The Poetist

This morning I sent my manager an email, opening it with:

“Hallo to ye from the green shores o’Dublin!”

Except so far Dublin hasn’t been very green, and the only shores I’ve seen are the (concrete) shores on the canal. But still… I’m catching the spirit of Ireland.. or the spirit as interpreted by me I’d love to get an Irish name while I’m here.

It’s not uncommon to have to push a button to exit doors here. Pushing the door open is not enough. You have to press a button and then you can push the door open. Forgetting about this fact makes it look (to an observer) like I’m running into doors. I’m not… I just get very very close.

Also true-but-embarassing story – my first morning here I was bested by Dublin public transportation. My friends told me that once I arrived in central Dublin (from the airport shuttle), I should take bus #1, 2 or 3 to their place. Well, bus #123 came along and I thought – oh, they must have combined all the routes onto this one bus… and I got one. Definitely one of the top 10 most boneheaded moments of my life – or at least the most sleep deprived/jetlagged.

Also, the view from the roof of the Facebook Dublin office is amazing. Pictures forthcoming – I just keep forgetting to bring my download cable with me to the office.

I’m so excited! I bought a new digital camera tonight!! My good ole’ Vivitar – the one with the black rubber band holding the batteries in – finally gave up in March after a long and protracted battle with functionality. Some highlights of the experience:

• I had planned to only look at models, jot down notes and then look them up online, but a very helpful salesman spoke English! Thus negating the need for any legwork on my part.

• He spoke enough English to give commentary and help me compare. Like, ‘this one has a wider lens, but this one has a better zoom. If you want a wider picture you can step back.’ Or, ‘this one has a hand-shake function, but you can only take 200 pictures on the battery. With the other model (without the hand-shake function) you can take over 300.’ Very helpful.

• I was very surprised that a Casio was one of the best models in the store. I told him, I’ve heard of Panasonic, Sony and Nikon, but I didn’t know Casio made cameras! He said they were the best and very popular in Japan.

• The camera was on sale, plus he gave me a 5% discount (for being foreign?) so I saved about 7,000 yen. PLUS he gave me a carrying case for free.

• And another employee gave me a red carnation.

I’m so psyched! I can take pictures again!!!

ps – I just checked online, and I got the camera for waaaaay less than it costs in the U.S. Go Japan!!!

… oh man! the carnation is fake! (>_<)

forget everything you were ever taught about safety. Or maybe just when you’re in Tokyo.

Walking alone in empty streets after dark jamming to my iPod? check. Accepting rides from strange men? check.

Thursday night I got lost on my way to the train station after seeing a friend in a part of Tokyo I had never visited. When I first got to Tokyo I hated to appear ‘lost’. I was reluctant to ask for directions, or even consult my incredibly comprehensive Tokyo street atlas. Somewhere along that way that changed, and on Thursday I unabashedly held my map in plain view as I stared at buildings and signs trying to make sense of where I was. I had just decided to continue in the same direction when a Mercedes pulled up and a salaryman got out. He started speaking to me and gesturing, and while I couldn’t understand I figured he was probably trying to help me. So I said, Waseda-dori (wa doko desuka)? He indicated that it was parallel to the street that I was on. Takanodababa? The other direction. Then, although he was only a few blocks from home, he offered to take me – “Takanodababa, I take you. Practice English.” I was simultaneously hit with my (American) better judgment and my increasing (Japanese) sense of safety. It seemed so wrong to jump into a car with an older man in a confusing city when I can’t speak the language. But he offered me a ride to the station; and I was lost. It seemed so right!

I jumped in, with a few gracious thank-yous and a couple rounds of arigato gozaimasu. En route to Takanodababa we did indeed practice English… He told me – in very broken English – about how he loves golf, and now that he is older and in a senior position at work (the president of his company, in fact) he can leave work early to play golf in the afternoon. He also offered me his number, saying something about dinner in Shinjuku. I was like, oh – you like to eat dinner in Shinjuku? That’s nice!

I let him write down his number but I left it at that. I’m not above trading rides for English, but thus far in my Tokyo adventure I’m not interested in upping the ante to dinner dates. I still have a few shreds of my better judgment left.

Wednesday the plan was to meet in Shinjuku and take last train to Roppongi for night of mayhem, Nova style. We (Christian Beth and I) missed that train, and stayed in Shinjuku for the night. On the search for an Ego-speaking bar we met a group of friends also deciding what to do for the evening. Surprise, surprise, we sang karaoke!

Out of 5 people about 1 1/2 of them spoke English. Thankfully, karaoke + gin tonic > language.

We tried to find songs that all of us knew, but do you really have to understand to be entertained? I think not.

In Japan they call Y.M.C.A. “Young Man”

It was also this night that I discovered the joys of the tambourine. My life might never be the same.

I am of the opinion that it is necessary to make friends with certain people in life. your bartender. somebody at your favorite boutique. and of course, the person who makes your pastries. the latter being the most important…

in part because it is essential to have regular pastries in your life, no?

My first run-in with Japanese pastries was very sad. The bakery section of the nearby grocery store seemed so promising! Early on I bought an attractive bun, only to bite into it and discover that it was basically a glorified ham sandwich – except it didn’t even have the cheese! After that I turned to Starbucks. At least there I know that a cheese danish is a cheese danish, and even though the staff probably don’t know what they’re saying when they shout cheese danish! we all know what I’m going to get.

Quite fortunately for me, I have found my bakery! It is conveniently located about 5 steps from my train station, on the way to my apartment. The first time I noticed it was like magic! I was coming off the train from work, already a little hungry, and right before my eyes a small, slightly wrinkled Japanese woman pulled a tray of buns out of an oven and put them in the window. My heart quickened for a few beats but then, remembering my previous pastry debacle, doubt crept into my mind. All this over a pastry, you ask? Yeah, you bet. I decided to go for it. It’s not like I’m not trying something new every .001 seconds of the day, why should this milli-second be different?

The bun was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. I was hooked. That was a few days (a week?) ago. I went for the second time earlier this evening and the woman and I started chatting – as best as two people can when the only common language is food. I pointed to the bun and she told me the name. I totally didn’t catch it, so I tried to indicate that I wanted her to repeat it. After pointing repeatedly and trying a few English phrases which fell on linguistically deaf ears she understood and repeated the name. I think I forgot it as soon as I started eating. But before that she pointed to me and said ‘kawaii’ – one of the 6 Japanese words I know! It means cute. She assumed I didn’t know what it meant (I don’t blame her) and pointed at me and said ‘pretty’. So I smiled, bowed a few times, and said ‘arigato’. For the compliment, for the food, and for what I sense will become a great friendship.