Good Morning Saitama!

Blogging is a far more dangerous pursuit than I ever imagined. It seems I`ve made myself mildly notorious by writing this thing. I`ve been found out by other teachers in Omiya, as well as Jery and George. No longer can I admit to wearing Dr Martin-style shoes or drinking beer in my lunch break or any of the other things outlawed in the Shane contract. It also seems I have a regular reader in Jery now, so a small shout-out to you! I can`t imagine this is that interesting for anyone who knows me here and is likely to just read things I will soon be telling them myself, but if they have time to kill, it`s their choice.

Friday was a write-off. I had a hangover. Not `two days drunk` as the Japanese say (futsukayoi), but one evening slaughtered and a whole day ruined. Yukako came to my apartment laiden with food and booze which I stormed through. It was lovely though. She`s a brilliant girl and has shaken off some of the conservatism of her compatriots. I even got her to moan about Japan a little bit, although did then feel obliged to berate England - quite half-heartedly, mind. She brought some colour-changing liquour (add water and it turns from peach to pink) and takuyaki round - small balls of batter with lumps of octopus in the middle, smothered with sauce and mayonaise. I`m fairly sure the night ended with me passing out on my futon, but as it is quite normal for people to fall asleep drunk in public here, Yukako doesn`t seem to have even noticed. It reminded me of some of the things I love about Japan, that being one of them!

I was knackered though. I`ve been out quite a bit this week. Sunday night I wanted to meet up with Sean for a very cheap meal, but ended up going to an izakaya with him, Adam, Riaz and a Japanese couple who I bullied into teaching me `bad Japanese`. We got stung with an enormous bill considering there was so little food (though buckets of beer), but I did learn how to say `it tastes like sick` in Japanese: kore wa gero no aji desu.

On Monday, I bumped into Darrell, who treated me to a couple of beers in exchange for listening to his life story. Again. He can really talk, but is great company. A Japanese couple sat quietly next to us, but as we `kampaied` another beer, a third glass clinked against ours. The girl had gone to the bathroom and the deserted boy couldn`t resist a little gaijin action. We tried to practise our muddled Japanese on him and he attempted to use his English, but after managing `what music do you like` we were stumped and went back to our own conversations.

On Tuesday, Kaori came round and we had some wine. She brought two bottles, saying she knows I like to drink, and only had a couple of glasses, so I was slaughtered. I planned to skip Japanese the following day, but woke up at 7am on the dot, so thought I may as well go. The teacher thought it was hilarious that I had a hangover and I managed to tell him, in Japanese, that beer and wine get me very drunk, but I am fine on gin. He constantly told me to relax, which must have lost some meaning in translation. Still being a bit pissed, I couldn`t have been more relaxed.

School`s been a bit mad this week. Shit-Shiraoka decided to begin parents` observations early this week and so I arrived at school with a scarf around my head and pedal-pushers, looking to all the world like an extra from West Side Story, then had to hold it together in two kids` classes while the War of the Worlds unfolded. Naoto, a showy, spoilt, but usually manageable kid decided now he had a bigger audience, he needed a bigger show and nearly came to blows with Akeru all for sake of a `Taiwan` flashcard. I hope the mothers were focused on their own children, who were perfectly behaved, of course, and didn`t notice that I had lost complete control. In the second class, the behaviour was even worse, but as I expect it from Rei (a little maniac who seems to flirt with me, even though he is nine, and is quite likely to bring a knife in to school to stab me the next time I tell him off for punching one of his mates), it wasn`t so bad. He did try to jokingly punch me in the stomach, which made me want to seriously smack him, but I restrained myself.

Tuesday was a bit more lightweight. Shoko went crazy in class and sang every sentence I asked her to read to the tune of `Shall We Dance`, the lesson was making offers and requests and as it livened it up for a bunch of otherwise bored 13-year-olds I encouraged it and was sorely tempted to join in. Maybe my earlier encounter with an uncontrollable two-year-old that forced me to appreciate the classes I have. I had to taiken two two-year-old boys. One was ridiculously cute (the receptionist politely told his mother he looks like a girl) and sat and beamed whenever I spoke, but made no sound, while the other faced the wrong way and pulled all my materials off the table, but lost interest as soon as they were on the floor in reach. My previous experience of doing Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes in front of an observing mother and a reluctant child have numbed me to this, but Yoshiko has not had this training and was frazzled by the time the boy left the school. He tore and screwed up any paper he could get his hands on and constantly tried to make his escape down the stone steps outside, while his gormless mother chatted and let him go about his business. Yoshiko attempted to stop him going down the steps and he ripped open her jacket and blouse! She was mortified, but I yanked the boy off her and let her dress herself before we dragged him back to his mother. On Thursday, I had to sit through another of Sachiko`s songs, this one about grandmothers, as her daughter-in-law was due to give birth within hours of the lesson. The other students find this more uncomfortable than me, but still she goes on. It wasn`t quite as long as the last one though, so we gave her genuine smiles after - but of relief.

Rachel came to visit yesterday. We went for Shabu-Shabu in Shinjuku. I seem to have passed the False Assimilation stage and am truly Japanese; I got off the train at the wrong stop, got us lost and we very nearly had to plump for a plain, old izakaya. We managed to get there in the end, and it was tabehodai (all you can eat), so I shovelled all I could into my face, barely able to lift my carcass to the station, then got on the slow train home. We went to the George `for one` after and bumped into Yukako, Jery and a load of other people. One of Yukako`s friends tried to set Rachel up with a guy until she heard Rachel was only staying for the night, then the crowds parted, I got ushered in and, with everyone pointing and smiling expectantly, was left standing facing a man I had nothing to say to. He was potentially good-looking, although Rachel and I wavered constantly on this point, but he had a brace (at 34, this might be a bit much) and was a bit conscious of it, so wouldn`t speak much (his voice was very unappealing, so this was no bad thing) and when I finally did talk to him, it turned out he has a girlfriend of four years.

Rachel and I insisted we were not drunk, but my memory tells me I was a complete twat, so I hope that was the alcohol and not something more constant. Rachel got a completely distorted view of my life in Omiya. Once I spotted Yukako, I was welcomed like a celebrity, even being hugged by one woman I`ve only met twice before and whose name I couldn`t pick off a list of two. A crazed drunk kept grabbing me and out-Suggsed me while Madness was on, telling people I was his friend over and over, although I have only really said hello to him before. George played a World Cup medley and Rachel was overly impressed by my knowing all the words to the John Barnes`s rap. We eventually managed to drag ourselves away at 4am, having slated Kylie to a couple of Australasians (she DOES look like a horse with a child`s body) and discussed how badly kaolas smell.

Today we were hoping to go to Kamakura, but didn`t have time, so went into Akihabura, got a huge lunch from KFC and sat by the river eating it. We visited a shrine we happened across so we could justify the trip, but mainly loafed about counting the homeless. We did find a Russian Orthodox Church that I insisted was not Russian until I found I could read the sign above the entrance because it was written in Russian.