2008. The year of the rat. Or is it the mouse? My Japanese friends keep saying mouse, and that does, I admit, carry much cuter, more appealing ring to it.
But I think it's the rat. And my son will be a rat. It's his year. According to Wikipedia, the rat person is clever, cunning, highly organized, a natural leader http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rat_(zodiac) In short, the complete opposite of me.
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A couple of days after New Years, I decided to visit a couple local temples to check out the New Years scene. The first one was the Futenma Shrine, near Camp Foster. The place was packed. I video-taped the pandemonium, but I don't think it really does the experience justice. There wasn't much to actually do there, or really all that much to see. Still being "in it", amongst the crowd, one of the few Americans there, participating in this thing - this tradition - this piece of culture, that was cool. That is what gives me joy. That is why I live in other countries. That newness, that immediate in-your-face, "I'm smack dab in the middle of a learning experience", that it what I love and treasure. I'm glad that I got to go there, baby in belly and live that with him. I picked up a couple of temple souvenirs for the baby room - a good luck rat arrow and a carved cedar rat - to remember the experience, and for luck of course.
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Last night, we had another great moment of living in Japan. We being me, Joe, Kay, her boyfriend Chad, and little G in utero. We were at a bar actually, well, a yakitori house right here in our lovely little village of Yomitan. I love this town. Love it. Anyway, we sat at the bar on stools made of tree trunks and proceeded to meet practically everyone in the joint. First, this man who to me looked like a Japanese Floyd Mayweather, who was drunk off his booty and who I thought could well be homeless or a fisherman living on his boat or something, but who turned out to be a baker, who walked to his bakery and brought us back two plastic grocery bags stuffed full with his cookies and who offered to give us Okinawan cookie baking lessons. Baking lessons! Yes. Yes. Yes. I'm in.
Funny, meeting people in a foreign country local bar. People are so open and friendly and when you are sober, as I was, you often start out with suspicion or just lack of enthusiasm. Like, "Am I gonna be stuck with this fellow all night 'practicing my English'". It's selfish, really. And why? What am I protecting? My predictable evening talking with the people I always talk to? When I could at the very least be annoyed, but have met somebody new, possibly crazy, almost certainly eccentric, and maybe even a good hearted and kind potential friend?
Another guy we met there was this businessman originally from Tokyo, just off from work, still dressed in suit and tie. He didn't look Okinawan, what with the suit and it turns out he runs this big sweet potato product tourist place down the road. And he likes to "playfully" punch people on the arm. And to practice his English. Here's an example of the English he practiced on us last night:
Man: "Why are you drinking water?"
Joe: "She's pregnant."
Man: "Oooohhhh.....I...thought...she just fat!....haa...haa..haaa!..."
Me, Joe, Kay, and Chad: "HHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!"
Me: "HHHHHAAAAAA....(but slightly ticked off/embarrassed) HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAA!)
Man: "I thought....fat....I going to....recommend....walking..."
(More laughter.)
Pretty good stuff, huh. I mean, now there's a conversation you just can't take away from us.
Okay, I'm off. Time to go for a walk...
Or eat some Okinawan cookies.
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