Or "Help, I'm Listening To Avril Lavigne (And Liking It)". But one of my little guilty and somewhat embarrassing pleasures has always been some of her early music. (This is where you get a shocked look in your eyes, say "I don't know who you are anymore!" and shoot me in the chest three times while fighting back tears. Alternatively, you could just shoot me.)

But that is neither here nor there. In any case, hello again, greetings from the island nation I presently reside in. It's been a rather long time since my first entry shortly after arrival, and I apologize for that - as one might expect, the situation I've thrown myself into has left me somewhat busy. (Particularly considering the Japanese predisposition to rather long business hours and short or nonexistent lunch breaks, sprinkled with working the odd Saturday.) It's been interesting, though. My skill with the Japanese language has regrettably not achieved the idiomatic perfection I would theoretically like to have reached, but I've got the basics quite firmly entrenched. Which is something of a pity, really, because if I didn't I would no doubt have all sorts of interesting anecdotes to remark upon where I said something and they misunderstood it. Sorry about that.

I also spent a lot of time thinking about how things are different over here, but that window too has past. Now I've grown used to most of the things here, so I couldn't really make any such comments now. (This probably means that reverse culture shock will hit me like a bus when I get back to the Western world.) However, as much or as little as I've grown used to living in Japan, the eternal and ever-fix'd reality is that I doubt Japan will ever get used to me living in it. I've entered into a sort of casual social contract with the Japanese people, one which doesn't strictly require their recognition of the deal. It is based upon reacting to their impression of me in the way that seems they would appreciate most. In the broadest possible terms of definition, this contract has three clauses based on the sort of person they are. The first type of person will note that I am whiter than a polar bear in a snowstorm, come to the conclusion that I am an American, smile and/or offer a nod of respect. Some will greet me in English. For obvious reasons, I like these people the most. Sure, they're assuming a great deal about me (that I speak English and that my Japanese is nonexistent) in a way which could be considered racism, but they're being terribly civil about it. I fulfil my end of the bargain by returning the greeting in Japanese, and we each go our separate ways after bowing or waving to each other or some such. (A subset of this group is schoolchildren, who will often ask how I am doing, which seems nice. I respond and ask them in turn, and each and every one of them responds with "I am well. And you?" which at first struck me as odd because they had already asked me, until I came to the realization that it's a stock phrase that they've memorized and don't put much thought into, which says something about the English education system over here.) The second group treats me much as they would anybody else, which is to say they pass by without making eye contact or saying anything. I do likewise, and we all make it through the experience without exposing ourselves to potentially harmful levels of human contact.
The third group is the one I like the least, but I enjoy the most. These are the xenophobes - yes, unfortunately, Japan does have them. Whether they have more of them than anywhere else I couldn't say, because I've only spent a significant amount of time being a visible minority here and nowhere else. I will say that there are many more smile-and-English types than there xenophobes. Whether it's an active dislike of foreigners of simply a deep distrust/fear of the different, I don't know. At first I was resigned and somewhat saddened by it all, but by now I simply don't care. My Japanese isn't good enough (read: fluent) to convince them that gaijin aren't all out to eat their babies, even assuming that they're receptive to having their minds changed, and I couldn't care much less about their specific opinions about me. So these days, an encounter with one of these charmers goes something like this: they spot me, and note that I am all that is evil in the world. (Or at least that I'm probably a kleptomaniac - many respond by clutching their valuables and/or children.) I nod politely with an equally polite smile. (The odd one of them is simply startled and will be perfectly cordial after that.) They then give me The Glare. The Glare is a very specific look that the individual has clearly spent some time developing. It is a complex and many-faceted thing which conveys surprise, anger, shock, irritation, disgust, and perhaps a little fear. It says something along the lines of, "You look like an arsonist."
Unburdened by the need to be polite to them, I relish the opportunity to stare back and give them The Grin. The Grin is the perfect rebuttal to The Glare, and simply says, "Why yes. Yes I am."
After this they usually act worried and rush past, giving me as much room as possible and fighting the urge to find the nearest police officer and have him or her arrest me. This would no doubt please the local authorities to no end - not only would bringing in a Dangerous Foreigner look great on TV and in the paper, but it would give them a brief moment to indulge their fantasies of engaging in a dramatic firefight with a mysterious American (who is probably some sort of spy) and bringing him to justice. (Seeing as the local squad doesn't seem to do much more than fine underaged smokers and confiscate illegally parked bicycles, I'm sure they would relish the change of pace. Unfortunately for their fantasies, I have nothing with me more dangerous than a set of pliers, so the firefight would be alarmingly one-sided.)

Through adhering to this social contract I've probably done nothing more than polarize the views of the local people towards foreigners - the pleasant people will note that Americans seem like decent people, and the unpleasant people will realize that all of their fears concerning Americans are true. (To all of you Americans, I apologize if I've unfairly biased the world against you.) Still, one has to survive somehow.

I'm also Old. This has occurred because I have reached the age of 21, which means that I'm a legally an adult in most places and can now cheerfully make my own mistakes without having society apologize for them. (Which is a pity, really, because I feel neither wiser nor more responsible.) This was celebrated in Japan in what I suspect is their 'usual method' - a dinner at a relatively classy restaurant followed by karaoke at an establishment of decidedly ambiguous class. I suppose from here on out it's all downhill. The next stops on the Stereotypical Road of Life are Mediocre Post-Graduate Employment, Moving Out Of One's Parent's House, Meaningless Work Promotion, Marriage, Children, Slow Drift Into Depression, Promotion To Middle Management, Psychotherapy. Please take all belongings with you as you exit the train, and mind the gap.

But before I fall into the repetitive mire of suburbian lifelessness, I get to experience the joys of wandering the streets and railways in a strange land. Two weeks from now I'll be taking off to quest throughout the nation in search of shiny electronic devices (of which there have been regrettably few during the trip) and a decent arcade (there being only one arcade in the city here, and it's little more than a collection of crane games), as well as revisiting some of my favourite spots in Kyoto and perhaps finding some new ones across the country. (I'd also like to go back to Hiroshima - if nothing else, the pastries were marvellous - but I'm not sure if I've the time to go so far afield.) So at that point my correspondence might be a bit erratic - I'll doubtless be spending some nights sleeping in the dubious comfort of an internet café and therefore will then have access to the Internet, but how often that will happen is yet uncertain. Also, at the risk of sounding aloof and uncaring, I'm going to be spending a few short weeks on a high-speed tour of some of the most interesting places in the world, places I might not be able to go to for another decade or two, if ever. I don't really want to be spending all my time on the Internet when there's stuff out there to do that can't be done tomorrow. So I hope you'll forgive me if I don't engage in a lot of screen time once the travelling starts.

Also, what with living far from home and planning travels, it's got me to wondering. This wondering has now manifested itself into questions I would like to ask all of you, or at least all of you who are interested (and still reading this). Reply with as much or as little as you'd like.
If you could go to any country for two weeks' travel, where would it be? And if you could live in any country but your own for the rest of your life, where would that be? Why? (Bonus questions include: If they're the same, why? If not, why?)

Anyways, it's 20:21 over here, and I still haven't had anything to eat since a late breakfast. I'm thinking stirfry. (When all you've got is a stovetop, a single frying pan, and a microwave, one's meal choices are limited.) If you care, I've got some pictures online - presumably more will be added once travelling starts. (There's not a lot that's really photo-worthy here.) Sorry to toss such a long, dull, and relatively uninteresting journal your way - I'm just an uninteresting sort of person, I suppose. Good night, and Keep Deviating.

- Introcrat