Home Style 2
On the second day of my trip, we went to Matsue Castle, a castle in the town of Matsue (could you have guessed that one). The weather, to most people, could be described as cold… or maybe freezing, harsh, arctic, and painful. Needless to say I loved it. The people I was with however did not.
Around Matsue Castle is a very large, very long moat. Momma decided it would be a good idea to take a boat ride in the moat. I saw no problem with this until I saw the boat, and realized that, should I step foot in this “boat” it would most likely sink. Much to my surprise it did not, but then again either because of my size or the old driver’s intoxicated state, there seemed to be very little steering or movement going on. It was a pleasant boat ride, as far as boat rides go, but was marked largely by the bridges. Many, many bridges. Bridges that the roof of the small boat could not fit under. So, when we would approach a bridge, everyone had to duck down and the roof had to be lowered. This was often done with less than a second remaining before the roof would be torn off.
Unfortunately, like most things here in Japan, the boat (and the roof) is made with Japanese people in mind, not Walruses. And so, I did not merely have to duck my head, I had to dive to the ground and lie still until the bridge was passed, often curled, by pure instinct, into the fetal position. It must have looked ridiculous.
Not much else exciting happened during the day (unless you’re really interested in normal sightseeing type stuff) but in the evening it was time for more, you guessed it, intoxication. However, we were not alone. Joining us was more family members: an aunt, uncle, and three young cousins.
Now, all five of these individuals (including the children, who ranged from 1st to 6th grade) were accomplished martial artists. I found this out when, after the dinner and he’s had a few, the uncle challenged his 2nd grade daughter to a fight… in the kitchen. Now, this, my friends, was, for no other way to put it, fucked up. The result of this brawl (and really, you have to call it that, as the two of them were going all out trying to kill each other) was the little girl beating the shit out of her father. I’m pretty sure he was bleeding from the nose and internally. It was exciting, and slightly disturbing, to watch.
After a liberal amount of alcohol was consumed (this time both sexes joined in, which is good) Momma proceeded to tell me something interesting. Before meeting me, she had asked my… friend… what kind of person I was. When my… friend… hesitated to answer, she instead asked what I looked like. After a few moments thought, my… friend… apparently answered, “Well, sorta like Hagrid, but less beard.”
Yesterday I’m Santa, today I’m Hagrid. Goodbye self esteem.
The final bit of weirdness for that night was when, somehow, we got on the subject of my hair. Questions were asked why I have it long, and if I ever thought of cutting it. Since (much to your shock) I am thinking of cutting it, I was trying to get opinions, should I or shouldn’t I. Poppa was the first to attack the issue saying, “well, you should find out what your future girlfriend thinks.” I was about to say that I currently don’t have a “future girlfriend” because your daughter is screwing with my head, but before I could say that, he didn’t skip a beat between “thinks” and “So, Arisa, what do you think?” She promptly replied that I apparently look good either way, but that maybe I would look better with it short. Poppa, in response, looked me straight in the eye and said, “cut it.”
Now, at the time, I thought nothing of this. It seemed marginally innocent, especially since Arisa is the friend of my… friend… so nothing registered. The next day, however, I soon realized that something wasn’t right, especially when Arisa started praying at the shrines we visited for a “good husband” and “many babies.”
I could not have known…
Around Matsue Castle is a very large, very long moat. Momma decided it would be a good idea to take a boat ride in the moat. I saw no problem with this until I saw the boat, and realized that, should I step foot in this “boat” it would most likely sink. Much to my surprise it did not, but then again either because of my size or the old driver’s intoxicated state, there seemed to be very little steering or movement going on. It was a pleasant boat ride, as far as boat rides go, but was marked largely by the bridges. Many, many bridges. Bridges that the roof of the small boat could not fit under. So, when we would approach a bridge, everyone had to duck down and the roof had to be lowered. This was often done with less than a second remaining before the roof would be torn off.
Unfortunately, like most things here in Japan, the boat (and the roof) is made with Japanese people in mind, not Walruses. And so, I did not merely have to duck my head, I had to dive to the ground and lie still until the bridge was passed, often curled, by pure instinct, into the fetal position. It must have looked ridiculous.
Not much else exciting happened during the day (unless you’re really interested in normal sightseeing type stuff) but in the evening it was time for more, you guessed it, intoxication. However, we were not alone. Joining us was more family members: an aunt, uncle, and three young cousins.
Now, all five of these individuals (including the children, who ranged from 1st to 6th grade) were accomplished martial artists. I found this out when, after the dinner and he’s had a few, the uncle challenged his 2nd grade daughter to a fight… in the kitchen. Now, this, my friends, was, for no other way to put it, fucked up. The result of this brawl (and really, you have to call it that, as the two of them were going all out trying to kill each other) was the little girl beating the shit out of her father. I’m pretty sure he was bleeding from the nose and internally. It was exciting, and slightly disturbing, to watch.
After a liberal amount of alcohol was consumed (this time both sexes joined in, which is good) Momma proceeded to tell me something interesting. Before meeting me, she had asked my… friend… what kind of person I was. When my… friend… hesitated to answer, she instead asked what I looked like. After a few moments thought, my… friend… apparently answered, “Well, sorta like Hagrid, but less beard.”
Yesterday I’m Santa, today I’m Hagrid. Goodbye self esteem.
The final bit of weirdness for that night was when, somehow, we got on the subject of my hair. Questions were asked why I have it long, and if I ever thought of cutting it. Since (much to your shock) I am thinking of cutting it, I was trying to get opinions, should I or shouldn’t I. Poppa was the first to attack the issue saying, “well, you should find out what your future girlfriend thinks.” I was about to say that I currently don’t have a “future girlfriend” because your daughter is screwing with my head, but before I could say that, he didn’t skip a beat between “thinks” and “So, Arisa, what do you think?” She promptly replied that I apparently look good either way, but that maybe I would look better with it short. Poppa, in response, looked me straight in the eye and said, “cut it.”
Now, at the time, I thought nothing of this. It seemed marginally innocent, especially since Arisa is the friend of my… friend… so nothing registered. The next day, however, I soon realized that something wasn’t right, especially when Arisa started praying at the shrines we visited for a “good husband” and “many babies.”
I could not have known…
posted by S A B at 8:51 PM
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