Japan – Page 18 – hannah ananas

Trains, Phones, and Social Experiments

Riding on the train tonight felt like a sort of social experiment.

In all the trains in Japan, there are signs, and even announcements, informing everyone not only to put their phones on silent mode, but to refrain from talking on the phones. Therefore, even though almost every single person on the train is using his or her phone, people are usually using headphones, and the train is always rather quiet. Tonight, therefore, when I heard a noise that was clearly coming from a phone, I looked up immediately.

The girl standing near me seems to be playing a video on her phone. I wondered what the deal was, seeing as how nobody ever did such a thing, letting the sound play openly from the phone. After a quick visual evaluation, I realized that although I knew her phone was playing the video on loudspeaker, she likely had no idea. I watched as she turned up the volume to full blast, even, and had to refrain from laughing. People around the train car kept looking up from their own phones, clearly wondering what on earth was going on. (I wonder if they thought I was the one doing it at first, seeing as I was before and are on the train, and then they were surprised that it was a Japanese girl.) Now I knew that this was kind of a huge sort of social faux pas, but what I really was excited to discover was whether anyone would actually do anything to correct this girl’s utterly unfathomable and inappropriate behavior (as it seems to be for them).

This girl, you see, was wearing headphones. They just simply were not plugged into her phone. After the sort of music video ended, I kept an eye on the grill and her phone screen – she was scrolling through some sort of news feed on what looked like a Japanese social media site. I kept waiting for another video, to test my theory that she had no idea that her headphones were unplugged, and that it wasn’t intentional that she play just the one thing out loud, not caring at all what other people thought.

After a few minutes, I got my chance – a video started blaring from her phone again. Oddly enough, it was actually the exact same video as before. So, I’m not so sure what was up with that, but whatever… Perhaps 20 seconds into the video, as I was watching in an attempt to figure out what the video was, the guy sitting facing her right in front of her, who happened to be wearing his own headphones, quickly but casually waved his hand in her frame of view, and then quickly but gently grabbed and handed her the unplugged end of her headphones, which had apparently been just hanging down in front of her the whole time. In a sort of fluttery panic, the girl took her headphone cord from the guy, attempted multiple times to pause her video while turning down the volume, – she did eventually succeed – and then plugged in her headphones cord to her phone. I had a huge smile on my face for not the first time with the incident, and I found it incredibly difficult not to burst into laughter right then and there on the newly silent train. 😛
Post-a-day 2017

St. Patrick’s Day

Today has been St. Patrick’s Day. In Japan, however, it couldn’t have been a more standard, everyday kind of day. People hadn’t even heard of it when I mentioned that St. Patrick’s Day was today. Crazy.

Still crazy, I guess is better to say. I know that my holidays and celebrations are either nonexistent or incredibly differently celebrated here in Japan. That in no way changes this to-the-core experience of oddness, like a cat’s hair being brushed up the wrong direction (but while it sleeps) – it’s just weird, I guess – at the fact that something with which I so strongly identify just doesn’t exist here. It creates a sort of sensation that, because no one around me knows about any of these things, these things – these holidays and celebrations – don’t exist for them, thereby making it as though a whole bunch of the bits that make up me don’t exist either. In other words, with these holidays missing, going unacknowledged, it is as though parts of me are going missing, too. One holiday at a time, ya know?

I wonder if I’ll be a super-celebrator of all of our holidays once I’m back in The States… not only would that make sense, but it would be totally fun. 😀
Post-a-day 2017

Becoming myself through depression

This depression thing sure is interesting.

Tonight, as I sat eating dinner on a beach, thinking about the last time I’d had meal on a beach (a topless beach in Barcelona, Spain), while staring at the water and the highway above it, I noticed how much myself I had been tonight.

I had spoken up proactively about not going to an izakaya (Japanese bar-restaurant), expressed easily why I didn’t want to go, and even answered questions about why (drinking nomihodai (all you can drink) is not one of my favorite things, and smoking just makes me miserable (most establishments allow smoking indoors in Japan, it seems)). And I did it all with a sense of easy, calm comfort. I was not afraid to be myself and to admit, ‘I don’t want that, and I don’t support it, so I’m not going to do it,’ although I have been so much in the past.

Although there are plenty of times at which I feel completely not myself with this whole depression thing, there are also times like tonight, when I feel more like myself than I have ever felt in certain areas of my life.

Perhaps it is the fact that I have been so not myself, and that I am really having to work on myself and my life, such that I can be rid of this overpowering funk that seems to control my life in such painful ways, that I am having breakthroughs in certain areas of my life. Because I have made this conscious effort, and continue each day to make it, to be… well, to be what, precisely? Is it to be myself again? Perhaps it is to be the best myself that I can be.

I suppose that only makes sense, right? I want to be the best “me” I can be, and so, eventually, that starts to happen. Even though the bottom-dwelling funks still occur, the breakthroughs are becoming stronger and stronger… I guess what I’m failing to say clearly is that, since I established that something was incredibly wrong in my life and that change – transformation, actually – needed to happen, I have been working to my core to make these alterations to create a transformed me and transformed life for me. And so, things that weren’t too bad before my depression are getting cleared up entirely now, because they are being addressed. (As opposed to being left alone before, since those particular areas/things were ‘good enough’ as they were.)

Anyway, I’m exhausted, so I’ll sleep now. Today was an interesting day for me both in terms of what happened, as well as how my mind had to work to manage it all. I found myself cursing and expressing utter dislike for Japan, as I stood in the cold, after missing a train at six in the morning (due to the system of how the trains are labeled, and its being completely unhelpful as Inwas rushing to make an important transfer), and yet I was able to let that be so while still being able to look forward to my trip. The first didn’t ruin the latter – they were separate entities. Things similar to this incident have happened all day long for me, and I handled each one similarly to this train scenario. A very tiring task mentally, when so many things go poorly in a single day. But it was almost unbelievable progress for me, and I am so happy, it makes me cry with relief (and a bit of exhaustion, too, of course).

So yeah… there’s that for today. 🙂
Post-a-day 2017

Mardi Gras

Tomorrow is Mardi Gras and my birthday. This is the second time in my life that the two events have coincided. It just so happens that people haven’t even heard of Mardi Gras here in Japan, so we can let alone the idea of their celebrating it. I am throwing an impromptu dinner tomorrow night (decided it this afternoon), and am only certain of two guests (a Canadian and a Japanese friend). Not my favorite kind of Mardi Gras bash, but it’ll still be nice, I think. Nonetheless, this will be one of my most simple and uncelebrated birthdays yet.

The last time my birthday coincided with Mardi Gras, I was in ninth grade, and we had arranged with a friend of my mom’s to go stay at his place on one of the main parade roads in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Unfortunately, that was 2006, and Hurricane Katrina cancelled those plans for us.

We instead grabbed my childhood best friend, and went down to Galveston for some all-you-can-eat pancakes and a good ole parade. It was nothing like New Orleans would have been, but it was still wonderful, and it started a tradition. Almost every year since (we must exclude the year I was studying in France), my mom and I have gone to Gaveston for Mardi Gras.

Which makes it totally weird that there is literally nothing around here for any Mardi Gras merriment… happy birthday to me? (There’s got to something good for me to get out of all of this.) 😛
Post-a-day 2017

Pork Buns and Handkerchiefs

Today, at the train station, my brother and I were looking for a place to sit down and eat our lunch. We found a single spot on this rounded bench, and went for it. I originally attempted sitting on my bag, but was uncertain as to its ability to withstand the weight, so ended up sitting on the bench (at my brother’s insistence), with my brother squatting in front of me. We were chitchatting about the food as he opened up the bags (it was some dumplings and pork buns from this famous local bun shop, 551), and the old lady next to me readjusted her belongings a bit, and scooted to her left enough of army brother to sit down next to me.

He thanked her in a fabulous Japanese fashion (so proud!), and took the seat. As he had the box of buns in his hands, when he opened it up, he offered one of them to the lady. After some coercing, she finally accepted a half, and even one of the shrimp dumplings, as well (she seemed to perk up a bit when she saw the dumplings, and had no hesitation in the offer of one of those).

She and my brother continued a bit of chitchat about the fact that the buns were from the famous shop, as well as why each of them was there (This was all in Japanese, of course, so I understood the bulk, but couldn’t quite jump into the conversation due to the Japanese and the fact that we were on a rounded bench, so I couldn’t quite see the lady, unless I leaned way forward.). Eventually, after she learned that I was his younger sister, I heard the same comment I always seem to get here in Japan: that I am “cute”. While it is not exactly something we love to be called back in the US, it is actually a quite nice compliment here in Japan.

Then, as my brother explained about my living in Japan, she asked me how I liked it. I gave a half smile and wobbled my head a bit, but couldn’t bring myself to spit out any words – I truly had no idea how to answer, and I could feel something uncomfortable rising inside me already. Fortunately, my brother, perhaps sensing my hesitation-slash-unwillingness-to-answer, took over answering the question for me.

His answer, however, surprised me – he was quite open and honest with the woman. I, just in thinking about it all was already starting to tear up, but I felt a small sense of relaxation and relief as I listened to my brother share with the lady how I was not having too easy or good a time (and that that was part of why I had come down to visit him for the weekend). I had finished eating what I was going to eat, so I excused myself, saying it would be good to jump in the line for the bathroom before I had to go get on my train.

Once I reached the bathroom line, I couldn’t help it, the feeling was so overpowering: tears started pouring down my burning eyes, as I gasped quietly for air. I couldn’t quite understand what was happening with me. I had noticed that I was a bit borderline already earlier in the day (borderline tears, that is), but I hadn’t known why, nor had I expected something like this to send me into such a state as I was now.

I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and went back out to my brother, who was standing ready by my bag. I broke right back into tears when he asked if I was alright, and he just held me in a big brother hug for a bit, soothing me, before gently telling me that I had about 8 minutes before my train, so we’d do well to head toward the gate now.

He was holding a marigold handkerchief in a little clear plastic bag, and he proffered it to me, explaining that it was dyed with actual marigold, and the old lady and her sister (the one whose son is a pianist, and whose concert the old lady was coming to see) had wanted me to have it. They said that they wanted me to enjoy my time in Japan, and that they hoped things improved for me. They had wanted to talk to me, too, but had had to leave, so they left the well-wishes and the handkerchief with my brother to pass on to me.

Naturally, there were even more tears at this point, but with a slightly different edge to them. : )

As we hurried off toward my train, I expressed how my visit to my brother and his girlfriend was so wonderful, that, now that it was at an end, it was difficult for me to think about going back to my life, my town. I had gotten a taste of so much of what I had been missing these past seven-ish months, and I didn’t want to go back. Not that I had any intention of not going back – there was just a taste of dislike for what awaited me. I had finally started to be accustomed with my circumstances, it was hard being reminded of what had been wanting from my life. I know that I’ll be okay, and that I likely will very much enjoy these next few months – it’s just never so easy to go back to plain white bread when you’ve had all your favorites available to you. (That sort of idea, anyway)

Yeah… that’s all I have to say about that. : )

Post-a-day 2017

The Shinkansen

There is a general air of ‘nothing special’ as people mill about the car, taking their time sitting down. Suddenly, though nothing inside has changed, everything has changed – the train is moving. It began without a start, reminding me of the ever-odd sense of perspective in 1984, where they are now at war with whomever, and, therefore, have always been at war with that same whomever – the train is now moving so smoothly along, it feels as though it has always been moving, never having been stopped in the first place.

And, for some currently-unknown reason, I find myself looking out the window, listening to my wonderful Spanish music (Mexico), and crying. As in the case of my seeing Le Roi Lion (The Lion King) musical in Paris, I am suddenly overwhelmed with some emotion expressed with intense tears and a heavy tremble of breathing, deep in my chest. I don’t know what emotion this is, but something is saying to me, “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay,” and meaning it. Everything is all right, and I can be at ease.

That’s when I notice that I have a joint experience of joy and terror.

I have joy for the excitement of being on such a train. I am, after all, on a Shinkansen, one of the world-renowned bullet trains of Japan. Something I learned existed when I was a child, and never considered my ever having the opportunity to see, let alone having it becoming an easy weekend thing for me to ride on a whim. Being here, right now, on this train, is like I am living in the middle of the history I once studied in a book. Like when I wandered around Spain with my class, like it was no big deal, seeing the places where all of these people and things once were making history. I’ve been to so many places like that, I don’t even remember where all I have been. How crazy is that?! And here I am, doing just that sort of thing all over again. And like it’s no big deal – it’s just part of normal life. Insane. Joy. : )

But recall this terror, this fear that also finds itself within me as the train begins its southward journey. What is this terror? Why did someone inside have to tell me that things really were all right, when they seemed to be obviously so?

I think this ties into what I was considering last night about dreams and such, though it isn’t just that. I think I am somewhat afraid of living my life to the fullest on my own, because why would I want or need anyone else, if my life is already amazing solo? (By the way, this is huge for me right now.) If I am 100% content and delighted with my life, then why would I want anything to change? Why would I want someone else to come into it and to join me in all of my endeavors? It sounds silly to me, but I think it has some truth to it for me and how I live my life. I think I am terrified right now on this wonderful train experience, because I am not with my future partner (or anyone else of particular importance to me), yet this is still something amazing. It is as though a part of me was asking if it were okay to enjoy the experience, even though I’m all on my own. Even though this might always be something that stays shared with only ‘me, myself, and I’.

Is that why I was so afraid, so worried and concerned? I don’t know. But it feels more and more the case by the moment.

I have all of these absolutely amazing things in my life, happening all the time. Just take the fact that I am listening to this Spanish music for example. (As a side note, I found some old headphones!!) Much of why I live the artist is that I understand and can sing along to the songs. I can sing along, because I have studied in Spain, I have visited Mexico, and I have various ties to Spanish native speakers. And Spanish wasn’t even anything to do with my major in college or anything – it was just a sort of passive hobby for me, and it still is. Just one of the many amazing things that have happened and continue to happen in my life.

The thing about these amazing things is, they never seem to me to be much of anything special, abnormal. I’m not living in a hut in the middle of Africa, hunting baboons at night with spears and rocks, so my life isn’t really crazy or unique or anything special, right? I think I expect to be doing things closer and closer to that sort of life once I’ve found a partner to share in it all with me. But, until that time, I feel like my life is just a matter of this and thats, a feeling of ‘just hang on until your real life begins’ in the air.

Interesting, huh? : )
Post-a-day 2017

Sisterhood of the Traveling Scarves…?

I like to knit. Crocheting is nice, too, but I tend to knit much more often. I think I prefer the patterning of knitting to that of crocheting. Crocheting to me is like hipster headbands, baby blankets, and huge afghans. Whereas knitting is more anything clothing, and even various accessories, too (think bags and such). So, while I do both, I tend to knit more than crochet.

That being said, the thing I knit the most is scarves. Why? Because they are simple and rather quick, and it is utterly satisfying to have something materialize before my eyes so quickly, and with what feels like such little (and typically meditative) effort. It’s always a sort of medicine for me, I think, making scarves. I often just make them, simply because I’ve come across a yarn that I particularly like and can see being a fabulous scarf. I find someone to whom I can give it eventually, usually… sometimes, anyway.

I do tend to make a lot of scarves as gifts in this manner, though. Sometimes I actually go to the store when there’s a sale, and I bring a list of people for whom I want to make scarves this year, and I pick out yarns for each of their scarves. I almost always get a few extras for unexpected add-ons to the list later on.

I had done just this recently, and was doing some volunteering for the International Weightlifting Federation’s World Championship, when several of the weightlifters and coaches saw my scarf-making. They would pass by me on their way to a meal, and comment on the fact that I was knitting at my station. (My response to the inquiries were that I was simply working on Christmas presents. Which I was.) When they were later leaving from their meal, they would be shocked and would comment on the great progress I had made in the scarf – it typically took me a single shift to make a full scarf (if that long). And, eventually, some of these people either asked or hinted (and I, of course, offered) for me to make a scarf for them.

So, that week sent my scarves around the world to France, either Guatemala or Ecuador (I honestly don’t remember which – I just remember that they team had lots of yellow on their warm-ups, I always spoke to the girl in Spanish, and they were from somewhere down south of Texas), and Italy. Now, I have scarves currently residing in Japan from this year’s Christmas presents, and future Canadian, Jamaican, and Australian residents.

For whatever reason, this incredibly excites me. Not only do I travel the world in little bits, but so does my art! 😀

Who knew scarves could travel so far and wide?

Post-a-day 2017

Yoga and Winter Blues

Right as I was heading through the rising action into the climax of a film I was watching before bed this evening, my best friend and I ended up texting one another over some e-mails and SNL (Saturday Night Live) sketches from earlier in the day, and, since we were already interacting, she invited me to do yoga with her. Naturally, I knew she meant from some online video, and not something that required me to leave my living room or put on real clothes, because, as you might already know (click here to know how you might already know), we are living in different countries (England and Japan). Since my life is totally normal and all, I had no hesitation in pausing the movie at 10pm to do a 30-minute yoga set for winter blues with my bestie.

We put up FaceTime on my laptop and her phone, so we could see one another and be together, and then we synchronized the youtube video on each of our computers (I then muted mine, having us both listening to her computer, but each watching on our own screens). It took us a bit to get started, as we went back and forth about whether or not to wear bras and pants (American pants, as we already had the British ones), but I finally gave up on trying to find either, and settled myself in front of the heater to keep my legs warm (since I wasn’t sitting underneath a super cozy blanket anymore). The only requirement was doing downward dog facing one another, so we wouldn’t get a face full of bums on our screens…. except that we still discussed and tested doing downward dog from facing away from one another (I put on a scarf as a sort of half-loincloth in the back), so as to establish that we could, in fact, look at one another during the pose, delighting in one another’s faces (despite the legs and bums also noticeably visible).

And so we did a wonderful little yoga set from this great girl in Austin, Texas (who happens to have a strong resemblance to a friend of ours from high school). We chuckled. I made all sorts of silly noises (thanks to my It is freakin’ cold here, how on Earth do people function like at all in this country in wintertime lack of outdoorsiness (and thereby exercise) these past two-ish months). And we never really flashed one another. (Though downward dog is quite funny when your own shirt is loose, and shivs down (up?) over your eyes as your put your head downward.) And it was great. Totally simple. Totally normal (for us, anyway, though I’m not sure we’ve ever done this together before). Totally great.

I love best friends. I love being naturally silly. I love yoga. I love my best friend. I love warm weather.

And I love that we’re still on FaceTime with one another, though I’m busy writing and she’s busy eating lunch and reading, and we aren’t even talking to one another right now – we’re just hanging out together, and I love it.

P.S. In case you, too, want to beat the winter blues (I really do love the music kind, though), here’s the video we used. Take special care to note her various comments throughout the set, as well as the dog that shows up in the final couple seconds of the video.

Post-a-day 2017

#yogawithadrienne #winterblues

Smokers in Japan

Today, in a Facebook miniature back-and-forth, a few friends and I discussed the extreme situation of smoking in Japan. I specifically mentioned how I had thought that Europeans smoked a lot. That is, of course, until I came to Japan.

Here, in Japan, people smoke practically everywhere. There are signs on the sidewalks declaring it illegal to walk and smoke, yet people do it anyway. There are official smoking stops around all the public places (train stations and malls and such), as well as smoking rooms in most establishments. However, smoking is also permitted in the main areas of most establishments (mostly restaurants and bars of almost any kind, it feels). And, even if it is not allowed, and there is a separate smoking room, you will find your hair and clothes fully permeated with the reek of cigarettes after your meal, as the air systems just pull smoke right from wherever people are smoking, into the restaurant where you’d thought you’d be free of smoke.

Essentially, once I leave my apartment (save the grocery store and clothing stores), I am surrounded by either diesel or cigarette fumes.

And, possibly the worst part about the smoking, is that people smoke the crappiest of crap cigarettes. You know the ones, I’m sure – the ones that just plain hurt, they’re so nasty, and which hardly even have a tinge of tobacco (as opposed to ones that uphold the original intention of smoking tobacco by smelling of tobacco).

Now, while the floor in malls with restaurants usually allows smoking, the levels with shops do not allow it. There are usually several smoking areas in these malls, though, oftentimes indoors, but sometimes only outdoors.

Tonight, as a friend and I were wandering a mall to find food, we stopped at a bathroom on one of the shops floors. And, in the bathroom, what to my wondering ears and eyes should appear, but a terrible smell and a grey line of smoke. Rising from the occupied stall next to mine was an undeniable rising of cigarette smoke.

I mean, Really?!?!?!?! Goodness gracious, Japan.

I told my (Japanese) friend when I left the bathroom, and she couldn’t believe it. “Go look!” I told her.

She did. She came back laughing at the utter ridiculousness of it, and in near-disbelief. We were both flummoxed, though I somehow was hardly surprised at it. People here just smoke like no other. Truly, they do.

They be crazy up in here, yo!
Haha
Post-a-day 2017

Japanese Health Clinic

My experience today with Japanese health was an interesting one. I walked to a clinic in my neighborhood late this morning, because I had intense flu symptoms all weekend, and I needed a note to miss work. I wasn’t feeling so great today anyway, as I had already suspected would be the case last night, but my supervisor from work told me that I just needed to stay home today no matter what, and go to a doctor at some point for the doctor’s note.

Why? Well, apparently schools have a very specific protocol for people with influenza. If you have influenza, I was told, the first day you have fever counts as Day 0. After Day 5, you are allowed to return to school. (So six days total that you must remain absent from school.) However, you must have at least 48 hours between the time you last had a fever and the time you return to school. So, while it can be longer, you have a minimum influenza quarantine of sorts of six days, no matter what.

Now, for my job, we have a differentiation between personal/vacation days and sick days. However, to set your sick days as sick days, you need a doctor’s note. And, by a doctor’s note, they really just mean the dated receipt that you are given when you pay your 20-ish dollars at the end of your visit to the doctor. So, I had to go see a doctor today in order not to have to take three days of vacation days for my required absence (read banishment) from school this week.

I found the clinic alright, despite the name having been misspelled in the e-mail to me about the clinic. Walking in, I noticed that, naturally, nothing was in English. I had no idea what to do, but saw a small room with benches and people, and a small desk-type area that was not very reception-y. A lady approached me and handed me one of their white masks*, which I accepted gracefully, as I asked if anyone spoke any English.** She said that the doctor knew some, and so I wandered into the waiting room behind her.

She asked for my insurance card, which I gave, and then attempted to pronounce my name, which is written quite clearly on the card in Japanese lettering (katakana). For those who don’t know, you can’t mispronounce this sort of thing, because each ‘letter’ only has one way to be pronounced, no matter how it is combined with other ‘letters’, Nonetheless, I had to help her read the name aloud for some reason. Whatever…

So I sat and waited on one of the benches. One of the ladies came back with some paperwork for me to fill out (yes, in Japanese), and handed me a small thermometer. I had some hesitation in using it, though I couldn’t quite tell why. Nonetheless, I eventually stuck it in my mouth, and it proved that my fever had, indeed, resided.

As I waited, more people arrived and did as I had done, minus asking about the English. I eventually noticed that there was only one thermometer, and that the lady would do one single, quick (with no twist or anything) swipe of the bottom part of it with what looked like an alcohol swab each time after someone new used it. I solidly decided not to think about it – I already had germs enough in me to manage for this week – , but I made an inner snarky comment of If I wasn’t already infected, I sure will be now before setting it aside.

Eventually, a version of my name was said over this scratchy speaker in the ceiling, and I was summoned to room #1. I found out after this little bit that my supervisor had already called and mentioned that I was coming, and so perhaps she gave enough details for their concerns, because I found it rather odd how the doctor instantly asked me, ‘So, you might have influenza?’ and then asked only two or three other questions before shoving the swab thing up my nose for the 60% success rate rapid flu diagnostic test.

It was only when the test came out negative a while later, and I responded with a ‘Seriously?’ to the doctor’s confident declaration that I ‘just have a cold’, that the doctor asked my symptoms. For the previous three-ish days, I had had high fever, intense muscle pain all over my body, a horrendous and throbbing headache (even causing my hearing to be pained), and a sore chest with some coughing, and I hardly could get out of bed for anything other than the bathroom or more water. Today, however, things were significantly improved, and my fever had finally broken yesterday (so, no more fever today, but still low-level aches and pains of all sorts).

Nonetheless, – and I partially attribute this to a lost-in-translation bit – he prescribed me a different medicine for each of these ailments, to last me for five days. I went and sat in the waiting area for the third and final time, before being called up to the desk again, paying about $20 US, being given two receipts and my insurance card, and being pointed to the building across the street.

Across the street, I used my Google Translate app to translate a questionnaire about ‘Are you pregnant?”, ‘Do you have any history of severe illness?’, ‘What allergies do you have?’ and the likes (plus one question I never quite figured out about ‘Generic Medicine’ or something), waited a few minutes, and then paid just over $5 US for a baggie full of medicines I didn’t want. (Really, I just wanted the receipt from my doctor’s visit, and then to go back home and have a green smoothie and some sleep.) But, hey, at least it all cost me only about $25 US for the visit and the meds. Could have been much worse than that.

When I called back my supervisor, at her request, to inform her of the results and the rest of my visit, she said she’d talk to the Vice Principle and call me back after a while. About ten minutes later, she called and informed me that, though the Vice Principle was on a business trip for the day, she, the head of teachers, and the school nurse had all convened and decided that, despite the rapid flu test, I had the flu, and so can not return to school until Thursday at the earliest (and even later, if I am still sick Thursday), and that it would all count as sick days (since I had gone to the doctor today). She said she would inform my visit school of this, she wished me well, and she told me to call if I needed anything these next few days on my own. I thanked her, and that was that.

So, I unofficially officially have the flu.

*I must admit, I have a sort of odd phobia against these masks. I think they remind me of the feeling of being stuck under the blankets too long in bed, making the air super stuffy and hard to breathe, but then add in the factor of their being hooked around your ears, like then pressing the blankets against your mouth, increasing the intense suffocation and decreasing the chance of fresh air entering your mouth or nostrils… and so these masks elicit in me a sort of instant panic whenever I consider actually putting one on my face.

**Okay, I realize I am in Japan. I am not aiming to disrespect their culture by wanting English here. I simply do not know enough Japanese to work my way through a medical visit, in which every detail counts, and the slightest misunderstanding could be incredibly troublesome and even dangerous.