whirlwind
Yesterday, the wind roared through Tokyo and shook all the windows with the madness of a typhoon. West Shinjuku, which is normally a windtunnel when everywhere else is still (hence the proliferation of wind sculptures) looked like a warzone. Trains stopped due to wind and amubulances screamed by to unknown accidents but the Japanese just pulled their coats around themselves and held their umbrellas tighter as if it were a normal day, which, I suppose, it was.

Six of us skipped class to eat lunch at TGIFridays in Shibuya and then Hanna and I braved the Shinjuku wind (it was ridiculous) to go to South Kinokunia Books. I picked up The DaVinci Code at a non-unreasonable price (books are marked up here too) and because the weather was so perfect, I plowed through most of it last night.

Host mom says the wind was, in fact, not a typhoon but simply a low-pressure front. Today, as if we needed more proof summer is coming, thunderclouds are growling on the horizon, menacing my still-wet laundry.

I'm much more relaxed this term. "My classes are practically non-existant," to quote a friend. What classes I do have, outside of Japanese, which has itself gotten markedly easier, require practically no work of me. My Harvard professor, who seems to be the only one of my profs this term actually interested in intellectual thought (albeit primarily her OWN), has made attendance to her classes voluntary. I'm grateful for the decreased workload, not just because it gives me a chance to slack off, but because I'm sick and tired of having to PROVE to my University that I can think through ungodly amounts of soul-crushing busy-work. I've been here four years, gotten all but two As, and attended nearly every class. I'm paying enough that my participation should be voluntary and expressed in fewer, major assignments. I think I've learned how to take care of myeslf by now.

On top of that, with exactly two months to go before I leave, I've got to start packaging boxes to mail home, coordinating the layout of my luggage, closing accounts, saying goodbye to friends and seeing as much of this city as is humanly possible in the time I have left. It's not as if I don't have things to do outside of class.

I have a day off tomorrow, and next Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are also National Holidays. This series of consecutive holidays is known as Golden Week and is one of three national vacation times in Japan, the other two of which are New Years and Obon (August 12-16). My host parents may be making plans for us all to go to Shikoku, Kyushuu or Kamakura for two nights over the weekend. Unfortunately, in their usual way, they haven't figured it out exactly yet... they'll probably tell me on Friday the EXACT times we'll be leaving and returning.

Two days ago I went with my family to the Buddhist ceremony for the seven-year anniversary of
my host mother's father's death. As a rite, this ceremony is held on the first, third, seventh, etc, etc years of death on until either the 50th anniversary or everyone who cares as died or forgotten. It was, conceptually, more of a major event than I realized but the ceremony was also shorter and less formal than I thought it would be.

Host mom, Ayumi and I took the train out to the cemetery while Host dad met us there with the car. The cemetery was definitely one of the larger I've seen, situated in a small town that's sole purpose seemed to be catering to the needs of the dead. The stores lining the streets to the cemetery sold tombstones, water buckets for ceremonies, flowers and incense.

Once everyone in the family had arrived, direct extended relatives included, we proceeded to the gravestone, which took a little work as no one had been there for four years and they couldn't find it at first. A monk (with hair!) prayed over the stone for about half an hour, after which family members each offered a prayer to and poured water on the grave. Then the monk prayed a bit more and concluded the ceremony with a sermon that was much longer than everyone's patience for religious propaganda... I could tell by their faces. After he finished, he looked at me and said, in Japanese, "I bet you were wondering why I have hair." In fact, I had been wondering that, so his comment took me more than a little off-guard. As it turns out, he's a part of a sect that requires its members to shave their heads once, at age 9 and then permits them to choose whether or not they want to be bald or not-bald for the rest of their practice.

The family all went together to a traditional Japanese restaurant after the ceremony. The biggest surprise of the day came when my host mother, the coordinator of the gathering, distributed omiyage, or thank-you gifts, to the family members who had gone out of their way to come to the event, myself included. Again, it was just like the wedding. Even though I was simply flattered to be invited and my only desire, to take pictures, had already been accomplished, they thanked me profusely and presented me with gifts. I'm not talking trinkets either. Inside the large box was a set of two tins of Yoku-Moku cookies, a department store delicacy and not inexpensive treat. Inside the smaller box... was fifty dollars in $10 gift certificates to Odakyu department store.

I'm not stupid, so of course, I attempted (privately) repeatedly to refuse the gifts but of course my host mom refused. As much as I think I do, I guess I'll never understand the Japanese mentality.

Oh, and in case you thought I was kidding about Japan treating the released hostages poorly... It's far worse than I thought, and it's all printed in this article. Not only have the hostages been shunned and shamed, they're being fucking FINED $7,000 each for "getting in trouble" like naughty children. That is sick. Shame on you, Japan. Shame, shame, shame.

Come on, people, it's time to revolutionize this place. Wake up.