Day in the Life, Expat in Japan

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Born in Argentina, raised in the US, living in Japan for 7 years, happily feel like a perpetual outsider. In Argentina I am a gringo, in the US definitely not a Stephanie or David, and in Japan literally an ''outsider'', gaijin, though the more polite ''gaikokujin'', foreign country person, is more commonly used. I prefer the former because I love to ask non-Japanese, ''Wassup, ma gaijin?''

This is my six tatami room, the flooring the tatami. I have grown fond of tatami, the feel, the smell, usually snooze in here with just a sleeping bag and pillow.

Here is my desk where I spend much of my life, much of it connected to you, dearest Imgur.

My breakfast, granola, yogurt, fruit, raisins, prunes, throw in some nuts, and tea-n-soy milk in my exquisite sumo mug I bought at a tournament last year. I have grown fond of the mug too.

There is also a 4.5 tatami room which I do not use. Last year I hosted 150 – 200 couchsurfers and warmshowerers over maybe 5 months before my neighbors narced on me for running a hotel. Despite explaining there was no money involved, just good will, I was ordered to stop, and now nobody uses the room.

The kitchen, way too big for me.

The dining facilities, way too big for me too. End to end the whole apaatou, apartment, is maybe 8 – 10 meters at the longest? A smallish cave or treehouse, with wifi, would suffice.

The foyer, “genkan” in Japanese, is important in this society, involves a bunch of rituals. Here be my genkan, and note the lack of slippers, ma gaijin, which are normally multitudinous in many genkans.

This is my building, in the city of Osaka, and on the 4th floor 2nd from the right is my balcony, living here for four years, actually government housing, embarrassed to tell you the rent. I am a refugee from the tsunami 5 years ago, my home destroyed though I walked away. I witnessed all the Japanese, despite surreal ruination, be calm and organized at all times before, during, and after, the real story which I never saw covered in the media, a magnificent monument to honne versus tatemae. Please google those.

It's rainy season now, not ideal for pics, but these little flowers are strewn about Honshu, the main island. They are usually a bright metallic purple, not sure if they are considered weeds, and I have grown fond of them too.

These potted plants are more the norm, found outside many street level genkans. Though Japanese society is one of the most egalitarian in history, Osaka is considered by the rest of the country to be the most economically motivated, loud, ghetto, and what have you. I do not concur. Exhibit A: lots of potted flowers.

My stop, the mighty righteous Shimoshinjo Station, Hankyu Line, a four minute walk from my pad. The guy on the scooter is a mailperson, and they whip those powerful little scooter thingies around dang smartly, never seen a wasted motion or unpurposeful manner as they tool around, secure the vehicle, hop off, trot off to wherever. They are everywhere.

Them's my turnstiles. I am a freelance Spanish/English instructor, today and for the past few months, three times a week commuting one-way over two hours. Seems brutal? Actually, only dragged ass a few times, I usually get a lot of work/study done, grown fond of it. Go figure.

That's me making this post.

Public train employees often wear white gloves, taxi drivers too.

Going by Akashi Bridge, longest suspension bridge in the world, many nicer photo ops a minute or two before this, sorry, missed them, but I tell you it's beautiful.

This is the worst pic here, but, there in the middle, in the Inland Sea, is what I presume to be a ferry, an excellent long-distance travel option, especially over nighters, not only because of cost but there is also often excellent tatami onboard.

Hopping out from Shikama Station, after a couple of hours ride, now about a twenty minute walk to my class.

I go by some traditional constructions.

Japanese society is like 98% Japanese, so I often get attention from strangers, and in 7 years here no Japanese has been rude to me, ma gaijin.

This contract takes me to an industrial area, and this is where it starts to become so.

I think that's a cormorant, and I think this is the 3rd or 4th worst quality pic here, sumimasen.

Another few steps, and I think that is about a 1 meter tall stork or egret or something, again, sumimasen for the quality.

About halfway through the walk I go past these little white flowers that give off a delightful, strong, sweet smell. Jasmine or something?

The building I am in for this contract. I could have fixed the entasis, sumimasen again.

The conference room I am in for this contract. I instruct many professionals, and they are invariably over-worked, sleep deficited, and forever focused and striving, like maybe an engineer putting in 60 -70 hours a week who still knocks out a two or three hour language class with a smile. We teach each other.

Back at the Shikama station, exeunt, me.

Here on the platform at Shikama I successfully resisted some deeeelicious food. I do not have many such victories.

Almost home, going by a public high school I taught at for over a year, there, orange trim. I just missed a much better photo op, d'oh! Anyway, lots of fine memories, great kids and colleagues, a low performance school. My own high school days outside Boston were way less wholesome and way more violent.

Transfer at Awaji Station, one more stop!

Get home then pedal off to a bike shop. At the slightest rumor of rain Japanese people bust out umbrellas, even while bicycling. I was told and believed for my first six months in Japan that Japanese policepeople do not go out in the rain. I have seen Japanese people hiking in the forests, in mountains with open umbrellas.

Next to the bike shop is a typical cemetery, statuary often provided with clothes to keep them warm. Traditionally a family will have one grave site with ashes going back a very, very, very, very, very long time. I only remember my grandparents.

I resist no longer, pop into a handy restaurant. Many fine establishments have a Japanese-only guess-a-meal ticket machine to order at.

Curiously, this one has an English menu option. For once I am kind of sure I am going for the chicken, about U$S6 bucks?

Inside the restaurant. Japan has the best service ever, and, late afternoon, at this place, I get it all to myself, the 50-something year old waitress all radiance, smiles, gracious even. U$S6 bucks? Yup, all the time, every time.

Being illiterate sucks. This joint though has gone the extra bit and provides some English at the table too, but I still don't know what half of these things are.

Late lunch, with a wee bowl of miso soup.

Back home. At the end of the month I am starting a four week bicycle hiking camping posting trip in Hokkaido. Internet posting is new for me, been learning to make content on my own, starting a blog/video channel in fact. Tonight's project is to load up for a 1 day shake-down trip this Sunday.

Success.

Ma gaijin, tonight's project number two is my weekly veggie soup. The stuff in the big bag is “konbu”, a kind of kelp seaweed, the smaller bag, beans.

More success. And there's the soba I purposely did not include, aiming to drop some kilos before Hokkaido, but throwing in some avocado is ok. And tea in another exquisite sumo mug. Dinner. Then skype, then sleep.

Future archeologists will conclude that I must have been a sub-subspecies of homo sapiens that dragged it's jaw along shallow river bottoms for food. (Thanks, Sean O'Dwyver).

Sandwich tax (pic from a fav many months ago). Nothing against cats, but nothing for them either? Thanks!