Japan`s inner psychos

I think I`m a little imbalanced this week. My opinions of Japan, and people generally, have plummetted and rocketed a thousand times within each conversation this week. For the first time ever, I can`t make a rash decision about anything. I normally pass judgement in haste, although rarely repent at any pace, but this week I`ve flitting off the fence, on it, over it and under it. I pity anyone trying to please me this week, as it could make me cry with gratitude or nauseated by their sycophancy.

However, most of my reactions have been fairly reasonable. On Thursday, Keisuke paraded the same nationalistic conceit that wore me out last week, while we were discussing racism and global attitudes. He claimed Japan was not racist or aggrieved by the effects of WWII - aside from shame, of course - while I pointed out that fellow gaijin get spat at in the street by war veterans. He shut his ears and talked over this, but later handed over Kate Bush`s greatest hits, a far better lend than most I`ve received before.

Last night I had what seemed to be a brilliant night out with Yuka and Yukako, but then they lost their way and nearly made us miss the train (I think Yuka wanted us to miss the train so she could go back to the club we`d been in) and passed the journey home asking me if I knew all the other gaijins on the train. I restrained from asking them if they knew each of the hundreds of Japanese people also in the carriages.

After finally making it home, I switched on the TV to see the kaiwaiiest girl in the world holding up a porn magazine to the TV camera and laughing with her `wacky` co-hosts. She then briefly flicked through the rest of the magazine, revealing more and more and more of what I wanted to see less and less and less of. Having sat next to a man gazing freely at porn on the train to work, I understand why he was no in the least bit ashamed at his choice of reading matter.

I guess my reactions are not so unreasonable or unstable. That the night started off well in a nice izakaya with kakkoii boys nodding in my direction (positively begging for it in Japanese boy terms, though nudging my way into a private izakaya booth to make headway with a cute diner in front of his seven friends is still a little beyond me). After eating, we strolled around Shibuya looking for a nice bar. While queuing for a cash machine I couldn`t use (my bank, seemingly not understanding why these machines are automated, won`t let me use ATMs outside business hours), we saw an awful British northerner trying to dodge a fine for hurling a pint glass into a restaurant. Somehow, we later ran into the bouncer who had been demanding his gaijin card as surety, and he explained the man had had a tantrum when he`d been told he couldn`t take his glass outside. You can`t outrun yakuka, even if you haven`t been brought up on black pudding and brown sauce five times a day, and his bloodied and muddied body was testament to that.

After this small, but enthralling piece of excitement (which everyone else in the AM PM ignored, while I fought to give my own two penneth), Yuka took us to the Ruby Room, a very small, cool bar playing drum `n` bass and full of lesbianic Australians. Aside from that it was nice and as I was gazing behind the bar wondering what to use my free drink token on, I realised the man serving me was Gill, a regular from the George that I have abused and bullied into buying me many drinks before. Yuka was a little put out that her `special tour` had been upstaged by me already having direct connections there, so I spent the rest of the night playing down knowing Gill at all. He barely rises above acquaintance really, so it was not hard, but Japanese egos are a chore to control. Perhaps partly why this country has 30,000 suicides a year...

The weather is just as unstable - though how they laugh at the changeable nature of British weather here. Yesterday we had the tailend of China`s typhoon. Everyone here claims it was not a typhoon, though exactly like one, but as the only difference seems to be the timing, I am calling it a typhoon. Yesterday was fabulously warm, though as the temperature won`t stop rising for a good two months at least, I stubbornly refuse to remove my jacket until it is absolutely necessary (working with children every day, I know if there are any unpleasant side effects to this strategy, I will be the first to hear of it). Around 4 o`clock, the sky suddenly clouded over as one solitary, huge black clouded slowly moved above us. We could see the edge of the cloud and the sunshine in the distance, but my classroom was suddenly much darker. Once the rain started falling, the sky was lost in reems of it - it was almost horizontal and bounced off the pavements. A crack of thunder accompanied the dipping of the lights and the class of kids next door squealed. They can only handle things if they are on schedule. It lasted for about an hour and today it has been positively wonderful. I`ve been to the park to study Japanese (well, finish my book - Gide`s Immoralist, which reminds me of an unpleasant ex) and am sorely tempted to treat myself to an ice cream in a minute.