|
 When Once I Walked the Earth --- Chapter 8
by Patrick Clapp
 The streets of Boston are filled with criminals both in action, intent, and negligence. I have not decided if it is my current downtrodden mood or a firm unshakeable belief that it cannot happen to me (again) but I find that I am placing myself in almost harm's way to stress a few motor vehicular bullet points.
Use your turn signals. They let me know what is going on and that means I will not walk out in front of you.
Do not pass the bus on Massachusetts Avenue. I am crossing the street and for some reason I want to make it to work today.
That little nagging voice in the back of your head trying to remind you to yield to pedestrians in the crosswalk - it is not just whistling Dixie.
Remember that kindergarten riddle that makes you blurt out 'stop' when presented with a green light? Well, you are not in kindergarten anymore and the proper action to take at a red light is to stop.
And you wonder why I take perverse pleasure in pressing the pedestrian walk button during rush hour...
It was so much simpler in Japan. The cars practically bowed for me to cross the street. The lights were always on my side. Although, I do remember the first time I was a passenger in a car. Shigai (I often misspell his name in my journal) was driving. We had just stopped at the head of traffic at a red light. Shigai paused for a moment, signaled left, and took the turn.
I screamed.
I am not joking, I screamed and scrambled around in my seat looking for some way to live through were obviously going to be my last moments on the planet.
Shigai was quite worried after he completed the turn. My rational mind returned from whatever bathroom break it was on and I realized that the no-look left turn was okay in a country where everyone drives on the left side of the road. We chuckled about it (me in a nervous, still looking over my shoulder sort of way) and then had a long discussion about the differences between driving in Japan and driving in America.
-----------------
I tend to assume that everyone looks at the world like Brian Glenn Anderson. At least I wish at times they would. Example: Were Brian working at a train ticket window he would automatically be able to answer the more obscure questions about various train schedules. He enjoys looking things up. Example two: If (hypothetically) Bri were an IR spectrophotometer technician and I asked him for the peak shifts on say, the 1122 cm^-1 and 2260 cm^-1 lines from a piece of SI glass, he'd bang 'em out no questions asked (other than some interesting side conversation whilst the machine ticked away)...The time is 8:33 pm Wednesday, Moriyama City. I sorely miss Brian and think that together here we would have quite a time. His skill at the language far exceeds mine and his inquisitiveness kindles my own. Next time, I'll make him tag along.
Work goes well. Mr. Wada gave me the nuts and bolts run down. We are doing experiments on the intrinsic scattering of light in various glasses. If all goes well, we will publish. The fact that I will be a major contributor on a publication and that during my undergrad years, greatly excites me. I have found a small rhythm in writing now. About three pages at two day intervals. I still come home tired but manage to write. I don't want to create a large backlog, nor do I want this to become a burden. I had a welcome party in my honor (obviously) last night. It was held at a clubhouse at the edge of Otsu owned by the company. It is quite an interesting setup. Working at the home plant is filled with perks. Like having the best dorm and a rocking clubhouse. Apparently visitors may spend the night for free at another plant's club. The company is filled with interesting points that tend to boost morale without even trying. It feels very much like a family and I hunger to learn the language so I can speak more intensely with such a powerful and interesting group.
Interesting perks: the company has a small convenience store in it (where I bought my umbrella). Items as you would find in a typical gas station back home. Besides the cafeteria they have a cafe. Very Alice's Restaurant. Mahjong and backgammon players, tea and coffee. Back to the dinner though. By my count: Guests-12 including my self; Dishes per guest: 17 not including several 'area' dishes;
Food: the head of a kingfisher, crablegs, trout, sashimi (including tune!) with wasabi, noodles in a lemony sauce, tempura (some sweet potato!), sea critter bits ~ like bites of octopus (tough), shrimp (fresh), and squid (tasty!), a slimy slimy slimy (Uncle Steve this is not your dish) seaweed. Interesting but so fine and slimy I feared choking. Japanese pickles and green bean in the pod (quite good with beer). And after (much later) a very Japanese thing, similar I think to peanut butter and jelly or Reece's peanut butter cups. Two great tastes that yada yada yada. O-cha and Gohan. That's right, a bowl of Japanese rice drowned in Japanese green tea! It was good. But the texture is like a pilaf which is not my thing.
For refreshment: liter bottles of Asahi super dry. Sara Birk eat your heart out. ha. So we polished off over a liter a person (when it gets averaged). Shiga pulled out a bottle of straight from the Homeland Russian Vodka. They asked "You like vodka?" Ha, again. Do I like vodka. I proceeded to excitedly explain that, in fact, I loved Vodka and that not many of my friends will drink it straight with me and yes filler up. Of the almost liter bottle, I had half (300 ml+). It was good. That, a liter of Asahi and four shots of warm sake. As you can tell, there is a good reason why I did not write an entry last night. I may (and stress may) be able to drink more but (and my home friends can attest) do not show better for it. I tend to become more animated and talkative (at this point I would kindly ask Meg and Sara to shut up). So, needless to say I had a good time and made it home fine.
Today, Mr. Kato and I visited the Takatsuki and Notogawa plants. Primary production are CRT photo tubes and face plates. Also the lustrous and pretty Neoparies (Takatsuki) and Glass fibers (Notogawa). Eight thousand tons of fiber as finished product per month. Two and a half million CRT faceplates. Also: the Japanese use solar water heaters. I wondered why I felt I had more hot than cold water. They make those at Notogawa. Interesting stuff and why I got to thinking of Brian. It is the kind of idle talk we like. "Hey check out that down draw." "I wonder what the cullet content is" (fibers ~ 20%).
I am tired (walking walking). Since I was moving so much, and prefer Tolkein to TV, my theories on Wacky Wednesday will have to wait a week. But here is a parting thought. Mass transit is very expensive here. Taxis, buses, trains all seem to cost a lot to go only a little. Perhaps it always costs the same (home versus here). To reach a local filled with bookstores and shops means getting from Alfred to Rochester. X amount of dollars, Y amount of miles. In Japan A amount of cash, B distance. However B << Y and therefore A >> X. A thought.
Later, Patrick
-----------------
<< Chapter 7 || Chapter 9 >>
|
