I think I may be able to help out with this whole pamn situation: I just dropped my brand new toiletry bag and all of its contents into the very same toilet I had finally convinced Nick and Casey to let their “yellow” mellow in. In other words, the toothbrush count is back to 1… what a relief. I’ll let you know what rinsed off toothbrush tastes like in the morning. I plan to incorporate it into my my breakfast bucket. God, Nick is so wasteful.
He does write the occasionally amusing blog entry though. Props, nick. You did my scallops proud. I’ll try to keep my Harry Potter and Will Farrell references to a minimum from now on, so that my posts are as readable as his. (until then, see below for more on "the whole pamn situation")
I’d also like to take a moment to extend an apology for a lack of censorship in previous entries. I was under the impression that my parents and a few close friends were the extent of our blog readership, and consequently got a little careless. We’re (I’m) very sorry and promise it won’t happen again.
NOW FOR THE GOOD STUFF…
Before we left Tokyo, we had a few misadventures which will be retrospectively interesting having experienced, second-hand, the insanity of the rave in Osaka. On our last day in Tokyo, Nick, Casey, Czarna, and I visited Mori Tower, a 54 story skyscraper in Roppongi Hills from which one can behold a 360 degree panoramic view of the Tokyo city.
The view was absolutely spectacular and inspired many-a cliché conversation about the insignifance of our existence. Eventually, our talks meandered to the subject of what kind of dancing we would bear witness to at the rave in Osaka. Does freak dancing bring dishonor to one’s family? Would Japanese rave-goers dance as conservatively as businessmen sit on the subway? Cell phone talking is forbidden in the subway, by the way, because it is too loud and disruptive. Anyway, we delved into the deepest of conversations on the appropriateness of freak-dancing and our parents’ generation’s distaste and general misunderstanding of the practice. Once in Middle School, when freak-dancing was at its most virulent, Elise and I were explaining to my Mom and Dad at the dinner table how harmless it was, when it became evident that they didn’t know what freaking actually looked like. We described it as “sex with clothes on” and even attempted to demonstrate using a fork and spoon, but they still couldn’t visualize it. What followed has since become canonical Birkhofer lore – nobody except me knows for sure whether or not it actually happened.
Celeste: “Why don’t you just guys show us freaking?”
Elise and Wiley: “Ew Mom, no way. That’s gross.”
Elise and Wiley (not unlike Monica and Ross in that one Friend’s episode) agree after far too little persuasion.
Celeste (after having seen demonstration): “That’s freaking? We used to do way worse.”
Wendell (astonished): “What happens if you get an erection!?!”
Elise (thinking Dad is so cutely ignorant): “That’s the whole point!”
And you wonder what drives me to eat trash? Anyway, there was no freak-dancing at the rave, but there was some when we visited the busiest intersection in the world. It’s in Shibuya which is the hip, busy, Manhattan-esque district in Toyko. Apparently, over 1 million people cross the street per day which means at least a handful must have witnessed this:
The day before we left Tokyo, Casey lost his wallet and we resigned to idea of staying there a few extra days in hopes of it turning up in the hostel or at the embassy. Did you know that in a study where bags containing large sums of money were left in public places, the rate at which the money was turned over to the authorities was higher in Japan than any other country? Regardless, our plan was stupid. Fortunately, we were convinced by two girls Rise met at our hostel to come stay with them in their snowy Mountain town (Hachiman, in Gifu). We were easily seduced by the promise of experiencing the “real” Japan: powder skiing through Cherry Blossom trees (wielding Samurai swords while drinking Sake). We didn’t end up skiing, but we did have an amazingly authentic time and were showed incredible hospitality. Hachiman boasts the 3rd cleanest river in the world and some of the most beautiful forestry I’ve ever seen. Think Lord of the Rings meets Hello Kitty. The river was delicious, nutritious, and freezing cold. Our last day, I decided to brave it. My family scallops are still hiding somewhere in stomach:
It’s also in Hachiman that we were introduced to chicken knuckle (fried chicken cartilage), and a cool Japanese invention that Nick especially loved and has vowed to popularize in the states: a Kotatsu table. They are small and short tables (just enough room to fit your legs under if sitting on ground) with heating coils built onto the underside, and a flame retardant blanket draped off the edges to lock the heat in. I know it sounds simple, but there is no better place from which to listen to the rain and drink tea. According to our hosts, almost every Japanese household has one.
Our sleeping arrangements were and have been lovely but cozy. Our first night in Hachiman, I fell asleep comfortably without a blanket, but woke up halfway through the night frozen stiff. I couldn’t find a blanket, my clothes, or a light to find my blanket or my clothes, so in an act of desperation, I blindly felt my way to the kotatsu table and crawled underneath. I woke up an hour later drenched in sweat, my hair on the verge of catching flame, and stuck in the fetal position that was necessary to fit underneath the table, so much so that I thought I would never be restored to full height. Awesome and unexpected leg of our trip though. A big thank you to Ashley who “has never in her life heard so much talk concerning poop”, and to Kim, for letting us exclusively refer to her as Kimchee, Kimpossible, Kimbo Slice, and most affectionately, Kim Jung Ill.
standard sleeping arrangement
Love, Peace, and Chicken Knuckle Grease,
W
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