Christmas in Japan, Part 2

It is now 9:30pm Japanese time, on the evening of that beloved day of some Lord's birth, December 25, commonly known by most Christian nations of the world as the eponymous holiday, Christmas. In Japan, however, being the Shinto Buddhist nation that it is, Christmas means little more than bad decorations and repetitive MIDI Christmas music at the grocery store. Students go to school, people go to work, and life goes on.

My day was essentially set to look much the same - when in Rome - though I was fortunately invited by the grace of my dear friend Kyle to join him and his wife Hiroe for a delightful noontime brunch of pancakes and sausages. I was reluctant to accept this offer - as Christmas is a couples' holiday over here, and celebrated in a romantic fashion - but Kyle, having spent Christmas drinking alone here last year, seemed particularly attuned to the subtle pitfalls of my plight, and insisted I come by.

So I set my alarm for 11:45, thinking that, if I'm awake and ready to go early enough for brunch, cool, and if not, I'll just stop by for a little while in the afternoon and say hi. At around 11:30 I receive a text from Kyle, but I don't get out of bed to check it - I'm still half-asleep. In fact, I can hear the chime of the incoming message in my dream, but when I go to check my mail in the dreamstate, it's a message from some chess club wishing me a Merry Xmas. Ok, I think to myself - more time to sleep! But in the dreamworld I'm already awake, taking in yesterday's laundry off the line and talking to Kyle via Gchat re: when to come over. But, being a dream, all is not quite as it should be -- I don't belong to any chess club, for one, I don't Gchat with Kyle for two, I'm at my aunt's house for three, and there's some weird '70s porn on the TV for four. These things won't strike me as weird until I wake up with my alarm 15 minutes later, though.

I wake up to the sound of Olivia Tremor Control's "Hideaway" playing very distinctly in my dream - dreams are so fascinating, I've woken up twice with melodies and words to songs in my head in the past week, neither of which previously existed (to the best of my knowledge). I immediately remember the text message, and after a brief moment of contemplation, I realize that I probably didn't actually get a message from the chess club, and that it was probably Kyle texting me to come over. Sure enough, this is the case. So I take in my laundry (for what feels like the second time this morning), take a shower and bike over to Kyle's, where I am so generously treated to a breakfast of pancakes, sausage and chocolate milk. We then watch Beavis and Butthead Christmas specials all afternoon, until I decide to stop intruding on Kyle and Hiroe's romantic holiday and head home.

It's about 5pm, so I stop off at MaxValu for a piece of chicken and a cup of sake for dinner (for some reason the Japanese think Americans eat chicken on Christmas - Kyle says you have to reserve fried chicken at KFC weeks in advance to get some for the holiday). But this proves to be too little food, so I take the English translation of the Lotus Sutra Kyle lent me and head over to Chorky's Diner for dinner.

Chorky's is the most American of diners - more American than American diners, without doubt. If it was in America it'd feel hokey, all retrofitted, Popeye cartoons playing in a corner and the best '50s rock 'n roll you've probably never heard (but think you have) coming in through the speakersystem. In other words, the most comforting place to spend Christmas night by one's lonesome. I take a seat at the counter, order a chili burger and a Heineken (they used to serve Rolling Rock, but sadly no longer...) and start reading. Every once in awhile I try to chat up the girl behind the counter, asking her if she's doing anything for Christmas and what not, but she can't understand anything I am saying at all, and keeps running to the guy at the grill for translations. This is somewhat tedious, but we eventually remove the middleman (or in this case, woman) and I get to meet the grillman face to face, who speaks English rather well. Turns out, he's the one and only Chorky! I am so pleased to meet his acquaintance, and gush over his wonderful atmosphere and music selections and food, and he helps me quite a bit in my Japanese - so much so, I've decided I may start going over there every Friday (although not always to eat a cheeseburger and fries, that's for sure!) I figure, if you're looking for someone who likes Americans enough to put up with the hassle of having to translate every little thing for you, Chorky's is probably the safest bet you can make. His diner is like the best of America, all ensconced in some bizarro time capsule that makes even me long for my homeland in ways that I so rarely do otherwise. If America was all Elvis Presley, Schlitz beer, Popeye and cheeseburgers, maybe I'd still be over there today (just kidding, the '50s probably sucked, but they don't in Chorky's diner - and that's the point)

Anyway, now I am home, waiting for America to wake up so I can creepily vidchat my way into people's Christmases and live vicariously through their joy. But really, it's been a much better day than I expected, and, while not particularly Christmas-y, as far as Fridays go, this one's a keeper.

Once again, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good morning!