No, I'm still not dead. It's been too, too long since I wrote one of these here journal entry thingies. I have no excuse. As I recall, the last time I wrote, it was 1/1/2000 here, but America hadn't quite made the switchover. The possibility of catastrophe on that New Years Day was still a very real threat. The world awaited the news of what might be. I haven't seen figures, but I'd wager that CNN had a record "attendance" that fateless day.
Now March is already knocking on the door. How time flies! A brother and a sister (Hi, Judy and Roger!) and their families have now been added to the list of those to be abused by my writings (little did they know...), and life continues.
I've been back to the US once, for about six days the first week of February. Everything's still in order, my house watcher's still doing a great job of keeping it that way. Kitties are fine and seem happy. Miata still runs and looks fine. Boxes are still unpacked from my "move" into the house almost a year ago now. Sheesh, it's a busy life!
Weather here is cooler, this being February and all. Lows are around 0ºC (which of course is 32ºF to most of you, but feels like 0ºF with the constant winds). There's not much precipitation at all; I've seen snow in the air twice, but never on the ground.
January sort of flew by without incident. I spent most of my spare time delving into the nuances of Japanese and (now) Mandarin Chinese languages, and riding around Japan on my scooter. It's amazing how much smaller this city became once I was introduced to that method of transportation. Places that took 30 minutes by fast train (45 by taxi) are now an easy 10 minute ride away. Motor scooters (or as they're legally termed here, "motorized bicycles") are an ultra-convenient method of transportation in this city of high traffic. Small wonder they're so popular. I haven't tried to venture all the way to work yet. As luck would have it, on the weekends it's been a little cool for that kind of experimentation.
Scooter convenience comes at a price, though. One beautiful day, with the high around 50F, I "scooted" to Hatchobori, where I ride daily to catch the final train to work. It was such a nice day! The ride was effortless and carefree. I got all the way to Maihama, made the 10-minute walk-in-the-sun to the office gate, and discovered I didn't have my badge with me. Dang, dang, dang! (That's Japanese for ... well, you probably don't want to know. :^)) There's a rule at the office that nobody may enter without their badge, so it was another 1-hour trip each way to retrieve that and finally begin my day, 30 minutes late for a meeting. Have I mentioned how much I love meetings? (Answer: "No. Have you ever wondered why I haven't?") :^)
Anyway, it was a good day otherwise, but had turned bitterly cold by about 3PM. No problem, I had my gloves and other warm paraphernalia with me. It's only 15-20 minutes from the station to the apartment, and I can stand anything for 20 minutes. After work, I rode the train to Hatchobori, and made sure I put new batteries in the GPS. (I hadn't really gotten used to that winding route yet, and still found myself lost more often than not. Yes, it's convenient, but that doesn't mean it's easy.) Pitched the old batteries, cursed the weather a few times, and started on my way home. About two minutes into the ride, the GPS died: poor batteries. Then it started to rain, and the wind whipped around the buildings pitching sleet, cutting right through my gloves and other warm paraphernalia. Oh, fun. :^) But I can stand anything for 20 minutes.
That's when I got my first good view of Japanese snow. It's a lot like American snow, except that it's shorter and talks funny. Anyway, I finally did make my way home, about 40 minutes later, mostly blinded by the water/ice on my helmet's face guard, and aware of some Tokyo roads that hadn't existed in my world a mere 24 hours earlier. :^) The epitome of excitement. :^)
Or so I thought. Last week, I was gathering my things to leave the office for the day, and noticed that my keys weren't among them. They're always in my right coat pocket. "Always," except this time, that is. "Well," I figured, "they're probably still in the seat lock of the scooter." So about 8:30PM I headed back to Hatchobori. Of course, my biggest concern was whether the scooter would actually be there, so with just the right mix anticipation and dread, I dashed to where I left the bike, and sure enough, there it sat. What a relief!
The keys, however, were a different matter entirely. (Insert appropriate crescendo music here...) They were not in the lock, nor in the ignition. (music gets louder) They were not under the bike. (louder...) They were not in the basket. (louder) They were ... LOST! (Music vanishes, with appropriate echoes fading into the distance) Dang, dang, dang!
So, I wandered back to each of the stations, asking about "kagi nakunatta" (keys lost). Let me divert for a moment. Listen, folks, if anyone ever tries to convince you that English is an international language, that you can get by anywhere - you don't need to know the language, DO NOT BELIEVE THEM! Thankfully I can now get through about ten minutes of standard Japanese conversation before I revert to the familiar "eigo ga wakarimasu ka" ("Do you understand English?"). That's enough for most situations. It's not enough for lost keys, though. So carry a dictionary with you, is what I'm saying. Or, alternatively, don't lose your keys. Choose the option that works best for you. Me, I carry a dictionary. :^)
Anyway, nobody had turned in any lost keys at either station, so I checked again in the office. Not there. As good fortune would have it, Norie-san, a native co-worker with good English skills, was leaving as I was, so she helped me double-check at the stations. Then she called a locksmith. The keys had to be locked in the seat with my helmet. We drank hot canned coffee while we awaited the locksmith and talked about her impending doom... er, I mean, marriage. Talked about weather in Japan and America. Talked about how some idiots can't even keep track of keys... and finally the locksmith came, on a scooter, with a roll of tools that would make Mr. Goodwrench jealous.
He worked and worked on that seat lock. I tell you, I have to believe that after hours, this guy drives whatever he wants to drive. He couldn't work the lock open any standard way, so he *MADE* a key, right there in front of me, using a couple of files and a blank, a magnifying light, and a wire brush. "I don't have a Suzuki key," he said to me in Japanese... "but I can make this Yamaha key work. But you won't be able to copy it." Sheesh! How do I learn this trade?!?!?!
During this ordeal, a policeman came by (of course). He seemed fairly interested in what we might be doing there (I wonder why?!!), and asked for IDs and the like. Of course, my International Drivers license and registration were where they belonged - locked in the seat of the bike. But he was a patient man. He and Norie talked about things I didn't understand (trust me, I'm very accustomed to that situation) while I awaited the master's touch to come to fruition.
Well, he finally got the key made (works GREAT!) at
about 11:30, charged me about $100 USD, and went on his way. I
opened the seat, pulled out the paperwork the policeman needed,
took out my helmet and... there they were! Billions of Japanese air
molecules fighting over all that free space, where keys should have
been. Otherwise, the trunk was empty.
So I called (co-worker) Dale, who lives in my building (and some
people say there is no God!), and spent the night on his couch.
Next morning, I went to the apartment office, explained my problem,
and was handed their "last set" of keys to the place. While at
work, I learned that the police had called the apartment office,
saying that they had found some keys. Some idiot had left them in
the seat lock of a motor scooter, and they were confiscated for the
good of the owner. Thanks ever so much. :^) So I went to the
police station, retrieved my keys, and intend to have copies made
this afternoon.
Otherwise, I'm still having a great time (even *THAT* story will represent a great time, in my memory about, oh, twenty years from now). I'm still amazed but no longer surprised to find ATMs shut down after 8PM (though I still try on occasion). Squigglese is no longer (as much of) a mystery to me. I'm happy and still studying the languages. My sister Shirley has said many times that she'd like to be a professional student. I have a certain amount of that desire-to-learn" in me, too... and I'm lucky to have a job that makes that possible to any extent.