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Auf Wiedersehen

Dear Hasebe Kato-san AKA Guai Guai AKA Makoto-son AKA Kates AKA Hasebe Car,

Mein liebling auto, oh, how I love you.  I loved all our road trips  and the late night drives.  I loved that you smelled like crayons.  I loved that you were from Wolfsburg.  I loved your quirks - that you panicked if I didn't say goodnight, that you panicked at the sight of snow, that you panicked if I got in the car and sat for too long before turning the key.  You were such a chum - you never cared if I listened to Asian music or musical music or American music or no music.  You didn't mind if I screamed out my frustrations or cheered from happiness.  You always got me back home safely, no matter how tired I was or how bad the roads were.  We were like a team, Kato dear, and now you are gone.  And I am missing you.  I know a person shouldn't love inanimate objects but I can't help it - you were the trusted sidekick I needed to get me through the past few years of graduate school.  Sure, you took all my money and abandoned me for the last final push of school but it doesn't even matter anymore.  I'll just remember the good stuff.

Love,
Me

Engrish

Today I called up the Japanese embassy to check on details for getting a Visa.  My stay is less than ninety days so I didn't think it would be a big issue but I decided to confirm it just in case.  The experience went something like this:

Automated message: <Japanese>
Me: ??
Automated message: For English, press one.
Me: <press 1>
Automated message: <Long amount of information about visas that I already knew from the website> For further assistance, press zero.
Me: <press zero>
Real Person: Visa Office
Me: Hi, I'm doing an internship and I wanted to see if I needed a visa.  They aren't paying me but they are paying for my living expenses and plane ticket.
Real Person: Hold on.
<Elevator music - it was a digital keyboard version of Fur Elise.  I couldn't help but laugh since that was the EXACT SAME MUSIC as the garbage trucks in Taiwan>
Real Person: Do you have a certificate of eligibility?
Me: No.
Real Person: What sort of internship is this?
Me: I will be doing aerospace research ...<give more details>
Real Person: Is this for school credit?
Me: No, but I am currently a student.
Real Person: Hold on.
<Fur Elise, the garbage truck edition continues>
Real Person: A visa is not needed.
Me: Great!  Are there any specific documents I will need to bring with me to Japan?
Real Person: You will need to get permission once you get there.
Me: Wait, what?  I'm sorry but could you repeat yourself?
Real Person: <Explains again>
Me: Let me get this straight; I don't need a visa but I need to get permission?
Real Person: You will need to contact the administration in Japan yourself.

I'm thinking, "I thought a visa was permission to enter Japan."

Suddenly, I'm realizing this might be how most of my internship goes - with me thinking we're on the same page until the last sentence when I'm thrown through a loop and reeling from confusion.

I figured it out now but at the time I was thoroughly confused.  It turns out Japan will let me into the country but permission to do the internship itself requires permission from the administration of the district I will be living/working in.


On a slightly different note, Japan won their game against Jordan this morning.  Honda got a hat trick.  Kagawa, Maeda and Kurihara got one goal each.  And Hasebe got an elbow to the face.  

Non-Fiction

"For our generation, a Japanese player going overseas and joining a big club was something you'd only see in a comic book. Shinji's giving kids something to dream about. It's incredibly big, what he's doing."
~ Makoto Hasebe

Essentially, "This is something you only read about in stories.  But it's really happening!"  

Boy who plays soccer from Japan goes to play for one of the best teams in the world. (Source)

Boy born with only one fully formed arm and hand goes on to play professional baseball.  (Source)  

Girl who dreams for years of going to Japan to do research gets accepted for an internship in Sendai.  

I think this is one reason why I have fallen in love with non-fiction in the past few years.  Real life can be magical, the stuff of fiction.  

A Stitch In Time

Training.  Drills.  It's about practicing something over so many times so that, when it really matters, you get it right.  It's not about getting it perfect or necessarily even close to perfect at this moment.

In an attempt to remind myself to be more patient with myself, I walked into my roommate's room the other day with a skein of yarn in hand and two needles and asked her to show me how to knit.  

She sat me down and showed me.  It only took me a few minutes to realize that I was doing it right-handed and not left-handed.  My roommate wasn't sure that there was a left-handed way of knitting which I smiled at since I'd been taught left-handed knitting twice before (once, by my Mom and once by another friend)  However, I was determined give it a try anyway.  

"If I can learn how to play the violin right-handed, then surely I can knit right-handed."  

I set to with determination.  It only took a few rows to find I had added three or four stitches.  A row or two later, I had dropped a stitch (and left a big gaping hole).  A few rows later, I dropped a few more stitches.  Somehow, in the course of that evening, I had gone from 20 little threads wrapped around the needle (I have no idea what the technical terms are)  to 23 and then ended up with 18.  

As my stitches became more even, my roommate suggested that she teach me the purl stitch to practice too.  I refused.  "Let me feel more comfortable with this one.  Let me practice it until I can get it right consistently."  

So, that's what I've been doing this week.  Every night, for some time before I go to sleep, I practice my knit stitch.  I am determined to get through the whole skein on this one stitch and then take it all apart and relearn the entire skein for purl.  

One day, when it really matters to get it right, maybe I'll accomplish something as marvelous as this:  

Guaranteed to win every ugly sweater contest 

Sorry the picture is blurry.  We were in a vintage clothing store and wanted to get the picture taken before 
anyone realized what we were doing.  

In the meantime, I'm content to just practice.

Also, this is the new theme song of my life.  William Wei, where have you been all my life?  Oh yeah, right where I left you - on the Awesome list.

Introducing The Escape of the Two-Legged Bookcase 

Men Vs. Boys

Boy: 

This is Ryo.  

He is 19.  

Source: Tumblr, chikio3

He thinks he is brave and cool for smelling Okazaki's cleats.  

Man: 

This is Hasebe.

He is 28.  

Source: Tumblr, chikio3

"No way am I smelling his cleats!"  

I think that about sums it up. 

The Games We Play

As a senior in high school, I attended a symphony performance that highlighted a 12 year old concert pianist.  His execution wasn't perfect but his bashful yet determined personality made up for it.  When he stood at the end of the piece to take his bow and receive his applause, I hoped for a long career for this kid.  I leaned over to my friend and sang his praises.  She looked at me and teased.  Why was an eighteen year old so enamored with a twelve year old?  I laughed back.  "Don't you see?  This isn't about me; I think I just found the boy that my sister is going to marry."  She completely lost it then but I simply nodded.  "It's going to happen."

A month later, I went to Bulgaria for a week.  One of the host families I stayed with had a girl a few years younger than I and a boy a few years younger than her.  The family made me feel at home when we spent an entire evening watching family home videos of the son at ballroom dance competitions when he was 10 or 11.  It was endearing.  The boy and I could not speak more than one word of each other's language but we seemed to still have a good rapport.  At one point during the trip, he spoke to me in Bulgarian and told me that I was free to sit down and that his sister was in the kitchen getting a snack to eat.  The sister ran in from the kitchen to translate for me, only to find me already following his directions.  The boy looked at her and laughed.  I looked at her and smiled.  "We understand each other," we both said in our respective languages.  I wondered how I could get this awesome kid in the family.  "This is the boy my sister should marry."

Twelve years later, I have to admit, I still play this game.




Listening to this song on repeat.  This is my latest choice in a future husband for my sister.

Say My Name by Kangnam