A good, ordinary day

My, what a lot of sleep can do for a girl. I’m still up at 2am. I realised that life has been so rush rush that I forgot I was lacking in the zzzzs. The start of Golden Week was just plenty of late nights and fragmented sleep (er, blaming the alcohol I consumed, especially yellow tail shiraz). This morning, I had a glorious goro-goro (literally, a phrase that means rolling about in your room). I slept and woke a few times and finally got up refreshed at 1130am.

But my afternoon was surprisingly productive. I was working on story ideas — they flowed. More work on the class action stuff — easy peasy and I did some Japanese revision.

What was my highlight today was the hash dinner. I couldn’t join in the run because my right ankle has swelled to twice its normal size and it’s changed to a dismal bluish tinge. I took a horrible spill down the stairs in Akasaka station. The pain was very sharp but I was able to walk and through the streets of Kamakura no less. Alas, the abuse I put this poor ankle — high heels and more running. I’ve been reading up on swollen joints and it could mean an inflammation. Eeks. I wish I could go to my massage therapist/accupunturist. He has magic hands and usually a twist and a chop will set you right as rain. I don’t believe in this crap about icing it and elevating it. Fug, I could do this for weeks and I may not feel right.

I’m heading to Nikko with John, a new American friend. Please, my ankle, hold up! He was introduced to me by Juleen, my ex-neighbour. A lawyer by profession and is funny as hell. A bit of a stickler for accuracy, but hey, that’s an occupational hazard. He’s up for travelling in and out of Tokyo and enjoys drinking red wine and all sorts of alcohol so I figured he’s good enough company. He also lives a few streets down from me so he’s almost like a replacement for Juleen. Ha ha. That girl was so sweet to hook up two new out-of-towners in Tokyo. John arrived about the same time as me.

Anyway, back to the hash: let me just say, if you’re new in a foreign city, especially Tokyo, join the hash. This bunch of peeps is the silliest but funnest I know. Plus, they have this egalitarian way of making everyone feel they are part of the group. For those of you who don’t know what’s a down-down, it’s just a penalty of downing a small glass of beer for doing something dumb or not doing something or looking like someone who did something “wrong”. For example, if it’s your first time running with the hash, you are invited to do a down-down. It’s sort of like saying, welcome! But one thing struck me was that the mistress or the general manager of the committee, who always hosts the dinner, makes sure even the quietest peeps get a turn. Everyone gets to see who you are. In the Singapore hash, there were these codes of behaviour and you had to really try hard to know the “cool” veterans in the group to even get a name and then maybe you deserved to do a down-down. Yup, it’s playground politics. The more they tease you, the more they like you.

But here, I just feel it’s a great avenue for people who just want a light evening. No talk of work, just plain drinking and laughing — and we bond. Today, on the way back, I was talking to one girl who told me she and another girl like to go museum hopping and hiking together. She asked me to join them — I was like, “Yes, please!” they are both Japanese, too.

I’ve been going through a Japan-is-tough phase. In order to get out of that, I think I’ve to have a more determined go at the language, create regular hangouts for myself, and get to know more Japanese. I really don’t want to end up like those expats who complain and misunderstand Japanese culture and who only hang out in wealthy, foreigner-friendly places like Roppongi, Azabu Juban and Omotesando. I just set up two more language exchange sessions so wish me luck. I will study before I meet them this time.

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