breau
in
expatsjapan
THE RESULTS ARE IN!
Due to the overwhelming responses I received for the April story contest, it was a difficult decision to make - in our previous poll, people were suggesting to read/hear stories. I asked, and only two people responded with hairy tales of their own.
So, I would like to announce that bragging rights are going to be:
50% to piccolo_pirate (aka KATE)
I don't usually listen to the announcements as the bus peels away from the station. They rarely change: this is a Meitetsu bus operating in Kasugai city, stopping at Chuo-dai, bound for Kamiya-jingu. Passengers, please be careful as the bus makes frequent stops, and watch that you do not leave any of your belongings behind. Today and always, thank you for choosing Meitetsu bus lines. Of course, this is all couched in that linguistic tightrope routine of humble and honorific language: This is a simple Meitetsu bus, operating humbly in Kasugai city. In order that you do not honorably forget any of your honorable belongings, we humbly beg you to be careful. And so forth. Announcements of this sort are commonplace on public transport - not so different here than in many other countries. They serve to inform and to caution; they wash over the jumbled commuters and soak deep into worn seat cushions and spotless floors. As such, they are usually articulated in a single breath, toneless - why enunciate when everyone already knows what you're going to say? Today, however, our driver is not your average dispassionate operator, forcing his spiel through tight lips in a low, weary hiss. Even with the conclusion of today's pleasantries, the uniformed man at the wheel has not finished speaking to his passengers.
As we pull into traffic he says smoothly, almost lovingly, "We are making a left turn. Please be careful." The bus eases onto the sloping, two-lane road. There are cherry trees outside the window, lining the sidewalk. The intercom crackles again: "Today," he says, "as the cherry blossoms are blooming, on this beautiful day, thank you for so honorably riding this Meitetsu bus." He pauses for air. "And if you would like to purchase and use a prepaid Meitetsu or Panorama card, which are convenient and inexpensive - please! I humbly urge you to use one without hesitation." He clicks the microphone off but flicks it on almost immediately to say: "The bus will soon make a right turn. Please be careful." We turn.
A moment later we are approaching the first stop on the route, and our driver is at the ready: "This is Iwanaridai Elementary School. Iwanaridai Elementary School!" A bell rings - someone has pressed the stop button and the response is instantaneous: "We will make a stop! The bus is now coming to a stop. Please be careful." As each passenger pays the fare and exits, s/he receives a clear and earnest: "Thank you very much."
I am enchanted.
The bus makes its way through the twists and turns of suburban Kasugai and the gentle chatter from the driver's seat continues its flow, nearly unbroken, filling and caressing the space between our tight-packed bodies. "The bus will soon stop at a stoplight. Please be careful." "We have stopped at a crosswalk. Please be careful." "We are approaching the next stop. Please, for your safety, do not stand until after the bus has stopped completely."
I press the button for Hazama and he doesn't miss a beat of his lilting rise and fall. "Yes," he declares firmly, "we will stop." I flash my commuter pass near the door and he nods, then bows from the waist in his high padded seat - not an easy feat but to his agile frame this is second nature. He thanks me graciously: "Doumo arigatou gozaimashita. Ki o tsukete kudasai." Thank you very much, and please take care! Outside, the egg yolk sun is dripping over nearby mountains as the evening light grows dim; his words linger, drift, and permeate the cooling April night.
and the other 50% goes to justseamus (aka MATT - if this wasn't your submission, please let me know!), who just made it in by the skin of his teeth.
I'm a big guy. Around 190cm, 110 kilo; neither fat nor fit for the series of islands we call Japan.
People assume the worst when I come their way. Mothers herd their children to the edges of the sidewalk; oyaji pull their suitcases under their seats; even other foreigners straighten up so as not to be directly associated. These things I can understand. Even if a polar bear apologizes beforehand, are you comfortable sharing a bench with it? Give empathy where it is due, people.
There are times though when I haven't been so lucky, where smiles and reassurances I'm not going to cause trouble cannot help me, cannot save me.
A perfect example of this is buying burritos from 7-11.
I had come off a long day of teaching at my elementary school, and wasn't the most focused after five periods of fun. On the way home, I stopped at the aforementioned conbini, and perused their snacks and prepared meals. Sembei, those little egg salad sandwiches with the crust cut off, cups of jellied fruit, nikumans, oden - I just wanted something that wouldn't cause trouble while giving me a taste of exotic life in Japan. I hand the most luxurious of beef and cheese burritos I could find to the clerk for payment, when she asks me "-------?"
Well it sounded like "あたま？" - so I parrot back with "あたま!?" while putting my hands on top of my head. She puts her own hands on her head, at which point the other clerk behind me puts her hands on her head, and the manager coming out of the back office hits the deck upon seeing two of his employees with their hands on their head. No customers mind you, just the four of us.
"Oh God," I say.
"Oh my God!" other clerk replies.
...silence passes....
"Hot?" original clerk clarifies. She did not in fact say "あたま？" but rather " あたたかい？"
" あたたかい？" I respond, "Yes, hot please."
She then puts the burrito in the microwave, and rings up the total, I pay, take the burrito, and walk out the door as quickly as possible. I get back on my bike, glance once over my shoulder, and head on out.
The manager was standing now, but neither he nor the other clerk ever took their hands down.
I do not shop at that 7-11 anymore.
The End.
OMEDETOU GOZAIMASU!!! Thanks so much for your submissions. We shall have to have another writing challenge mid-summer to see if anyone else on here can knock these two off their proverbial thrones.
So, I would like to announce that bragging rights are going to be:
50% to piccolo_pirate (aka KATE)
I don't usually listen to the announcements as the bus peels away from the station. They rarely change: this is a Meitetsu bus operating in Kasugai city, stopping at Chuo-dai, bound for Kamiya-jingu. Passengers, please be careful as the bus makes frequent stops, and watch that you do not leave any of your belongings behind. Today and always, thank you for choosing Meitetsu bus lines. Of course, this is all couched in that linguistic tightrope routine of humble and honorific language: This is a simple Meitetsu bus, operating humbly in Kasugai city. In order that you do not honorably forget any of your honorable belongings, we humbly beg you to be careful. And so forth. Announcements of this sort are commonplace on public transport - not so different here than in many other countries. They serve to inform and to caution; they wash over the jumbled commuters and soak deep into worn seat cushions and spotless floors. As such, they are usually articulated in a single breath, toneless - why enunciate when everyone already knows what you're going to say? Today, however, our driver is not your average dispassionate operator, forcing his spiel through tight lips in a low, weary hiss. Even with the conclusion of today's pleasantries, the uniformed man at the wheel has not finished speaking to his passengers.
As we pull into traffic he says smoothly, almost lovingly, "We are making a left turn. Please be careful." The bus eases onto the sloping, two-lane road. There are cherry trees outside the window, lining the sidewalk. The intercom crackles again: "Today," he says, "as the cherry blossoms are blooming, on this beautiful day, thank you for so honorably riding this Meitetsu bus." He pauses for air. "And if you would like to purchase and use a prepaid Meitetsu or Panorama card, which are convenient and inexpensive - please! I humbly urge you to use one without hesitation." He clicks the microphone off but flicks it on almost immediately to say: "The bus will soon make a right turn. Please be careful." We turn.
A moment later we are approaching the first stop on the route, and our driver is at the ready: "This is Iwanaridai Elementary School. Iwanaridai Elementary School!" A bell rings - someone has pressed the stop button and the response is instantaneous: "We will make a stop! The bus is now coming to a stop. Please be careful." As each passenger pays the fare and exits, s/he receives a clear and earnest: "Thank you very much."
I am enchanted.
The bus makes its way through the twists and turns of suburban Kasugai and the gentle chatter from the driver's seat continues its flow, nearly unbroken, filling and caressing the space between our tight-packed bodies. "The bus will soon stop at a stoplight. Please be careful." "We have stopped at a crosswalk. Please be careful." "We are approaching the next stop. Please, for your safety, do not stand until after the bus has stopped completely."
I press the button for Hazama and he doesn't miss a beat of his lilting rise and fall. "Yes," he declares firmly, "we will stop." I flash my commuter pass near the door and he nods, then bows from the waist in his high padded seat - not an easy feat but to his agile frame this is second nature. He thanks me graciously: "Doumo arigatou gozaimashita. Ki o tsukete kudasai." Thank you very much, and please take care! Outside, the egg yolk sun is dripping over nearby mountains as the evening light grows dim; his words linger, drift, and permeate the cooling April night.
and the other 50% goes to justseamus (aka MATT - if this wasn't your submission, please let me know!), who just made it in by the skin of his teeth.
I'm a big guy. Around 190cm, 110 kilo; neither fat nor fit for the series of islands we call Japan.
People assume the worst when I come their way. Mothers herd their children to the edges of the sidewalk; oyaji pull their suitcases under their seats; even other foreigners straighten up so as not to be directly associated. These things I can understand. Even if a polar bear apologizes beforehand, are you comfortable sharing a bench with it? Give empathy where it is due, people.
There are times though when I haven't been so lucky, where smiles and reassurances I'm not going to cause trouble cannot help me, cannot save me.
A perfect example of this is buying burritos from 7-11.
I had come off a long day of teaching at my elementary school, and wasn't the most focused after five periods of fun. On the way home, I stopped at the aforementioned conbini, and perused their snacks and prepared meals. Sembei, those little egg salad sandwiches with the crust cut off, cups of jellied fruit, nikumans, oden - I just wanted something that wouldn't cause trouble while giving me a taste of exotic life in Japan. I hand the most luxurious of beef and cheese burritos I could find to the clerk for payment, when she asks me "-------?"
Well it sounded like "あたま？" - so I parrot back with "あたま!?" while putting my hands on top of my head. She puts her own hands on her head, at which point the other clerk behind me puts her hands on her head, and the manager coming out of the back office hits the deck upon seeing two of his employees with their hands on their head. No customers mind you, just the four of us.
"Oh God," I say.
"Oh my God!" other clerk replies.
...silence passes....
"Hot?" original clerk clarifies. She did not in fact say "あたま？" but rather " あたたかい？"
" あたたかい？" I respond, "Yes, hot please."
She then puts the burrito in the microwave, and rings up the total, I pay, take the burrito, and walk out the door as quickly as possible. I get back on my bike, glance once over my shoulder, and head on out.
The manager was standing now, but neither he nor the other clerk ever took their hands down.
I do not shop at that 7-11 anymore.
The End.
OMEDETOU GOZAIMASU!!! Thanks so much for your submissions. We shall have to have another writing challenge mid-summer to see if anyone else on here can knock these two off their proverbial thrones.