Charlie

A few days ago I did it. I flushed the little bastard down the washing machine drain. Apparently, I didn't do a good enough job the first time. Tonight, there he was again, Charlie Junior, sitting mockingly on the shower room floor, in all his Huntsman glory. I sneakily grabbed the shower hose and turned it on with my foot, spraying a powerful blast of good ol' H2O on Jr. As before, he struggled to get away, trying to run his little wet body up the wall, but to no avail. He did manage to make his way behind the mashing machine, but I sprayed over it, under it, next to it, until his lifeless body flowed out and down the drain. I turned the washer faucet on to make sure he didn't somehow grasp the pipe. I hope he's gone for good now.

I've been dealing with Huntsman spiders my entire time in Japan. Imagine a skinny tarantula the size of your open hand, fingers spread. My second week or so here, there was one in my tiny closet of a toilet room, which people from my BOE had to come and kill for me. I had no idea about them, no one had warned me. I left that little bitch in the toilet room for about 24 hours. The next day, they froze him to death and he shriveled up into nothing.

I don't know why I didn't get that freezing spray. I suppose I've been trying to live and let live. a few months ago, there was a Huntsman in my kitchen, about the size of a child's hand. I spoke to him for about an hour. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but I named him Charlie and told him the ground rules for the "Live and Let Live" game:

1. No going into the toilet room or shower room, try to stay out of the bedroom.
2. If he discovers that we are, in fact, in the same room, he is not to move AT ALL.
3. No attempting to sneak by me in any of the rooms or staircase.
4. If any of the rules are broken, I have the right to kill him any way I see fit.

Now, for months I had not seen my little friend, Charlie. He heard the rules and followed them well. A little over a week ago, though, I was walking up the stairs when I heard a small thud and looked to see what had fallen. It was a giant Huntsman. I immediately flinched back down the stairs, which he decided to climb up a little, then stop. Fair enough, he wasn't moving. I was about to get a shower, so I figured by the time I got out, he'd be gone. Nope - I searched for his little skinny, hairy, brown body and found it on the side of a step. I thought if I went quickly, he'd stay there. Nope - he bolted up the stairs, onto the wall, and into the bedroom. The last time I saw one in the room, it was on the wall by my bed and walked across, falling on top of a pile of clothes, so I have since kept my bed about 30cm away from the wall so there was less of a chance that one would be on my bed. I saw the little shit crawling in that gap and was so glad I had moved the bed. He disappeared and I decided to go to sleep anyway. My calmness came from the thought that these guys are around, whether I see the or not all the time, so why should I worry about it. Also, they're harmless unless provoked, eat cockroaches, and their venom would only make me slightly uncomfortable if anything even happened.

So back to about an hour ago. . .

I flushed Junior down the drain and felt better about things. I had just gotten my body wet in the shower, when I look up on the wall right in front of my face and see a HUGE Huntsman. I must have squealed like a piglet. My thoughts were flying all over the place; "When did that one get here? Is this possibly the parent of the baby one I just flushed, looking for revenge? Has my friend CHARLIE grown up!?" The squeal must have sent vibrations through the shower room, because he left off the wall and landed near my feet. I jumped up on the edge of the bathtub and grabbed the shower hose, spraying violently all over the damn place. THEY MOVE SO FAST!!! He ran behind the washer and I kept spraying, but this guy was much stronger than the little one I drowned earlier, so he hung on. I kept my eye on the giant spindly legs around the corner of the washer during my entire shower.

I spoke to him. I let him know that he was NOT to move during my shower or I'd kill him. He spitefully kept twitching his legs around (probably trying to dry off), but I kept my distance. I told him to stay there until he heard me go upstairs. I edged out of the room, dried myself off and turned off the light. I told him that if he was indeed my friend Charlie, that the game was on and he'd earned his one-way ticket to hell if I saw him again.

Accidentally Racist?

Well, it's that time of year again when the students of Japan everywhere strap white and red bands and hats to themselves and run around the baseball field like crazy people for fun in an event called Sports Day! It's quite an enjoyable and ridiculous time, really. They train every day starting a few weeks prior to the event and give it their all every time, in true Japanese fashion. They have races, many of which are running, but some of which are just a bit crazy and difficult to explain. . . I'll talk about them later, though. . .

This time around, I was asked to participate in their "folk dance" part of Sports Day. While we were all baking in the sun waiting for the students' meeting to finish, the other female staff members and I had a conversation. I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, while they were covered from head to toe in layers of clothing. I heard them priding themselves on their genius cover-ups and discussing the difference between light and dark colors being in the sun. The teacher in black was ridiculed while the one in light blue was praised for being so smart about her color selection.

Every day we hear Japanese people say "atsui, ne!? which means, "Boy, isn't it hot!" It is pretty hot in the sun here, possibly more so than in Philadelphia, anyway, but I find myself really angry when I hear this statement made in this kind of situation.

I once brought it up to my Eikaiwa (English Conversation) class. Why the hell do Japanese women complain about how hot it is and then cover themselves in multiple layers!? I've been told various things. . .

1. They're afraid of cancer.
2. They think it's hotter to have the sun touching your actual skin.
3. There's this ancient mindset that tanned skin is less beautiful than lighter skin, so they avoid sun like the plague in order to keep themselves nice and pasty. Back in the day, only the poor farmers and laborers were tan, while the wealthy and classy people had lovely, light skin.
4. Everybody else does it. That's just how it is. . .

I realize all of these points are somewhat valid, but it still frustrates me to see these women try so desperately to keep the sun from touching them at all times. When women drive, they wear long gloves. They have long sleeves underneath their t-shirts just in case the sun is near. They have these hideous and obnoxious hats that cover them out like umbrellas (yet they don't wear sunglasses). Often, too, they use an umbrella for shade. Many of their skin creams have whitening agents in them. I can't stand, however, to hear the excuse that it's an old tradition or thought that tan skin is ugly. They DEFINITELY still think this today. Why are they so ashamed to admit this?

I was born with a tan. I'm not so sure they understand that. I always have one because of my ethnicity, not because I spend all day in the sun. Yeah, I'm not covered head to toe, but even if I were, my skin color is only ever going to get darker than what it is. They think that every other country outside Japan loves to tan, so we just don't bother trying any way to protect ourselves. That's where darker people come from. That's why we have so much more cancer than them, too.

One of the teachers asked me, "Are you not worried about the sun on your skin?" I told her plainly that I had sunscreen on and sunglasses. What else would they like me to do? I tan very, very easily, but I would rather be cool in my t-shirt than sweating to death under these stupid layers of 'skin protection!' I doubt they are trying to be offensive and racist, but I've heard similar shit my whole life and I already have my own issues about my skin getting darker without this notion that my skin color is ugly factoring in.

When we practiced yesterday, there was one other teacher, a Japanese woman with decent English, who was wearing a hat but only a t-shirt. She was immediately accosted by the other women about covering up. Today, when we practiced again, I saw her wearing a nice white jacket over her t-shirt. She said "When I was young, it was OK, but now, it's not OK." Which means, "When I was a child, unaware of the need to be gorgeously pale and only interested in my comfort and joys of playing in the sun, I didn't bother covering up like this, but now you have to in order to be socially acceptable to the other women of Japan." I think it's terrible that they push their ideas onto one another like this.

I have lived here over a year now and I just felt like I needed to express my disgust with the fact that the tone of your skin is an issue in Japan. I'm not too sure it's racism. . . colorism?