I was well on my way to making a respectable bowl of udon when I read on the back of the udon package that I should pour my successfully-boiled noodles into a strainer before transferring them to the pre-prepared bowl of broth. Consequently, I retrieved a strainer from under the sink, and holding the strainer in my left hand, I proceeded to pour out my noodles. Now, since strainers by their very nature have holes, I, in my infinite wisdom, should probably have realized that it would not be a good idea to grasp the bottom of the strainer while pouring boiling water through, but alas, this thought did not occur to me. However, as the water hit my hand, I quickly realized my mistake, and dropped the pot, the strainer, and the noodles into the sink.
My next thought was to run water on my hand, but I was reluctant to run cold water on the freshly-boiled udon noodles lying forlornly in the sink. What was I to do? I finally grabbed a bag of corn from the freezer and wrapped it around my poor burnt fingers. Unfortunately, after checking WebMD, I realized that you're actually not supposed to ice burns, so I swiftly returned the corn to the freezer and filled a bowl full of cold water to soak my hand, which by now was quite painful. Back at my computer, I scanned several web pages about burn care and read various things about how burns should be taken seriously, no matter how minor; burns with a diameter of more than two inches should be treated by a healthcare professional etc. And sitting alone in my little apartment with my tired, paranoid brain I thought, wait a second, this burn is definitely more than two inches in diameter. Geez, what if it's serious? Maybe I should run to the hospital...I think I'm feeling a little faint...What if my finger falls off ?...nah, that could never happen, you idiot....oh my god, I am going to perish in this apartment in the middle of Japan, the victim of a tragic udon-scalding-accident!!! At this point, I proceeded to send text messages to a couple friends, who assured me that I was not in mortal danger, and I realized that I was being a tad bit silly. Having regained my sanity, I managed to salvage the udon from the sink and eat with my right hand, while soaking my stinging left hand in the bowl of water.
Two days after the udon accident, the middle finger on my left hand is one big blister, but I am happy to report that it is signifcantly smaller than it was yesterday and I have high hopes for a full recovery.
----
Since this spring, I had known that my apartment in Japan would be next to a train station and a high school campus, but I had thought nothing of it. After all, I told myself, I can sleep through anything. However, this weekend, I've realized that even I have my limits.
Actually, the sound of the train coming by isn't too bad, especially since the train stops running at 10:30 PM. But the high school is ridiculous. There are kids there all the time. I can't quite figure out when they eat and sleep, because they are always at school, even on weekends.* And boy are they ever loud. I'm not talking about normal playground chatter - I'm talking about the sound of hundreds of voices shouting, "Ichi, ni, san, shi" in unison at the top of their lungs at 7 AM on a Sunday morning. Absolutely ridiculous. Oh yes, the high school has a marching band and a drum group too. Apparently these groups find that Saturday mornings are the most opportune time to practice.
In addition to the noise from the high school events, this weekend I was treated to the sound of a particularly squeaky backhoe, which was clearing out a small forest on the other side of the apartment complex. I am quite certain that this backhoe had not been oiled for a long time, perhaps since the Meiji Restoration, and it was so loud that the train and shouting high school students paled in comparison.
Anyway, suffice it to say that I received a rather rude awakening on Saturday morning. I hope that the backhoe is nearly finished with its digging and flattening and whatnot. If not, I am thinking about going out to the construction site tomorrow with a shovel to help it along.
While checking out my town's website one day, I read that there was supposed to be a softball tournament on Sunday morning, and I decided to go down to the field to check it out. The tournament turned out to be for a co-ed recreational softball league, so I stopped by the information tent to ask how I might go about joining a team. The guy at the tent was very impressed that I could actually speak Japanese, and told me, "I'll bet that your neighborhood's team will definitely let you join. They'll be very happy to have a pretty, young girl on the team."
"Oh, um, that's...good," I said, and the man at the tent brought me over to meet the team. Every single person on the team was male, and most of them were at least fifty. They were all very nice and invited me to play with them during a night game this week. So it appears that I am now the newest member of a softball team full of middle-aged/elderly men. I don't know if I will actually be able to make the game this week because I have to teach a private lesson, but I have no doubt that once I do make it to a game, it will interesting to get to know my new pals.
* On a side note, I've noticed that the high school is completely surrounded by barbed wire, and for the last week, I've been wondering why. After much thought, I've come up with two possible conclusions:
1) The barbed wire keeps the poor high school students from ever leaving the grounds of the school. EVER. And thus they must remain at school 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with only one outlet for their frustrations: chanting "Ichi, ni, san, shi" as loudly as possible at all hours of the day and night.
or
2) The barbed wire is designed to keep people like me from entering the school grounds and binding and gagging all of those wretched high school students. (only kidding, don't worry...)
I will be sure to update you as I gather further information about this matter.
Actually, the sound of the train coming by isn't too bad, especially since the train stops running at 10:30 PM. But the high school is ridiculous. There are kids there all the time. I can't quite figure out when they eat and sleep, because they are always at school, even on weekends.* And boy are they ever loud. I'm not talking about normal playground chatter - I'm talking about the sound of hundreds of voices shouting, "Ichi, ni, san, shi" in unison at the top of their lungs at 7 AM on a Sunday morning. Absolutely ridiculous. Oh yes, the high school has a marching band and a drum group too. Apparently these groups find that Saturday mornings are the most opportune time to practice.
In addition to the noise from the high school events, this weekend I was treated to the sound of a particularly squeaky backhoe, which was clearing out a small forest on the other side of the apartment complex. I am quite certain that this backhoe had not been oiled for a long time, perhaps since the Meiji Restoration, and it was so loud that the train and shouting high school students paled in comparison.
Anyway, suffice it to say that I received a rather rude awakening on Saturday morning. I hope that the backhoe is nearly finished with its digging and flattening and whatnot. If not, I am thinking about going out to the construction site tomorrow with a shovel to help it along.
----
While checking out my town's website one day, I read that there was supposed to be a softball tournament on Sunday morning, and I decided to go down to the field to check it out. The tournament turned out to be for a co-ed recreational softball league, so I stopped by the information tent to ask how I might go about joining a team. The guy at the tent was very impressed that I could actually speak Japanese, and told me, "I'll bet that your neighborhood's team will definitely let you join. They'll be very happy to have a pretty, young girl on the team."
"Oh, um, that's...good," I said, and the man at the tent brought me over to meet the team. Every single person on the team was male, and most of them were at least fifty. They were all very nice and invited me to play with them during a night game this week. So it appears that I am now the newest member of a softball team full of middle-aged/elderly men. I don't know if I will actually be able to make the game this week because I have to teach a private lesson, but I have no doubt that once I do make it to a game, it will interesting to get to know my new pals.
* On a side note, I've noticed that the high school is completely surrounded by barbed wire, and for the last week, I've been wondering why. After much thought, I've come up with two possible conclusions:
1) The barbed wire keeps the poor high school students from ever leaving the grounds of the school. EVER. And thus they must remain at school 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with only one outlet for their frustrations: chanting "Ichi, ni, san, shi" as loudly as possible at all hours of the day and night.
or
2) The barbed wire is designed to keep people like me from entering the school grounds and binding and gagging all of those wretched high school students. (only kidding, don't worry...)
I will be sure to update you as I gather further information about this matter.
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