Meeting new people

Just had an energetic hour cleaning up the mouse hole. It was so filthy I couldn’t leave it the way it was till tomorrow. Dust balls hid in corners on the floor with icky bits of stuff, plus the loo and bed were sorely lacking TLC, too.

While I was busy housekeeping, I kept thinking about how I’ve been faring on the social front. Had a good, long heart-to-heart with my gal pal, Ber, who lives in Orange County and she said I was doing fine. Perhaps I am suffering from the syndrome of trying to achieve too much in too little time and you wind up not doing much at all, really.

To be honest, making friends is really hard. I’ve knocked on a couple of doors but had palm-offs. Nothing personal. This is a truly fast-paced city where you need to prioritise. Ber told me she found that the best friends she made in New York were Singaporeans. It’s like an instant bond and understanding you have that you’ll take care of each other, being from the same country. I noticed Mr. D’s friends in Singapore and Japan are mostly Aussies. Perhaps, it’s the same thing?

The Singapore friends I’ve made can’t really ‘hang out’ because they’ve got other pressing things like work or simply need to save money. I see the two girls, Cai Ling and Alicia, in school almost everyday when they stay back after their morning classes to do their homework or strike up Japanese dialogue with other friends. They are living off their savings and I can see they made the school the centre of their study and social circle. The third Singaporean, Jan, works hard at a small hotel in Asakusa. I understand from one dinner with them that eating out even at small cheap noodle places is a luxury they can’t afford often.

Ber said I should join the Singapore Society, though to some people, that’s loserish. To these new Singaporean friends, they think it’s the worst thing you could do because why did you come to a foreign country – to meet your own people? No! But is it so bad? Maybe they would have other friends to introduce me to? That’s how Ber met her Italian, Spanish, Brazilian and American friends during her one-year stay in NY. So I shouldn’t waste yet another opportunity. One thing to add on my to-do list.

I’ve been hashing with the Tokyo Ladies Hash Harriets on Wednesdays. So far, I’ve been to two sessions and I’ve enjoyed myself. I don’t know all their names yet but hope that I will get the chance to. For those who need some introduction to what a hash is: it’s a trail set by two individuals or also called the hares, marked by chalk, for the rest to find. At the end of this 6-8km run, we all gather in a circle to drink beer. Dinner follows at a nearby restaurant at about 3,000 yen per person. There’s usually no dessert as kegs of beer will be drunk. This is a continuation of the circle where they rag each other about the slightest trespass and make it all into a funny joke. The penalty for the trespasser would be to drink an entire glass of beer of course. It could be from making a loud burp to winning a beer competition in the Asia Hash Challenge.

This is where I touch on the subject of survival. I’m normally too quiet and passive in a group setting. I tend to need to watch and wait till I make a few friends then I’ll be more vocal.

At the beginning of the hash last Wednesday, a Japanese physicist introduced himself to me and seemed delighted to have found someone to speak English with. He’s been in this group for 11 years. I thought it was a bit unusual for him to stick with me through the two-hour run and chatted all the way through up hills and down slopes. I could hardly keep up with the rest, let alone a conversation about random things (“Do you know there are many earthquakes in Japan? I lived in Colorado for three months. I am from Nagano” – you get the gist), but I just couldn’t outrun him. I blame all the fish ‘n’ chips I ate in Australia.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we returned because I couldn’t take the choppy convo much longer. Exhausted, I hauled myself to the ladies’ to change. When I entered our private dining room, there he was, reserving a seat next to him. I really wasn’t used to this type of friendliness when I didn’t feel the same about him. Perhaps he thought we clicked but I was being polite by answering all his questions and making necessary noises at crucial points of his monologue.

What did I do? I forced myself to make sparkling conversation with my neighbours – a Californian engineer who lives in Yokohama and a Japanese American who was looking to move to Singapore. On my left, was a British diplomat who teased me about the ‘solicitous’ attention I was getting from the physicist who made sure I received food from every dish and bowl offered at this yakitori eatery. I was flattered but bewildered as to how to palm him off. Even after ignoring much of his company during the meal, he handed me his name card with a bow and said, “I really enjoyed our run together. Please email me tomorrow and I will reply you immediately.” He even waited for me to walk to the train station together while I paid for my share and exchanged numbers with the Japanese American dude. He reiterated the please-email-me spiel and I was more than happy to get onto the train.

I shouldn’t be complaining – at least I’m making friends. Cold calls are the hardest and I decided I won’t venture into that unless the person who is introducing me is pretty close to the other party. There’s a rugby game tomorrow afternoon with Mr. D’s Aussie friends and I’m looking forward to that. After the match, I’m heading to Shinjuku to meet my Canadian friend from class – he’s called Kim Riddick. He’s Chinese but was adopted by Canadians.

For a month, I think I’m not shaping up too badly.

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