9/26/10

Finally, payday! I was so excited to get my first full paycheck. I had budgeted a specific amount of money to get me through the first month and a half and I was down to the dollar by the time my paycheck cleared. As soon as I had the money in my Japanese bank account, I knew exactly what my first purchase would be.

Anyone who knows me knows how important it is for me to be active. After shopping around for a place to workout, that was within my monthly budget, I decided on a gym near work. Now that I had money, a gym membership was the first item on my to do list.

In Japan, when you are a member of a gym, you buy timeslots. It’s not like in the States where you just pay a monthly fee and workout whenever you like. Here, you pay a certain amount for the times you want to work out. You can rent mornings between 9am-12pm, Mon-Thursdays, just Wednesday afternoons from 3p-5pm, just Saturdays and Sundays from 9pm-11pm, etc. There are so many options; it becomes overwhelming trying to fit your life into a multicolored timetable that is specific, down to the second. I decided on Monday-Thursdays between 9pm-11: 30pm, this being after work. I wanted the option to go on the weekends, but those time slots are very expensive and it would hike up my membership another $50 per month. That, to me, is just unreasonable.

My Irish friend, whose name is Patience, jokes that she is anything but patient, has decided to go with me to sign up for a membership. I apologized in advance, knowing it will be a frustrating process being that no one at this gym speaks English and everything in Japan takes longer than you could ever imagine.

We get to the gym and a sweet girl I had inquired about membership from the week before was standing at the desk. I was excited to see her because it took me nearly 30 minutes last week gesturing to her what kind of membership I wanted. She kindly helped me through the process. Our interaction involved pointing at a bunch of colored lines on a chart written in Kanji. She would then show me the campaign posters that had the latest signup deal, all written in Kanji. Somehow we came to an agreement. Then I gestured I would come back later. I don’t think she thought I would actually come back. If I were in her position and I saw myself walk through the doors, I would have ducked behind the counter, asking my coworker to take on the responsibility. There would be no amount of commission in the world that would make me want to take on the challenge she was about endure.

The process, as I thought, was difficult and frustrating. I had to write Kanji, which I do not know. So, the sweet Japanese girl would write out everything in Kanji and I would copy it onto the documents. Then, I had to sign up for something like a credit card that was only used for the gym membership to ensure payments each month. So there was a credit card application, in of course, Kanji. After this, we had to fill out the application for the gym and make sure I was a legit legal alien, showing my passport, my alien registration card, proof of my bank, work information and so on.

Luckily, Patience was there. She is the queen of gesturing. Her gestures are impeccable. She would throw her hands in the air, motion around in animation, and somehow, the Japanese person would completely understand her. Then the Japanese person would gesture back and she would somehow understand, while I stood there wondering what just happened. “Oh! They want to take a wee look at your passport and make a copy!” She would turn to me saying this with her Irish accent. “Um, okay…here’s my wee passport,” I would say, handing it over confused and bowing because that’s what seems appropriate at the time.  

Nearly two hours later, I could tell Patience’s patience was wearing thin, and so was mine. Whenever a page was turned, Patience would say with optimism, “Done?!” and gesture the way a referee in a baseball game would show a player is safe. Then the sweet Japanese girl would giggle and say, ”Eh…N-O.” Then Patience and I would look at each other, eyes drooping in visible exhaustion and I would remind her how awesome she is for putting up with this shit.

Two and a half hours later, I was a gym member that could start using the gym in a week. Did I mention you have to start the membership at the beginning of the month?

We then, made our way to an international café in Takadanobaba (say the ten times) because a friend emailed me telling me this place had free wifi. Free wifi is unheard of in Japan. In fact, wifi in general is unheard of. You either go to a sketchy internet café and buy time on a PC that is so slow it takes 30 minutes to send three emails, or you buy a gadget that hooks up to your computer that allows you to use dial up speed internet at the nearest McDonald’s or Starbucks, for an additional fee, of course. Takadanobaba is about a 30-45 min commute from our apartments, but it was worth it to be able to sit with a glass of wine and a hummus plate while typing on a familiar keyboard that connects you with loved ones.

Patience and I took turns using my computer to check emails, write to family and scope websites we’ve wanted to scope out but didn’t have the desire to waste precious time or money at a sketchy Internet café. Meanwhile, in the background, the café was hosting poetry night. An emo Japanese kid was sharing his deep, dark feelings over the mic. I had no idea what he was saying, but by the dramatic pauses, mid sentence, and the intense interest from the audience, I knew it probably had to do with lost love or a romance that had gone awry.

After a few hours at Ben’s (www.benscafe.com)  we’re on a first name basis now, we decided to try a Mexican restaurant my coworker told me about.  This place called, Junkadelic, in Nakameguro, about 20 minutes from my apartment. Apparently, it is suppose to be authentic. Being a skeptic, I assumed it would be good, but maybe not great. I didn’t care though, because Mexican food is one of the few types of food I can eat without having an allergic reaction. I’m finding that most of the Japanese food causes me to have allergy issues and I’ve been bored eating the same thing everyday. So, no matter how good or bad the Mexican food, I knew it would be much better than what I had been eating daily. And it was.

Junkadelic was AMAZING! (http://www.eok.jp/restaurants-bars/casual-dining/mexican/junkadelic) It is my new favorite spot, aside from Ben’s Café. And it seems to be the favorite hangout for all the other English speaking foreigners too because every seat was filled with them. After Patience and I satisfied our Mexican craving, we decided our day was done. As we left, one of the servers saw it began to rain outside and he gave us each an umbrella. “See you later!” He said cheerfully in broken English. “Yes, you will!” I said. It was cheesy, but I meant it.