Yep, nothing like a pandemic to test one’s commitment to a cause. And until a couple months ago, I was largely settled on the idea of living in Japan forever. I appreciate all aspects of this country, from the mountains to the oceans, and all the convenience stores in between. Japan’s a wondrous neon land of late-night karaoke, bullet trains, and spotless neighborhoods, maintained by an upstanding citizenry steadfastly dumping broken stereos and microwaves into the forest. Gotta admire the conscientiousness. I like everything about Japan except the people.
And of course, there were the ladies. Chatting up random birds in bars, restaurants, the Unemployment Bureau. “Come here often for government assistance? Me too. We’ve so much in common. Let’s hang out.” They say working on a hobby keeps your brain healthy, and you know Ken Seeroi ain’t trying to get no Alzheimer’s.
Continue reading “Enduring Japan During the Crisis”
What do you think of cheating as a subject in Japan? I recently watched this video and it says over 80% of women here cheat. How true is that?”
Okay, so several years ago I met a dude in Osaka, who’d just moved there for work. We were standing in an empty shell of a building, drinking shochu and eating dried daikon with bits of cream cheese. Who says Japanese bars aren’t the best?
Me? Oh, right. Well, anyway, he mentioned a wife and daughter back in Chiba, so I replied, “Must be hard being away.”
“Nah,” he answered, “my wife said I can have a girlfriend.”
And I was like, “Whaaa? She said whaaa?” Probably should work on sounding out my consonants a bit more.
Cheating in Japan
Then fast-forward a couple of years, when I told my girlfriend at the time I was moving out of Tokyo.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
“Yeah, okay,” she said. Really thought she’d take it a bit
harder, to be honest.
“I don’t mind if you have another girlfriend,” she added.
“Will you have another boyfriend?” I asked.
“No guarantees,” she replied.
Continue reading “Cheating in Japan”
“Washing your own dishes? That’s commendable.”
This is my co-worker Ms. Oshiro, leaning over my shoulder at the office sink. I’ve got a scrubby in one hand, bento box in the other, and my first reaction is, “Well, who else’d wash ‘em?”
But then common sense kicked in. The same person who made my delicious bento: my wife, of course. Because in Japan, that’s the way it works. Ken Seeroi’s wife hand-makes him a lunch box of rice, mackerel, a hard-boiled egg, and mini sausages shaped like octopuses, then at the end of the day he takes his dirty dishes back to her. Honey, I’m home. Japan’s real 1950’s like that. Continue reading “Feminism in Japan”
“Remember that place I used to live, on the 5th floor?”
If this was Emi’s way of asking if I could ever forget her tiny, damp apartment where we spent several nights a week cross-legged on the floor powering through tins of mackerel and cans of malt liquor, the answer would be a resounding Oh hell no.
“Oh hell yeah,” I answered resoundingly. “That place was the best.” And of course by “the best,” she knows I mean “the worst.”
“Well, I just found out my sister lives around the corner. We passed her house every day for two years and never knew it.” Continue reading “Is Japan a Lonely Place?”
This is a short story about the surprises one can expect in Japan. Like the other day, it was two in the afternoon and I was heading to this bar.
The end. See, I told you it was short. Hey, it’s hard to find an izakaya open before six. But leave it to Ken Seeroi to locate a ramshackle joint with a 3-drink deal, including sashimi appetizer, for ten bucks. I’m a sucker for specials.
I decided to ride the bike there, to get in a bit of health before the booze. Continue reading “My Date with a Japanese Babe”