A bit late in the season, but Mina managed to catch this lovely late blooming hydrangea across the road. The sunlight was hitting it just perfect.
Summer solstice, and half the year's gone already. Aside from The Damned show back in mid March (detailed in the last dispatch), 2024 has pretty roundly failed to impress on almost every front thus far.
For a start, the deluge of sakura we expected after The Damned show failed to materialize, and the weather (which had started to warm slightly at that point) decided to make an abrupt u-turn, and revert back to a late February chill that carried on until after April Fool's Day.
On a more positive note, the first half of the year hasn't visited any terminal diagnoses or natural disasters upon us. We are fortunate to be together, with a roof over our heads, and the shit we need to keep on keeping on. As we get older, this in itself is kind of a big deal...particularly considering the fraught situation too many are finding themselves in these days.
Then there was this.
It was just short of noon on the third Saturday of March. For some reason, we were at the local Valor Supermarket a wee bit earlier than our usual 1pm drop in time. It was a brisk, but sunny day...and we'd managed to slide in to a prime parking spot. Surely this was a good sign, as we had to pick up two boxes of bottled tea and a box of soda water. These weigh a ton, so the closer we can get to the automatic doors, the better. No one needs a herniated disc to help usher in springtime.
After a fairly uneventful hunting and gathering session, we finished up at the checkout and aimed our cart for the closest bagging table.
All of the sudden, there was this horrible coughing almost directly behind us. Not a normal cough - an aggressive, croupy, barking hack. Like the hoarse exclamations of an unwell sea mammal. The kind of cough that turns heads, and causes concern.
The culprit?
A short, slightly over-weight woman in a ridiculous looking frilly collared black and white frock with medium length pulled back hair....maybe in her early to mid 30's? Truth be told, the natives are usually hard to nail down as far as age goes...at least up to a certain point.
To make matters worse, she was neither wearing a mask nor making any attempt to turn away or cover her face, instead electing to spray whatever she was packing in her upper respiratory tract all over everyone and everything within two or three metres.
I felt particularly sorry for the girl scanning the woman's items - that narrow plexiglass shield in front of the cashier's area certainly didn't look like it was offering much in the way of protection from the squall of spittle and aerosol micro droplets blowing directly at her. Unfortunately all the clerk had on for 'protection' was a standard white surgical mask.
Would it have been too much of an effort for the woman to turn down and away...or at least attempt cough into her arm?
Mina and I looked at each other in horror. We were barely on the outside edge of her spray radius.
'Holy shit', 'Gross', etcetera, etc.
We tried to get clear as fast we could, and managed to secure a rear corner spot at the closest bagging table. Mission accomplished - or so we thought.
We'd just started unloading our basket when the ugly frocked seal barking croup woman - a pre-school aged child and sheepish looking pudge husband in tow - decided to start unloading her cart right across from us - as in, at the same frigging table, no more than a metre away. Of course, she was still coughing her lungs up all over the place.
'Shit!', 'Jesus fuck', etcetera, etc.
Over the last few months, we'd been fortunate enough to avoid picking up any further doses of COVID or the flu - both of which had made their rounds on either side of the holiday season at our respective workplaces. With Hanami (cherry blossom viewing season) hopefully just around the corner, the last thing we wanted was to kick off spring stuck isolating at home for a week or ten days, with anything even remotely resembling that woman's frightening sounding cough.
We knew the drill, and swept everything off the table and back into the basket, then angled our shopping cart through a narrow gap over to an empty space at the rear corner of the packing table directly to our left.
Our muted discourse was something along the lines of,
'Fucking unbelievable', 'Disgusting', etcetera, etc.
At this point, it's worth noting that neither of us had passed comment to the croupy seal barking woman in question. Our primary focus had been on getting as far away from her as quickly we could. Any expressions of horror and frustration had been made to each other - and in tones neutral enough to avoid raising anyone's ire...or so we thought.
Yes...sadly, we've been down this road before.
As such, Mina now insists that I refrain from getting excited about shit manners and/or visibly sick people not masking up in the shops. If they're sneezing or coughing, I'm to simply move, instead of bitching and causing 'a scene', which time and again has proven to never do any good at all.
In these parts, my commentary (whether in English or hobbled Nihongo) generally elicits purposefully blank stares, or outright indifference from the natives. Anyone who is at all familiar with Japan, knows that your garden variety Nihonjin (Japanese) - if confronted or called out for shit manners - will invariably elect to play dumb. Caught in the act, said 'offending party' may shoot you a sort of 'deer caught in the headlights' look - or simply act like nothing happened and walk away.
In most cases, it's the latter.
Depending on the situation, this can often be even more infuriating than the initial slight. As a simple 'excuse me' or 'sorry' (in any language) is almost never offered, things start to sour rather quickly - particularly if the 'slighted party' hails from outside these sacred islands, where lip service apologies grease the diplomatic cog wheels of our daily routines.
I was taught from a very young age never to under estimate the power of rote politeness and lip service contrition. Canadians are actually renown for doubling down on this stuff...to the point where's it's become somewhat of a joke - particularly among our neighbours to the south.
The Canadian mantra.
The whole business of seeking any redress at all for bad manners over here can be entirely exhausting... and is basically an exercise in futility. The natives simply will not admit to being wrong, or offer apologies.
As Mina says, it's best to just suck it up and move on. Forget it.
She's also at a complete loss to understand where foreigners picked up the absurd idea that Japanese people are some kind of shining example of good manners and politeness. News Flash...people here as just as rude and ignorant as everyone else. Often times, they're worse.
Anyways, as we're loading our stuff into the eco-friendly reusable shopping bags we haul around on every supermarket foray, I get this uneasy feeling. Like I'm being stared at.
I look over to our right, and see the self-same croup barking individual we'd just taken flight from, arms folded, and eyes ablaze - boring a flame hole straight through me. I did a kind of double take.
Seriously?
This was no ordinary look. It was an over-the top, almost theatrical gesture of contempt. The stance... the near caricature facial expression. Like some angry shrew from one of those over the top Peking Opera productions they used to play on PBS late night years and years ago.
All that was missing was some ominous under lighting, and the clanking rattle and clatter of some old fashioned traditional Chinese instruments.
Little did I know.
If I'd had a smartphone at hand, I would have have filmed her. Simple description doesn't really do justice to the surreal weirdness of this emerging tableau.
In the swirling chaos and bustle of mid-Saturday at Valor, time suddenly seemed to stand still around this black hole of a woman. Her affectation and attempt at some class of over the top drama effectively muted our immediate surroundings. She had made herself the centre of some deeply ridiculous negative vortex...in possibly the most unlikely of settings. Talk about juxtaposition. It was like some bad situational performance art piece.
How exciting!
Of course, common sense dictates that individuals like this should be roundly ignored - if not aggressively avoided all together - but for some odd reason, I find this kind of shit delicious. Irresistible. It's right in my wheel house.
The gauntlet for some class of face-off had obviously been thrown down.
Give me an opportunity to tell a provocative mental case to go fuck themselves, and I'm there with bells on. I know it does no good. I know I should walk away...but neither of my parents were ever ones to shrink from such an opportunity. I know that's a piss poor excuse, especially when I always harp on about not wanting to be like either one of them...but It's as if that confrontation shit has been hard wired in to my DNA.
Lately I've been trying to ween myself off of that stuff, mainly because it stresses Mina out. She's more from the 'avoid trouble and confrontation' school of thought. So, I've been trying to pause and breathe before going off the rails and giving people the finger and/or cussing them out. I think I've even made some incremental progress recently, but I still have a ways to go.
Baby steps.
I guess this time it was just all too tempting. She had become that giant hornet's nest hanging off the corner of the neighbour's garage that desperately needed a good whack.
C'mon...don't you wanna take a whack?
Like an idiot, I grabbed the bait and stared right back, comically bulging my eyes at her like a bargain basement version of the Johnny Rotten of old.
Now, at this point, most 'normal' Japanese people will look away. Sometimes they don't realize that staring is rude, or they're just spacing out. Other times they'll lose their nerve and break it off. In any case, a hard glare back mostly snaps them out of it.
Not this time. She doubled down. She started turning a bright hue of crimson - one that played well off her ugly black and white frock - and was now visibly seething.
Whatever 'it' was, 'it' was definitely ON.
Apparently she'd decided to leave her porky little husband the dual unenviable tasks of both marshaling their restless toddler AND packing up all the groceries on his own. He seemed to be going out his way not to look up or acknowledge the storm brewing. I felt kind of sorry for the guy.
By now Mina noticed the glaring, too.
"Look, look! Can you believe this cunt?"
"I know. Don't say anything, please... just ignore. She's crazy. Focus on groceries..."
Too late. I did what seemed to be the most natural thing I could at that point, and flipped her off. Whacked the proverbial hornet's nest. I didn't even think about it. Call it a knee-jerk reaction. I was actually somewhat proud of myself for exercising a degree of restraint. The Shaun of yore might have put a cherry on that and rained some choice expletives on her as well.
Needless to say, this is where everything pivoted hard south.
Without hesitation, she extended her short little frock sleeved arms, raised two stubby middle fingers directly at me and yelled, "FUCK YOU!!", loud enough for half the supermarket to hear.
"What the world needs now, is another FUCK OFF". Old Johnny Rotten's kind of gone down the shitter of late, but this bit from back in 2015 was quite amusing.
Holy shit. I almost fell over. That was unexpected.
Though it should have been fairly obvious by then, up to that point it hadn't occurred to me that I wasn't dealing with a native. That was English profanity 101, and her Mandarin cadence was unmistakeable. This would explain the Peking Opera dramatics, gross manners and basic lack of social decorum.
Oh...and the dumb looking frock. Chinese.
Of course, I took the bait again. Apparently, I never learn. One good 'fuck you!' deserves another...and after all, she'd initiated it.
'Fuck YOU!'
It was on.
This went back and forth a few times, with each exchange from her side getting a bit louder and more unhinged. I would wager that by then, half the store was watching this situation unfold. The natives are experts at lurking, and watching whilst appearing not to watch. I wouldn't be half surprised if the whole exchange hadn't been quietly caught on camera* by some intrepid passerby.
*Mina actually checked online when we got home, but failed to come up with anything... the internet is big place though. I'm sure it's somewhere.
There was minor pause in the action, as she briefly turned her attention to the goings on at their corner of the packing table. Her wormy pudge husband had been keeping well clear of the fray, trying to manage the kid and get the packing up finished, but it all seemed to be going sideways in a big way. The kid was unruly and kicking up a stink over something or other, and the bagging just wasn't going anywhere.
As she attempted to deal with their errant toddler, we tried to get the remainder of our stuff bagged so we could split.
'Jesus Christ! What the actual fuck? She was glaring at me. Did you see that shit?"
'I know. She's crazy. Let's go.'
How did we get here? Was the woman offended at our sudden departure from the packing table? Had she overheard us call her coughing fit 'gross' and 'disgusting', or pass comment on the state of her maskless-ness?
Bags loaded, I pulled our cart out and we made for the west exit, a short five metres to our right
Fresh air.
As dumb luck would have it, our 'prime parking spot' was basically in clear view of where the unhinged barking croup woman's little pudge husband was attempting to control their kid and finish the bagging. It seemed like she wasn't finished 'expressing herself', either. As pudge husband struggled, she was busy shouting obscenities and flipping us off through the supermarket's bay widows.
Close to three decades in Japan, and I've never seen anything quite like this. Sure, once in a while you'll see someone losing their shit...but this was next level.
We flipped open the rear door of the van and packed in our boxes of bottled water and tea, then Mina opened the side door and put our shopping bags on the back seat. I returned our cart back to the long row of buggies right in front of the bay windows where the croup barking woman was continuing to 'express herself'.
I probably should have just left it alone...but I grabbed the bait (again) and went for it. After returning our cart, I simply couldn't resist turning around and shooting her two middle fingers. One last whack at the hornet's nest. One last, 'fuck you!'
A 'parting gesture', if you will.
By now, the heat coming off of this loathsome little troll had actually started fogging up the shop window. I spun around, but before I could cover the three metres back to our van, THERE SHE WAS. Seething in her stupid looking frock.
How on earth had she managed to cover that much space in such a short period of time?
It seems that all of the excitement and adrenaline pumping had worked wonders on taming her croupy seal bark, too. I guess the mechanics of that are a little bit like getting a massive shot of ephedrine (an herbal medicine traditionally used to control cold symptoms, and the base ingredient for methamphetamines). She was certainly pumped and primed.
Now she'd positioned herself somewhat between Mina and I, and was cursing a blue streak of 'fuck you's. I can't actually recall her saying anything else. We were both edging back, trying to give this wild boar of an individual as wide a berth as possible.
We were in unknown territory now. What was this woman's endgame?
At this point I'm pretty sure I told her to 'wear a fucking mask if you're sick', or something like that.
Between her flurry of 'fuck you's, she responded with something along the lines of,
'My choice!! My choice!!'
Ah...entitlement. 'Me, me, me'. How positively 'Trumpian'.
I shot her a withering look... and suddenly it was,
'Go back to your country!', flying out of my mouth.
Yikes! Where on earth did that shit come from?
Talk about chucking rocks from in front of a giant gaijin glass house. In my nearly three decades over here, I've heard that from the natives a couple of times, and taken it as pretty much par for the course when they have nothing more intelligent to say.
She seized on that one with great enthusiasm and aplomb, like a dog jumping and snatching a frisbee out of the air in mid flight, then proceeded to excitedly parrot it back,
'YOU go back YOUR country! Go back!! GO BACK YOUR COUNTRY!! GO BACK YOUR COUNTRY!!'
God. What kind of pandora's box had I flung open. Two gaijin standing in front of a crowded Japanese supermarket on a Saturday afternoon, shouting horrible xenophobic shit at each other. I'm sure more than one passing native wished we'd BOTH go back to respective points of origin.
Then she started circling, and getting physically confrontational. Like one of those near frenzied 'white tippers' they show on Shark Week, flicking it's tail as it moves in and out of its attack perimeter, sizing up its prey.
The atmosphere over at Valor left a bit to be desired.
Finally, she was getting a bit too close. It seemed like she was trying to disorient me by maneuvering herself into my blind spot. This is often where people get sucker punched. Mina remarked that it looked like she was fixing to escalate things by spitting in my face. Yeah. That was pretty much what I though was coming, too.
I took a couple of measured steps away, toward the back of our van.
'Hey, hey...back off! Get the fuck away from me. Do NOT touch me...'
She continued, undeterred.
Were she to assault me, I would have no recourse but to let her hit or gob on me. I'd have to suck it up. I absolutely wouldn't be angled in to physically responding. Regardless of the situation, there is a special place in hell reserved for men who raise an arm to a woman. Were the police to get involved, I would also become criminally culpable. I certainly didn't need to further complicate my life with any trouble from those racist arseholes.
Perhaps this is what she was aiming to provoke? Her 'endgame'. This was going nowhere good at all.
Everything needed to wind down, and we needed to get the fuck out of Dodge.
At this interval, Mina spoke up. The croup barking Peking Opera shrew suddenly shifted her focus away from me and approached Mina, who I also moved to flank.
Mina took a step back and looked down at her,
'When you cough like that without a mask, it's disgusting. Think of others'.
Mina spoke in English.. clearly and simply, with a measured tone of authority in her voice. A 'senior nurse'. No histrionics or drama. I was impressed.
The croup barking Peking Opera shrew, apparently at loss for any reasonable retort, suddenly switched tracks.
'You Japanese?!?'
'Yes.'
'If you Japanese...YOU SPEAK JAPANESE TO ME! No English! YOU SPEAK JAPANESE!'
At this point, I gather that she felt threatened by Mina's command of English. The extent of the Peking Opera shrew's abilities in the language appeared to be largely limited to profanity, and parroting.
She also seemed unable to communicate in anything less than a shout.
What the actual fuck? Within five minutes, her demeanour had vacillated from that of an ornery wild boar, to a chum frenzied shark, then back to an ornery warthog.
An ode to the wart hog,
I was forgotten. Now she was up in Mina's face, barking orders and apparently attempting to gaslight her.
If Mina was at all ruffled, she showed no indication. She continued in her lovely, calm and measured English, flashing the screen of her iPhone.
'I'll call the police'
The Chinese woman's response?
'OK! POLICE! OK!'
She was bouncing around like a boxer in the ring, and didn't seemed the least bit fazed. I swear, if someone had tossed a bucket of cold water on her at that point, a hissing wall of steam would have shot a metre and half in every direction.
Mina shrugged and started flicking at her screen, searching for the cop shop's number.
Suddenly very real visions of the rest of our day disappearing into a long, protracted 'he said, she said' drama at the local police station' started to loom large. This had to wrap up.
'Mina kun. Don't bother. You know what the cops will do? Nothing. Haul us all in and waste our time. There's no crime here - just a nuisance. Finally, the whole day will be gone. Let's just go'.
All of the sudden, the ornery warthog shape shifted back in to that ugly frocked, croup-barking Peking Opera shrew from back in the store.
The trigger?
I suppose during all the excitement, she'd failed to notice that her husband and kid had completely split the scene. I guess he finished packing up the shopping and decided to cut and run.
In short, it appeared that she'd been...abandoned.
Hilarious!
Suddenly she was desperately craning her short, frilly collared neck, and furiously scanning the packed parking lot for any sign of her family. Then, with nary a croup bark or shrill obscenity, she was off... weaving through the maze of cars and shopping carts toward wherever they'd parked.
Mina and I looked at each other in disbelief and almost simultaneously chimed,
"Let's get the fuck out of here in case she comes back!"
As we pulled out and hit the road, Mina was all about the, 'Go back to your country!' 'No - YOU GO BACK YOUR COUNTRY!!' business.
'Unbelievable. And where did (her) husband and kid go? He didn't even back her up...he just ran. He must be Japanese.'
'You figure?'
'Yes. Maybe a Chinese guy would have been at her side, and joined. Japanese hate that situation. You are always on my side if someone does something. You back me up. He just ran away'
She shook her head.
'Go back to your country! - 'No! YOU GO BACK YOUR COUNTRY!!'
'Ha! Unbelievable!'
Indeed.
Unbelievable.
Two fired up gaijin going at each other like loathsome xenophobes in front of the local supermarket. The hatred coming off that woman was palpable. As for me? Nah. No hate here. She was obnoxious, for sure. Her hormones were all over the map. Possibly mentally ill?
For my part, I saw a seething hornet's nest, and couldn't resist taking a whack at it. I'll stereotype people for the sake of a lark just like the next arsehole, but when all is said and done, it's just smart-assery - not hate or discrimination. I'm no racist. I'll rip on anyone who incurs my wrath.
The 'Go back to your country!' business was a bit troubling, though. That croup barking little shrew latched on to that one right away. I guess that image was odd to Mina. Not a spectacle one is treated to over here every day.
Arguably not my finest moment. At least there was no hurling of racial epithets.
Of course, Mina was a little freaked out about going back the next Saturday afternoon, lest there be a repeat confrontation. Odds are the woman is local to our area, and likely shops there regularly. I assured her that if we did encounter the woman again, I wouldn't be engaging in any further discourse...no matter how tempting taking another whack at that walking hornet's nest of an individual might be.
Somehow, I suspect that this wasn't her 'first rodeo', either. People like her often have 'a history' of these types of confrontations.
A little more than two months on, we haven't had any further 'incidents' over at Valor, and can hopefully avoid anything similar moving forward.
Perhaps it's a good reminder that, while things are generally pretty peaceful over here, in any city the size of Nagoya, there are going to be at least a few people walking around with heads full of bad wiring, just waiting for an excuse. Odds are you'll encounter at least a few if you spend any amount of time out and about. Life in the big city. On a positive note, you're less likely to get shot by one of them over here than in the United States.
Stabbed, maybe...
The last significant run in I had with a walking case of 'bad wiring' was that incident along the Horikawa promenade a few years ago, when I became the target of a predatory homosexual male's ill-conceived 'attentions'.*
*(detailed in The Space Between....Part 4 'Shark on the Horikawa Promenade', Jun 19, 2021)
While there wasn't an exact repeat of that unfortunate scenario, about a year and half ago (while out on my bike photographing the mid-fall season changes along the canal side), I was quite suddenly interrupted by a familiar looking young guy while attempting snap some pictures.
It was the last really fine Sunday afternoon of autumn, and while Mina was occupied servicing the Old Lady (back before we scuttled the biweekly overnight business), I decided to go for a ride, and give my tablet camera a workout. I think the intention was to do a kind of photo-essay* for my blog, as I was a little short on ideas for the next installment.
*while I finally did manage to get enough photos, that project never materialized. I think the following incident had left a bad taste, and I just ended up scuttling the whole idea.
It must have been around 2:30 pm, and there were a fair number of people out strolling the through the park, taking in Shirotori Gardens and the scenery along Horikawa. I was on my bike, fiddling around with my then new and fancy iPad Pro, trying to get a good shot of the changing colours on the east bank, while attempting to maintain my balance against the waist high canal side fence railing. I hadn't taken the iPad out on the road before, and the last thing I wanted to do was slip and drop the fucking thing. All of the sudden out of nowhere,
'Do you speak Japanese?'
He startled the shit out of me. Who on earth just walks up and bothers a random stranger concentrating on taking pictures? Someone with a great deal of nerve, or a serious dearth of common sense.
No way. Not again.
I turned around and remembered the guy immediately. He was also RIGHT behind me...less than an arms length away. No social distancing whatsoever, and of course...no mask (this was at the height of the pandemic). I quickly tucked my tablet into my knapsack (which I had on backwards while I was trying to take pictures), pushed by bike free of the fence to get some distance, and shot him a look.
'GO AWAY.'
Clear and simple - like before.
He took a step back, and cracked a really annoying half grin - perhaps looking for some sign of recognition. Perhaps an 'Oh, you're the guy chased me around the canal trying solicit oral sex a couple of years ago! Good times!'
This was apparently a game to him. The last time around, he'd been on one of those little folding 'monkey bikes' (which had enabled him to pursue me for the balance of my run). This time he appeared to be out on foot, leading me to believe that he likely lived fairly close by. I guess the canal side promenade and park area are his local stalking grounds. I quickly pulled out and headed north up the footpath. I glanced back to make sure there wasn't any folding monkey bike entering the equation...and he just stood there, staring...with that infuriating half grin on his face.
I flipped him off, and as I started south down the promenade, I peripherally caught him flipping me off and yelling, 'fuck you'! in the distance. The last time around, he'd been all up in the, 'Go back to your country!' business, too - after all, how dare I come to HIS country, and so rudely shut down his persistent overtures to suck my dick for a wad of his parent's cash money?
Needless to say, that was the end of my seasonal photography for the day.
I had a gay friend back in art school who would regale my with all kinds of unsolicited tales of his blossoming fagdom while we were in the studio painting. Apparently he'd had a girlfriend in Toronto for years, and only officially 'crossed over' when he arrived on the west coast. I remember him telling me about this 'boy' that he had a thing for, but how the target of his affections was straight - which, though disappointing to no end, was not a deterrent. He would fantasize about being the one that could turn this 'sweet' straight boy gay. Lure him over to the other side. I'd shake my head and tell him to, 'leave the poor guy alone'. He'd just let out a mischievous laugh and say,
'Oh, Shaun...where's the fun in that?'
Fortunately, I haven't had any further run-ins up the promenade. Mina filed a report with the cops after the first incident, but they said that they couldn't really do anything unless they caught him soliciting or actually physically molesting someone on the spot.
While he'd definitely solicited me ('I have money! I want suck your dick!'), they had no actual proof...just hearsay.
I carried a slip of paper with the cop's case number and an emergency mask in a plastic zip lock in my running pouch for about a year afterwards, and was told to report any further incidents right away. They'd said that while cases like this weren't that common, they did happen.
A day or two later, the local online police blotter reported a flashing incident in a supermarket parking lot pretty close to where I'd had the trouble. The suspect in question seemed to match my tormentor's description, down to age and the presence of a small folding bike.
To be clear, I've never had any issues with homosexuals. I've had gay friends through the years. They are smart, sensitive and funny people. I do, however, have issues with harassment. People who don't respect my personal space. I value my down time. In my encroaching dotage, I simply want to be left alone. I deeply resent it when anyone feels like they have the right to get up in my face and waste my time.
'No, thanks', 'Go away' and 'Leave me alone' are all pretty straightforward statements. Failing these, 'Fuck off' is pretty much unmistakable.
In any case - just when you least expect it.
Mina suggests that if 'people' are the problem, maybe we should pack up and move to 'the countryside'. While this sounds like a quick fix on the surface, unless you relocate to some really remote rural area, there are always going to be people around. In someways, 'the countryside' can actually be worse, because 'neighbours' tend to go out of their way to make their presence known. They live to get all up in everyone else's business. Gossip, gossip, gossip. They're clannish, too. It's not easy to be a newcomer in a lot of these places, either. I can do without that petty village mentality bullshit.
As for life in Deadbeat City, while we're literally surrounded by people living in the danchii, no one really speaks to each other here. People come, stay a few years (or less) and are gone. It's all very transient.
There was one older woman a couple of balconies over that Mina would sometimes chat with, but she finally moved in April. Her husband had passed away a bit before COVID, and we were surprised that she'd stayed on by herself as long as she had.
They'd been here longer than me (I've been here almost 20 years). Mina was surprised to see the curtains gone and air conditioner unit moved off of the north balcony on the way to work one morning. When she came home that evening, she told me that she thought 'Doll Baba' had moved out, and I was surprised. We'd given her that nickname after she gifted Mina a couple of weird looking handicraft 'pierrot' dolls that she'd sewn after her husband passed away. They're still sitting shoulder to shoulder on our bathroom counter.
The unexpected gift that Doll Baba gave Mina several years ago. It kind of creeped us out, to be honest.
I knew Mina'd been a bit disappointed not to have heard anything from her before she left, but about a week later she was suddenly back packing up some odds and ends, and Mina happened to run into her out front while taking out the garbage. I was in here making dinner, and when Mina wasn't back after almost fifteen minutes, I decided to go outside and see what was up.
When I spotted the two of them out in front of the west entrance way chatting, I was glad they'd a chance to say goodbye.
While we weren't super close, she was the only one in the building who ever spoke to Mina, beyond a standard lip service 'konnichiwa' in the entrance way.
Apparently Doll Baba was finally off to live at her daughter's place in Moriyama (the suburbs), about an hour north of here. She wasn't too enthused about the prospects, as she liked the lovely parks here, and always seeing people out walking. It looked like she'd got a small dog a couple of years ago, but she'd be gone for extended periods of time, and there were no signs of daily activity on her balcony. She'd mentioned that she was spending time at her daughter's - but that she didn't really like it there. Of course, she had her independence here.
Her husband had passed rather suddenly. He was a champion smoker, and would often be puffing away out by the side of the building. He must have been in his mid 70's when he went, which would likely put Doll Baba in her early 80's now.
Faced with the encroaching prospects of increased living expenses and reduced incomes, we've also been bandying about the idea of moving on...the main question being if we actually decide to move on... when, and where to? As the business of relocating over here is notoriously expensive, this is a decision that can't be taken lightly. Everything has to be carefully weighed and fully considered.
As we get older, lower rents can be a draw, but location and access to key services is also a major consideration. Sometimes saving a bit on rent may mean having to spend the equivalent (or more) on other things. It would also be hard to beat our current location. While Deadbeat City can definitely be a bit grim in places (try my previous few addresses), Jingu Higashi Park Heights sits in a bucolic little bubble.
Here in Japan, when a salaried worker turns 60, a lot of employers will give them the choice of either being automatically 'retired' the March following their birthday (being the end of the fiscal year), or agreeing to renegotiate the terms of their employment, and continue in a 'part-time' capacity from the start of the 'new year', in April.
If they elect to continue, their pay will be reduced accordingly (usually by around 40%). That's not to say that said individual will necessarily be working a reduced schedule, or at an easier job. The only thing that really changes after sixty is the pay packet. He or she will lose most (if not all) of the benefits they've worked their entire careers for in one fell swoop. That basically means an end to the customary mid and year end bonuses that salaried workers rely on to get them through life's rough patches. Because a lot of workers simply can't afford to quit, they essentially find themselves forced to work the same grind they always have, but for just under two thirds of the take home they got when they were 59.
Even less, if you figure in the missing bonuses.
To add insult to injury, full pensions don't kick in until people reach 65, meaning that many are forced to dip into (and in some cases completely exhaust) their savings to tide them over. When nenkin (old age pension) does finally kick in, it's often not really enough for an individual to actually live on without relying on other supplementary income sources.
Add the country's current rates of inflation (unlike anything anyone's seen here in over 35 years), not to mention the recent 'junk currency' status of the Japanese yen, and the road ahead is looking a bit rough for Japan's rapidly aging population (of which we are both very soon to be fledgling members).
When I first set foot on these shores as a fresh faced 22 year old back in 1989, I had no idea that I'd be here talking about this stuff 35 years later...yet here I am, edging up on 60, and more than a little concerned about what the latter part of third period over here is going to look like.
At this point, I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I'll likely expire over here. With that in mind, we've begun the process of determining what all of that 'end of life' business is going to look like. In other words, wills and funeral arrangements...things of that nature.
Have I mentioned how much I dislike dealing with lawyers?
Of course I could go on and on...but best to leave that business for next time. As rainy season starts to hit its constantly pissing down buckets stride almost two weeks later than usual, a load of housework and kitchen toil beckon yours truly from further unspooling the yarn at hand. Four to six weeks hence, I expect it to be hotter than hell itself for a spell, which will overlap in to the emergence of red autumn dragon flies up the Horikawa, and the ever so slightly cooler winds of Risshu (the beginning of 72 micro season fall) on August 8th, the de facto 'end of summer' Obon holiday period (and our likely trek back to Mina's hometown for all the attendant 'family fun' -huurg)....then the final stretch of solar calendar summer.
Sandwiched in between all of this, more drama, I'm sure.
Until then, you'd do well to remember that, 'No matter where you go, there you are'.
There and nowhere else.
A fine and lovely summer to one and all. Except for you lot over there.
Bastards.
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