three things

1. There is a place in Shinjuku, beyond the lights and ads for the sleazy Kabukicho, where middle-aged housewives can pay Y5000 for one hour to take out their frustrations smashing plates against a blank wall. Venues like this (which you will never see advertised and can seldom glance) are apparently popular with the pent-up people of Tokyo. There are even places where, for the right fee, you can completely trash a pre-arranged room. Destroy it, feel better, live to see another day. Such is life in the city.

2. My host mom and I spent an hour or so last night talking about pets over a free magazine she picked up at a pet store. She simply looooooves animals and it's sooooo cuuuute. If only she had better taste than to pick a Shi-Tzu for a housepet. Anyway, what's interesting is that in Japanese, guinea pigs are called "marumoto" (read: marmot). When she pointed this out, I started laughing like crazy and tried to explain the difference in English between the two. Of course, Marmots don't maintain the silly connotation to everyone like they do to Justin and I (and now Rachel and Micah) but it was still fun to try and explain what a fat, lazy, silly creature a real marmot is. It's also interesting that the Japanese use the word "marmot" in the same way we use "guinea pig" to connotate a test subject. My mom gave the example of "Watashi, marumoto shitakunaiiiii!" ("I don't wanna be the marmot!!!") I laughed even harder.

3. Today the old man at the mom and pop flower shop made me smile harder than anything else here has so far. I stopped along the way to Baba station to buy my host brother and his new wife poinsettias for their apartment. When he saw me take interest in his flowers, he smiled brightly (and toothlessly?), barked "DOUZO!!!" ("Please" or "You're welcome to it/them") and then laughed a hearty, belly laugh either at my naive, gaijin face or his own joke... I'm not sure which, but either way the laugh warmed me up to him immediately so I stuck around. A radio in the shop was playing Sinatra's My Way and the shopfront smelled and looked like Christmas from the pine branches and string lights. When I selected two poinsettias, red and white, he looked delighted and exclaimed loudly "arigatou gozaimasu!" as if my doing him business was some sort of incredible honor. He gladly wrapped them for me when I asked and I watched his hands, calloused, filthy and well-worn as he carefully and lovingly tied the ribbon. This man was a real person. He waited while I fished for change and allowed me to put on my gloves before he handed me the flowers. When we made small talk about the cold weather before I left, he called Japan Nippon and his gruff voice was proud and strong. I thought to myself, this is a man with his heart in the past and, for a moment, so was mine.