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“You don’t like his face?”
After sumo wrestling, dating and talking about dating is the most popular sport for Japanese women. Considering everything is so private here, I was surprised when I was quizzed about my very (non) eventful lovelife. I often go through the whole explanation, well I’m only here in X,Y,Z for X weeks and I’m leaving then, so there’s no reason to think about any commitment to someone I only half-like. However, making friends is possible. I explained to a Japanese friend of mine that I’ve made friends with a few guys, maybe she would like to meet them. I was rolling into talking about my new male friend, that we went for dinner and clothes shopping together. This is often torture for me in the UK at the grand height of 5"2. It’s wonderful in Japan because I’m the average size. I also consider shopping a torture that girlfriends dish out to their boyfriends when something is not quite right or perhaps flattery is required. The public arena of the changing room is not the best space to answer your girlfriend when she’s fishing for compliments. “Does my bum look big in this?”, and quite rightly the male of the species begins to squirm for the right answer. Does anyone answer, “yes, of course it does”, with the exception of Jamaican men to their beloved.
I normally take the male role of waiting outside the changing rooms and giving opinions on clothes, minus the flattery. I give very straight answers, I’m the human anti-serotone, those who fish for compliments are often sorry. Likewise, I don’t fall over swooning at a compliment, this makes me very difficult and stubborn to catch. I keep a pinch-of-salt on the radar for such occasions.
“Is he your boyfriend?” she asked. “Well he’s really cool and ....... “. But you don’t like his face”, she interjected. I spluttered at her bluntness, she’s Japanese so I didn’t expect it, but the language barrier was the probably the cause of the most accurate sentence I’ve ever heard. She’d managed to beat me at my own skill.
“O.K, who do you like? I found myself trying to retreat from the conversation, (I tried quickly making up a person), but I guessed she’d caught me there. “Well there’s someone attractive to me, but I’m not sure about the personality, so I don’t think about it seriously.” “Ah, it’s very difficult, you should switch the personalities and the bodies of the two men.”
If only I’d thought of that before!
A whole lot of hugging
I’ve had a lot of opportunities to get up close and personal with an obese woman and trees. Outside of Yoyogi park near Haraku a bunch of people were offering free hugs outside of their free hug hippy bus. Taking the opportunities for all expereinces, I just went for the first person, it’s clearly a British mentality that beggers can’t be choosers. It was a free hug! The comment from my friends was, “why did you pick the fat one?” “I didn’t select, I’m sure she doesn’t discrimate either when she offers free hugs”. Some people can be far too fussy. But, I now know that trees are less selective than humans.
A few weeks ago I climbed Mount Takao, I expected it to be difficult. My day began with an exercise to get back in touch with nature. The leader of the event was a very tall American. So tall, I wondered how he coped here in Japan, he must spend most of his life crouched or sloped down. I’m remain curious about men who are leaders, especially those in physical occupations, they require a lot of trust, which could easily be abused. My day began blind folded in the forest surrounding Mount Takao guided by two Japanese woman. The purpose of the exercise? To understand and feel the tree, so when I’m no longer blind folded, I can find the tree. I had touch the tree very carefully for every lump and hole, for moss and leaves, perhaps the spirits in the tree enjoyed it. In turn, I lead two rather exhuberant Japanese women around the forest. What kind of kicks does a man get watching twenty blind-folded women in the forest?
I had hoped for something more challenging, challenges or rather seeking them out seems to be a sport of mine at the moment. I was very sorry that it only took sixty minutes. I was expecting something challenging so imagine my disappointment when I reached the top so quickly. It wasn’t a mission for the A team. It seems when something is not a challenge I don’t enjoy it as much. I went on a taster sailing course in April. I had the pleasure to meet my skipper, minus a parrot and eye patch, but he had a black toe and a typical sailors thirst for alcohol.
It was force six, nearly seven and I’d never been sailing before. The skipper said he was unsure if he should have taken me out as the only person without sailing experience. But he commented I was like Joan of Arc leading her army into battle. But I don’t think that Joan of Arc wore Ellen MacArthur Dungarees and a plastic mac. She probably had some cool chain metal armour too and thrilling weaponary skills to display. Even when the bough of the boat tipped up and smashed down onto the waves, I was without fear. The excitement only increased when it was my turn to steer the boat. On calmer days, my interest was subdued and I began to feel onset of sea sickness. I’m sure Joan of Arc wasn’t cut out for periods of peace and serenity. Likewise, I work better with an adventure on the horizon.
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