Confessions of a Foreigner
It's time to come clean. As a Canadian in Japan, I have a few secrets. Secrets that, after much serious consideration, I have decided to share with you all, my friends and family. So without further ado, 10 things that I need to get off my chest...
1) Every once in a while, at home, I put ketchup on my rice. It's not even good. In fact, rice is much better plain than with ketchup on it. But for some reason, it just tastes like home. Fun fact: on our first ever grocery trip, one of the first item I bought was Heinz ketchup, even before we had anything to put it on, because it was the only bottle I recognised in the store. What is it about ketchup that's so homey?
4) My definition of wildlife has changed. Since being in Japan, the only wild animals I have seen so far have been a squirrel/rodent type animal that I can't identify, pheasants, the backside of several raccoons (which don't look at all like our Canadian raccoons), and a handful of small reptiles/amphibians. I had been SO excited at the prospect of seeing Japanese monkeys, but I have realised that they have conspired and made elaborate strategies to avoid me. Everyone I talk to is surprised to hear that I haven't see them yet, as apparently they're just chillin everywhere, especially in our area of the village. So-and-so had ten in his yard this week, they tell me. Everyone sees them just hanging around, except me! And I'm always on the lookout for them! I can only conclude, therefore, that this is not a coincidence, and that the village primates hate me and want my dreams of seeing monkeys in the wild to never come true.
1) Every once in a while, at home, I put ketchup on my rice. It's not even good. In fact, rice is much better plain than with ketchup on it. But for some reason, it just tastes like home. Fun fact: on our first ever grocery trip, one of the first item I bought was Heinz ketchup, even before we had anything to put it on, because it was the only bottle I recognised in the store. What is it about ketchup that's so homey?
2) Sometimes, when I'm eating all alone, I use a fork. Even for rice, and noodles, and things that are probably easier to eat with chopsticks. I only do this when even Justin's not home. But the truth is, for me, sometimes using a fork is like taking off a pair of high-heels after a wedding.
3) I like ramen noodles. A question I'm commonly asked is, what kind of Japanese food do you like? My standard answer for a long time was, "ramen noodles!" This is because I love ramen! However, it didn't take me long to realise that ramen is the Japanese food equivalent of, say, a Big Mac. I might as well be saying, "I just love cheeseburgers! Can't get me enough of those Quarter Pounders. Mmmmm-mmm, let's just go get us some burgers RIGHT NOW." Unfortunately, I only realised this implication after it was literally published in our local newspaper that my favourite food was ramen. In a health conscious society like Japan, that's probably not the first thing you want the community to know about you. But just between you and me... it's true.
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| Another strangely delicious Japanese food: Omurice. It's a giant omelette, filled with seasoned rice, doused in a sauce of your choice. |
On the other side of this coin is that I have developed a fascination with insects. My lack of wildlife (mainly monkey) sightings has caused my interest to drift elsewhere, namely to the absolutely bizarre bug-life of this country! Strange combinations of moths and bees, tiny blue-fuzzy-flying things that glow enchantingly like fairies in low-lighting, and this hammerhead worm/slug/leech thing I saw just this morning! What I'm lacking in monkey sightings, I'm making up for in the discovery of new species of bugs. For better or for worse.
5) I'm bad at squatter toilets. "How can you be bad at a squatter toliets?!" asks my husband. Just trust me, and don't judge.
6) I want free kleenex too. Here in Japan, people give away free, travel-size packages of kleenex with propaganda either printed right on the packaging or enclosed. However, as conspicuously as I try and walk by the person handing out the tissues, they tend to ignore me. Justin says this is because they don't want to waste their giveaway on someone who can't read their advertisement anyway. That's fair, but it is a little saddening that I don't get little kleenex packages like everyone else. The good news is that the people at our post office here in Yasuoka have given me kleenex not once, but twice! They are my friends (although they probably don't know it).
7) Wakarimasen, but sometimes it's not worth saying it. "Wakarimasen" is the word I have learned to use to tell people I don't understand. But sometimes, I choose not to use it. There have been a handful of times when I have been approached by an elderly lady who begins to talk to me, without hesitation. This is very sweet, but puts me in a predicament. My standard response of "wakarimasen" at this point requires one of two things:
a) interrupting the poor lady mid-sentence and rudely cutting her off by unceremoniously and abruptly saying, "I don't understand," and likely leaving her feeling embarrassed and awkward, or,
b) waiting until the nice lady has finished talking (which is sometimes a while), and then unceremoniously and abruptly saying, "I don't understand," first allowing her to, and then informing her that, she has just wasted three minutes of her time on me and I didn't bother to even try and stop her.
Which is more rude? I have to make a really quick judgement call, and if I know that the exchange likely won't require much of a response, or the person is a stranger and I will likely never speak to them again, I just smile and maybe nod a bit, and the lady leaves the interaction likewise with a smile. I do my best to try and understand (although probably actually only getting 0.5% of it), and nobody comes out having been rude or slighted.
8) I speak Spanish to Japanese kids. After a year of my interactions with children being primarily in Spanish, and with very little interaction with young children since then, I have discovered that my brain has been re-wired to speak to humans under the age of 6 in Spanish. The good news is, as far as I know, most young Japanese children don't know the difference between Spanish and English, and holding hands and running crazily in circles is a universal language.
9) If I put my windshield wipers on, it's me trying to tell you I'm turning. Everything is a Japanese car is reversed. Signaling is a struggle.
10) I've run out of confessions.
6) I want free kleenex too. Here in Japan, people give away free, travel-size packages of kleenex with propaganda either printed right on the packaging or enclosed. However, as conspicuously as I try and walk by the person handing out the tissues, they tend to ignore me. Justin says this is because they don't want to waste their giveaway on someone who can't read their advertisement anyway. That's fair, but it is a little saddening that I don't get little kleenex packages like everyone else. The good news is that the people at our post office here in Yasuoka have given me kleenex not once, but twice! They are my friends (although they probably don't know it).
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| My post-office kleneex. |
a) interrupting the poor lady mid-sentence and rudely cutting her off by unceremoniously and abruptly saying, "I don't understand," and likely leaving her feeling embarrassed and awkward, or,
b) waiting until the nice lady has finished talking (which is sometimes a while), and then unceremoniously and abruptly saying, "I don't understand," first allowing her to, and then informing her that, she has just wasted three minutes of her time on me and I didn't bother to even try and stop her.
Which is more rude? I have to make a really quick judgement call, and if I know that the exchange likely won't require much of a response, or the person is a stranger and I will likely never speak to them again, I just smile and maybe nod a bit, and the lady leaves the interaction likewise with a smile. I do my best to try and understand (although probably actually only getting 0.5% of it), and nobody comes out having been rude or slighted.
8) I speak Spanish to Japanese kids. After a year of my interactions with children being primarily in Spanish, and with very little interaction with young children since then, I have discovered that my brain has been re-wired to speak to humans under the age of 6 in Spanish. The good news is, as far as I know, most young Japanese children don't know the difference between Spanish and English, and holding hands and running crazily in circles is a universal language.
9) If I put my windshield wipers on, it's me trying to tell you I'm turning. Everything is a Japanese car is reversed. Signaling is a struggle.
10) I've run out of confessions.
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