Fraggle nature

Some people, when they hear my name, may think of two things. Turtle and Fraggle. Turtle is for my slow, calculated way of living. I love the slow life. I love to think slowly. I love to fold my clothes slowly. I love to cut vegetables slowly. Not for the sake of being slow, but because I love things to be precise. Well, one of the things in my life that isn't precise is my hair. No matter how slowly I do it, its still frizzy. Hence, the name Fraggle. The name Fraggle comes from the Jim Henson show, following the Muppets, called Fraggle Rock. Its a bunch of wild haired puppets banging on their instruments. I relate most with the red Fraggle. Her name is Red. She plays the drums, and swings her hair all around. Oh and she's a yo-yo pro. I'm not good at the yo-yo, I just think that's cool.

I was an undercover Fraggle living in Southern California, where dry days and warm weather helped to soothe the frizz. I then moved to San Francisco, where foggy days brought out the Fraggle in me. Some days were better than others. But in Japan, with its hot and humid days... Wow! Everyday is a treat. This has given my fraggle nature a whole new life. Honestly, my hair looks more like a cotton ball than anything. No amount of products can suppress the Fraggle in me.

So, I had a choice... I can embrace my inner Fraggle OR I can put the drums aside, have some self respect, and throw down a few dollars for a professional hair straightener. I mean, I can always go back to my Fraggle lifestyle when I get back home, right? Well, let me just tell you... my hair has never been straighter, and I have never felt better knowing that I no longer have to look at a cotton ball every morning in the mirror.

I will always be a Fraggle at heart. I'm just on hiatus.

Yo Mama!

Whenever I'm out and about, I love to people watch, especially the little ones. The kids in Japan are absolutely adorable, and they have some things that are interestingly different about them. The first is that Japanese kids very rarely have pot bellies. The other is that I rarely see siblings fighting or bickering with each other. Instead I sometimes see them holding hands or wrapping their arm around each other.

So, one night while tutoring, I asked my student (Akihiko, age 35) about Japanese children. I asked him why Japanese children don't have little pot bellies and he said, "I dunno". I then asked him if Japanese children drink milk, and he said "no, they drink tea". Oh, right. I asked him if the tea has caffeine and he said that this tea doesn't. Its called Mugicha and its made from roasted barley and other oats. Ok, that still doesn't answer my first question, but I'm always interested to learn new things about different cultures.

So, then, I asked him why kids seem to get along so well. He said that they probably save it for closed doors and then scrap the heck out of each other. Now that I know that they fight, I wanted to know what the Japanese equivalent to "yo mama" is. You know, in America, you can get any guy furious by saying anything about his mama. The most popular of which is, "your mama is so fat, she..." But, I realized, in Japan, their Mama probably isn't fat. So, where does that leave us?

Akihiko started to laugh and he said, "In Japan, we say, 'omae no okaachan debeso'", which we found out translates as, "yo mama has an outtie!" That is so Japanese. Couldn't they think of something more crushing than, "your mom has a belly button that sticks out"? I guess its the "your mama" part that gets them mad anyways. They're already in the "don't you talk about my mama" state of mind by the time you get to the good part.

Its great to see that some things hold true all over the world.

Hai Hai Tennis Club

In my neighborhood, there are a whole slew of schools in all directions. Right in front of my lovely apartment complex (the pretty projects) are the tennis courts for the Girl's Tennis Club at Takasu Jr. High School. All schools have a tennis club, but none like the Takasu Jr. High School Tennis Club...

So, why is this tennis club unique, you ask? Well, they have a little something special that they love to do as they play... they scream. They scream, "hai hai", which can be translated as "yes yes". But, this isn't just any scream. This scream is similar to that of a 2 year old child crying bloody murder if his older brother or sister had just ripped his favorite toy from his grip. So, this "hai hai" actually sounds more like "hai haaaaaaaaiiiiiiii". And they scream it everytime they serve, hit, receive, get a ball out of bounds, score a point, or decide to take a water break. So, at any time, you can have about 8 "hai hai"s going off at the same time, since they all play doubles and there are 3 tennis courts. Super!

You might wonder why I know so much about when, how and why they yell "hai hai". Well, my friends, the reason is because its every morning and afternoon. 7 days a week. Right outside my door. And loud enough that I can hear it with all the doors shut and a little music to muffle the sound. I've also watched them from my balcony and wondered if they would mind water balloons being tossed their way. So, after a year's worth of "hai hai"s, I decided to hai hai my way on over to the tennis courts and ask them if they might have a volume button. Possibly.

As I entered the gates of the school, I walked confidently toward the tennis courts. I mean, I deserve to have some peace and quiet every once in a while, right? After all, its Sunday. Have a rest ladies. Its the summer time.

I proceed towards the courts and my confidence was interupted by sweet voices yelling "konnichiwa". I thought, "Don't try and butter me up. The damage is already done." My confidence wanes. I see the tennis coach and he stands up and bows when he sees me. Are you joking me? Do you people know that I have a few words for you? Stop this already. My confidence is quickly shriveling like a prune as I continue to walk to the courts. I finally make my way to the coach and he bows again and says "konnichiwa". Then all 30 of the girls chorus after him, "konnichiwa". Then, they all smile and wait for me to say something. Ummmm....

I then forget why I am even there as I said, "konnichiwa" with a nice little bow. Then, the girls are told to continue practicing. I begin small talk with the coach, and tell him that I live in that pretty pink building next to the school. He asked all about my life in Japan. He was the nicest man ever. He then invited me to play tennis with the girls anytime. At that point the girls all rushed over and surrounded me. Game over!

We talked and giggled for about 30 minutes. They are really the sweetest, funniest, and hardest working girls around. I told them that I wanted to learn each and every one of their names so that I can yell their names from the balcony... "go yuko!" "great job natsumi!" "hai hai hiromi!". I'm assuming the neighborhood doesn't mind me screaming from the balcony.

Today, I had the pleasure of watching one of their matches and it was so fun to clap and cheer for them. I didn't hold back.

I'm also planning on showing them some of my skills next Monday. Their sweet coach said they have a racket waiting for me. Hai Hai!

Watch out ladies.

Garage Sales

Across the street from my house is a spacious park area with many picnic style benches. There are many large items being displayed such as reclining chairs, bikes, couches, paintings, 4-drawer dressers, old magazines and shoes (to name just a few). Every afternoon at dusk, as I ride my bike home, I see a bunch of older folks gathered in this area. The old guys running the "flea market" always seem to be having a great time, like they're playing a wild game of BINGO or poker or something. I like the idea of a flea market/poker party/late night campfire atmosphere. Well, without the campfire and s'mores of course. Just good ol' fashioned good times.

So, I figured I'd go and check things out. It's been a year. My curiosity is unbearable. And, afterall, I love a good flea market, not to mention a good game of cards. As I walk over to the flea market, the conversation stops. I give my standard "Konnichiwa", and things start back up again. I walk around checking out the different pieces of furniture, artwork, and other stuff. I saw a comfy recliner and decided to plop down in it. "weew, this is nice!"

The card game stopped. The record scratched. The strange looks lasted for a total of 27 seconds... until I gave a quick little exit speech, "arigato!" and a bow just for good measure.

It took me 27 long and torturous seconds to realize that this was no flea market at all. This was a residence... to about 10 homeless men. And yes, they do play cards. And no, the chair is not for sale.

Sometimes I forget that I live in the projects. Other times I realize that I do.

Michael Jackson

It was a mellow Saturday night. Kiyoka and I were discussing good music over a glass of red wine. I mentioned Mos Def, who she had never heard of before. She wanted to see a picture of him, so, I decided to check the internet. Up came a website filled with pictures of a bunch of African American music artists and actors, past and present...

We saw Bill Cosby, Diana Ross, Usher, Jay-Z, Outkast, Queen Latifah, Mos Def, and Michael Jackson. Just then, Kiyoka pointed to Michael Jackson and said in the most serious and somber way, "why is HE on this page?" There was a moment of silence. And then I realized she was serious. I knew she had eventually figured it out when she said, "oh yeah, he used to be black... right?"

As I was laughing hysterically she waited patiently, in all seriousness, for the answer. I then reassured her, "yeah, Kiyoka, he used to be black a long long time ago."

My People at LA FIT

For me, going to the gym is a time to workout, relax, and see some of the people that bring me such joy. I would like to introduce you to a few of these people:

* There's a little lady who loves to chat in the locker room while she's naked. There are a few problems with this. First, she is 80 years old. Second, she only speaks Japanese. I mean, I hear that the best way to get good at learning a foreign language is to be immersed in it. But, this is a little too much immersion for me. As she talks, I just listen for key words. This helps me not focus on the fact that she's naked. Then, when she asks a question, I usually give the standard "gomennasai, wakarimasen" (I'm so sorry, I don't understand). This phrase comes in handy. I use it about 5 times during our "conversation". Whenever she hears it though, she just giggles and carries on in Japanese. We'll call her the Senior Streaker.

* There's also a middle aged lady that just loves to chat! She has a heart of gold, and luckily she prefers to chat with her clothes on. BUT, do not get eye contact with this woman if you are running out the door to catch a train. I always try to set aside an extra 20 minutes or so to talk with her. Another warning about this woman is she is very physical. She will sometimes wrestle me to the ground when she sees me. Sometimes she sneaks up from behind and gets me around the neck. Ninja style. At first it came as a surprise to me since the Japanese people aren't usually that physical. I'm slowly getting used to it, and considering getting special padding to protect me. The last case of abuse was when she asked me how my chopstick use is improving... This is a crucial conversation starter for many Japanese people. So, I answered, "oh, the chopsticks are getting better, day by day". Just to be silly, I asked her, "how about you?" And... she... smacked... me... on... the... arm! Hard! And, then she started laughing hysterically. "oh, you're so funny!" A week later she brought me a gift from Kyoto and gave it to me with a big smile. I thanked her and told her how sweet she is. On the ride home I wondered if I was involved in an abusive relationship. First the abuse, and then the gift giving. We'll call her the Karate Chatter

* There's the nice young man that helps me with my Japanese. He speaks English very naturally. So, he's a great teacher because he can explain Japanese phrases in English. One day, I was waving goodbye to him as I was leaving. It was a little wave, just downward bending of my fingers. He runs over to me and so I stopped. Then we looked at each other. No one was saying anything. I was waiting for him to speak, but he was just looking at me. Come to find out, he was waiting for me to speak... In America, the "come here" hand motion is palm up and fingers move back and forth. In Japan, the "come here" hand motion is palm down and fingers move up and down. So, we had a little "lost in translation" moment. We'll call him Silent Sensei

* There is the 70 year old man that loves to practice his English with me. He'll talk about anything as long as its in English. One day he asked if I like the drink, "Pocari Sweat". Now, upon first glance, Pocari Sweat looks like a bottle of cloudy water. And the name... not so appetizing. I kind of hesitated. Nevertheless, he bought me a bottle and I tried it. Let me tell you, once you taste it, you're hooked! It tastes nothing like sweat. In fact, it tastes a lot like gatorade, without a lot of sugar. I told him it was "oishi", which is delicious in Japanese. He was so happy. Now, everytime I see him, he buys me a bottle of Pocari Sweat. And, if he's not at the gym when I'm there, he has a trainer buy me one. What a great guy. We'll call him the Pocari Pimp.

* There are a few fashion police reports to be made at the gym. Here is an example of one... a man that wears biking shorts that are so short and so tight that you think might think he's related to Daisy Duke. Except I don't remember Daisy Duke wearing knee high sports socks. My friend Maria has a problem with this because women are not allowed to wear bikinis in the pool at the gym. She says, "if I can't wear a bikini, why is he allowed to wear a Speedo... in the weight room?" The mysteries in Japan live on. We'll call him Sassy Shorts.

Each visit to LA FIT reminds me that life in Japan is truly a wonderfully unique experience.