Got Miruku?
One of my favorite things about living in Japan is the continual sense of unexpected possibility. You never know what might happen or what you might see each day when you wake up in the morning. Perhaps the the local garbage men might drive by with a special niche in the side of their truck where a stuffed Winnie the Pooh rides. Or maybe 5 little dogs all wearing sunglasses will trot merrily past you as you walk down the street to meet a friend for coffee.
Even after two years, there’s still so much I don’t understand about this country and although it can certainly be frustrating at times, I think that if I knew all the answers, much of the magic would be removed. For example, on my way to the train station I pass a dog grooming salon. Inexplicably, this salon seems to have a fascination with transportation and there is always some sort of scooter or giant tricycle on display in front of the salon. What’s the connection with dog grooming? I really don’t know. The best times are when they put out a giant motorcycle made entirely of wicker. Naturally if I spoke Japanese I could just pop in and ask the groomers what the deal is with the trikes and the wicker and so on. Actually, my Japanese is good enough that I could ask that but it’s not good enough for me to understand the answer. Besides, it’s sort of fun not to know.
The other morning I went to pour myself a cup of coffee when to my dismay I realized that we were out of milk. Now some people can drink their coffee black if they have to but I’m not one of those people. When I smoked I needed my orange juice and in my coffee I need my milk and sugar. I’m very serious about these things. So anyway, there we were. Me sitting blearily on the couch with my empty coffee mug, and Nico sitting on the floor, snatching aimlessly* at invisible objects in the air. Did I care that my 9 month old son appeared to be exhibiting signs of becoming an infant schizophrenic? No I didn’t. I was too tired to care because I didn’t have any MILK and thus no coffee.
The doorbell rang. Who could it be? Nobody EVER comes calling unexpectedly at our apartment save for a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses and one time, a woman who announced that she was my neighbor Yoko Ono and that she wanted to be my friend and practice her English. She came bearing the gifts of a key chain and a small microwave pizza. The bell rang again and as I shambled to the door in my bathrobe I just hoped that it wasn’t the Witnesses again. Until then I had successfully avoided them by feigning a complete ignorance of every language they had attempted to speak with me. So far they had displayed themselves to be remarkably and quite unfortunately multilingual and had already given me literature in Japanese, Spanish, French and English. Perhaps this time they’d try something more exotic. Finnish or Gaelic perhaps? I cautiously opened the door to reveal a Japanese man holding a small glass bottle of milk. He started to speak but when I seemed confused, he thrust the milk at me, said "Miruku des (It’s milk)" and then scurried off.
Well well well I thought to myself as I went back inside, "They" really are watching me. I always suspected it but I guess this just proves it. It’s not just me, Nico and the cast of CNN then after all because someone out there knew that I needed milk. Perhaps he was the fairy godmother I’d always dreamed of. Granted, I’d never expected my fairy godmother to turn out to be a middle-aged Japanese man with a bad comb-over and a Member’s Only jacket but life is full of surprises. A few hours later the doorbell rang once more. I peeked through the window and saw that it was my fairy godmother again. What might he have for me this time I wondered. I opened the door but instead of the grilled cheese sandwich and Hershey’s bar that I’d been hoping for, the man handed me a flier on which was written something in English about a neighborhood milk delivery service. The earlier bottle had been a sample. As I shut the door a few minutes later, I found myself wishing that I had been out when the man had come back with his flier because as convenient as a milk delivery service may be, nothing could match up to the magic of having my very own fairy godmother. Especially one wearing a Member’s Only jacket.
*Later, a caffeine fueled investigation revealed that what Nico was actually snatching at were floating particles of dust. Now I just need to sit here and hope for someone with a broom to show up.
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oh my god… look at that bike! i’m so glad that you got a picture of that..
the japanese can be quite freaky with their psychic powers. they know! THEY KNOW!
What a great story! I really enjoy reading your blog because I like to hear about all the funny things the Japanese people do. Especially their application of the English language. It must be surreal living there. Your baby’s really cute too! Thanks for the entertainment.
Wow, that was a really, really cool story – I was kinda freaked out there for a bit. Maybe they really were watching you and wouldn’t that match up nicely with George Bush illegally listening in on Americans’ phone calls – even those who live abroad!! But no, only a milk delivery service and, actually, that is pretty cool too! Sort of straight out of the 50s.
)
Anyway, now I’m rambling.
My point is – I love reading about your adventures in knitting and Japan! I found you through Dooce.com a couple months back and have been coming back regularly ever since.
I really wish I had that wicker bike sitting in my livingroom. I wish SO MUCH that I had possesion of that bike. I don’t think I could stop myself from stealing that bike if I saw it on the street. I would go to jail for that motorcycle. It is so pure and good and weird.
I read your blog in secret because I, too, am a white honkey girl living in a strange Asia country. I have been in Korea for nine months now, and you have perfectly described how I feel about the unexplainable quirks I encounter every day here. Thanks.
She took the words outta my mouth
Anna Dilemna lives in Japan. This blog post she wrote about life there recently exactly describes how I feel about living in Korea — the confusing weird stuff that goes on every day, and how that makes each moment even more memorable.
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LOL!!! I love Tokyo for the same reasons. Weird and wonderful – it is good to be reminded of it!!! I am the Blog stalker and we met at S&B the other night. So if someone, in years to come, pops up behind you in some faraway country and whispers in your ear ‘I know what you did last summer’ then rides off on a wicker motorbike, you’ll know who it was!!!
That was a lovely little “slice of life in Tokyo” story. Anyway you look at it…… having someone knock on your door with milk just when you needed it is a once in a life time experience. AND shambled is a really great word. I actually had to look it up to see if it truely was a word. I was hoping you had made it up but low and behold there it was in the dictionary. I’m not even going to get into my thoughts about the wicker motercycle.
Hello from an American living near Hiroshima. I’ve been here for 3 1/2 years and experience the *magic* daily.
wow… very murakami-esque, that story. a fun read! are you using the milk service?
Just popped in to gaze longingly at the motorcycle again.
If the Witnesses show up again just pretend to be deaf. Works with Mormons, too. Oh, and you have THE cutest baby in the history of the world, seriously.
this might be the best story ever…it’s a total fairytale.
Funny — things like that happened to me all the time when I lived over there. The funniest part is that you DRANK the milk. Imagine if a strange guy knocked on your door in an American city, proffering food or beverage — what would you do?
Wow, can you sit on that? Do the wheels move? I bet you could get away with trying it out and just pretend we do it in America all the time.
What a great story! I want a Member’s Only Fairy Godmother!!
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