Welcome to mid-summer Olde Nagoyaland...a place for the uninitiated to avoid at all costs. As the mercury starts to push into the high 30's centigrade (the mid 90's or more for those stuck in the unfortunate land of stars and stripes, where fahrenheit is still a 'thing'), and the humidity averages over 75%, things get a bit challenging.
Since the last installment, my lovely wife and I did our annual (albeit far-too-brief) jaunt out of these precincts, over to Ishigaki Island, one of the most distant and far flung islands in the southern Ryukyu chain (about 400km SW of Okinawa, and 200km NE of Taiwan...making it just BARELY Japan).
Lovely place, more so than the main island, in large part due to the absence of any American bases, and the requisite cadres of Neanderthal jarheads that invariably go along with such installations. Beautiful weather (for the most part) with lovely beaches, azure blue skies, the most incredible translucent blue-green water I've ever seen, and a charming, small, intimate atmosphere that the main island lacks.
I guess the big thing over there is tourism from the mainland, passing cruise ships making port calls, and the recently ubiquitous hordes of Taiwanese and mainland Chinese vacationers - who, by and large, still haven't learned any manners, and will not hesitate to cut in front of you, elbow their way through the buffet line, and/or shit everywhere in the public restrooms but in the toilet itself. Add to this the Taiwanese habit of not flushing their shitty used arsewipe, but instead stuffing it in the nearest open trash container, or just throwing it on the restroom floor, and you have ample reason to fear and avoid using the 'facilities' anywhere near a busy tourist spot. I got the 'skinny' on why this happens, and apparently it's a 'no-no' to flush areswipe down the shitters in Taiwan ( I guess the plumbing can't handle it?), and local habits die hard, so they just carry on as if they were right back home (though when I was over there several years ago, I flushed my shit tickets every time. Perhaps that was a big 'no-no', too?) Anyways, if you're inviting or expecting guests or visitors from the former island of Formosa, be forewarned. Put a up a sign, or lay down some plastic sheets...because things will get poopy.
Another thing that I noticed on Ishigaki was the surly attitude of the young (20-something) local males working in the island's restaurants and bars. Slow, unenthusiastic service without a smile...rolling eyes and bad attitudes the likes of which I haven't witnessed since my teenage days slinging burgers with a bunch of ne'er do well punkers at McD's in Vancouver, or working as a nightman on the graveyard shift at 7-11 back in the mid 80's. My wife cracked it up to the excessive heat ("....their brains are melting..."), while I figured that, since there's no custom of leaving tips or gratuities, they simply lack any incentive to 'be nice'. The girls all seemed fine, though... and, from what we could see, this tendency toward surly assholiness seemed to be pretty much limited to the local young male population. On our second day, we actually had to walk out of one place after ordering noodles (which were promised within 10 minutes - yet still hadn't materialized in a half hour) because the service was so bad, and the staff such complete, unapologetic cocksuckers. We had made a point that we were pressed for time when we ordered, too.
Anyways...all in all, a lovely, rather simple place; one that I would not hesitate to return to, just to take a proper break from the usual thing back here with the local J-barbarians in this steamy, baking corner of J-Hades.
Speaking of the local dry-roasted, heat tossed J-barbarians, and all the lovely things that summer brings out in the denizens of this stinky, steaming industrial armpit of central Japan...I have to mention yet ANOTHER couple of unfortunate tendencies and habits popular among the indigenous folks in these parts, that drive me straight over the fucking edge of my already precariously perched grip on sanity. We'll call this recurring section, henceforth, 'Dumb shit the J-locals do that makes me want to KILL', just because.
Let's cut to the sundry events of today, just to keep things real.
I was out in the cruelty of today's end of July heat and humidity for my daily dose of self flagellation this morning (this consists of an hour's jog up the riverside and back), and was waiting on the street corner just in front of Komeda Coffee for the walk signal to turn, so that I could dash unmolested across the bustling four lane intersection, and get to the river path to do my torturous run. As I was waiting, just at the corner of the building, about a foot and a half from the wall of the cafe, a taxi pulled in, and a middle-aged woman with a billowing skirt and floppy, over-sized sunhat emerged curbside from the rear door. I knew right away that she was aiming herself for the cafe, no doubt to meet another, similarly frumpy middle aged woman, to while away the couple of hours before noon in its pleasantly air conditioned recesses, catching up on local gossip, or staring blankly at her smart phone. So, she comes dashing in my direction, and, as I said, I was standing about a foot and a half from the wall- side window of the shop, while there was an ample three meters of open sidewalk space between myself and the street directly to my right...and what does she do? She aims herself right through the foot and a half space between me and the aforementioned wall-window of the cafe, nodding with a goofy grin on her face as her billowing skirt brushes against my hairy, sweat dripping legs. I mean, I'm literally pouring sweat. There is no one at all to my right. Empty sidewalk all the way to the street, and an unobstructed double door entrance to the coffee shop right there. Why the FUCK would she want to run between me and the wall, through that narrow space? WHO DOES THAT? Jesus fucking CHRIST. Then I reflect. Actually, this happens all the time.
Standing in the video store, about a foot/foot and a half in front of a shelf of new release movies on a relatively slow weekday afternoon, perusing the selection, trying to figure out what I should choose. About two meters of free space behind me, before the next bank of display shelves, and someone decides to walk right between me and the fucking new release shelf, in that foot and half fucking gap, as opposed to just passing in the ample space behind me. What. The. Living. FUCK?? Why would anyone DO THAT?
Go to an art gallery, and it's a guarantee that this will happen AT LEAST twice in one 90 minute visit, as you're looking at a painting or display. No 'excuse me', or the such. It's mind boggling.
Oh - and jogging in the park. Yep. I'm running on the inside of the path, with less than a foot to spare before the path gives way to grassy field. There is at least two and a half meters on the outside, totally free...and yet, without fail, someone will come barreling up the inside of the track in the counter-clockwise direction (they almost ALL run counter-clockwise over here) straight at me, and then attempt to pass me ON THE INSIDE...in that fucking narrow-assed space of pavement between me and the field, instead of simply passing on the outside. In a couple of cases I've had them actually stop and wait for ME to MOVE. Un-fucking BELIEVABLE. I mean...this behavior isn't solely reserved for summer. This is year-round fuckheadery.
Then there's the bicycle parking thing. Tons of bicycles in this country. Go anywhere in the city, and they're everywhere. Parking can sometimes be a challenge, so I usually aim to park my bike where the fewest other bicycles are lined up. The last thing you want is to come out of the store and find that your bike has been buried under (or tightly sandwiched between) two dozen OTHER bikes. Their pedals get hung up in your spokes, the handle bars get all jazzed together, and it becomes a real fucking time wasting struggle to pry your transportation free from the mess of other crap bikes that have magically 'attatched' themselves to yours while you were in the store for 5 minutes getting some bananas. What you'll find is, it doesn't matter HOW FAR AWAY you park your bicycle from 'the crowd'...it becomes like a beacon...a bloody bug lamp. No matter what, by the time you come out of the shop, it will be smashed in between at least half a dozen OTHER bikes, even though there is ACRES of free space between where you parked, and the 'crowd' of bikes parked on the opposite side of the bike area. What the living FUCK? It's mind boggling.
Finally....movie theatres. Recently it's a thing to book your seats in advance via the internet, then simply pick up your tickets from a dispensing machine at the theatre when you arrive. It's kind of handy, actually. We can see the seating layout of the theatre online, and which seats are vacant and filled, so we can book the seats we like (the first choice of which are always dead centre, 6th row), and because it's relatively 'up front', it isn't the most popular, or 'first' choice with most other J-movie goers - which suits us fine. We also try not to book seats right beside other booked seats, so that everyone has their space. Space is a good thing. One rarely sees a movie theatre more than half full here...even with the biggest blockbuster movies...the locals don't give a shit. They'll go see their Japanese anime instead of Star Wars every day of the week. I actually think this is great. No crowds. The thing is, even though half the fucking theatre is empty, and we've booked our seats three or four days in advance, what invariably happens is that, just like in the bicycle parking scenario, we'll enter the theatre with our popcorn and drinks at showtime to find that, yes, indeed, we finally HAVE been SANDWICHED IN on BOTH SIDES...though most of the rest of the theatre, and more specifically, the rows directly in front of and behind us remain completely unbooked. WHAT THE FUCK? Why would anyone fucking DO THAT? Just to be annoying? Do they simply NOT THINK? Or is it some unfortunate manifestation of their tendencies toward groupism? "Let's all crowd together in this one oddball row, and crowd around this hapless couple, simply so we can all be fucking together!" It defies logic, and boggles the mind. Don't get me wrong...if the theatre is sold out, that's the way it goes. But the fucking place isn't even HALF FULL. Often there are only 20-25 people in the whole fucking place. Entire sections remain empty. Yet, it happens all the time. IT BOGGLES THE MIND.
This is the biggest stumper of all...and I'll close off with this. It's rush hour. The train is packed out like a tin of fucking sardines...yet the two seats on either side of you remain empty for the whole 20 minute ride home, while obviously exhausted looking J-locals sweat, clutch at their bags, briefcases and parcels, and hang on to the hand straps, or attempt to find that elusive, precarious 'hands-free', in-transit balance, while you luxuriate with space to spare to the right AND left. No one will sit on either side of you. Not a soul. In a way, you feel relieved, and grateful for the space...but catch yourself sniffing at your underarms for b.o., or checking your breath for some odour of garlic or stale coffee/booze. Nothing. The train reaches your station, and before you're even a step away from your seat, three arses have already planted themselves firmly. Food for thought?
Next stop, August, the Obon holiday break, and off to the wife's hometown to meet up with the family ghosties, and frolic with the mother-in-law, who we'll be hosting again at month's end, for her quarterly medical check-up. Until next time, stay hydrated and well ventilated...and remember,
"No matter where you go...there you are"
