My Kitchen
After living in my apartment for nearly two weeks, life is starting to stabilize. Although moving to Kitakyushu was one to the most stretching experiences of my life, I am slowly finding my groove here. I’ve managed to buy everything I need for my apartment for now including a few pots and pans, a broom and even an iron (sorry mom, but it’s still in the box). Now my focus around the apartment is on daily things namely cooking and laundry. I’m planning to do a whole post and video about cooking so I’ll let that joy simmer on your back burner for now.
Katherine Eddy writes:
What’s the hardest part about living there? The language barrier? Not knowing tons of people yet?
Thanks Katherine, I’m glad you asked. *grin* The hardest part for me is definitely my lack of Japanese. Although I study for over three hours a day, my brain can only absorb so much at a time. This hurdle isn’t a bother because of the implied isolation, but because it imposes a constant frustration whenever I do anything. Thanks to my students and also social networks such as Facebook and the comments left on this blog, I don’t feel alone even though I haven’t spoken to another native speaker in nearly a week. As a complete noobie to Japan, however, my inability to communicate always find me in the same conundrum: I either A) Ask for help and mentally brace for an arduous and embarrassing conversation, or B) Remain in the dark. With 95% frequency I choose A. Despite constantly swallowing my pride, I enjoy interacting personally with this culture. It would be a welcome change, however, if I could function like an adult and not resort to gestures and sound effects when trying to buy fry pan spray.
The rub comes when neither A nor B saves me from huge blunders.
My Main Room
Commence Embarrassing Story: The Bus
It was raining hard last Friday. Seeing as it’s rainy season, it was naive on my part to hopefully leave my umbrella at my apartment. Nonetheless, at 4:30pm I leave school with a fifteen minute walk ahead of me in a relentless downpour. I make a decision. Today is the day. Today I figure out the bus system. I cross the road to and wait at the stop. Courteously, I bow to the old woman next to me who is seriously bent with age and politely ask when the bus will arrive. Only a few minutes comes her meager reply. She looks so fragile I am surprised the rain didn’t break her in half on her walk over.
The bus arrives. I invite her to go first partly out because I’m a nice guy, partly to see how to use the ticket machine. It is simple enough. Push a button, take the ticket. Like a parking garage. Now is when things start to turn. As I descend into my bench seat next to Ms.Brittle my messenger bag swings away from me and slams her right in the torso. She winces and impossibly bends over more than before, and says nothing. The man to my right looks at me out of the corner of his eye.
“I am so sorry.” I stammer in the most polite way I know. Mental note made: learn more ways to apologize in Japanese.
Another old lady gets on the bus at the next stop. Somehow she is obviously more near death than our the one I got on the bus with. As my seat is a “priority seat” I get up and beckon the new arrival to my former post. She ignores me and find seat nearby, but it is obviously a taxing task. Embarrassed, I sit back down in the same spot and wait for my quickly approaching stop.
Finally I can see it out the windshield and I push the button under my arm rest to signal I would like to get off.
This is the moment I’ve been dreading since I realized I would eventually have to face it. How do I pay for my ride? I approach the front, ticket at the ready. The driver looks me up and down as I hold out the ticket and shirade out the question “What do I do with this?” In a loud voice that was only amplified to the rest of the bus by the his headset mic, he tried to explain. I put my ticket where I thought it went. No good. That was for money. Taking the stub, our now tense driver put into the big slot on the top, the one with lots of whirring gears and most likely would take off your fingers if you got too close.
LED lights displayed that I now owed 170 yen. Not bad. Saved 15 minutes of walking and kept dry for less than 2 USD. I put my 1000 yen bill in the money slot thinking I would get change. I did, 1000 yen of it. Aparently I had to use coin to pay for the trip. But where? The driver, who has been chattering to me the entire time, now with a crazed look in his eye points to the slot where my ticket disappeared. What!!! Crazy. I put my 500 yen piece into slot. Now the LEDs say I am owed 330 yen. The driver speech suddenly becomes frantic and for a good 2 minutes the two old ladies and the guy who gave me the slanty eye get to hear a gaijin (non-native) get laid into because he didn’t use exact change. Good thing I didn’t understand a word of it.
Despite my constant reassurances that I didn’t need any change and would very much like to disappear from the face of the earth, our woefully behind schedule driver pulls some refund coupons from a zip lock bag at his feet and gives me my change. I exit the bus.
If anyone has any particular questions about life here, I am glad to answer them.
Next post I’m hoping to show my apartment and some of how the essentials of my life here.
