Update from the House of Oak.

Since last writing, I have seen some things, mostly on weekly class "field trips", and done some other things. Currently, my laundry is drying atop the House of Oak, because it is not supposed to rain here for at least 24 hours. This is a very special respite; I like rain, a lot, especially after Los Angeles, but it is the rare and lucky individual who has access to a dryer in this country. A rare, lucky individual who knows where to find a Laundromat.

I am starting to get more comfortable here as my room has gone from a mostly-bare eyesore, combining brown walls with orange curtains and pink Hawaii-themed bedsheets to something a little more cosy. I couldn't get rid of the orange curtains, unfortunately, but they are somewhat muted by the white and blue sheets and desk I have now. Also, now I can sit up when I use the computer or eat dinner, instead of lying on the futon feeling like a bachelor slob.

Eventually I will clean this room and stick up a few pictures of my domicile. It's on the agenda.

Other things that have happened. I saw a Zen Temple, and went to Kabuki. The temple was sweaty (did I already write about this?), and the Kabuki was not for me. I am not fond of melodrama; also, as we were at a Kabuki performance that was supposed to teach you about how Kabuki works, ergo the first half of the show was led by an Emcee who spent his time repeatedly breaking the fourth wall. It is really hard to rebuild that wall in your mind after someone has made the female-role actors (called onnagata, my dear friends) speak in their natural male voices for a laugh from the audience. I'll have to give the theater here another shot after all these memories have dulled.

The Kabuki performance was also my first time ever in Tokyo, which was rather exciting. However, after the performance, I somehow got convinced to trying to find dinner in Shibuya. Do not be vegetarian in Japan, ladies and gentlemen. Or if you do, bring a lot of snacks and drink a lot of beer to get over the fact that there will almost never be an entree you can order at any restaurant, ever. Even normally simple veggie options (pasta, pizza, indian food) have been pumped up with meat. In Shibuya, I ended up eating at a salad bar (a salad bar where I was only allowed one visit!!), and had the sneaking suspicion that somehow my salad dressing had been made with the assistance of bacon.

Originally I had thought about becoming a fish-eater again, but to be honest that wouldn't do me a ton of good. There is pork in everything here, my friends. There is pork in the salad, the soup, the noodles. There is likely pork in your bread. I am learning to eat much more cautiously here.

However, there are some great little shops in my neighborhood, mostly run by the elderly, where I can buy natural produce and small veggie meals (marinated potatoes, inari-zushi). When I bought my bedsheets from one of these local stores, I ended up in a big goofy conversation in Japanese with the proprietress, because she was so excited by the fact I could talk in Japanese. She repeatedly told me how worried my mother must be that I am all the way in Japan, and gave me two cans of cola as a present (complete with a little bag to carry them home in). It was basically totally adorable, especially as she had an old punk air about her with her smoker's voice, short dyed hair, and many metal teeth.

Also, after that I couldn't not buy the sheets, which is great in the end because even though they were not cheap, they are very pretty and I plan to take them home with me next summer. I will find some use in the States for a futon coverlet.