Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

Eye Hustle

The thing about babies is that they appear to be looking inside your soul. Beneath all that slobbering and what we perceive as cooing and face grabbing, they are really divine geniuses placed here to make us wonder about our us-ness.

I recently attended a children’s Christmas party and watched an American Santa try and keep up with the cool kids. Some of them quite frankly confused that the jolly man in red request they sit upon is lap. After all…this is such an intimate act. Some parents choosing to simply take pictures standing next to Santa. Some of the children fascinated by his beard (it happened to be a man with an authentic long, long, long white beard) not fascinated with it because it was long nor white but fascinated because it covered his face. And why would a happy man in a red suit want you sit on his lap, cover his face and gently say ho-ho-ho?

The children searched for answers. At the end of the party they played a competitive game of musical chairs…this they quite enjoyed. One stand out kid in particular had a strategy to run outside of the circle and just when he intuitively felt like the song was approaching its end… BAM, he appeared out of nowhere in a seat. My kind of kid. 

Still, I couldn’t stop staring into the eyes of the baby with the big cheeks. His mother carried him like he was a bag of precious history or a key to a secret room, her hands never leaving his back…his eyes focused on my insides. Sadly because I am a semi-Japanese speaking coward, as in even when I know what to say I rarely verbalize it, I couldn’t figure out how to begin to say “Your baby is so cute and precious I want to eat him up…” and after thinking about it, it’s probably best I don’t tell a stranger I want to eat her baby. Yes I am absolutely sure that wouldn’t translate well. Thank goodness for the universal grab your heart, make cheesy smiley faces and sigh…this translates to nearly the same as I want to eat your baby because he’s so cute.

Something happened in that sign language-ey, optical, heart to heart exchange though. Not sure how to pen it. But I liked it. 

Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

All Sense Hustle

Today Japan is fried chicken katsu swaddled by an egg yolk. The colors bright, the people crispily, (as in chicken kind of crisp) protective, resilient and very clear about what goes where, why, when and how. I like the way the people in my prefecture glide/ride/fly through life on their bicycles. Their eyes focused on what‘s ahead never worrying about what’s behind…or on either side. And in the end aren’t we all better for it? Moving forward? Moving on?

The roads are miniature and I have spent many car rides in the passenger’s seat sucking my teeth and breath, pushing on my imaginary break and listening to my heart ask my brain, “Really? Are you crazy? Is this safe?” Yet, something in me deeply admires the way they navigate traffic. How they mentally transform a seven inch across road to at least 100 ft.  Will I ever ride a bike on what is dubbed “chicken road?” HELL TO THE NAWL...but if I figure out the recipe for the fearless pill…I just might.

Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

Japan Journification

Private Eye Hustle

I’ve always been a squatter. As in, never had a need to use those little thin toilet covers. As in never sit my booty down on the toilet seat. As in the same routine: open the door, score the bathroom on cleanliness, if it’s dirty—I’m out. If it’s decent, get centered in front of the toilet, move back slightly so that my front and back door hover over the toilet, release debris from front or back door, grab tissue…you get the idea.

Aside from getting really personal I really am going somewhere with all of this. On the second day I arrived to Japan, I visited the cleanest McDonalds I’d ever seen. I noticed women, American women and Japanese women coming out of the bathroom with a particular look. A look that smelled like new sheets & fresh ginger. I wanted to have this look. At least once.  

Hey, what the heck, I’m an internal tourist soI go.

I noticed the queen of toilets. Equipped an after bathroom sort of perfume (oranges maybe?) with water to rinse away front or back door debris and a noise to cover up the reason why we all go to the bathroom. I really don’t need a noise to cover up the fact that I am using the toilet. Is a toilet not for using? If I push the magic button to make the noise to cover up the fact that I am using the potty won’t you still know I am pottying?  I digress.

The fact of the matter is though I have been here 3 months I have not joined the particular look coming from the bathroom club because guess what folks?? YOU HAVE TO SIT YOUR BOOTY DOWN ON THE TOILET? Ew. Sumimasen. I am just not ready.

Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

Eye Hustle

120-150 yen please

This is how it starts. You have no idea what the words say you just know you want a drink. You have no clue what the flavors are. You just know you want a drink. You have no idea if you’ve got the right amount of change you just know the small can with the bright orange letters looks like it MIGHT taste like an American orange dream icicle. You have no idea what the words say but you know coffee seems to mean coffee in this machine. You know tea seems to mean tea. You know Coca Cola seems to mean Coca Cola even though it's purple. You know the picture of an apple looks like it must be a picture of an apple. Of course. And a cute hamster is just a cute hamster that has nothing to do with a drink. You hope...and if you find out there's some new drink called "hamster-aid" written in Japanese...you just hope you find out years later.

This is how it started for me. I noticed on nearly every corner of Japan there were vending machines filled with beveragical assortments. I realize beveragical is not a word but I honestly can’t think of any other word that quite gets you to get where I’m coming from. It’s like beveragearama or bevefreenzy. Bevafuckinfantastical. The amazing part is the machine keeps the cold drinks cold and the hot drinks hot and some of the cold drinks double as hot drinks.

That’s how it continued. And who would have known a simple vending machine would help to break down my walls of distrust. Because if I can just pick and choose any drink—without knowing what it tastes like or knowing what it’s made from—I can learn to trust humans again. I can begin telling secrets again. I can trust myself on the train alone. Hell, I might even befriend Pinocchio. 

Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

Eye Hustle of the Day

So far I haven't seen any underwear. A plethora of linens, tunics, sweaters and trousers but no underwear.
My newest project is the study of laundry and fabric and the people who wear the lines of clothes hanging. I've been taking pictures of...you guessed it, the lines of laundry. Dryers aren't very popular. Energy conservation is. I get it. But where do they dry the underwear. This is my quest. Unmentionables. Unshowables.

My new fascination/obsession/photographation with laundry--fabric--the people behind the laundry and fabric teleports me to a time when my grandmother folded linen like a heart surgeon. Each crease placed exactly where it should be and no fabric ever bleeding upon another. Oftentimes I was her assistant. I stood at one corner of the room and she on the other to fold comforters and sheets. Something about the way the comforter did a whisper-yell when we shook it to make it straight stained my eardrums. In a good way. Laundry makes me think of love. Of warm beds. Of summers and garden tomatoes. But still...wheres the underwear?

Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

The train is a place of wonder, wow and wtf. It is rude to show the soles of your feet, yawn or display your arm pits if you are standing up and holding the handcuff looking thingies. I can appreciate these rules very much. 

However it is obviously very acceptable to stare. I feel like I am the latest game show, all the passengers waiting for me to breathe, bat my eyes, show the winning hand...maybe get up and do a snippet of a hip-hop video. As people friendly as I am, I feel a little like a toddler who is being forced to sing a Christmas song for the aunt I don’t even know.

An old wise woman gets on the train. I don’t know her but I can tell she’s wise.  All the seats are full. She must be carrying about a million tiny bags. No one moves. I feel compelled to give her my seat. This is the kind of person I am--a give up your seat to a beautiful old wise woman kind of woman. Because it is not cool to touch I can't figure out how to get her attention and because I don't speak much Japanese, all I can muster is...sumimasen which simply means excuse me. She looks frightened. My Christmas song must suck. I forge on. I point to the empty seat. (Point with an open hand/palms up, never a finger. Think Vana White on Wheel of Fortune.)

This is when the most magical thing happened! Our eyes met for at least seven seconds. She sat. I stood. After a pause she bowed to me in her seat. I bowed back. It was like a tennis match and both of us were Venus. We must have exchanged 30 bows between us. She got off after the 30th bow and she smiled. A big smile. I smiled back. 

**Magic I tell you.**

Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

Japan Journification

I'm IN Buddha. Who gets to do this with regularity or even once. I'm IN Buddha (The statue in Kamukura Japan.) I've waited in line and gone down the dark sweaty set of steps along with all the other world travelers, Japan born folk who just haven't visited yet, serious meditating contortionist and maybe one or two folk on their death beds (Please let me look like this at 103.) This is like unfathomable. In fact as I'm walking down the steps I ask myself, "Am I here?" 

I'm there in full on meditation, spiritual tingling plus earthly sweat mode (Thanks Dove deodorant for sensitive underarms.) I am asking all the important questions I want to ask such as, "What is my divine purpose?" (The answer I got later.) I close my eyes, take a deep breath. I listen intently. To the right of me I hear..."I'm in the muthafuckin' Buddha bitches. Let me tell you it's hot up in this piece. But we here. We made it. Scherita you little punk ass (insert racialized profanity here) I can't believe we came all the way here and you wouldn't come down here.  Shiiiyyyaatt. Welp yall it’s too fuckin' hot. Buddha need an air conditioning and I need a beer.) 

Dear Excited Man With Your Video Camera,

The next time you and your video camera come to the beautiful Buddha statue, shut up. Please. Just. Shut. Up. Scherita, get off your ass and step inside next time. I guarantee it won't happen often.

By the way, my divine purpose--"Live. What will be will be. Do not see things in right or wrong, whether one path leading to another path. Breathe longer. Breathe better. Live fully."

Japan Journifications, Ear/Eye Hustles & Such

October 2011

Japan Journification of the Day 

*The commercial opens with two Japanese women in an elevator decked out in blue suits. They are in relaxed mode and laughing (covering their mouths when they laugh.) Obviously celebrating the fact that work time is over. The screen flashes to a bra with a slit in the front with two manual settings. Setting one pushes the breast up, up and away making them stand firm and at full perky attention (no cleavage.) Slit number two relaxes breast to their normal breathing what a person is born with position. Camera flashes back to one of the women getting an urgent phone call. The two women immediately adjust their bra's BACK to push up setting as the elevator opens and the boss gets on with a shiny brief case, shiny black in command hair and shinier smile. All ends well, the women stay sucked in and up and the boss is very happy. What’s next? You got it. Booty Pop underwear. But only on weekends.