Teaching for the Mafia, AH SNAP!

You might think its awesome, and yes it does sound like it.
At the end of the day you may have to cut a finger off or two though. At least that's the impression I got.

If  I could walk around with a sword that'd be cool. Chopping stuff in half. Every little boys fantasy.

I guess I should explain that I think some of my regular students had parents that were mafia aka yakuza or I think at least some underworld connections.
My general consensus was that orange spiky hair and gold chains or for that matter any sort of gold bling equaled mafia. That may or may not be true. I loved the tracksuits with gold omega watches.
I was like dude you look good, but at the same time you don't. You be hurtin'. I didn't say it out loud for fear of losing my tongue.

If you look like this in Japan with that much bling you are definitely mafia.

Anyways back to reality.

Not only were some of my students families yakuza (mafia) or at least I thought, but a friend offered me a job. A good paying job he told me. Hmmm.. What do I have to do? For the right price I might... wait, well actually 100% will do anything. Just depends on the money.
He said teach English to three little kids. Great I thought, sign me up, should be as easy as pie.
That part I was wrong. What else is new. There seems to be a theme repeated in this blog about things I got wrong.
He forgot to tell me the family was linked to the underworld, and this job might be my last. Or at least just a few fingers less. Incase you didn't know, a lot of yakuza (mafia) in Japan have their fingers cut off for each mistake. I was known to make plenty as evidenced again through this blog.
I met the three kids and tried to teach them English games. One girl kept repeating in Japanese "I hate English and I hate you". Good start I thought. She loves me. Don't people insult to show love. One finger down, nine to go.
I said OK let's start with a few fun games. "I hate games she said". Oh, perfect!
I setup the game which she then flipped upside down. My temper was starting to rise like the mercury on a summer's thermostat (I can't think of a better analogy right now). Maybe like the fires of Mordors erupting with the one ring to rule them all melting in it? (Lord of the Rings reference FYI). I have to explain it because older generations don't get it even though LOTR is a book originally and old.

OK so I was a bit mad, like Mordor from Lord of the Rings. It was a fitting mood for this little brat. I hoped she didn't have my fingers removed.

After a dreadful two hours and lots of crying (more on my part than hers perhaps) I drove back to town with her mother. So, things didn't go so well I mentioned. Your daughter is a brat, I don't think this is going to work. She begged me to continue, but I refused. When I got home I spoke to the guy that got me the job. He told me I better be careful. When I asked why, he said those dudes are connected and could take me out. I didn't know what he was implying at that point, did he mean will take me out to McDonald's? One of the children, the non brat one wanted to continue lessons, which I agreed to. They invited me to a family dinner. I spoke in Japanese and asked the father what he did. Well, various things, he said. I wondered if that involved killing people with guns and samurai swords. If yes, could I join them instead of teaching brats English, oh but not your daughter. Even if she was I wouldn't dare risk saying it.
I continued with the lessons until I was ready to leave Japan. When I informed them I would be leaving soon, they informed me very directly I was to find a replacement. I didn't know if I had an option to say No.
I wondered if that's what had happened with the guy that set me up, he was ordered to find me. I started to try to remember if he had all his fingers.
I found a super nice girl to replace me. I told her straight up I wasn't too sure what was with the family or what they did (but might be shady). She told me all she cared about was money.
That's the kind of girl you want. They also dropped her amount by $20 per hour.
Apparently the brat girl came back to the lessons and loved her. I heard she said "I love you teacher" in English every lesson.
WTF.

At least I didn't die I guess, or lose any fingers.

I was a little fearful I might have one finger become a USB drive.

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Four Weddings and a Funeral Minus Three Weddings

Four Weddings and a Funeral Minus Three Weddings

Wow, how to be classy. I didn't do that. Mine was probably worse.

I've never been good at math plus the title "Four Weddings and a Funeral" seemed catchy. The problem being, there was only one wedding not four, but ah, just a few numbers off. 
I think there was a movie title like that with Hugh Grant.

Anywho..

I did go to a wedding and a funeral in Japan. Both were a little strict. I always think of weddings as a blast, but Japanese Shinto ones are a little overly dramatic and you need to follow rules.
You have to say certain things which I don't recall (and I just mumbled ra ra ra a few times), since I didn't understand. You are also supposed to drink sake from a plate at a set time but I misunderstood and drank it as soon as I saw it (bad luck x 1000 for the couple maybe?). Whoops!

Traditional Snowmen funeral. Bucket and all. Shinto is similar, in the fact they both like the colour white.

The funeral was similar except it was a Buddhist funeral and I messed up majorly, so I was laughing during the funeral procession. We were supposed to light incense and put it in this kind of sand area, but mine got too hot so I put it on the wood table and it started to smoke the wood. Luckily they blamed it on my foreign "Gaijin-ness" when in fact it was because I'm an idiot.

I should have tried this at the traditional Shinto wedding, but with sake.

Incidentally I confused the Japanese character for my honourable condolences, to congrats on your honourable wedding. The Japanese/ Chinese character for honourable is the same, and I didn't recognize the other two, so I figured they were interchangeable.
Someone mentioned you can buy this special envelope at any grocery store, so I figured what the hell (what the hay for you younger people) why not buy one there. The same person mentioned you are supposed to put money inside of it. I found out later the quality of the bill matters as well. If you are congratulating someone you must ensure its a new bill crisp and flat. If its for a funeral you have to give an old crumpled ratty tat tat bill (aka heavily used). Who knew?
Naturally at the funeral I gave the wrong bill, a brand new crisp bill indicating they last forever (which might mean they will stay a hungry ghost?). Whoops!

As I handed him the envelope he gave me a strange look, as if shocked. He had seen the wrong characters I guess. 
I had forgotten the set phrase I was supposed to say to him so I decided to say something that sounded somewhat similar "I hope you get through your sickness, it won't last forever." Smooth recovery I thought. 
Or maybe not.

I'm sure for him this was a WTF moment. First, this stupid foreigner comes to his families funeral. He nearly burns down the ancient Buddhist temple, he gives an envelope with a small amount of money (that may have been another issue too) and to top it off he tells me to get over a sickness I don't even have. On top of that, he gets a bonus surprise when he finds a brand new crisp bill in as a reward for the death in the family and an everlasting ghost. Whoops!

I'm lucky I didn't get a slap or had my own funeral. 
He did his cordial and 100% fake thank you and I walked away.

I suspect he has a voodoo doll of me that he is poking everynight. My joints have been aching recently, which would explain it.

Hey a little to the left, my shoulder needs some relief. No more needles in the eye kindly.

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Other funny stories from this blog 
http://memoirsgaijin.blogspot.ca/

My blog about everyday life (not Japan related)
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Train Etiquette and Such

Train Etiquette and Such

You can say that again. I did see some foreigners do this (maybe me too. Little secret!)

You know there are a lot of rules on the train in Japan. Most of them involve behind considerate of others. But let’s get serious, we know foreigners are not going to be considerate and to top it off they are going to walk all over the rules and feign ignorance. I know cause I did it.
I found out a lot of the rules were even written in English. And amazingly most of them I could actually read and make sense of. The odd didn't, but this isn't about that.

A few common rules across any train company.

1) Don’t molest women (That’s probably pretty standard in Japan, in North America we don’t write that one cause its already understood by all, or you go to jail. Not in Japan I guess).
2) Don’t use your cellphone on the train. There are two reasons for this, one most of the signs claim that people who using pacemakers will suddenly keel over dead. If this was the case I think this would be a rule everywhere on the planet. But who knows, I'm no doctor (but I can perform brain surgery if you give me the chance!)
I don’t doubt holding a cellphone directly to your chest at the pacemaker is good, but I would think the people who are using it wouldn't get that close and rub them up (unless they are breaking rule 1 about molesting. I know I did. Kidding!).
The other reason has to do with noise, its an intrusion and burden to everyone else.They can’t escape your phone call and don’t want to hear about your story about feeding your pet chihuahua.
3) Give your seats to the elderly and needy such as pregnant women. For all the people that are kind in Japan, I found this rule to be broken left and right, I noticed the young people who would be wide awake would suddenly close their eyes at a stop when old people got on, then wait till the train started again to open their eyes. Note taken. I'm going to try that next trip.

I was always stressed about sitting around other gaijin (foreigners). I knew very well we were going to be the loudest on the train and everyone around us water to murder us.
One night when my girlfriend, Anthony (infamous from my other stories) and I were coming back on the train we got talked to by a random man. We were our typical selves, laughing saying stupid things and being loud. Anthony was telling some story and this Japanese guy (very nerdy looking) was sweaty heavily and staring directly at us. Finally he said "Shizuka ni shite kuremasu ka?" Can you be quiet for me. Anthony didn't know what he was saying so he continued his story and the guy said it in a higher voice like he was ready to snap. I thought it was funny and giggled, but I told Anthony he wanted us to shut up or he said he would kill us (which he didn't say). We tried to be a little quieter, I looked at the guys face and it looked like he really did want to kill us.
I think he had enough and walked to the next train car, even though I thought we had brought our volume down, apparently not.
I recall one time standing on a train with a bunch of Americans, one guy kept saying the girl standing beside him was super hot and she wanted him. I considered telling him you should be careful of what you say you never know who speaks English or who is even Japanese.
After he went on and on about how he should ask her on a date and for sure she would say yes, she turned directly to us and said “Thanks assh%#les. Enjoy Japan”.
I laughed. He was still convinced she wanted him. I told him he was right, but I lied.
He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed as they say.

For a while I thought this was a rule. BUST UP!? , wow they are strict. Its actually an advert.
A good one at that.

My Youtube Channel, wearing red tights and jumping around as Deadpool (but I say Dadpool to avoid copyright. Smarter than I look!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUXxArlapy0

Other funny stories from my blog
 http://memoirsgaijin.blogspot.ca/


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Rockin a Granny Bike Ain't Cool

Rockin a Granny Bike Ain't Cool

I wish I could have done that. Instead I kept my head down in embarrassment.

Rocking a granny bike under any conditions is not cool. I can assure you because I did it for three years. I don’t recall ever seeing anyone not under the age of 40 using one back in Canada. That being said about it not being cool, well the basket part on the front part is very useful. I carried just about everything in it. Groceries, jerry cans of petrol, laptops (even desktops), children (well maybe not that). I think in China they carry children and dogs in it, usually together.
In Asia and in my case, Japan. Everyone with an arm and a leg rocks a granny bike. Yes its very uncool, but they don’t look at it that way. They see is as a convenience machine. Little work and big payoff. For small roads its very trustworthy (unless there are large ditches and you drink).

Rocking a granny bike under any conditions is not cool. I can assure you because I did it for three years. I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West. Only not as cool.

My school assigned me a super rusty granny bike to get around. I thanked them, but thought, I hope I can get rid of this ASAP and get something better. My wish came true when one of my Australian friends left after a year. I rocked that new Wicked Witch of the West bike for one full year (my pretties). His bike was a little more manly than the one I had and newer. The tires were bigger and the basket didn't bend and break when I put stuff in it. Plus it wasn't rusty, which was sweet. Half decent, kind of.
All bikes in Japan come with a built in lock system. Its a tiny little key that pops out and prevents the bike from moving, if you leave it in, or lose the key. You are toast though. I occasionally forget it in.
I had also bought a trusty lock from the dollar store. I figured it’d be like be murder she wrote, only I wrote it and no murder involved (this time). I had double locks so on top of having a somewhat cooler but still granny bike, I figured no one would try and steal it. I thought wrong.
There is a saying about Japan. That Japanese are very honest except for when it comes to two items “bicycles and umbrellas”. They go missing like you wouldn't believe. More than once I contemplated informing the local police station “MY DOLLAR STORE UMBRELLA IS MISSING AGAIN I NEED IMMEDIATE ACTION”. I also considered calling the SDF (Self Defense Force) in the name of my missing umbrella. My other friend just grabbed someone else's nicer umbrella in retaliation.
One night I locked my bike near a Heiwado Department Store. The sign said “Don’t lock your bike here”. I ignored the sign and parked my bike (a bit of a rebel you could say). I figured with the double lock what’s the worse that could happen.
I didn't come back till the next day. To my astonishment all the other bikes that were around mine were still there except for mine. It occurred to me, I should have brought the rusty bike the school had lent me so they wouldn't have zeroed in on a somewhat cooler non rusty granny bike. I just lost my Mustang. I could no longer go from zero to hero, I was now going from 0mph - 2mph in under one minute with a rusty "Creek, creek, creek" sound.
I rocked the rusty blue piece of crap for the remaining two years.

Don't worry if you fall your helmet will protect you. Oh wait, no helmet. Uhhhh...

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Broken Bones, Broken Homes

From Broken Bones, to Broken Homes

Its not that bad, I should be OK to fight.

I think the title makes it sound like some sort of abuse. I guess in some ways it was.
As I mentioned in previous posts I had a teacher at my school that weighed over 150kgs, which is over 300 pounds. He was a big boy!
He told me to come to his club in Omihachiman, so I did. He was like the marshmallow man only scarier. And I couldn't eat him (technically).

The Evil Marshmallow man. I think if I saw him I'd just eat his legs.

When I was a kid in high school my Judo teacher used to say “Unless you fight the best you can’t become the best”. Good analogy I thought, except when it almost kills you.
You would think that if someone is so much better than you, they have a lot of control and so can prevent someone else from getting hurt.
The large Judo guy I mentioned above was a bit of racist. He liked to mumble “Damn Gaijin!” a lot. He seemed to not enjoy foreigners that much. He enjoyed throwing me on the mats and telling me I was a wimp (which is true). If he thought that would make me go harder, he thought wrong. It didn't turn me into an angry frenzy to fight back. It made me become tired and less aggressive because I knew it was true. Alas, with my 125 lbs frame and zero muscle I was The WEAKEST LINK. I'd vote myself out of the tribe if I was on Survivor.
There was one massive guy at the club who was bigger than this guy, so I guesstimate his weight to be about 340 lbs. They say that in Judo, regardless of size anyone can win, if you are good enough. My issue. That’s simple. I wasn't good enough.
He asked to go with me, and I thought of the motto go against the best so I said OK. He was so big I couldn't move him. He tried to throw me and I blocked. Then he used his weight to force me into the ground but since he was using his weight he landed on me since I was resisting. Crap!
I couldn't breathe at all. Felt like someone, in this case a two ton marshmallow man, had just crushed my lungs. My diaphragm failed to inflate again. My Judo teacher who was the only big guy started yelling at me “Get up wimp! Damn gaijin! All weak”. I tried to get up but something didn't feel right. He grabbed me by the scruff of my judogi (Judo outfit) and pulled me to the side of the mat like I was a rag-doll. I rolled to my side but couldn't get up, I figured I must have torn a muscle. Slowly I got up, the big monster Judo guy, said one more round. Again he threw me the same way and landed on me. I thought he must hate me, since normally in practice you don’t land on people, especially since there was over 160 lbs weight difference. He must have known he was hurting me. Ah, the joy of racism and beatdowns.
I continued the rest of practice being thrown by various people. Everytime I got thrown I felt like my wind was getting knocked out of me (and perhaps my brain cells as well). When I got home, I decided to ice the area to heal the torn muscle. Didn't seem to help. Every time I laughed, moved or lifted, I felt sharp pain.
Three weeks of pain went by and I continued going to Judo. I figured a torn muscle should have healed by now (if I had stopped Judo maybe it would I also thought), being thrown repeatedly wasn't good for it. I thought I saw a protrusion from my skin a few times, and it felt hard. After many people suggested I go get it checked out, I finally did.
I went to the nearest hospital. I told them I had hurt my side, maybe muscle in Judo. She asked when. I said three weeks ago. And she asked “It hurts still?”. Hell yes it does.
After waiting two hours I was put in a room with two young male doctors. I wondered if they were interns. “I wish Tanaka sensei was here. He speaks English”, they kept repeating to each other.
Ummm, hello I speak Japanese, not perfect, but enough to communicate.
“Umm, Hi Doc, my rib hurts, maybe muscle”, I said. “I wish Doctor Tanaka was here, he speaks English”, they answered. Ummm is he going to repeat this forever I thought.
He felt my rib and said we need to take an X-ray. “It seem your ribs are broken and maybe your brain too”. No, that second part isn't true (at least not he couldn't tell by the X-ray about my brain). He shows me the X-ray, and tells me my rib broke in the middle. Uhh, that didn't sound good. He told me that it was split like a wishbone in half and poking out. He even drew me a picture. If only Dr.Tanaka was here could explain it to me better he said. Haha, repeating jokes, I like. I'm very simple.
“Well not much we can do. Broken ribs tend to heal themselves. You must have been in a lot of pain for three weeks. I can wrap them but it won’t really do anything after three weeks”.
I half ass thanked him and headed home (I should have told him Dr.Tanaka would have fixed it if he was there).
I decided against doing Judo where I might get thrown for a month. I did however continue to do groundwork where my friends would use their knees into my stomach and broken rib. It never seemed to heal. I guess that’s why.
After six years it still hurts. My mom told me its phantom pain, that I'm just making it up. I'm not sure for what purpose I’d make up pain. I'd rather not have it. I tried yoga-ing it out to no results.
I haven’t been doing Judo recently due to my six year old broken ribs and broken neck.
Broken neck story to come later.
I tried to go to a less contact sport like soccer but I hear a cracking sound when I run and if I try to head the ball, I feel like someone hit me on the head with a baseball bat. 
I can't win.

He must have something broken for that pain. Maybe neck and rib like me? Maybe I'll become a blogger, its safer.

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Other funny stories from this blog 
http://memoirsgaijin.blogspot.ca/

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Underwear and Departure Time

This is kind of what the airport looked like. Only underwear was flying everywhere.

After three years in Japan, I realized I had acquired a lot of treasure (aka junk). I have a problem with throwing stuff out. I wouldn’t do it (and still won't). I put the bags together of all the things I wouldn't be carrying back to Canada in my suitcases, yes plural. Rubber chicken. Why do I have it and why do I need it in the future? Ten never used ice packs, why do I have so many? Ten rubber balls, what the heck? Am I five years old? Where did they even come from? A pair of women’s panties that say dollar store on them. Was that a gift to me? (from myself to myself?). Maybe I have split personalities.
I contemplating carrying some VHS tapes back, I had acquired about one hundred VHS tapes across the three years (and no not the Xrated versions). Of course, I no longer had a VHS player, but I imagined sometime in the future I could get one. Too bad VHS sucks and they are big and cumbersome. No room in my bags for it.
I gave the three large plastic bags of treasures (junk) to my Mexican-American friend, let’s call him Fernando. I knew he would stay for at least another year in Japan. Like me, he had acquired many things throughout his years and he didn't throw anything out. I knew the rubber chicken would not be going to the trash bin, instead it would continue its life cycle of uselessness.

I thought about keeping it. I'm sure I could use it somehow in the future. Or not!

As I packed my bags for home, I decided I should bring my desktop computer. The only problem was it was massive. I dismembered it (and by that I mean disassembled), and packed it in pieces.
Now for clothes. I don’t know why exactly but I had a lot of tighty whities and boxers. I guess because compared to Canada they were one of the only things that were relatively cheap. I could buy a pair at the dollar store (Daiso in Japan). I bought so many pairs I thought they would last years to come or more likely based on their quality, rip in half very soon.
I sent eight boxes full of stuff back to Canada by boat (the cheapest way possible). I still had over packed, and then even though I had read the weight restriction was 30 pounds, my wife had seen a note saying an additional $20 for $20 more pounds. Seemed so cheap so I made all my luggage weigh 50 pounds. Maybe I could put a small child in my bags too to pay for my ticket!
When we got to the airport to check in, there was a large line. To top it off, we didn't arrive early enough and I was super stressed. When we got to the front of the line the Japanese-American service clerk weighed my bag. “This bag is 50 pounds! The max is 25 pounds”. I was like WTF. I informed him the website said an additional $20 for 20 pounds. “Are you kidding me?”, he answered. I wasn't sure that was polite to a seven star General (I just made that up!). He said there was no way it was possible and he couldn't even calculate how much it would cost to go over the 25 pound limit in his head in costs. I was like oh shi$. He told us we better repack our bags. I started throwing my stuff everywhere. Since underwear weighed the least I decided to remove some of the heavier computer parts (motherboard, hard drive). I started throwing my underwear everywhere, all over the desk, on the floor, on peoples feet behind me. I could hear the older Japanese ladies laughing in line.
I was laughing too, I couldn't remember if I had washed any of those underwear! The joke was on them.
After fifteen minutes our Mission Impossible became Mission Possible. Maybe I'll get a new eight star General ranking? We ran like hell to the postal outlet at the airport. We were lucky they even had one there. I threw computer parts, my LCD monitor, my Playstation 2 etc into the box. I actually had to buy the boxes there, so I bought the cheapest ones (surprise). I hoped everything would be OK when it arrived in Canada delayed a few weeks after I would arrive.
When I rebuilt the computer at home, sparks shot out of the motherboard. Seems some fuses blew and parts of the motherboard has cracked in transit.
The only good news is it still seemed to function, although it smelled like an electrical fire for a few months. My nose lost some smell after being near it for long enough.
Oh and as for the underwear, I decided to play it safe and wash all of them for once.

I took the high road and washed all of them. They were fine I'm sure. Kind of like this one. Looks clean right? Just turn it inside out my friend Ken always tells me.

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Other funny stories from this blog 
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Food Poisoning by Special Students

Food Poisoning by Special Students 

Anko and Unko
Similar words very different meanings.

I used to love my special needs students. At first, the main English teacher would go to class himself. Then, he introduced us and said we could team teach with him. That seemed good. At that time there were three special need students. They seemed to lack emotion sometimes but on the opposite end of the scale were very extreme other days. Very angry or upset. And I wasn't sure what their level of communication was in general, let alone their English when I first went to the classes.
Instead of team teaching it became alone teaching, as in just me. It would have been OK if there was someone there to discipline them, but I'm a little soft and I didn't want to upset them (in their fragile state).
One girl liked to scratch her nails on the board. I asked her to stop in English. Other-times while teaching them something, she would repeat “Moshi moshi” five thousand times. It means “Hello” on the telephone, but can also be used to get someone's attention. She was relentless with it, so I started to go insane (the joke was on them, I already had!).
Another mistake I made with her was to give her my telephone number. She said she wanted to text me. I was under the impression she meant once in a while,  not every ten minutes. When I didn't respond she would send hate texts about how I was ignoring her and being rude. I informed her I was asleep as it was night-time and she shouldn't be using her phone so late.
Eventually I gave up and told her teacher I needed her to delete my number and inform her not to scratch her nails on the board as I was living in a horror film being around her (I think the RING). 
That was true, it was a horror film life.
One boy, I wasn't too sure what his situation was. He hung out with the bad kids and swore a lot in Japanese. I think he liked me but it was hard to tell (he didn't hit me or scratch his nails, so bonus there). One time during my farewell party with all of them, the special needs teacher mentioned they had made lunch for me. Lucky me I thought!
I was excited, until I saw the bad kid pick his nose, then scratch his bum and put his hands back into the rice. I was a bit horrified. I contemplated how I could come up with an excuse to get out, since I was already there.
He kept repeating he had put “unko” into the rice balls. If you didn’t know unko means excrement or crap in English. I hoped that it was just a special needs joke, or he was mispronouncing.
It sounds a lot like “anko” which is sweet bean and fairly common in rice balls.

Well it might look like "unko" aka crap, but this one is "anko" red bean.
The taste shouldn't be similar, at least in theory.

I really hoped he had not put “unko” into the rice balls. As I went to put my first bite into the balls he had an evil grin on his face, “Enjoy the “unko”!”, he said. It seemed he had added a lot salt and seaweed as well, which is weird if its sweet bean. I'm no cook like Jamie Oliver, but those don't go together. If it was indeed crap then he had covered up the flavour quite well with the salt and seaweed. No matter what it was inside I had a feeling I was about to get a sore stomach and severe diarrhea. What else is new!
I thanked them for the lunch (and was thinking where can I throw up?). They asked if I wanted to take any home. I said I was full and that I would be out at farewell parties so would have no chance to eat it.
As I left, I thought I overheard the bad boy say “Oh I gave him the wrong one, who ate the unko one?”. I hoped it was himself that ate it!

I'll try cleaning it after I die. My corporation will deal with my death.

If you found anything above amusing or even slightly funny help me out and click one of those boxes above or give me a Google +1 or something. Might come in handy in the future.

Other funny stories from this blog 
http://memoirsgaijin.blogspot.ca/

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My Youtube Channel (makes no sense just like my blog)
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The Big Announcement

Mr C's Big Announcement 

It wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The beer tasted like soap I thought. Umm yummy.

This was written by one of my best friends in Japan who is from New Zealand.

With his permission I am posting this and not using his name. But it starts with a B.

So I'll fill you in on a few details on one of stories.
-Myles' neck was in a brace (he can explain the story of that).
-We had moved the Nagahama Block meetings from Roman Beer (hall) to this Brazilian restaurant across the train tracks (near the castle).  This was for a few reasons; we kept getting mean looks from the staff at Roman Beer (foreigners got banned for a while I think), also this new place had a big upstairs area that was always empty, and the food and beer was cheaper (they served these deep-fried parcels of meat and veges, don't know what they were called.  Everything got served in these weird wicker baskets, which things would leak through.
Anyway, it came time for the Block meeting.  I'd already gone to the station to meet Sachi, so Myles was going to get a ride with Mr.C.  But, Mr.C was feeling sick, so he made Myles drive.  Even though Myles couldn't turn his head to look to the side at intersections.

So we're all there at the block meeting, we've played our usual Mariokart tourney, everyone's eaten, we've talked about whatever business needed to be talked about (the Christmas party maybe).  It was getting late, and so Sachi and I got up to leave.  Just as we were at the staircase, Mr.C suddenly stood up, as if he had a big announcement to make.  But instead of speaking he picked up one of those little wicker baskets and vomited copiously into it.  Now of course, those little baskets couldn't even contain our food very well, so it acted more like a sieve, firing streams of vomit in all different directions.  It was, needless to say, a spectacular sight.  There was a moment of complete silence, as everyone tried to process what happened, then people started to rush over to help.  As soon as they were in range ka-blammo! he struck again.
Sachi turned to me and asked 'should we go back and help?'  And I said 'looks like they've got it under control' and sprinted out the door.

Myles follow-up details

I didn't like the beer at Roman Beer (hall) anyways so it wasn't a big loss for me. Plus every time I drank it I got diarrhoea. I thought it tasted like soap. I was more than glad to move from there to the Brazilian place.
They really hated us at Roman Beer. Lots of drunk foreigners doing dumb stuff and making too much noise I reckon. Perhaps like this fellow below.

Dumb Gaijin! We think we got a license to be idiots once we arrive in Japan. I know I did!

-In addition, my neck was in a brace cause a Judo teacher tried to kill me. He snapped some cartilage in my spine, which meant I couldn't turn my neck (a future blogpost perhaps?). I shouldn't have been driving, cripples shouldn't drive (especially the broken neck variety). 
Mr.C felt sick and by that point we were late so I had no choice, it was a dangerous drive. I didn't want to tell him but when we crossed the train-tracks I couldn't turn to look either direction and floored it. 

Luckily, we survived. For once!

Those damn pumpkins! How can you not love them!

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Other funny stories from this blog 
http://memoirsgaijin.blogspot.ca/

My blog about everyday life (not Japan related)
http://eyethroughtheglass.blogspot.ca/


My Youtube Channel (makes no sense just like my blog)
http://www.youtube.com/user/judoka4eva

Can't Hear,Crap! Big Trouble Little Countryside

Can't Hear? Crap! Big Trouble in Little Countryside

This wasn't her village, but it is a countryside. 

I once went to visit my friend Yoko (that’s her real name not an alias by the way) in the countryside near Tokyo. Her family lived in the suburbs called Chiba. If you're interested its famous for peanuts. Its really the countryside.... like totally.
Cool, I thought, I get to visit the ol’ countryside.
I visited her family home which was a short walk from the station. It looked very traditional from the outside. They seemed to have electricity, how amazing I thought.
Since it was during the Winter holiday she had a lot of family visiting while I was there. There was one elderly aunt she introduced me too who I think may have been hard of hearing (as in completely deaf) and possibly vision impaired as well, because she didn't seem to know I was a gaijin “foreigner”. She spoke to me, asking my family’s last name and my hometown. When I told her Canada, she didn't bat an eye, because I don’t think she heard the response anyway.
Not a big deal except that when I went to use the bathroom I noticed there was no lock on the door. I could slide the door closed and there was a slight gap between the doors so that either person could tell someone was inside without seeing them in their porcelain throne glory. The only problem was if you are blind or close to blind, you can’t see the movement inside, and may think the door is closed due to remaining smells from previous occupants.
As I was trying to have my few minutes of peace, her aunt came to the door and started trying to open it. I tried to hold it closed yelling “Stop! I'm in here” in Japanese. She didn't seem to have any reaction as if she didn't hear me. She knocked on the door. In Japan you knock to see if someone is inside, as they would knock back to indicate yes there is someone in it. I knocked back but since she was deaf that didn't seem to work either. She kept pulling.
For someone so elderly she was pretty strong. That being said, on my side of the door was a tiny round metal handle which I could barely slide two fingers into. If I recall correctly she had a whole handle she could overpower me with. 

Dude, how can I block her when I can only get two fingers in this to block her.

She started to yell “Yoko! Your door seems to be stuck! I can’t get it open”. I yelled too “Yoko help! I'm in the bathroom and your aunt doesn't seem to hear me and has almost got the door open”.
The lactic acid in my fingers was starting to give out. I didn't know if I could hold the door anymore. Her aunt kept mumbling this door is so stiff I can’t get it open.
I resorted to English “LADY STOP! I'm in here, do not come in!”. Finally I could hear Yoko trying to tell her that someone was inside and lead her away. What a relief!
I couldn't continue my business (of porcelain time) due to anymore threats of the door opening. Stage freight I guess. She ruined my moment.

If you found anything above amusing or even slightly funny help me out and click one of those boxes above or give me a Google +1 or something. Might come in handy in the future.

Other funny stories from this blog 
http://memoirsgaijin.blogspot.ca/

My blog about everyday life (not Japan related)
http://eyethroughtheglass.blogspot.ca/


My Youtube Channel (makes no sense just like my blog)
http://www.youtube.com/user/judoka4eva