Perhaps I watch too much news (mainly because I don't get many channels and therefore don't have much choice) but right now we've got Michael Jackson, Scott Peterson, Robert Blake, and Brian Nichols all front and center. Wow! And it all revolves around the courtroom. Isn't America great!?
And this is not to mention the new bestseller The Pupose Driven Life. Go out and pick up a copy. Maybe it will change your life. Give it some purpose.

Ok, sarcasm ends there. I do miss America as you'll read below......if you're still with me.

With about four months to go over here I have to admit that I have begun daydreaming about being back in America. I think that if I've learned one thing about myself whilst on this journey it's that I am an American. That may sound strange but growing up and living in the States you tend to not think about all this much less notice it. But when surrounded by a culture that isn't yours I think you tend to see the differences and at times say to yourself, "Hmmm...that's not how we do it in my country." Not that they do things wrong over here, just differently. And this ranges from things at work to things on TV to things you see on the street. And because of all of this, your life tends to be a bit different from the one you lived back at home. There are countless little differences that were charming at first but after a while become less so.
But don't think that I am disgruntled with Japan. I love it here and I am glad I came. But with four months to go I have been thinking of some of the small things that I am looking forward in getting back to. I would assume this is natural human behavior. Anyway, I thought I'd write a short list of things that I am eagerly anticipating. Take it as you will....
1) I can't wait to be on the open in road in my own car with the music turned up and an hour or two left to my destination. I am thinking mostly of the highways between Bakersfield and the Monterey Peninsula, highways 5, 46, and 101. I've driven those roads so many times that I can do the entire trip in my head. I know where the rest stops are, what fast food places are on the way, the way the hills look as you drive by them, and where you can and can't get radio reception. But whether it's this stretch or some other, I just can't wait to be back behind the wheel and speeding along.
2) Can't wait to be either back in school or at some job where I can turn and talk to the person next to me in normal speed English. I've got Amy and some friends here that I can do that with but it's always nice to be able to go to work and shoot the shit with someone you like. When I worked at the university in Bakersfield before I came over here I always enjoyed going in to my boss's office and making small talk and a few jokes. Can't do that here as you have to slow down, talk about easy things, and sometimes my jokes aren't understood. I also had a few friends that I'd see around school and the ease with which a short "Hello" and the ensuing conversation would flow is something I just don't find here.
3) Walking on the beach. Yeah, this sounds sappy, I know, but it's damn true. I guess I could live in Kansas and miss it just as easily as I miss it here in land-locked Yamanashi, but I miss it nonetheless. When Amy and I would go up to my aunt and uncle's place, aunt Judy would grab her dog, Cookie, and Amy and I would tag along for about a mile or two's journey down the sand. Amy and Judy would talk and Cookie and I would somehow end up making each other bleed. Cookie is quite the stick/ball/anything you throw chaser and this always led to her making her own gums bleed and me getting scratches on my legs from her nails. Fun stuff. Anyway, the waves, the sand, the blood...I miss it all.
4) Family and friends, but that goes without saying. The one mortal I really miss is my cat. Whereas I can call or email family and friends, Ares never learned how to type or use a phone. It's been over a year and a half without the little motor-mouth and I can't wait to get back to alternating between petting and wrestling with him. I just hope he remembers me.
5) Mexican food. Now, I admit that I will completely miss Japanese food when I leave here but rather than dwell on that right now I'd like to eat fajitas. Mmmmm.....fajitas. And don't get me started on guacamole.
Ok, that's enough for now. Simple things, but things that I will wallow in when I get back. For a while anyway. I am sure that fairly soon after my return I will begin to miss things about Japan. I guess we humans are never quite completely happy. And in a way you gotta love that. Keeps us moving in one way or another.

Last night I went over to teach little Keichiro and afterwards his father took me out for our usual post-English lesson celebration. He first took me to a rather large, by Japan standards, restaurant which served rather large, by anyone's standards, portions. When he ordered I heard him say the name of the food, which I had no idea about, and indicated that we wanted two of them. Then he ordered gyoza (pot stickers as some of you might know them) and again indicated two.
About five minutes later enough food to feed at least eight hungry adults showed up at our table. The bowls of stuff where huge and both came on silver trays to catch the extra stuff that overflowed out of the bowl. What we got were large bowls that had bean sprouts, a little meat, carrots, garlic, and a few other things in a thick broth and on a bed of rice that was concealed until you mixed it all up with your chopsticks. But I'm serious! Eight adults would have walked away satisfied with the amount of food we got. It was nuts. He'd never been there before and was as equally surprised as I was.
Then the gyoza came and it, too, was huge. Each plate had five of them and each gyoza was about three times as big as any I'd ever seen before. "There's no way I'm getting all this down," I thought to myself. And true to my thoughts neither of us did. We walked out of there half an hour later stuffed and in a bit of pain and had left enough food behind to feed the next customers.
So after this we headed back to our little area of town and had intended to meet Nakamura-san, the 20 year old who works for him at the liquor store, at a small sushi restaurant where we'd been before a couple times. I had no intention of eating, and neither did Tatsumi, but he knows the owners and it's a nice small place to have some beer and sake. Unfortunately, though, when we got there Nakamura was standing outside and yelled at us that the place was closed. So he jumped in the van and we went to some place around the corner.
As we drove up to this place it looked like we were going to make a housecall because we were driving into a little parking area for a house. And sure enough, the house was exactly where we were going. If it hadn't been for the sign hanging outside I would have thought that it was, indeed, just a place where a family might have lived.
So we walked in and immediately I could see that it was a house/restaurant type place. These places exist all around Japan and I have to admit that I only go to these kind of places when I have a Japanese person with me as they never have picture menus and they never have anyone who can speak English in them.
We sat in the "dinning room" which held four tables with four seats at each. Besides the "mom and pop" we were the only ones in there and we ordered food for Nakamura (he had been closing up the shop when Tatsumi and I had gorged ourselves earlier) and some drinks for all of us. The pop was a tall man and one of the very few Japanese I've ever seen with a beard and the mom was a short, very slightly overweight lady a little shorter than me with short hair. Both were probably in their mid-fifties and both seemed very friendly.
As we sat down and ordered I noticed that mom was at one of the tables and had papers spread out and was, between her greetings and questions to Tatsumi, working on them. I figured they were the restaurant's taxes or finances or something along those line and didn't give it much thought. So we got our drinks, Nakamura got his food and all was going normally.
The conversation was mostly Japanese with Tatsumi translating some of it for me but then, a little while later, Tatsumi brought up something about his son's name and the kanji involved in it and the number of strokes for each kanji character. I thought this was a little strange but over here you tend to get used to what seem to be sudden questions and topics and quite often have no idea what's sparked the conversation you now find yourself trying to understand, so I didn't think too much of it and just tried to understand. It's a way of life. So Tatsumi tells me about Keichiro's kanji and that he had painstakingly tried to match up "good" kanji in order to give his son a lucky name. Strange, I think, but I guess I can understand a father wanting a good name for his son.
Then during our conversation that I wasn't sure I was understanding, mom says something to Tatsumi and Nakamura and the Japanese words go back in forth over my head and beyond my reach. I wasn't completely off the boat, though, because I did realize she had asked some question to which Tatsumi answered in Japanese, "He lives in Yokohama." That much I got and figured that we must be talking about his brother. He had told me about him before.
So from these two conversations somehow we get onto the kanji for Tatsumi's brother's name. She brought a piece of paper over, Tatsumi wrote it out (given name and family name), and she proceeded to count up the strokes. Turns out that she is really the one who is into this apparent superstition and when I say that I mean she's really into it. All those papers on her table were not taxes or financial stuff but were, in fact, papers and books dedicated to the art of kanji character stroke fortune telling. Or something like that. I don't think she was actually telling fortunes. She was just telling us what was good and what was bad.
Tatsumi told her that his brother seems to always have some kind of health problems going on and she confirmed that, "Yes. His kanji donesn't look good." Of course, I, being the unbeliever in just about everything I can't see with my own two eyes (read "a logical thinking sceptic") just sat there facinated by the fact that anyone could put so much time and effort into something like this. It was interesting, sure, but I mean c'mon, it's kanji, it's numbers, it's just whatever your parents happen to name you and it doesn't mean jack. But I was respectful and just tried to follow the conversation as best I could.
During all this time she had let a cat in who seemed like a great big happy thing. The pop picked it up off her table and held him in a Christ-like pose while the cat calmly waited to be put back down. Also during this time another patron came in a took a seat at the table across from us. But the conversation never stopped, and pretty soon Tatsumi and Nakamura had written out their names for her and the news wasn't all that good.
Tatsumi--"Here's mine." Handing her a piece of paper.
Mom--"Oh, this is not good. You've got this stroke here and this stroke here. That is not good at all. And by the way, your handwriting is terrible!"
Tatsumi--"Oh, sorry....."
Mom--"You should change your name."
Tatsumi laughed at this.
Nakamura--"Here's mine."
Mom--"Oh, your's is good. You'll be happy until your about 50 but then it will be bad."
Nakamura--"Oh...."
Tatsumi--"Here's Keichiro's name? What do you think of it?"
Mom--"His is ok."
Me--"Can she do English names?"
Nakamura--"Mom, can you do English names?"
Mom--"No! No English names! You know, I changed my name because the one my parents gave me was bad. You can always change your name."
Nakamura--"No, sorry."
Me--"Ok.......But what's the cat's name?"
Tatsumi laughing out loud--"Mom, he wants to know what the cat's name is?"
At this everyone in the place burst out laughing and Mom said, "Oh, I named him so I can assure you it's a good one!"
Soon after this surreal conversation we departed. It had been an entightening evening and as Tatsumi drove me back to the store so I could get my bike, I thought to myself that I had learned something new and had met some nice people. But more than that I was happy to know that at least the cat had a good name.