The Final Days

Okay, I was originally planning to post this a little bit closer to the day it actually happened. In fact, I was going to have two more blogs before and after this one. However, I guess that just didn’t happen. (Obviously, as it is now months after the fact). As a result, this one will simply be titled “The Final Days” (which does not refer to death of any sort) as it will briefly encompass my last few days in Japan, with extreme detail on one of them because I actually wrote the one the day I was supposed to.

So, the day-before-the-day-with-lots-of-detail was just a day trip around the Tokyo area. Otosan took me to the Tokyo Sky Tree (a massive tower that requires incredibly advanced booking to get inside), where we ate lunch. Prior to that, we briefly swung by a large temple so I could see it. Otosan said we weren’t going to go inside, which I was frankly a little grateful for because the crowds around it were huge. Before the end of the day, we made two more stops including a park (please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this statue looks shockingly like a giant turd [picture to be included later…probably]), and a wonderful land known as Electric Town.

Electric Town was like anime central. There were all sorts of gaming shops and figure shops. Otosan could tell that I was really fascinated, so he told me to meet at the place we were standing (a building beneath a giant sign of Hatsune Miku [if anyone knows their vocaloids]) in one hour. I agreed and quickly rushed up the (anime decorated) stairs to explore the other floors of the enormous building.

Now, this next part I remember quite clearly for some unfathomable reason.

I got very excited when I saw a thing-that-dispenses-toys (as I really don’t know its actual name) for vocaloid characters. This was the first one I’d seen with anything familiar, and I decided that I absolutely had to have a Kaito (he’s my favourite male vocaloid).

The sign read three hundred yen, so I dug in my pocket and hastily shoved in three hundred yen. Then I twisted the knob and…nothing came out. Feeling betrayed but also obligated to free dear Kaito from his captivity, I dug in my pocket for more change. Two hundred yen later, I was rewarded with receiving the vocaloid I wanted: dear Kaito.

I still have no idea why the machine decided to give Kaito to me after five hundred yen- two hundred more than he should have been. Perhaps it had been going about its life stealing money from people and had a sudden attack of conscience when I was so determined.

At any rate, I like to think that I made that machine feel ashamed of what it had done, because when I decided I wanted a Miku to go with my Kaito and even fetched more coins from three floors down, it deposited another Kaito after only two hundred yen.

Now there are two ways one could look at this:

1.       That evil machine! No matter how you look at it, it still stole one hundred yen from me!

Or

2.       What a sweet machine. It felt guilty enough to give me two of the vocaloid I’d- eerily enough- said out loud that I wanted. What a beautiful thing to do.

I prefer to look at the second way.

After that, we headed back and I met up with Okasan to join Aiako-san for dinner. I’m still not sure how some of these events came about, but I wound up wearing samurai amour, stealing a stuffed toy dog head and “forgetting” a Canadian souvenir in Aiako-san’s car.

The amour was likely because I was staring at it. With help from Okasan and Aiako-san, I put it on and had pictures taken in Aiako-san’s tatami mat room.

The dog was because Okasan asked me if I thought it was cute. “Kawaii, ne?” And when I agreed, Aiako-san insisted that I take it.

The souvenir was because I felt too awkward to give it to her in person, so I sort of hid it in her car which in hindsight was kind of a weird idea. Oh well.

And now, for the really detailed day: the day I embarked on a journey and actually wrote the blog soon after it happened.

Today, in an amazing display of independence, I took the train to Akihabara by myself.

Otosan waved me off at the station and I walked through the gates armed with nothing more than my wallet, my railway pass, my iPod, my borrowed cell, my notebook with vague instructions written in it, and my map. Written out, it looks like a lot, but it seriously felt like less than it looks like.

The ride to Tokyo was relatively painless. I stood in a corner by the doors for the hour it took to get there, alternating between reading on my iPod, staring at the map, and watching the lights spell out the next stop. I was scared stiff that I was going to miss my stop and wind up God only knows where.

When I got off at Tokyo station, I found myself feeling abnormally confident. I figured that if I’d managed to make it to the station without getting lost, I was going to be set for the whole trip. Now, this didn’t actually make a lot of sense, especially when you consider that all I had done so far was get on the train and get off at its final stop. I can’t say why I felt so awesome, but I can say that it may have made me a tad over-confident.

The second I saw the name of the rail line I was supposed to be getting on, I just assumed that it was the right train. I climbed in and leaned against the wall, noting that I should be getting off within the next two stops.

Four or so stops later, I realized that I had the wrong train. Or to be more precise, not the wrong train, but the train going the wrong way. I can’t recall exactly what it was that tipped me off, but I suspect it had something to do with the ride lasting longer than it should have, and the names not matching up to the ones on my map.

Further examination of the map proved that the train I was on looped around in a giant circle. One way or another, I was going to eventually reach Akihabara. Feeling defeated and stupid, I plopped down in an empty seat and tried not to look as dismayed as I felt. The businessman on my left gave me an odd look, as though sensing my error. I pretended not to notice and stared out the window.

I suppose I have the businessman’s making me awkward to thank for what happened next. As I was gazing out the window, I noticed another train across the platform. A train that looked exactly like the train I was on, other than it was going the other way.

I shot the doors a desperate look. I wasn’t sure how much longer they’d be open for, nor did I know how much longer the other train would remain. Paralyzed by the fear that I’d get up and start to walk only to find myself having to awkwardly hover in the middle of the train because one or both of the previous things happened, I stayed in my seat and prayed that the identical train would be at the next station.

Luck was on my side and I was able to leap up, barrel across the platform, and dive into the other train. All I could think about as the train pulled out of the station was how the businessman probably thought I’d looked like a total idiot sprinting off the train only to get on the same train going the opposite way. But as I leaned against the wall again, I began to feel hints of the confidence slipping back in. I’m not saying that I no longer felt like a complete idiot, I’m just saying that I no longer felt like my failure in the art of train-riding was guaranteed.

And finally- finally- I arrived at Akihabara. Victory was mine. Of course, I nearly started off that celebration on a sour note by almost using the wrong gates, but I realized my error early enough to correct it without it being too obvious. I walked out of the station and into Electric Town feeling like a champion.

My excitement as I entered an anime store near the station was so intense that I was shaking a little. I kept stopping to marvel at objects that came from anime I’d never heard of before, but it wasn’t long before I started finding things I knew. That was when I had to start mentally reasoning with the side of me that just wanted to buy everything in sight.

Me: Oh my gods, look! It’s a figure of that character whose name I totally forget, but he was my favorite character in that show that got boring in the second season! I should totally buy it!

Inner Me: Please try to be rational here. You have to be rational, because this time there’s no one else to be rational for you. Now ask yourself: Serina, how am I going to get this home?

Me: In my suitcase!

Inner Me: Okay, but that box is pretty big. Will you have enough room?

Me: I could just cram it in really good.

Inner Me: That’s possible, but you haven’t actually tried to fit anything in there yet. How do you know there will be enough room?

Me: They call it cramming for a reason.

Inner Me: Fine. If you can tell me his name, you can have him.

Me: Okay! Tsur…no… Okay, I think it sounded like Tokyo. Maybe Toki-something? Toko…i…yo…

Me: You win.

And then a couple minutes later, a similar process would begin again.

Me: It’s a stuffed Miku! I could hang her off my bag! She’s adorable!

Inner Me: You already bought Yuki Miku.

Me: Yeah, but…

Inner Me: Have you checked the price?

Me: Well, no, but I’m sure it’s pretty reason- wait what? No. That’s got to be an extra zero. Hopefully.

Inner Me: Put her back.

Me: But…fuzzy hair…cute…friend for Yuki Miku?

Inner Me: No. You have to-

Me: Oh my gods, bigger Miku!

It took me forever to go through stores because each store seemed to have at least five levels. It was like a never-ending tower of anime. Except obviously it wasn’t fully never-ending.

Walking around, I passed more of those stupid game arcades, and because I do not learn from past errors, I decided I was going to win myself a poofy kitty. Two thousand yen later, I was pretty sure I was only a couple of attempts away from winning, but there was one problem: I’d drained the last of my resources.

Defeated, irritated, and disappointed, I wandered around a little more to cheer myself up before making my way back over to the train station. The poofy kitty had evaded my clutches yet again, but at least I could ride the trains like a pro.

Or at least, I thought I could.

I made it back to Tokyo station, found what I thought was the right line, and bounded up to the platform. The train arrived, everyone shuffled off, and then the entire population of the station proceeded to puzzle me by not getting on.

Me: Should I just get on anyway?

Inner Me: No. No one else is. Please, I beg of you, stop standing there like a confounded moron.

Me: But maybe this just isn’t their train.

Inner Me: Everybody on this platform? I don’t think so. They’re probably cleaning it or something.

Me: Yeah, you’re right…I’m getting on anyway.

As I started to step hesitantly onto the train, a woman who’d been eyeing me worriedly put out a hand to stop me and shook her head.

Me: “Oh, not now? Okay. Arigatou.”

Inner Me: I swear it is a mental impossibility for you to actually listen to me.

Then, feeling even more uncertain than before, I walked over to the sign and started comparing it to my map. They seemed to have all the same places on them, but I still wasn’t sure. I must have been glancing between the two really rapidly, because the same woman who’d stopped me a few minutes earlier came over and asked if I needed help. I gratefully showed her my map and asked her if I was picking the right train to go to Chigasaki. She confirmed my suspicions that I’d been right this time, and I thanked her several times, feeling deeply relieved. A few minutes later, people started getting on the train and I made it back to the station without getting totally lost again.

My old confidence back, I marched purposefully off the train, through the gates, and out of the station. I was awesome. I totally knew where I was going, and exactly how to get there. My mental map was perfect, my sense of direction immaculate. I followed the street I was on all the way out of the buildings and started walking in a completely straight line.

Although I was fairly certain we’d had to take a few turns to get there, I figured I was probably just going a slightly different route. I could see the big AEON store, and that was good enough for me. I barreled along at a brisk pace only slowing to walk around people or move for bikes.

I soon spotted a bridge and felt completely ecstatic; I was so sure it was the same bridge that Okasan and I always stopped at to watch the fish. Now completely positive that I was going the right way, I started walking even faster.

That was when I passed some sort of gated community and a seed of doubt grew in my stomach. I was pretty sure I’d remember passing on of those. In fact, I was positive that I’d remember passing one of those.

I was going the wrong way.

Spinning around, I made a beeline straight for the AEON I’d spotted earlier. Even now, I’m not sure why I wasn’t panicking. I think one is supposed to panic when one is lost in a mostly strange city, but I somehow still felt confident that I could make it back to the house alive and on time.

From the big AEON, I was able to recognize a park, and from there, a series of random landmarks such as the railway tracks, the bike parking, and the proper bridge lead me to the area behind the middle school I’d gone to earlier in my trip.

I was making my way down the alley when a clearly foreign man walking the other way greeted me in English, asking me how I was. I slowed a little to reply, “Oh I’m good, how about you?”

“Good,” He replied. “Are you an exchange student?”

“I’m actually here on a scholarship,” I answered.

“Oh, college student then?”

“Nope. High school. I’m only here for a few more days, though.”

He nodded. “Well, I hope you have a nice couple of days then.”

“Thank you. I will.” We smiled a little, half-waved, and then continued on our paths.

From the middle school, getting back to the house was no problem, and I arrived on the doorstep feeling sweaty and disgusting but proud, only to find that the door was locked and I’d forgotten the code again.

I guess it was just one of those days.

The days following my journey were fairly uneventful. I spent a lot of time packing, and went out to the store to collect food to bring home with me. Otosan took me by the schools again to thank the principals and I brought them thank-you cards.

Later, Otosan and Okasan invited over some of the people I’d met while living with them. I was walking out of room when I first heard the door open. I panicked, backed up, tripped over the doorframe and slammed into the door which promptly slammed into the wall. Surprisingly, no one noticed, and I was able to calm myself down before joining them downstairs at Otosan’s call.

Then pretty much before I knew it before I knew it, it was time to go. I was fortunately able to get on the plane without any near-death experiences. I waved goodbye to Otosan and Okasan before going to wait for said plane. The flight itself was fine, however, the people in front of me weren’t. It was a suntanned couple, who managed to be surprisingly clichéd. The man was tall, kind of buff and wearing a muscle shirt. The girl was thin, blonde, and wearing shorts. I don’t know why this in particular sticks out in my mind, but I may have had to do with the fact that the kept their seats tilted all the way back the whole bloody time.

Anyway, I got off in Vancouver and (thankfully) met up with my grandparents for a few hours before boarding the plan to go home.

It was exhausting, and I was up for more than forty-eight hours, but it was nice to be home.

Japan was an amazing experience, and I would really love to go back there some day. I actually think that I don’t have a choice, because I met so many great people and it would be sad to not get to see them again. Especially if I can speak Japanese by then.

I also have a steadily-growing list of items I wish I’d bought.

Perhaps half a billion keychain swords wasn’t the greatest way to go.

Day Twenty-Six: Hari-onago- A Yokai Story

Okay, as I’m sure most of you have figured out by simple math, looking at the top of the page, or actually seeing me, I’m home now. But through those last few days, I put a lot of focus on picking up the last few things I needed/wanted, and packing, so I didn't get around to finishing up the last few blogs. I’ll try to finish them up and put them up soon though.

Continuing on with last blog’s theme, I’ll be sharing a story I wrote about an interesting Japanese Yokai. For those of you who don’t know, a Yokai is a Japanese monster or demon that is only ever encountered at night.

And also as with last time, I’ll explain the traditional story afterwards. All I did today was go shopping with Okasan, so there isn't even a story of getting lost to share. As a result, please enjoy the story below about a Yokai known as Hari-onago.

Keiji stumbled more than a little drunkenly down the dimly-lit street. Although to him, it didn't seem terribly dim. The white lights along his path were making his head spin, turning the world around him into a confusing blur of shadows and flashes of light.

His friends had told him getting drunk was fun, and he had to admit, it was an interesting sensation. It had certainly made sitting around in his friend’s rather outdated kitchen belting out old Japanese folk songs far more entertaining than it would have been otherwise. He was only just now realizing how difficult it was to navigate the confusing streets of Japan with impaired senses and compromised brain functions.

A car roared passed, causing Keiji to flounder clumsily back into an alley, trip over the edge of the sidewalk, and land on his butt. Under any other circumstances, the fall would have (and probably should have) sent pain vibrating up his spine. But Keiji’s brain was so occupied with recovering its sense of equilibrium, the injury barely registered.

For several minutes he sat slurring out half-hearted curses, feeling far too muddled to summon any real anger before climbing meticulously to his feet, this simple action taking more concentration than it should have required. Finally on his feet, he began feeling along the rough, stone wall for the light switch before remembering he was still outside.

Keiji didn't really know if he was going the right way, but he found he didn't really care. The alley looked like it may have been the one that let out on the street near his house, and at that point, the darkness looked far more appealing than the confusing brightness of the street he’d been on. Figuring that one dark alley was as good as the next, Keiji began shuffling along the pavement, scuffing the soles of his sneakers.

He’d made it maybe five sixths of the way when he saw a figure standing across the road from him. He stopped, wobbling unstably as he tried to make his eyes focus the way they were supposed to. After a few moments of squinting, he managed to pick out a few individual details.

The first was that the figure was definitely feminine, a woman dressed in an elegant white kimono, with a rather girlish pink obi circling her waist. She looked completely normal, other than her hair was left down- the hair is worn up when in traditional dress- and it hung dark and disheveled around her shoulders. At the time, Keiji’s thoughts were still too inebriated to recognize the oddity of a woman in traditional clothes wandering around dark alleys at night. Or quite possibly, the wee hours of the morning. He honestly couldn't remember what time he’d left his friend’s place.

The woman tilted her head at him and hid her hands within the substantial folds of her sleeves, smiling coyly. Feeling puzzled and vaguely as though he were doing something wrong, Keiji forced his face into what he hoped was a quick smile, but what he suspected was probably a drunken grimace. He might have even been drooling, but he figured that reaching up to wipe at his mouth by that point would just make the situation even weirder.

The kimono-clad stranger didn't say anything, but her smiled took on a strange edge that was unidentifiable to Keiji in his current state. Whatever the edge was, it gave him an odd sensation in his sake-filled gut, and filled him with the irrational urge to run. She started to walk towards him, and he could have sworn that her hair was moving, snake-like around her head. It looked like it had grown longer.

The smile was unsettling, but the creepy writhing hair was setting off distant warning bells in Keiji’s mind. He wobbled backwards a few steps, hit the wall, and just stared, the sense that he should be running nearly overwhelming him.

When a barbed lock of abnormally long hair stabbed into his upper arm, he knew he’d made a mistake. A sudden wave of intense fear rolled through him, along with the tide of pain experienced when one is stabbed in the arm. The emotions managed to wash away some of the haze he’d been wading through, and in a moment of complete clarity, he yanked the barb out of his upper arm and sprinted down the alley. A laugh echoed out behind him followed by the sounds of pursuit.

Wild panic supplying him with energy, Keiji fled down the alleyway. He’d never been particularly active, and he was cursing that foolish decision as he sprinted. He made a silent deal that should he survive this encounter, he would jog every morning without fail. Just please, please, please don’t let me die here!

“Gotcha!” The woman behind him cackled, and a barbed tip whistled passed his head, embedding itself in a lamppost. He was out of the alley!

Making a fast left, Keiji made a beeline for his house, feeling impressed that even with his fuzzy interpretations he’d managed to find the right alley. Then again, perhaps if he’d taken the wrong alley, he never would have encountered the demonic woman following him right now.

Keiji pounded up the steps to his front door, dialed in the code with a speed that shocked even him, and darted inside, slamming the large wooden door behind him. A moment later, it shook as someone slammed into it from the other side.

Springing back, Keiji listened to three more thumps before they inexplicably stopped. Still trembling from adrenaline, he felt relief wash over him. Somehow, he’d survived. He was going to live. He would see his friends again. He’d probably never drink again- not in this lifetime anyway- but he’d be okay.

Keiji kicked off his shoes and went to go bandage his arm.

~

It was two in the morning when Keiji finally climbed the stairs and started down the dark hall for his bedroom. Some of his previous tipsy symptoms had returned while he’d been wrapping his wound in gauze, and as a result the bandage was coming undone, but he was too tired to care.

A few steps away from his bedroom door, he felt something sharp brush his injured arm, and a voice said, “Keiji, dear, you made a valiant effort, but you forgot to lock the door.”

Okay, I tried. I think I got mixed results, but I’m just going to leave it.

Hari-onago almost literally means “hook girl”. She is a Yokai known for the barbed hooks found at the end of her hair, which she uses to tear apart her prey before eating it. This prey consists mainly of young men they find walking alone. The Hair-onago will smile coyly and if the man should smile back, she will attack him with the barbed ends of her hair.

Then the tearing and eating will occur.

Most people don’t survive this, however, it is theoretically possible to escape if you run fast, aren't far from home and have a sturdy gate or door. As we can all see how Keiji met his end, I’d recommend also locking this door or gate as well.

If you can keep them out all night, they will vanish come day. If that happens, all that will remain will be deep scratches and gouges on the outside of the door or gate.

Just because the memory wasn't quite terrifying enough.

Day Twenty-Five: Kuchisake-Onna- A Horror Story

Today, I've decided that seeing as the only thing that happened was we drove back to Chigasaki, I will share with you a short story that I wrote about Kuchisake-Onna, otherwise known as the slit-mouthed woman. This is relevant because it’s the Japanese urban legend I told Otosan about. First, I’ll show you a story I wrote about someone who meets Kuchisake-Onna, and then I’ll tell you basically what I told Otosan. This is now a ***WARNING*** for anyone who doesn't like horror stories or thinks this may potentially freak them out. If you keep going and freak yourself out, it’s on you. Personally, I don’t think it’s too bad, but that could be because I've heard the story multiple times already.

I yanked the strap of my bag up higher on my shoulder and tried to walk faster. Tennis club had gone later than I’d expected, and it was already six o’clock. Even though it was my eighth month living in Japan, I still felt like I hadn't fully adjusted to the level of commitment the students at Tsurumine High School put into their clubs.

Back in America, I’d been considered pretty good, but here, I was way behind the other third-year students. It was taking a lot more commitment than I would have liked to catch up in skill level. It was also a little embarrassing to be worse than most of the second year students.

I jumped to the side with a yelp as a woman on a bike shot passed me, feeling the edge of her front tire brush my green plaid skirt. Sometimes, it felt like the people on bikes never truly watched where they were going. I’d already been nearly run over more than once.

The bike shot around a corner, and suddenly, I realized that although the street had been busy a few minutes ago, it was now completely deserted. I clenched the strap of my bag nervously. That wouldn't have been a big deal in America, but in Japan, it was rare for streets such as the one I was on to be well and truly empty.

I glanced around, just to be sure, and realized that wasn't totally the case. There was one woman coming towards me from one of the side streets. She wore traditional clothes and a surgical mask on her face, which was likely due to pollen sensitivity. It is not uncommon for people in Japan to wear masks on their faces if they had sensitivity to dust or pollen. Sometimes, they were even worn if one had a cold. I still hadn't tried because it felt weird to me, but most of the students in my school had worn one at one point or another.

I started to nod at the woman as I passed by, but she put out a hand, stopping me.

“Excuse me,” She said in soft Japanese, a musical lilt to her voice. “I seem to be rather lost. Could you direct me to Tsurumine High School?”

“I can try,” I replied, wondering why this woman needed to go to the high school. “Gomenesai, my Japanese isn't very good. Just go straight and take a left at the green house. You should be able to see it once you get around the corner.”

“Thank you, child.” The woman smiled- or, I think she did. Her eyes crinkled as though that was what she was doing. “Before I go on my way, I have one more question to ask of you. Am I beautiful?”

It seemed like a bit of a strange question, and it definitely didn't seem like something the woman needed to ask. She was beautiful. She had smooth black hair to her waist, with bangs fringing her dark brown eyes. Her skin looked like porcelain, and she was delicately built, with a small frame.

“Yes,” I replied truthfully.

Eyes crinkling again, the woman reached up to her mask, pulling it down to reveal a sight that I knew would cause me to wake, screaming for years afterwards, that would haunt my thoughts and my dreams until my death.

Her mouth had been horribly slit on each side, from the corner of her lips to her ears. The wounds were scabbed with dried blood, but fresher blood dribbled from the corners of her lips, and they looked like they were barely being held together. It was like looking at a smiley face, but the most grotesque, scabbed, bloody, horrifying smiley face you can imagine.

She tilted her head at me. “Do you still think I’m beautiful?” She asked in her melodic voice. How could she talk? She shouldn't have been able to talk!

My limbs trembled with the horror of it, my heart tried to escape to my stomach, which was knotted into a tight ball, and my feet felt as though they’d been frozen to the ground. Yet despite this, I managed to force my face into a weak grimace. “Yes. You’re beautiful.”

In response, the edges of her scarred face stretched up to form a wider smile, defying all logic and reason. I am positive that in that instant, my heart stopped.

“Thank you,” She purred. Her form seemed to flicker, and suddenly there was a searing pain on either side of my face. In that moment, my body gave out and I collapsed into darkness.

~

My feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic tap tapping sound as I walked down the side street, my bag slung carelessly over my shoulder. The little girl playing in the gutter looked up at my approach, her expression displaying childlike curiosity over why this American girl was approaching her.

Stopping about three feet away, I crouched down and said, “Hello.”

“Hello,” She replied, staring at me.

“I have a question for you.” I tipped my head at her and smiled a little.

“Am I beautiful?”

***END***

Okay, so that was my story of a girl meeting Kuchisake-Onna. In the actual story, Kuchisake-Onna was a beautiful woman and the wife of a samurai. But she cheated on him, and in anger, he slit her mouth on each side, telling her that no one could find her beautiful now.

Now, her spirit stalks the streets of Japan, going up to people to ask if she is beautiful. If they say no, she kills them, if they say yes, she takes off her mask. Then, she asks if they still think she’s beautiful. Should the unfortunate person say no, they will be killed, should they say yes, Kuchisake-Onna will either let them go and follow them home only to brutally murder them later, or she will slit their mouth to look like hers. (It depends on the version you read). There is no mention of the victims of this attack actually becoming like her though, that’s just something I added.

There are supposedly two different ways you can escape unharmed from this encounter. After she reveals her face, the intended victim should say, “You’re average,” or turn the question on her. “Well, am I beautiful?”

It’s said that these answers will confuse her, allowing time to run away. Should you ever encounter Kuchisake-Onna, don’t forget these replies.

They could save your life someday.

Day Twenty-Four: Strange Occurances

Although I expected to go straight back to Otosan and Okasan first thing today, I actually got to meet ninjas and samurais first.

Okay, that totally didn't sound totally confusing and random. (Please identify that the sentence prior to this was typed using sarcasm and was not to be taken literally. If you do not know what sarcasm is, I suggest rethinking most of your interactions with other human beings on the planet earth).

What I mean is Mr. Suzuki took me to a… park, I suppose, that was modeled after the real-live-ninja/samurai-period in Japan. I got my picture taken with a rogue samurai!

By which I mean a samurai who was just wandering around with no evident goal in mind. But that can qualify as a rogue, right? Ah, what do I know? I don’t even know the meaning of the word ‘rogue’. It just sounds cool.

It was actually a pretty large park, and had many shops and restaurants. Because it was a weekday, it wasn't very busy, which was nice.

If this blog also bears a strong resemblance to total gibberish, please let me know. My brain is feeling a little foggy right now.

The park offered free shows as part of the entrance fee. You could literally just wander in and sit down. One of the shows we went to seemed to involve a ninja with crazy red hair who wanted to steal an evil vase, I think. He fought his way through a bunch of other ninjas before the boss managed to tie him up in ninja chains. But the red-haired ninja pulled a ninja escape and vanished.

Enraged, the boss sent his minions to search for Crazy-red-haired-ninja, but they were unsuccessful. Then Crazy-red-haired-ninja saved the day by defeating the boss and destroying the vase. Obviously the story went on longer than that, but I’m fairly certain that was the basic plotline.

We also went to a class where a man taught us about ninja weapons. This class was in English, so I understood what was going on. I managed to impress him when he asked me if I knew what the knife he was holding up was.

Me: “Um… Kunai knife, maybe? Kunai?

Him: *Eyes wide* “How did you know that?”

Me: “I’m really smart. Also, I, uh…watched Naruto.”

After displaying my impressive knowledge of ninja weapons, it was time to head back so I could meet up Otosan and Okasan and head back to Hamamatsu for the night. Together, we waved goodbye to Mr. Suzuki, and took the bullet train to the hotel.

It was the same hotel as the one we’d stayed in earlier on the trip- the one with no vending machines. Of course, this makes no difference if the thing you’re craving is Pocky, which I was.

Even though it was getting later, I decided that I needed Pocky the same way I’d needed grape juice earlier, and I’d likely die if I didn't get it. So I headed out of the hotel armed with the cell phone, my room card, and Kiku (the change-carrier).

I realized as soon as I stepped outside that I probably should have also armed myself with an umbrella, but I didn't’t have one anyway, so I sloshed through the rain without one. It didn't look like any of the stores were open, so with disappointment and the loss of a life, I turned around and started back.

That was when I started to get insanely paranoid about someone following me. I knew that logically there couldn't be anyone there, as I’d checked repeatedly and I was the only one out walking. (There were plenty of cars though, so nobody panic). I kept imagining what I’d do if I heard footsteps, and I found myself walking faster.

I purchased a drink at the same vending machine as before and got into the elevator with no mishaps. I pushed the button for floor seven, and experienced surprised and vague alarm when the numbers four and nine also lit up. I hadn't pressed them, there was no one else in there to press them, and there was just no way for me to have hit the buttons accidentally.

The doors closed, but the elevator only went up one floor before stopping again. There was no one there waiting for it, so I just closed the doors. Of course, they opened again on the fourth floor because of the button, but I shut those too. I didn't have to wait for the ninth floor because I was the seventh. Thankfully. I think it would have freaked me out to deal with that again.

There’s really only so much weirdness you can take in one night when you’re ‘alone’.

On second thought, if it’s gibberish, just leave it. I like it.

Day Twenty-Three: Buddha's Nose-Hole

You never realize how big of a difference there is between “can you” and “would you like to” until you have this conversation:

Them: “Can you have this?” *Gestures to squid.*

You: “Well, probably. I mean, I’m not allergic or anything…”

Them: “Okay! Here!” *Passes you squid.*

You: “Oh…thanks…”

(Admittedly, this hasn't actually happened to me with squid, but it has with other things I don’t particularly want).

As some of you may know, and others may not, Nara is the deer capital of Japan. Okay, I actually have no proof that that is actually what people call it, but it does have a lot of deer. Like a lot of deer. I cannot stress that enough. There are so many deer that there are vendors up and down the streets selling these little cookies you can feed to the deer, and there is no rule against petting them.

So as you may have already guessed, the first place we went to was the temple of Nara around which the multitudes of deer could be found. Mr. Suzuki bought some cookies for Mrs. Suzuki and I to feed to the deer. And let me tell you, the moment those deer realize you have food, they become very insistent that you share it with them.

Rule One: Do not hold cookies down within deer reach.

Rule Two: Do not allow a deer to get to close without either backing away or feeding it something. It will stab you with its nose.

Rule Three: If you are overwhelmed, hide the cookies and retreat to a safe distance. If you do not hide the cookies, a herd of deer will follow you and you will probably get trampled.

Suggestion One: Feed the fawns. They’re cuter and less insistent.

Suggestion Two: Feed cookies in pieces, otherwise you will run out quickly.

It’s okay to feed the deer with the cookie in your fingers. The deer have tiny mouths and do not appear to have much for teeth. If they do accidentally bite you, it won’t hurt.

After wading our way through the deer masses, we entered the temple. Within sat the world’s largest Buddha. Or at the very least, a very large Buddha indeed. I snapped a few pictures, moved over to take a picture of some sort of warrior, and encountered a problem. The button on my camera wasn't working. Figuring that it was just a malfunction, I tried to turn the camera off. When that didn't work either, I became kind of concerned. None of the other buttons worked either. At a loss, I just stuck my camera back in my bag and prayed for a quick, mysterious recovery.

Around then was when I encountered a large post with a rectangular hole in the base (which I obviously have no pictures of). People were trying to fit through it because it was believed to grant good luck to those who could fit. Little kids didn't appear to have any problems. It was the older kids that were fun to watch. There were two boys who had to turn on an angle and push each other through from the back. I would have tried, except the line was really long. According to Mr. Suzuki, the hole was supposedly about the size of Buddha’s nose-hole, which I guess means that any of those kids could have climbed through Buddha's nose-hole. Though why anyone would want to do that is beyond me.

As we were exiting the temple, I picked up my camera and found that it had turned itself off. Unsure as to whether I should be relieved or alarmed, I pressed the power button. The screen came on momentarily informing me that the battery had died. Relief won out.

A delicious homemade lunch later, we were back at the house and I took in a nap in the room I was being lent. It was an amazing room, because it was the tatami mat room, and my bed was on the floor, just like a traditional Japanese bed would be. It was very exciting.

Around dinner, Mr. Suzuki woke me up, and I found that his daughter and her family had dropped by for dinner. The oldest one, a three year-old girl, liked to sing, while the youngest, a boy of probably about one had difficulty with his motor skills involved in eating. I tried not to watch him eat- not because it was gross, but because he made it look so difficult it frustrated me. However, I knew that the kid had to learn somehow.

When it came into the conversation that I could play the violin, the Suzuki’s daughter’s husband lent me his violin to play a song for them. Feeling really freaked out and way under-prepared, I played the first song that I felt I had reliably memorized- Faded Love, a fiddle song I’d memorized a couple of years back.

To my relief, no one expected me to play passed that one song, and the owner of the violin soon took over with Mrs. Suzuki accompanying on the guitar.

Before turning in for the night, we went on a drive up what the Suzukis called a mountain (but what I call a large hill) overlooking the city of Osaka. I tried to stand on the short wooden fence, nearly killed myself, and had to be supported by Mrs. Suzuki so I didn't topple headfirst over the edge of said large hill.

They day came to a close with a very sleepy me typing out that last blog I wrote while trying not to drop off. So I guess what I’m saying is that if it didn't make a lot of sense, now you know why.

Day Twenty-Two: Dog Whisperer

If I were Otosan and Okasan, I’d be very worried about me. My absent-minded clumsiness has to date caused me to trip, randomly lose my balance, back into random objects (just wait until it’s one of those short fences), and nearly gotten me run over. Several times. It’s like I just completely forget that there’s a street with cars on it and I just keep meandering forwards until someone stops me. I can’t count the times that Otosan or Okasan has had to leap forwards and block me before I wander out into a busy street. In fact, this has happened so often, that sometimes one of them will block me even if I’m totally paying attention and am already stopping.

I swear this is going to be the death of me.

At any rate, today after another bullet train ride (that I unfortunately slept through), Otosan and Okasan dropped me off with some friends (another older couple) to spend a couple of days exploring Kyoto and Nara. First, we went to a beautiful golden temple. There was no entry, but it was surrounded by water with these pristine little islands. Very picturesque. That’s another thing to look forward to when I get around to posting more pictures.

While we were there, I went to bathroom (what else is new?) and there was a sign for how to use a western toilet. The instructions went like so:

Please sit down when you use the toilet.

Turn your back on the cover.

And flush the toilet after using.

So now that you've read it, did anyone else get this really funny mental image of someone trying to straddle the toilet?

Reading this also helped me realize that I’d been using the Japanese-style toilets backwards. That would explain why it was always so awkward to reach the toilet paper. I had to sort of hop backwards and twist while being careful not to fall over into the toilet. Really, considering this alone, you’d think I would have fixed this habit earlier. I suppose I was just being stubborn.

***Seriousness Starts***

The next stop was the Kyoto Peace Memorial Museum. Again, this was truly a blow on the way I viewed the world. It’s amazing how terrible things can be happening all around you, and yet you just continue on in your happy oblivious bubble. I read signs talking about bombings, injuries, killing and war. About how the weapons just keep getting more and more powerful, and how many fear that the human race is going to eliminate itself with the weapons it’s creating.

I don’t understand what is wrong with people! It’s so frustrating to me! How hard is it to see that war is is completely unnecessary? There is not one justifiable war in all of history. Every single one of the bloody things could have been solved if people just bleeding listened to each other!!!

And really, there are just a select few people to blame. Most humans don’t want war. They don’t want to kill to get what they want. But we’re all animals, and when humans are backed into a corner, they lash out.

Aside from those few bloodthirsty individuals who look for any reason to start a war and don’t listen to reason. They’re the ones to blame.

The state of this world just makes me so mad! I get angry just thinking about it!

Okay. Calm down, Serina. You've made your point. Let the poor people reading this blog move on with the relevant story already.

***Seriousness Ends***

By the time we arrived at the (let’s call them the Suzukis) hometown, it was late. But we still had to eat, so we went out to dinner at a nice restaurant. When told that my birthday had already passed, the Suzukis insisted on having the birthday performance anyway. This proved to consist of the song playing through the restaurant while the family celebrating was given tambourines to bang along to the beat. Then, the birthday boy/girl was given a plate of ice cream with “Happy ___ birthday, ___” written around the side (those blanks filled in obviously, and the lettering in Japanese).

It was a little awkward because I didn't know what to do with myself, so I settled for banging my tambourine and laughing. This turned out not to be terribly difficult, because the Suzukis seemed to be having a tough time singing along in time with the music.

All in all, it was pretty fun.

Finally, we arrived at their house. It turned out they had a dog, a hyper little thing with curly fur and a piercing bark named Sakura. Sakura seemed completely convinced that I was an intruder, and insisted on alerting her owners to my presence every time I passed her cage.

After my shower, I decided I was going to put my dog-whisperer skills to work and make this dog like me. (As in enjoy my company. The Suzukis probably don’t need a dog with a tendency to wander into busy streets).

I walked up to her cage talking softly while she had a psychotic breakdown at the edge of her cage, scrambling and barking wildly. Carefully, I put my hand on her head and started scratching her behind the ears, still cooing about what a good guard dog she was.

It was like magic. She instantly calmed down and started wagging her tail instead. I stayed there for a few more minutes, petting and talking. When I finally stood up and walked away, she watched me go quietly.

Thank you, Sakura. Thank you for letting me feel like an awesome dog-whisperer for one night. You are truly a gifted little guard dog.

Day Twenty-One: Car Chase

Every once and a while I spot a sign in English and have an “oh, that sign’s in English, I can read it!” moment.

It’s like I've grown so used to just scanning over signs and not understanding a word that it takes a couple of minutes for the fact that I can understand something to register.

Today, the day began on a rather depressing note when we visited Hiroshima. I’m sure most of you know Hiroshima, the site of the nuclear bombing in 1945 (which is far more recent than I’d thought it was). Before going into the museum, we stopped to talk to a guide whose grandfather had been killed in the bombing. Between him and the museum, I learned a lot. (As I'm sure you can infer, this first section won't be as light-hearted as I normally try to make these. But if you power through or even scroll down, it goes back to normal about a paragraph after the second safe).

For example, the bomb was dropped by the government of the United States as a test. They were trying to figure out how many of these bombs it would take to destroy the major cities, and at the same time, discover the effects of radiation on the human body, as this was not known at that point.

The bomb itself actually exploded above the city, and the entire area was totally leveled. Those too close to the bomb were killed.

And this is the point that you stop reading if you’re kind of squeamish or easily creeped out. Just scroll past this stuff until you see this: ***SAFE***

Or suppose you can stop reading altogether if you’d really like. It’s your choice.

Many people were severely burned, and many of those also died of these wounds. People lay wounded and dying everywhere, and because of the burns, many had an intense, desperate need for water. This is why they drank the black rain when it fell.

When I say black rain, I literally mean black rain. The water in the clouds reacted with what I believe was the radiation to form a horrible black rain. But people were so desperate that they didn't care. Drinking the rain caused diarrhea that lasted months afterwards.

Although honestly, diarrhea was probably the least of these people’s worries. The effects of the radiation began to strike, and it was not uncommon for people to die because of this. Symptoms included things like large purple spots, hair loss, and cancer. The effects could strike without warning, and continued to appear months afterwards.

Now, if you kept reading this anyway thinking, “hey, I’m squeamish, but this doesn't sound so bad,” this next part is definitely where you stop.

Children who’d been in the womb of mothers too near the bomb began to be born with extreme mental and physical disabilities. A common symptom was the child’s head being far too small. This obviously hindered brain development and was one of the key problems. Some children were born so incredibly mutated that they could not survive. For example, the guide outside the hotel showed me a picture with a newborn baby bearing only one eye, a strangely-shaped mouth, and no nose. There were two other pictures as well, but I don’t really remember them. I just recall looking at the photos and feeling sick. That was how horrible it was.

One man had a rather odd reaction to the radiation. When the bomb had struck, he’d been sitting with his hand on the windowsill and his fingers folded slightly over. The last centimeter or so of his fingers got the full-force of the burn, and as a result, they had to remove the ends of two or three fingers. But radiation presented its own horrible twist. From that day on, the stumps of the man’s fingers grew black nails from the center of the finger end. The main difference between these fingernails and regular fingernails was that the black nails were actually filled with blood vessels, and would bleed profusely when broken. The man is no longer alive today.

***SAFE***

Okay, I’m sorry that I had to include those rather disturbing mental images (or maybe they’re just disturbing to me because I was there), but I really want people to understand exactly how serious this was. In fact, the number of people killed when the bomb fell is still unknown.

I walked away from Hiroshima with a lot to think about. Peace has always been a pretty big thing for me, and visiting Hiroshima just enhanced my understanding of exactly how much the human race needs it.

And with that, the daily dose of sober has been administrated.

The next place we went was Miyajima Island. Like Nara, Miyajima also has deer wandering around. Unlike Nara, you aren't supposed to feed or touch the deer. According to the signs, they’re trying to “re-introduce them to the wild”. I have my doubt about how well this will actually work, but hey, not my choice.

On the bright side, I got to pet a deer and admire his sawed-off antlers (maybe so he didn't gorge people) before I noticed the signs and had no valid continuous excuse.

Later, on the walk to the shrine gate located in the ocean (know what I’m talking about now?), I stopped to buy ice cream from a vending machine. I guess Otosan and Okasan didn’t see me stop, because the juts kept going, so when my ice cream fell out, I sprinted after them.

As it turned out, I’d forgotten to close my little coin-carrier, and coins went flying everywhere. Of course I had to stop to pick them up (I had hundreds in there!), and I nearly lost Otosan and Okasan in that time. By the time I caught up, I was too warm, sweaty, and questioning my choice to get ice cream. Otosan and Okasan hadn't noticed my absence, so I just started to eat my ice cream like nothing had happened.

And then tragedy struck.

The entire top section of my ice cream broke off, fell, and rolled away.

Yes. It actually rolled.

Feeling annoyed, I finished up my ice cream and looked around for a garbage can to throw the wrapper in. I didn't find one, but I did see a sign requesting no littering. Well, people-who-own-Miyajima, if you don’t want me to littler, supplying some garbage cans would be a good move.

That’s not to say that I littered, but theoretically I could have. Out of spite.

After going through the Miyajima shrine, we started walking back. I stopped in one of the souvenir shops to purchase something, and when I stepped out again, Otosan and Okasan were gone. Because- as I mentioned earlier in my blogs- I have problems, this didn't bother me, and I just figured I’d catch up with them at the end of the street. Then I remembered I had a phone, so I called Otosan and he told me that he and Okasan were going to go sit down and I should just go nuts. Okay, he didn't say those exact words, but he did tell me to keep shopping.

So I did. I shopped until I had no money left in my wallet. Saying it like that makes it sound like I spent a lot; but really, I only had about five thousand in there (the rough equivalent of fifty Canadian dollars).

It was really exciting to finally find a nail clipper. That turned out to be the thing I forgot, and I didn't realize how much I liked being able to cut my nails until I just couldn't anymore.

Once I’d met up with Otosan and Okasan at the ferry station (a phone call process far more complicated than it should have been, but language misunderstandings struck again), we went to our hotel. On a walk to find dinner, and interesting thing happened.

I heard a siren building in the distance, and a couple of minutes later, a gray car with two red lights on the roof flew by. Several minutes later, a police car tore passed in the same direction. I didn't really connect the two in my brain until they both screamed by again about ten minutes later much closer together this time.

Now all I want to know is what that gray car though it was doing in a car chase with screaming red lights on its roof. Really not the brightest or most advisable move. Plus he was heading towards a red light. I'm pretty sure those ninja jumping moves only work in movies.