Where's Waldo Gaijin?

We started coming down from our high from the Internet, as soon as it was taken away from us. We had to find another way of using the Internet, for less than an arm-and-a-leg cost. Right now all we could do was head back, we had our first day of Orientation training tomorrow and only had a vague inclining on what to expect. We decided this time to take the train the one stop, feeling exhausted from the roller-coaster ride of our highs and lows from our Internet fix.

The short 5 minute train ride, was so much better than walking along the horror-movie-like deserted road in the pitch black. The train started to slow and pulled up to the platform, before the doors opened all of us in unison, shifted our heads towards the person standing on the platform. It was as if we all had a six sense for picking up gaijins near-by. It was young, dirty blond hair girl standing at our station.
"I bet you she works for the same company," Robin said.
"Hmm." "Maybe." "I don't know," were the ideas being tossed around, but Robin was convinced.
Robin said the man who dropped her off said there were more girls in our training group, but could only think of the one name off the top of her head, Daisy. Brenda dared Robin then to shout out the name. As the girl, entered into the cart next to us, we all shuffled out and watched as Robin yelled out "Daisy!" The girl swiveled on her heels on the train and looked directly at me. Ah I didn't say anything, I thought, as I was embarrassed we were playing the stereotype the foreigner card. The doors of the train were closing, she called back to me,
"I'm not Daisy, but I know her."
"AHA!" Robin teased us doubters.

I guess Robin caught on faster than the rest of us, that Japan is so homogeneous that when you do ask a ridiculous question like, "Hey do you know Mike from Canmore" (This Hour Has 22 Minutes joke) or any other generic name and place (Rob from Florida) people in Japan will respond, "Oh yes of course, the only foreigner around these parts!"

"I'm Mike from Canmore"

We had become the comical, poor adaptation of the "Where's Waldo" books, as it would all be too easy for us to be singled out, from the mass of crowds of Japanese people, and correctly named.

Waldo doesn't have a chance
in Japan of not being spotted!

Dear Internet

The Internet cafe was quite different to any of the usual Internet cafes scattered around Europe or North America. Internet cafes in Japan can also be used as a very cheap means of accommodation. A common practice among the youth (over 20 which is the legal age of drinking here) of Japan, is to go out partying and crash out at your nearest Internet cafe. You are able to hire a private booth with a reclining chair, computer and sometimes a TV. It's like falling asleep in a mini living room, which after a night of drinking, let's be honest, isn't so bad-I'm sure most people have crashed in much worse places, including myself! It's much cheaper than a hotel, but we were not in need of accommodation that night, just our precious Internet. Even a short period, for me, without Internet I can imagine be likened to coming off hard drugs. I'm anxious without access to it, paranoid about when I will get to see it again and have obsessive thoughts about what's happening on my Facebook update feed! The Internet, Keisha, is my drug!

The Internet is my drug!

We managed to be able to charades our way through the conversation, to put our point across about the Internet withdrawals we were going through and our desperation for it. The man behind the counter handed us a membership form which we had to pay about $8.00 bucks to get in the door then we stared shocked at the prices before us. Half an hour was about $15.00! AHH they were taking advantage of the starved for Internet feeble folk like us! We needed our fix, bit our tongues and handed our cash over.

The adrenaline started pumping, now I was going to have my fix! Half an hour was garbage and I needed to zip through all my social network accounts, emails and attempt to call my boyfriend on skype. There was a little timer at the bottom of the screen counting down our fate. I felt a trickle of sweat drip down my neck, and it wasn't due to the heat, it was crunch time and the pressure was on!

The Japanese keyboards were all jumbled around. We all sat there side-by-side nervous about the race we were about to start. Robin was panicking, almost shouting at us, "Where is the 'Return' key?!" "The comma is where the question mark used to be", I pipped in grouchily. There were only a few differences between English and Japanese keyboards and luckily there were English letters on this one. But those differences made us super speedy computer techies, look like senior citizens using a computer for the first time, extending one finger at a time to push down one key, at tortoise-like pace!

The Japanese keyboard.

 The tensions ran high, as we hustled through writing back to friends and family wondering how Japan was. My computer didn't have skype on it, I realized quite early on, after plowing through writing several emails (almost all of them to my boyfriend, as I justified to myself that if I compiled several emails that might be able to last him until I found Internet or won the lottery, to be able to use it again). "What kind of Internet cafe didn't have skype on it?!" I opened browser, which was all in Japanese, and tried to download skype onto the computer and as the clock ticked closer, an annoying Japanese phrase with an exclamation mark came up. ARGH, some sort of error message I was guessing! All of us were grumbling and barely speaking a word to each other, out of the concentration we needed to use these foreign computers and accomplish everything we needed to do in time. 5....4....3....2....1 Merran and I logged out of my email accounts just then. A painful scream erupted from beside me. I looked and Robin was midway through an email when her computer cut her off. The look of horror on her face was legit, "WTF, isn't there a way to pay for extra time?" This would make sense to have in place and could further justify the copious amounts they could charge us and we would pay, being Internet junkies. "I suppose not here," which was a feeling I was starting to get used-not expecting anything to be the same as it would back home.

Gaijin to Gaijin

So on and on we searched, now avoiding asking anyone for help after the last encounter. It was getting dark and our hopes were failing. As we were walking in circles, a foreigner passed us. All our heads turned in unison at this tall, older Caucasian man, arm in arm with a pretty Japanese woman. "We could ask him," one of the girls said quietly. It is a strange phenomenon, it felt like a wall went up once faced with a fellow foreigner (gaijin) in Japan. I know I wasn't the only one feeling like this, as we all stopped in our tracks and stared blatantly. I suppose this was the same thing we had been experiencing from the other end, having someone clearly different from the majority in front of you, and not knowing how to react. Just because he looked of European decent didn't give us reason to assume he spoke English, did it? We're we being racist? All of us, having grown up in very multi-cultural countries (Canada and Australia), had not experienced this type of hesitation about approaching someone of similar appearance to us. They both walked by, immune to our stares. And we all gave each other uneasy looks, "That was weird."

There is something odd about Japan, as it is so homogeneous, that does throw you off when a lone foreigner is thrown into the mix. But also a feeling of guilt that you don't want to recognize that the person looks similar to you and guiltily note the stereotypes that pop into your mind (Caucasian man=someone that speaks English). It was an odd feeling that we all puzzled over.

We pulled out our map again and then Robin explained how she had been lucky enough before here to stumbled upon the places she wanted to go, following her inner compass. Meh. We had nothing else to lose, so we decided to follow her and a few minutes later, Voila! right before our eyes the Internet Cafe appeared! Yay! We jumped up and down and high-fived then averted eye contact shamefully embarrassed about the extent of our excitement. We braced ourselves standing in front of the door, feeling as if we should link arms, upon approaching another direction in our "Wizard of Oz" adventure. Now to face how to be able to get access to our beloved Internet.

Merran, Brenda, Robin and I boldly
facing Japan and all it's crazy colours.

Discovering the Beginning of my Cultural Awkwardness

This was our last afternoon of freedom before our intense two weeks of teacher's training kicked-off. We all decided to bust out our poor maps and hunt down the Internet cafe in our area. We gabbed away like a bunch of clucking hens and had many stares directed our way. The stares, that can get on my nerves, seemed to be less noticeable, when with a group of people, I suppose you don't know exactly who they are looking at or are to consumed in conversation to care. It was a much nicer experience than my trek alone trying to find this place.

We arrived at the closest station but couldn't tell from our joke-of-a-map, where to go from there. We walked around aimlessly for several minutes-but we were all determined to find this place! There was a young, stylish Japanese woman leaning against the wall, fiddling with her cell phone. I huddled with the girls to have a pep talk about approaching strangers and attempting to ask where the Internet cafe was. I was the one who drew the short straw, so stood up straight, took a deep breath, recited the Japanese I would use to ask and walked up to her. She looked content gazing at her phone, but when she looked up and saw a sweaty foreigner staring at her, her face drooped. "Sumimasen, Interneto doko des ka?" (Excuse me where is the Internet?) I spoke to her softly to appear less scary. At lightning speed she stared rambling off Japanese words, that I didn't know and then it was my turn for my face to droop. "Wakarimasen," "Wakarimasen" (I don't understand), I repeated. I showed her my map, thinking that may help. She glanced at it nervously and obviously didn't know where it was, but was too polite to say she didn't know.

This was one of my first experiences for asking for directions and experiencing the relentless attempts for the Japanese to help, even if they don't know what you need help with. It was getting very uncomfortable about five minutes in and she stared awkwardly at the map fidgeting with it. I couldn't think of the word to tell her, "Don't worry about it" or "I'll ask someone else" (which I was scared at doing now). The girls were still standing where I left them and looked pitifully onward at me. I didn't want to snatch the map away from her and she kept looking up and around like she had might have the answer. I decided I would have to be the impolite one to stop this charade. I smiled at her and gently pulled the map away from her and repeated "Arigato" (Thank you) several times while bowing and walking away. She was undoubtedly relieved that I had left and taken the map away. I returned to the girls wide-eyed and didn't have to say much for them to grasp the awkwardness of the situation. It wasn't just a language barrier issue, there were clearly some cultural faux pas in Japan about saying you couldn't help someone, even if you have no idea and really couldn't be of any help.

Attempt at Redemption for Failed First Impression (Take II)

I awoke to a note from my new flatmate, apologizing for waking me up. Man was I a bitch or what!? I felt really bad, the impress I gave Robin and Brenda was that I was a stressed out maniac, but the impression I gave Merran was that I was a total bitch. This would be a hard one to fix!

She slept in and I cleaned up my room and mulled about how I was going to redeem myself. I heard rustling in the other room, through the paper thin doors. I walked out bravely, paused and looked up..damn she had jumped in the shower. Argh the suspense was killing me. I flipped through my book, not being able to concentrate.  Finally I heard noises that sounded like she was out. Here was my moment for redemption.

"HI!" I said ridiculously cheerfully. "Hey" she replied. I went on my long winded speech about how I was sorry and explained how I was so tired and recovering from a hangover. She said she was sorry for disturbing me and how the man who dropped her off assured her I would be waiting up. Argh he told me the exact opposite, I explained. This guy was either trying to create unnecessary friction for entertainment or was lacking memory cells badly!

Merran was quirky, cute, young, (but obscenely mature), Australian girl from Gold Coast. Merran is one of those girls that is hard not to like, so all was quickly forgotten and forgiven and our friendship started to bloom with ease. She told me about the leisure of her arrival. Her recruiter (same guy that recruited me) told her, that no one would be able to pick her up from the airport, which was how my whole mess had started. But Merran wouldn't take being bullied and bluntly told him that someone simply would have to pick her up and they did! I was envious that I didn't think of saying that, and had fell for 'see-what-we-can-get-away-with-to-save-cost' employer trick! The company was starting to seem like a reincarnation of Ebenezer Scrooge, which made me uneasy.

Ebenezer Scrooge: No help for new foreign teachers
BAH HUMBUG!!

Merran has a wicked blog about her endless hunting for cute things in Japan so check it out:
http://kawaiihunter.blogspot.com/

The Flatmate's arrival

Robin and I scarfed down our food and coffee and meandered home. Brenda was back at Robin's place and told us about the adventure they had at Nagoya castle. Robin and I had attempted to make our day sound more adventurous than it really was, but the hangover guilty stamp was plastered on our foreheads signed by laziness, which Brenda could see. I decided to have an early night and then when I awoke the next morning I should,  *crossed fingers* have a cool flatmate of my own to play with! It was Christmas all over again!

I rustled around in my bed and fell quickly asleep to be awoken in my deep sleep to DING DONG! 'Huh what's going on?' I woke up in confusion, not knowing where I was. Ah doorbell I thought..."Who the heck was it!?" Thoughts of paranoia kicked in about the Grinch stalker man staring at me through the peephole. I cautiously approached the door and heard a man and a woman's voice. I peered through and saw the man that had dropped me off a few days ago and a girl around my age. I opened the door groggily. "HELLO!" he cheerfully shouted at me. I rubbed my eyes and glared at him.

The glare I gave to
the Peppy man after
awaking my slumber.

I remember crystal clear from when he dropped me off the other day, his advice not to wait up for my flatmate and here he is ringing my doorbell to wake me up! Was he on crack?! His peppiness and forgetfulness equally pissed me off. I couldn't mask my sleepy grumpiness and snapped, "Don't you have a key?" "What time is it?" I added for dramatic effect, hoping his memory would trigger his previous words of wisdom he had offered me. He was taken aback and mumbled something about how he did, but thought I would have waited up for my flatmate. I looked at my new flatmate, immediately regretted my bitchiness to him, for her sake.  Her face went from happy and hopeful to a doomed realization of "Shit I'm stuck for two weeks with a bitch." I had just topped my previously held worst-impression-of-all- time. I attempted to snap out of it and offered to help her with her bags. The man, now frightened of me, pretty much pushed the girl in, slammed the door behind him and peeled off in his car. I wished I had that affect on the man from the other day!

The girl introduced herself shyly as Merran and insisted I go back to bed. I tried to apologize for being snappy, but what was done was done, and my horrible first impression was there to stay. I hobbled back to bed feeling worse, cursed the peppy man and hoped I could start anew the next day.

Denny's in Japan??

Feeling revived from the Pocari sweat I had dumped into my body, I was now feeling the pangs of hunger, since I was on more than negative empty in my stomach tank. Brenda had not returned from her plans of a more efficiently used day, and Robin and I felt we needed a story to tell, to make better use of our first days in Japan. I retold my story of the Nagoya stalker and mentioned, that on the bright side out of that whole experience, I did see a Denny's.

Denny's what we craved!

Denny's is a low budget American chain restaurant, that always has to have either a drunk group of people or a group of hangover people present. The quality of food is only acceptable for people in that state, or people that it's obvious eat just as poorly at home. Everything is usually covered in some sort of greasy slim that somehow helps, or  at least you think it does at the time, the condition you find yourself in.  A comfort from home, was what we were craving, so we set off on our mission to make our way to Denny's.

Robin and my mission to Denny's

The pace was slow, as the humidity and heat was not helping the still recovering and fragile states we were in. Ahead of us we saw the sign shinning on our faces, and we smiled comically at each other. We had reached our destination and stalker-free this time around! On the walk there, we had discussed thoroughly what we usually would eat, when faced with Denny missions in our past and what we wanted then. I was craving the works: eggs, toast, mushrooms and maybe a pancake or two. It felt like we were "Harold and Kumar," reaching our destination (Denny's vs. White Castle) and having the feeling of accomplishment in satisfying our cravings and getting exactly what we wanted.

We pushed open the door and entered into a similar layout to Denny's, we were used to at home. A Japanese lady greeted us and we both looked at each other unsure of what she said, but held up our two fingers, which seemed to be the correct code, because she grabbed two menus and took us to a table. We open up the menus and turned the page, and turned the page, and turned the page. Our grins began to fade. "What?! Where is all the crap food?" I blurted out, as several Japanese tables turned to look at the scruffy looking foreign girl making a scene. Robin shared the same sentiments. It was an unnerving experience to have something wrapped up disguised as something you wanted, to discover it was nothing at all that you wanted. The menu consisted of rice, miso soup, fish and other healthy, but somewhat boring and meat-filled Japanese dishes. "Noooo" I wanted to cry and revert back to my two-year old self! The heat outside was another mission to face, but the fact was we were hungry and decided we didn't have the energy to try to hunt down another restaurant-so sulkily we stayed. We searched every crevasse of the menu for just one unhealthy item and eventually we found you could order a side of pancakes. I was set, I'll have five sets of side pancakes please. We ordered a couple black cups of coffee and waited for our food.

We felt betrayed at what Denny's was advertising. Of course it makes sense to cater a business the culture it's based in, but aside from the layout, nothing about this place was Denny's! Even the waiting staff were attractive and not overweight-it was like entering into a twilight zone. So a word of caution to those craving a specific restaurant or type of food you enjoy back home- be warned that even though it may be covered in the same wrapping, nothing within it will be the same.