People in my Neighborhood

There was a time last year when I was the most fearsome creature in all of Ehime. I would walk down the street in my town and the neighbors (with the exception of the softball team and the Shinto priest) would immediately look straight down at their feet and walk past me as quickly as possible, presumably to avoid any awkward English conversations.

Luckily, due to a combination of factors including my growing pop star fame* and the fact that I speak a little Japanese, I no longer appear to strike fear into the hearts of my neighbors, so we're getting to know each other a little better.

Last week, I was talking to Tyler for a minute outside of our Japanese teacher's house when I noticed this older man staring at us from across the street. I bowed to him and expected him to nod back and keep walking, but a few seconds later, he strode right up to us, whipped out his camera, and ordered us to pose so that he could take pictures of us and finish off his roll of film. After he had finished with his camera, he apparently had a thing or two he wanted to tell us, and proceeded to give a lengthy (~30 minute) lecture on topics including orchids, film cameras, old-school vacuum tube speakers, the war in Iraq, and his personal collection of fake American rifles. I don't think I ever quite understood what the point of all this was, but it was entertaining.

After I extricated myself from the man's lecture and said goodbye to Tyler, I walked back towards my apartment, and two minutes later, found myself being waved towards the cigarette vending machine** on the corner next to my apartment. An elderly lady from down the street was standing there, and she told me that she needed to buy cigarettes for her son but didn't know how to use the vending machine. She thrust a thousand yen bill into my hand and asked me to figure out the machine, so I helped her buy a couple packs. It wasn't until she thanked me and walked off down the street that it hit me -- she had been talking to me in mad Japanese the whole time like she didn't even notice that I was a foreigner. Perhaps I am starting to blend in...or perhaps she was just really frustrated with the vending machine.


* I sang in front of a pretty big crowd at the American Idolish singing contest last month, which was great fun. Unfortunately, I didn't place this time, but I did win an honorable mention coffee gift certificate from the judges. Also, at dinner after the contest, this random lady came up to me in the restaurant, told me she enjoyed my song, and gave me a box of fruit jelly. :D

** Yes, they sell cigarettes in vending machines here. I can't quite figure out why they even bother to make cigarettes illegal until you turn 20...

Death of a Goldfish

Hi again! Since my last post, there's been good news and bad news. The good news is that I've finished writing essays for all ten of my medical school applications. Also, I got one invitation for an interview last week, so I'm coming back to Seattle for a week in the end of October. :)

The bad news has to do with the nine goldfish that I got at the festival last month. (I guess I spoke a little too soon in my last post.....) Last weekend, I came back to my apartment from a lesson and was about to feed my goldfish when I noticed that something didn't feel right. On a whim, I counted the fish and found that there were only eight in the tank. At first, I figured number nine must be hiding in a plant, but after a quick inspection, I realized that this couldn't be true. At this point, I happened to look down at the floor and saw number nine lying on the tatami. He was very dry and very dead. :( :( Apparently, he had been feeling a bit too frisky and jumped clear out of the tank. I wish I had been there to rescue him. :(

I think number nine must have had a girlfriend (boyfriend??) in the tank, because the next day, another poor goldfish started swimming in corkscrews on its side and was dead by the next morning. Probably of a broken heart. Poor kid. :(

I didn't really think that I would get so attached to the goldfish, but I must admit that the bottom dropped out of my stomach when I saw number nine on the floor. It really was an awful feeling to see him lying there and realize that he's never going to move again. *shudder* Guess I've never really had a pet die before. :( Wish me luck with the other seven fish!

More Than Halfway There

After two more weeks of writing essays for medical school applications:

Number of essays finished: roughly 18

Number of essays still to write: roughly 9

Number of goldfish still alive: 9/9 (!) Aren't they beauties??



I think I know why a bunch of the world's greatest authors went crazy at some point in their lives. I'll bet you they all sat alone in their hot, muggy apartments grouchily writing medical school admissions essays and talking to goldfish all day.

On a related note, it's that time of year again when the high school next door starts preparing for its Field Day. This means that the students are at the school at all hours of the day and night running laps around the soccer field, beating drums, and chanting things that sound strangely like, "This is a cat! Foul ball!! This is a cat! Foul ball!!" This may be another sign that I am slowly going crazy, but I've heard them do the same chant every morning, and no matter how many times I hear it, it sounds the same....