The Lie-in, The Bitchslap and the Floordrobe

According to Helen Leitch at the Edinburgh University International student office, the would be exchange student will experience four stages of emotional change during their year abroad. Similar to the four stages of grief; denial, anger, grief itself and acceptance. Helen's version had some thing to do with four H's, although I seem to remeber there only being three, and one wasn't an H. This morning I have experienced all stages of Helen's guide before I even got out of bed. The Honeymoon period; the initial feeling of excitement and awe for the new experiences of a new place. The Homesick/Hate period; the realisiation that the rose tinted telescope used to view Japan from the otherside of the world had hidden a few important details, and they don't sell reggae reggae sauce. Then finally acceptance, peace, love and harmony; the part where everything falls into place and life has a soundtrack by the beegees.
I have a free friday, so I went to bed thinking tomorrow could be a day for exploration. Stepping out like Scarlett Johannson in Lost in Translation to find Robots and Buddhists in zen gardens. At the very least find some bloody blue tak. This morning brought on stage two of Helen's irrefutable three fold plan. Somewhere beyond the Sumatran jungle beneath my window is a school, at least I think its a school... it could be a young offenders institute. I was bitchslapped from sleep by a rousing stalinistic communist work song cum nursery rhyme and the sound of a few hundred Japanese children chanting at full pelt in unison. They mercifully stopped pledging allegiance to the motherland after 45 minutes and a headache, and I managed to sleep for another 10 minutes. Then there was an earthquake. Stage three came as I finally got up, rearranged my spinal column and opened my blinds. In a morning has broken, blackbird has spoken sort of way I realised stood amongst the clothing strewn around my holding cell bedroom that I've got grand plans with genuine, authentic Japanese people today and I have marmite...but still no reggae reggae sauce. If anyone feels like sending me some, I'll reciprocate by sending back a week's supply of crunky.
I am playing tennis with Susumu and some of his mates at two forty this afternoon. Susumu is a fairly jokes character, he's eighteen and a prime mover and shaker in Ryu Soc (the 'lets get giggling akward Japanese people together with socially inept western people and see what happens club'). Actually I think what happens is pretty classic. At yesterday's lunchtime gathering I met a heavy metal obsessed student, dressed like pinnochio, two slightly punk lads who said I looked like a pirate of the caribbean (one of them had a skull and crossbones earring....I pointed this out, but they stuck with their first impression), and was finally accosted by a gang of Japanese girls who all knew my name, I don't remember meeting any of them. Tonight is the official welcome party for International Students, and I have been caught on camera for the promotional video.... a moment I will not be revelling in when they air it at the event this evening.
Japan presents an overwhelming feeling that it has intentionally chosen to write a sign in the most complicated fashion, and that it doesn't understand your textbook perfect attempts to order two large beers. An old lady genuinely turned her nose up at me on the train when I sat next to her in a free seat, and got up to move two seats further down from me. However, my driving instructor Graham Howe (of Howe to Drive driving school), always told me that 1st gear needs to be the most powerful gear even though it is moving the car the slowest, because eventually the car only needs to be kept in perpetual motion.... its building up momentum that takes effort. So thats why I'm going to go and kick Susumu's arse at tennis.