wanted to drown in the toilet, most of my students are nice and a lot of them are really cute. Like, ridiculous, make you want to cry, kidnap-material cute. I'll let you in on a secret. I'm going to bring one back to Canada. I explained the plan to her but she's only 4 and her vocabulary is limited to irregular shapes and rare flowers so I dont know if she got the details. I'm pretty sure she's ok with it though because she told me her brother is mean and she hates him.
For little kids in Japan, foreigners are pretty weird. When you live in a country where 99% of the population looks and talks the same, a big freckly foreigner is a mystery that needs to be discussed openly. So this is how a lot of my classes start:
Student 1: (Walks in) Whoa, a foreigner.
Bouche: I'm not a foreigner, I'm Japanese.
S1: (Confused look) No, you're a foreigner.
B: Yeah, you're right, I'm a foreigner.
S2: (Wallks in) Whoa, foreigner teacher.
S1: He speaks Japanese!
S2: Really? (Speaks really fast in Japanese to me)
B: I don't understand.
S2: No he doesnt!
S1: You're really tall.
B: I know.
S2: He DOES speak Japanese! (Again, jabbers something at me)
B: I don't understand.
(They are bewildered. Japanese kids have troubling understanding how someone can only know a little bit of Japanese. They think I either know it or I don't)
S1: (A little distrusting) You have blue eyes.
B: Yes. You have brown eyes.
S2: You have hair on your arms! (Proceeds to pull the hair on my arms)
B: Stop that.
S1: You have weird spots on your arms too!
B: They are freckles. You wish you had freckles.
S2: Your hair is curly.
B: Yes. (Conversations with Japanese children definitely reassure you of what you are).
S2: Haha, you have a hole in your sock.
S1: (Falls over in hysterics. Holes in socks are the funniest thing a Japanese child can imagine for some reason).
B: Dammit.
S1: You're going bald.
S2: You look like a grandfather.
So the reassurance thing can backfire sometimes. Anyways, I did some traveling around recently to Shikoku, a pretty rural area of Japan. It was refreshing to see some nature after living in the urban sprawl that is Osaka. Im headed to Hokkaido (the northern island of Japan) at the end of the month to do some hiking and hot-springing. Aside from that, things are pretty much the same. Too bad about the Canucks, though I'm pretty glad they didn't win the Cup when I was here.
Bouche
All By Myself
It's been awhile since the last email, it's because nothing has really happened in the last month and a bit. I guess it was Easter back home, not many people celebrating Christ's somewhat suspicious resurrection over here. Which is kind of weird because you would think the Japanese would be killing themselves over cute, little rabbits and their sweet chocolate eggs. I also hear playoff fever has hit Vancouver, I'm still waiting for it to hit here. I don't have high hopes however, as no one in my town knows about the Canucks, hockey, English, or what the hell a Canada is.
The new school year just started here in Japan and, after numerous complaints from parents who had gone home, looked at a dictionary, and discovered what a "hexagon" was, and that that's all their child could say in English, my company revamped our curriculum. It's not much better. I've also realized, much to my disappointment, that after 10 months of teaching these kids, most of them still don't know my name. 10 months. I am, without a doubt, the only big, white guy in their lives and they can't remember my name. I wear a fucking nametag. So, I have somewhat abandoned the new curriculum and have been running classes based solely on learning my name.On the urine front, not much to report. The same kid who peed himself last month did it again. He never tells me or makes any sign that he is about to let loose, it just happens. This time though, he must have really had to go because it didn't just go down his leg like what normally happens when one pees themselves, it exploded out of his pockets, lightly splashing other students. I've never seen anything like it and I was quite impressed, much more so than his fellow, slightly wet classmates. He didn't even cry this time, just walked to the bathroom with his head down. The students in the next class did not buy my theory that the wet, smelly stain in the middle of the classroom was from rain. Another student dropped her nametag in the toilet, tragically after she had done her business. She brought me over and pointed at it, pleading at me with her eyes. I pointed at it too, and then at her. She sighed and grabbed it. I rinsed it off and put it back on her. She was not happy the rest of class.
Four new teachers arrived in my area over the last month and a half and I was, as expected, disappointed four times. One guy is older, and seems pretty socially inept. He told me straight out that he was the cheapest person he knows. Not a good sign. He has actually started making coffee with hot water from his shower because he thinks his gas stove will be too expensive. I almost told him that he is using gas to heat the shower water too but I figure its funnier this way. A new couple came to replace Sami and Alex and they are not cool. I hate to sound like some Grade 8 kid but these two are huge nerds. All they want to do is talk about Japanese anime and play video games. Not even the cool ones. They came to Japan because there are different video games here. Finally, I met the newest guy yesterday. He is Swedish but Asian. Horribly disappointing. What's the point? I mean, if you tell someone you're Swedish, they're going to want someone who looks Swedish. I dont think I'm going to be able to get over this enough to hang out with this guy. So I might be getting to know myself quite well over the next couple months.
My knee still isn't better so I went to this guy who claimed to be a "sports medicine specialist". What an experience. The diploma on his wall was from some Chiropractic college in Orange County. He asked me if it was OK to write Dr. before his name on my health insurance sheet. After confidently dismissing the diagnosis the Japanese doctor (actual doctor with a degree and everything) had given me and all the overwhelming online research I had done confirming said diagnosis, he came up with the following theory. I had some "skin reflex disorder" and that, to mend my knee, I had to flick my nose, lips, nipples and groin in a downward motion (he emphasized this, not upward). That's all. I didn't know what to say. The best thing was he was just brimming with confidence about it. Anyways, needless to say, my knee is still fucked, despite my best attempts to molest myself in a downward motion. So I'm still swimming and have befriended an old Japanese man in a wheelchair there as he was the only one not scared to talk to me. Unfortunately, he must have been some crazy, Nazi swimming instructor when he was younger because he has taken it upon himself to perfect my form whether I like it or not. He screams at me in Japanese from the pool deck as I'm swimming. As long as I don't drown and that spry, 80 year old Japanese woman in my lane doesn't overtake me, I don't care what my form is like. He definitely does though and I don't think our friendship is strong enough to overcome this problem.
Apparently the city hall two blocks from my house has been offering free Japanese lesssons the whole time I have lived here. This would have been valuable 10 months ago but I'm still glad I found them. The teachers are all old, Japanese women and they fucking love me. This isn't to do so much with my rugged good looks and dazzling personality as it is with the fact that I'm the only student who speaks English, everyone else is Korean or Chinese. So they fight each other over who gets to teach me so that they can practice their English and I'm usually surrounded by 4 or 5 of them. It's very funny. I get loaded up with tea and snacks and everyone laughs at my jokes and wants me to meet their families. The lesson:
Japanese Woman 1: So, how do you like Japan?
Bouche: It's great, the people are very nice. Great food.
JW1: (Beaming) That's good. Where are you from?
JW2: America?
B: No, Canada.
JW2: (Confused look) Um, so.....America?
JW1: No you idiot, they are different. America owns Canada.
JW2: Oh, I see. That's nice of them.
B: Well, actually...
JW1: I've been to Canada, you should talk to me today. I went to Vancouver.
JW3: Oh, hello. Nice to meet you.
JW1: (Concealed anger) Yes, I think he has enough teachers, maybe another student needs you?
JW3: Nope, everyone else is ok. I've been to Vancouver too.
B: That's where I'm from.
(Explosion of gasps and chattering)
JW2: I've been to Los Angeles.
JW1: Yes, well thats very nice. Anyways, Vancouver is very pretty.
B: Thank you. We have lots of bears though, they often eat babies.
JW2: Oh my god. That is too bad.
JW1: (To the other women) Are you still here? (To me) Japan is very safe.
B: Actually I was joking, Canada is safe too.
(Everyone laughs)
JW1: You are very funny. And good-looking. And tall.
JW3: You eyes are blue! (Communal gasp)
JW2: I heard that blue eyes can't see white like Japanese eyes.
B: Yes, I've heard that too.
JW4: Can you use chopsticks?
JW1: Where did you come from? Go teach someone else.
B: Yes I can. I studied at university.
JW1: You are very skilled at Japanese ways. You will come to my house to meet my family.
B: Um...
JW2: Yes, you will come to my house too. I will make you food.
JW1: I will make you more food. And I have a dog. You will come to my house first.
And so on. Sorry, I didnt know how to end that. Anyways, I should wrap this up. It's warmer now and I have lots of vacations coming up. I really hope the Canucks don't win the Cup while I'm in Japan. Have fun with exams,
Bouche
The new school year just started here in Japan and, after numerous complaints from parents who had gone home, looked at a dictionary, and discovered what a "hexagon" was, and that that's all their child could say in English, my company revamped our curriculum. It's not much better. I've also realized, much to my disappointment, that after 10 months of teaching these kids, most of them still don't know my name. 10 months. I am, without a doubt, the only big, white guy in their lives and they can't remember my name. I wear a fucking nametag. So, I have somewhat abandoned the new curriculum and have been running classes based solely on learning my name.On the urine front, not much to report. The same kid who peed himself last month did it again. He never tells me or makes any sign that he is about to let loose, it just happens. This time though, he must have really had to go because it didn't just go down his leg like what normally happens when one pees themselves, it exploded out of his pockets, lightly splashing other students. I've never seen anything like it and I was quite impressed, much more so than his fellow, slightly wet classmates. He didn't even cry this time, just walked to the bathroom with his head down. The students in the next class did not buy my theory that the wet, smelly stain in the middle of the classroom was from rain. Another student dropped her nametag in the toilet, tragically after she had done her business. She brought me over and pointed at it, pleading at me with her eyes. I pointed at it too, and then at her. She sighed and grabbed it. I rinsed it off and put it back on her. She was not happy the rest of class.
Four new teachers arrived in my area over the last month and a half and I was, as expected, disappointed four times. One guy is older, and seems pretty socially inept. He told me straight out that he was the cheapest person he knows. Not a good sign. He has actually started making coffee with hot water from his shower because he thinks his gas stove will be too expensive. I almost told him that he is using gas to heat the shower water too but I figure its funnier this way. A new couple came to replace Sami and Alex and they are not cool. I hate to sound like some Grade 8 kid but these two are huge nerds. All they want to do is talk about Japanese anime and play video games. Not even the cool ones. They came to Japan because there are different video games here. Finally, I met the newest guy yesterday. He is Swedish but Asian. Horribly disappointing. What's the point? I mean, if you tell someone you're Swedish, they're going to want someone who looks Swedish. I dont think I'm going to be able to get over this enough to hang out with this guy. So I might be getting to know myself quite well over the next couple months.
My knee still isn't better so I went to this guy who claimed to be a "sports medicine specialist". What an experience. The diploma on his wall was from some Chiropractic college in Orange County. He asked me if it was OK to write Dr. before his name on my health insurance sheet. After confidently dismissing the diagnosis the Japanese doctor (actual doctor with a degree and everything) had given me and all the overwhelming online research I had done confirming said diagnosis, he came up with the following theory. I had some "skin reflex disorder" and that, to mend my knee, I had to flick my nose, lips, nipples and groin in a downward motion (he emphasized this, not upward). That's all. I didn't know what to say. The best thing was he was just brimming with confidence about it. Anyways, needless to say, my knee is still fucked, despite my best attempts to molest myself in a downward motion. So I'm still swimming and have befriended an old Japanese man in a wheelchair there as he was the only one not scared to talk to me. Unfortunately, he must have been some crazy, Nazi swimming instructor when he was younger because he has taken it upon himself to perfect my form whether I like it or not. He screams at me in Japanese from the pool deck as I'm swimming. As long as I don't drown and that spry, 80 year old Japanese woman in my lane doesn't overtake me, I don't care what my form is like. He definitely does though and I don't think our friendship is strong enough to overcome this problem.
Apparently the city hall two blocks from my house has been offering free Japanese lesssons the whole time I have lived here. This would have been valuable 10 months ago but I'm still glad I found them. The teachers are all old, Japanese women and they fucking love me. This isn't to do so much with my rugged good looks and dazzling personality as it is with the fact that I'm the only student who speaks English, everyone else is Korean or Chinese. So they fight each other over who gets to teach me so that they can practice their English and I'm usually surrounded by 4 or 5 of them. It's very funny. I get loaded up with tea and snacks and everyone laughs at my jokes and wants me to meet their families. The lesson:
Japanese Woman 1: So, how do you like Japan?
Bouche: It's great, the people are very nice. Great food.
JW1: (Beaming) That's good. Where are you from?
JW2: America?
B: No, Canada.
JW2: (Confused look) Um, so.....America?
JW1: No you idiot, they are different. America owns Canada.
JW2: Oh, I see. That's nice of them.
B: Well, actually...
JW1: I've been to Canada, you should talk to me today. I went to Vancouver.
JW3: Oh, hello. Nice to meet you.
JW1: (Concealed anger) Yes, I think he has enough teachers, maybe another student needs you?
JW3: Nope, everyone else is ok. I've been to Vancouver too.
B: That's where I'm from.
(Explosion of gasps and chattering)
JW2: I've been to Los Angeles.
JW1: Yes, well thats very nice. Anyways, Vancouver is very pretty.
B: Thank you. We have lots of bears though, they often eat babies.
JW2: Oh my god. That is too bad.
JW1: (To the other women) Are you still here? (To me) Japan is very safe.
B: Actually I was joking, Canada is safe too.
(Everyone laughs)
JW1: You are very funny. And good-looking. And tall.
JW3: You eyes are blue! (Communal gasp)
JW2: I heard that blue eyes can't see white like Japanese eyes.
B: Yes, I've heard that too.
JW4: Can you use chopsticks?
JW1: Where did you come from? Go teach someone else.
B: Yes I can. I studied at university.
JW1: You are very skilled at Japanese ways. You will come to my house to meet my family.
B: Um...
JW2: Yes, you will come to my house too. I will make you food.
JW1: I will make you more food. And I have a dog. You will come to my house first.
And so on. Sorry, I didnt know how to end that. Anyways, I should wrap this up. It's warmer now and I have lots of vacations coming up. I really hope the Canucks don't win the Cup while I'm in Japan. Have fun with exams,
Bouche
More Urine and Anger Towards Neighbours
I'm going to have to fight one of my neighbours. There are 45 apartments in my building and I see roughly 2 or 3 of these people in a month. One of the people I see is this middle-aged Japanese businessman on my floor who refuses to look at me. Ive tried getting his attention, making eye contact, saying hello in three languages, "accidently" get in his way, quite deliberately getting in his way, nothing works. The next step is hand-to-hand combat. I hate him.
Well, the only 2 good people in my company, Sami and Alex, have gone back home to Australia to inbreed or play with cricket bats or come up with new ways to butcher the English language or whatever the hell Aussies do. Fortunately, the English guy I can't stand is also leaving this month so we are going to get 3 new teachers. Going by the ratio of 1 normal westerner for every 5 who come to Japan, Im probably still going to be fucked with some weirdos but there's a chance I'll get a new friend.
I kinda hurt my knee a few weeks ago and I haven't been able to run so I bought a pass from a gym/pool near my house. It's outrageously expensive but I have a lot of hours in the day so I need to do something. Since the gym opens at 10am and closes by 5pm, pretty much all of the clientele are fairly old. Actually, you could say I am the only white person/English speaking person/person under 60/person without a stooped back/person with chesthair in the whole place. I stand out a little bit. Now I know how to swim but apparently if you don't swim for like 3 years, the first time back is pretty tough. I splashed/nearly drowned myself for 20 laps, watching what must have been great-grandfathers pass me consistently. It was a little discouraging. I've gotten better though and I am the only one who uses the weights so I walk around like I own the place now. Well, in Japan, they make you wear a swim cap when you swim, so I walk around like I own the place as much as one can with a swim cap on. One of these wise old Japanese women told me, quite out of nowhere I might add, that because I have blue eyes, I can't see the same shades of white that Japanese people can. My eyes are weak and I've only been seeing beige for the last 23 years. I was dumbstruck.
Ah, work. It's getting pretty old. My brain is getting mushier everyday. The kids are funny as usual though. By funny, I mean they have problems using a toilet. I dont know why all my stories about work involve urine but they do. This time it was a cute little 4 year old guy named Ruka. We were colouring some vegetable cards and learning all about sweet potatoes, leeks, and radishes, when Ruka suddenly turned around, put his head down and stopped colouring. I thought he was just being lazy so I tried to get him to keep colouring and told him he would never get anywhere in life if he didn't know what a leek was. Turns out, he had peed himself. So I felt bad for him, he's a good kid, and I took him to the bathroom, handed him the toilet paper and told him to figure it out. Unfortunately for me and Ruka, he left his urine-soaked pants in the doorway and I stepped in them, thus ensuring that he will not learn another word of English from me this year. The pee stain in the middle of the carpet left by Ruka did prove to have its uses though. The class after Ruka's has some little shits in it and they of course asked me if the suspicious-looking dark, wet stain in the carpet was urine. I half-heartedly denied it and suggested it was water. For the rest of the class, all my games and activities were organized so that the kids I didn't like were sitting in or around the pee. It was awesome.
Last month was parent observation month with my company so the Moms of all the students came to watch their kids learn about pentagons, daffodils, and such and generally be dissapointed in their childrens' progress in English. It is fucking amazing how little control over their children Japanese mothers have or want to have. I figured the kids would be little angels with their moms right there watching them. Not so. And, what made it worse, all the moms brought the siblings of my students along for the ride.
My class:
Bouche: Ok class, nice to see you again. How are you?
Class: (Confused look)
B: Riiight. Ok, Yuka, how....are....you?
Yuka: My mane is Yuka!
B: (Sigh) Yes. Um, Yuko, how....are....you?
Yuko: Spaghetti!
B: What? That's not even close. Oh, Yuki, please stop that. Those are scissors. And that is Yuka's face. (I Look meaningfully at Yuki's mother. She is giggling).
Naoki: (In Japanese) My sister is here and she's 2 years old!
(This starts a torrent of Japanese from all the students about random things)
B: Ok, guys. It's English time ok? Now, what is this?
Class: Hexagon!
B: Good work! That will come in handy someday.
(Naoki's previously mentioned 2 yr old sister comes over and joins us)
B: Oh, hello. You're cute aren't you? OK, class, what kind of flower is this?
Class: Chrysanthemum!
B: Wow! Good work. OH! (Naoki's sister has punched me in the junk)
B: (Wincing) Ok, Thank you for that. Um, maybe you can go back to your mom eh?
(She does not. Tries to grab my balls. Mother is avoiding eye contact with me)
B: Alright. Everyone go get your crayons, we're going to colour stuff.
(Everyone runs to get their crayons, I give Naoki's sister a stapler to play with, her mother seems fine with it)
B: Ok, colour the pentagon aquamarine! (Yuka bursts into tears, violently)
B: Oh fuck. Now what? Oh. I stepped on your bag. Well, crying seems like a reasonable reaction to that.
And so on. It's over now though so I don't have to worry about being violated by younger siblings anymore. So March should be interesting with the new teachers coming. I'm saving money for a couple of trips in the spring so I won't be doing much I don't think. Not that I have a huge social circle here to do stuff with. By the way, although these emails are really cynical and everything, I do really enjoy Japan. I just think emails about how great everything is are really boring. Ok, see ya.
Bouche
Well, the only 2 good people in my company, Sami and Alex, have gone back home to Australia to inbreed or play with cricket bats or come up with new ways to butcher the English language or whatever the hell Aussies do. Fortunately, the English guy I can't stand is also leaving this month so we are going to get 3 new teachers. Going by the ratio of 1 normal westerner for every 5 who come to Japan, Im probably still going to be fucked with some weirdos but there's a chance I'll get a new friend.
I kinda hurt my knee a few weeks ago and I haven't been able to run so I bought a pass from a gym/pool near my house. It's outrageously expensive but I have a lot of hours in the day so I need to do something. Since the gym opens at 10am and closes by 5pm, pretty much all of the clientele are fairly old. Actually, you could say I am the only white person/English speaking person/person under 60/person without a stooped back/person with chesthair in the whole place. I stand out a little bit. Now I know how to swim but apparently if you don't swim for like 3 years, the first time back is pretty tough. I splashed/nearly drowned myself for 20 laps, watching what must have been great-grandfathers pass me consistently. It was a little discouraging. I've gotten better though and I am the only one who uses the weights so I walk around like I own the place now. Well, in Japan, they make you wear a swim cap when you swim, so I walk around like I own the place as much as one can with a swim cap on. One of these wise old Japanese women told me, quite out of nowhere I might add, that because I have blue eyes, I can't see the same shades of white that Japanese people can. My eyes are weak and I've only been seeing beige for the last 23 years. I was dumbstruck.
Ah, work. It's getting pretty old. My brain is getting mushier everyday. The kids are funny as usual though. By funny, I mean they have problems using a toilet. I dont know why all my stories about work involve urine but they do. This time it was a cute little 4 year old guy named Ruka. We were colouring some vegetable cards and learning all about sweet potatoes, leeks, and radishes, when Ruka suddenly turned around, put his head down and stopped colouring. I thought he was just being lazy so I tried to get him to keep colouring and told him he would never get anywhere in life if he didn't know what a leek was. Turns out, he had peed himself. So I felt bad for him, he's a good kid, and I took him to the bathroom, handed him the toilet paper and told him to figure it out. Unfortunately for me and Ruka, he left his urine-soaked pants in the doorway and I stepped in them, thus ensuring that he will not learn another word of English from me this year. The pee stain in the middle of the carpet left by Ruka did prove to have its uses though. The class after Ruka's has some little shits in it and they of course asked me if the suspicious-looking dark, wet stain in the carpet was urine. I half-heartedly denied it and suggested it was water. For the rest of the class, all my games and activities were organized so that the kids I didn't like were sitting in or around the pee. It was awesome.
Last month was parent observation month with my company so the Moms of all the students came to watch their kids learn about pentagons, daffodils, and such and generally be dissapointed in their childrens' progress in English. It is fucking amazing how little control over their children Japanese mothers have or want to have. I figured the kids would be little angels with their moms right there watching them. Not so. And, what made it worse, all the moms brought the siblings of my students along for the ride.
My class:
Bouche: Ok class, nice to see you again. How are you?
Class: (Confused look)
B: Riiight. Ok, Yuka, how....are....you?
Yuka: My mane is Yuka!
B: (Sigh) Yes. Um, Yuko, how....are....you?
Yuko: Spaghetti!
B: What? That's not even close. Oh, Yuki, please stop that. Those are scissors. And that is Yuka's face. (I Look meaningfully at Yuki's mother. She is giggling).
Naoki: (In Japanese) My sister is here and she's 2 years old!
(This starts a torrent of Japanese from all the students about random things)
B: Ok, guys. It's English time ok? Now, what is this?
Class: Hexagon!
B: Good work! That will come in handy someday.
(Naoki's previously mentioned 2 yr old sister comes over and joins us)
B: Oh, hello. You're cute aren't you? OK, class, what kind of flower is this?
Class: Chrysanthemum!
B: Wow! Good work. OH! (Naoki's sister has punched me in the junk)
B: (Wincing) Ok, Thank you for that. Um, maybe you can go back to your mom eh?
(She does not. Tries to grab my balls. Mother is avoiding eye contact with me)
B: Alright. Everyone go get your crayons, we're going to colour stuff.
(Everyone runs to get their crayons, I give Naoki's sister a stapler to play with, her mother seems fine with it)
B: Ok, colour the pentagon aquamarine! (Yuka bursts into tears, violently)
B: Oh fuck. Now what? Oh. I stepped on your bag. Well, crying seems like a reasonable reaction to that.
And so on. It's over now though so I don't have to worry about being violated by younger siblings anymore. So March should be interesting with the new teachers coming. I'm saving money for a couple of trips in the spring so I won't be doing much I don't think. Not that I have a huge social circle here to do stuff with. By the way, although these emails are really cynical and everything, I do really enjoy Japan. I just think emails about how great everything is are really boring. Ok, see ya.
Bouche
Merry Happy Super Christmas
Happy 2007. I heard mother nature hates Vancouver as much this year as she did in the later stages of last year. There are still flowers growing over here and some trees still have leaves. Its fairly cold but no rain or apocalypse. After a 3 week break, I am back into the "teaching" routine. It's getting kind of boring but it's not that bad.
For Christmas holidays, Sami, Alex, Sami's brother Sham, Sham's friend Tom, and I went to Nagano, Tokyo, and Yokohama. We stayed at a hostel in Nagano with around 20 U.S. military personnel. This got interesting. They were actually fairly nice but shockingly stereotypical. Crewcut guys who talked a lot about blowing things up and beefy girls who looked mean. The first night we were there, everyone was drinking and I was getting along with everyone until this Aussie chick started bitching to me about the army guys and how stereotypical they were. This was accompanied with numerous shots of Jagermeister so by the end of this pep talk I was a little riled up. I dont remember much from that point on but apparently I offended most of the American contingent pretty quickly and effectively. One guy told me he was a pilot and I believe I replied, "Jesus, YOU don't actually fly a plane do you?!" I also may have told them my opinion on how stupid someone has to be to voluntarily join the military while there is a very publicized fucking war going on. I spent the rest of the Nagano trip laying low in my room reading after that.
Christmas dinner was Japanese food and, although it was really good, doesn't really cut it at Christmas. After Christmas we headed to Tokyo. Tokyo is pretty crazy. The subway system alone is enough to give you a headache. It's a little hard to comprehend how big Tokyo is and how many people there are. We went to the Tsukiji fish market where I've heard like 20% of the world's seafood is bought and sold. We hung out in Harajuku where all the young people shop and all the weirdos prance around in their weirdo costumes. Pretty weird. We also went to the comic book and video game area of Tokyo where the nerdiest of nerds congregate and salivate over cartoon manga characters and rub themselves against giant action figurines. I avoided the pools of saliva and premature ejaculation and checked out the porn sections at all of these stores. The Japanese are sick fuckers. Half of the porn had some rape related theme, the other half was cartoon porn.
Anyways, our hostel in Tokyo was nice and didnt have any soldiers to insult, although there was this bad French magician who kept showing us his tricks. There are few things more awkward than watching a magician fuck up. Magicians are just supposed to be good, you dont show people your tricks unless you know you can do them. The show:
Bad Magician: Ok, I got a trick for you.
Bouche: What? No, I gotta go do something.
BD: No, its a really good one. You have to stay. It wont take long.
B: Ugh, really? We went through this yesterday.
BD: Pick a card, any card.
B: Fine.
BD: (After some shuffling, etc.) Is this your card?
B: No.
BD: (With a little smirk on his face) Well, this is your card then!
B: (Sigh) No.
BD: What? Weird. Ok, I got another one for you. See this ball?
B: Yes, I see it.
BD: (Does some stupid hand gestures while clumsily grabbing another ball from his pocket) OK, Which hand is the ball in?
B: Well, now that you have two balls, I bet both hands will have a ball.
BD: (Blank Stare) I don't have two balls.
B: Fine, the left one.
BD: Yes! But look at this, the right one has a ball too!
B: Yes. Ok, I have to go.
BD: But wait! Ill clap my hands and make the balls disappear! (He claps, after dropping one of the balls down his sleeve) Ta Da!
B: Sorry, you dropped your ball on my foot.
BD: Fuck!
Most of his tricks were so screwed up and long that by the end, I didn't even know if I should be inpressed or not. The worst part was he made one of us videotape all of his tricks. That tape must of been filled with yawns, polite applause, and awkward laughter. After Tokyo we went to Yokohama and met up with my Japanese friend Ayumi who showed us around, which was pretty cool. Her husband was kinda weird, Ayumi told me he drank alot and liked to sleep in the street. Like, literally the street. She told me that she was a little worried since its not safe in Japan to sleep in the street anymore. I told her that is hasn't been safe to sleep in the middle of the road in Canada for a long time now. Her husband also had this man crush on Sham's
friend Tom. He kept rubbing him. Highlights of Yokohama included seeing Mt.Fuji, walking around the hotel like a big man in my robe, and having some homeless guy shout English at us while licking his lips and rubbing his
crotch. The weird thing was, he was rubbing his crotch in like a circular motion. I should have told him he was never going to get off that way. We went back to Tokyo for New Years. New Years is a big thing in Japan but its a big family thing so they don't go out and party much. The highlight of New Years for me was running into the only Quizno's in Japan by accident and eating $18 worth of sub there. The staff thought I was very funny. It was mostly foreigners out partying that night but it was good fun.
So yeah, that was my vacation. I'm now back to teaching. We have parent observations right now so I cant insult the kids as much as I would like. Ill make up for it next month. I dont even want to talk about my neighbours. Ive realized that it is mostly just the area I live in that is unfriendly. Whenever I go to other places in Japan, people say hi to me, or invite me to play basketball, or at least smile. Ok, have fun with the storms.
Bouche
For Christmas holidays, Sami, Alex, Sami's brother Sham, Sham's friend Tom, and I went to Nagano, Tokyo, and Yokohama. We stayed at a hostel in Nagano with around 20 U.S. military personnel. This got interesting. They were actually fairly nice but shockingly stereotypical. Crewcut guys who talked a lot about blowing things up and beefy girls who looked mean. The first night we were there, everyone was drinking and I was getting along with everyone until this Aussie chick started bitching to me about the army guys and how stereotypical they were. This was accompanied with numerous shots of Jagermeister so by the end of this pep talk I was a little riled up. I dont remember much from that point on but apparently I offended most of the American contingent pretty quickly and effectively. One guy told me he was a pilot and I believe I replied, "Jesus, YOU don't actually fly a plane do you?!" I also may have told them my opinion on how stupid someone has to be to voluntarily join the military while there is a very publicized fucking war going on. I spent the rest of the Nagano trip laying low in my room reading after that.
Christmas dinner was Japanese food and, although it was really good, doesn't really cut it at Christmas. After Christmas we headed to Tokyo. Tokyo is pretty crazy. The subway system alone is enough to give you a headache. It's a little hard to comprehend how big Tokyo is and how many people there are. We went to the Tsukiji fish market where I've heard like 20% of the world's seafood is bought and sold. We hung out in Harajuku where all the young people shop and all the weirdos prance around in their weirdo costumes. Pretty weird. We also went to the comic book and video game area of Tokyo where the nerdiest of nerds congregate and salivate over cartoon manga characters and rub themselves against giant action figurines. I avoided the pools of saliva and premature ejaculation and checked out the porn sections at all of these stores. The Japanese are sick fuckers. Half of the porn had some rape related theme, the other half was cartoon porn.
Anyways, our hostel in Tokyo was nice and didnt have any soldiers to insult, although there was this bad French magician who kept showing us his tricks. There are few things more awkward than watching a magician fuck up. Magicians are just supposed to be good, you dont show people your tricks unless you know you can do them. The show:
Bad Magician: Ok, I got a trick for you.
Bouche: What? No, I gotta go do something.
BD: No, its a really good one. You have to stay. It wont take long.
B: Ugh, really? We went through this yesterday.
BD: Pick a card, any card.
B: Fine.
BD: (After some shuffling, etc.) Is this your card?
B: No.
BD: (With a little smirk on his face) Well, this is your card then!
B: (Sigh) No.
BD: What? Weird. Ok, I got another one for you. See this ball?
B: Yes, I see it.
BD: (Does some stupid hand gestures while clumsily grabbing another ball from his pocket) OK, Which hand is the ball in?
B: Well, now that you have two balls, I bet both hands will have a ball.
BD: (Blank Stare) I don't have two balls.
B: Fine, the left one.
BD: Yes! But look at this, the right one has a ball too!
B: Yes. Ok, I have to go.
BD: But wait! Ill clap my hands and make the balls disappear! (He claps, after dropping one of the balls down his sleeve) Ta Da!
B: Sorry, you dropped your ball on my foot.
BD: Fuck!
Most of his tricks were so screwed up and long that by the end, I didn't even know if I should be inpressed or not. The worst part was he made one of us videotape all of his tricks. That tape must of been filled with yawns, polite applause, and awkward laughter. After Tokyo we went to Yokohama and met up with my Japanese friend Ayumi who showed us around, which was pretty cool. Her husband was kinda weird, Ayumi told me he drank alot and liked to sleep in the street. Like, literally the street. She told me that she was a little worried since its not safe in Japan to sleep in the street anymore. I told her that is hasn't been safe to sleep in the middle of the road in Canada for a long time now. Her husband also had this man crush on Sham's
friend Tom. He kept rubbing him. Highlights of Yokohama included seeing Mt.Fuji, walking around the hotel like a big man in my robe, and having some homeless guy shout English at us while licking his lips and rubbing his
crotch. The weird thing was, he was rubbing his crotch in like a circular motion. I should have told him he was never going to get off that way. We went back to Tokyo for New Years. New Years is a big thing in Japan but its a big family thing so they don't go out and party much. The highlight of New Years for me was running into the only Quizno's in Japan by accident and eating $18 worth of sub there. The staff thought I was very funny. It was mostly foreigners out partying that night but it was good fun.
So yeah, that was my vacation. I'm now back to teaching. We have parent observations right now so I cant insult the kids as much as I would like. Ill make up for it next month. I dont even want to talk about my neighbours. Ive realized that it is mostly just the area I live in that is unfriendly. Whenever I go to other places in Japan, people say hi to me, or invite me to play basketball, or at least smile. Ok, have fun with the storms.
Bouche
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