Two failed conversions on the 大江戸線

Edited version of a story I posted on Facebook on Saturday. Happy Pride, y'all! #lovewins

Last Saturday night, a woman at Roppongi Station approached me as I fixed my sock on the platform of the Oedo line. "Are you visiting from the States?" she asked in surprisingly good English. I looked around making sure it was actually me she was talking to. As I did , her gaze remained locked on my face, indicating that yes, the question was address to me. Immediately, I grew a bit wary. People you don't know don't just start talking to you in Japan. If a stranger is bold enough to talk to you, there's a definitely a why, and 9 times out of 10 it's probably a malicious or pervy one. Last Thanksgiving, a friend's mother told me about middle aged Asian women using only conversation to con unsuspecting victims into handing over their life savings. I half-seriously wondered if this is what this woman was attempting. 

As we boarded the train, she stood next to me despite the row of open seats and what appear to be a very heavy backpack on her hip, continuing to ask me questions "Why did you move here?", "What do you mean by digital advertising?", "You should be careful wearing such a tight skirt, don't you think?" 

As I began to respond with my own questions, I learned that she was a missionary who'd recently returned from Ghana with her family. She loved Ghana, she said. She loved it because people spoke freely - no hiding behind formality or circling around what you're really trying to say as is custom in Japan. "Do you believe in God?" she asked suddenly. Ah. There it was. This was the why I had been waiting for. It was as if the memory of Ghana had reminded her that she herself had been circling about her reason for talking to me. I smiled -  nothing says "needs to find God" more than a foreign girl in a crop top, tight skirt, and heeled booties on a Saturday night. 

I believe in love. And I believe in something Bigger. Beyond that, I've recognized that my brain is not suited to discovering or comprehending what that bigger thing is, and I'm okay with that.

Now, she smiled. Was she getting somewhere? Was I on the precipice of conversion? "If you believe in love, you believe in God because the Bible says God is love." Without any excuse not to, I continued the conversation even as the train arrived in Nakameguro. However, as we got off and walked towards the escalators, her tone, and even her physical appearance began to change. She began to describe why it was "disgusting" that "Obama"  had allowed gays to marry, and as she did so, her previously smiling eyes turned into pools of deep,deep anger. "The Bible" she said, "states that homosexuality is wrong. How dare The United States tell God he is wrong?" Struck by the irony of it all, I actually began to laugh a little. 

I think what the Supreme Court did was an incredible step for the United States. 

"Oh really?" she asked, eyes now growing wide with what was either genuine curiosity or perhaps horror. 

If God is love, then those who pursue marriage are choosing to express and reflect God through one of the most powerful means we have here on earth, right? Also, are you familiar with the concept of separation of church and state in the US?

"Oh yes, I know. Yeah....okay bye!" she said, changing her course and walking quickly towards the train bound for Yokohama.To her, I guess I proved beyond saving, and me, she proved the same. 

This woman has the right to believe what she will. I've not read the Bible that closely, and cannot speak to what it says about homosexuality, or really, anything else. That being said, it boggles my mind that someone who thinks they are spreading the compassion of Christ can lack any compassion or empathy for a entire group of humans. If she thinks gays are going to burn in hell for ETERNITY, can't she at least give them this life to have some peace? Like REALTALK...if Dante's Inferno reflects any element of what hell is really like, it seems like God has the whole "punishment" part of sinning under f*%king control. What gives this woman, or anyone else, the right to make life here on earth hell for those who love the same sex? Who made these people king of anything? (s/o to Sara Bereilles #tbt). If you are someone who thinks we meet a bigoted, hateful God in death, let that be. But also, let him do the judging. For now, be the expression of God that is love and let others do the same.

Some Things I'd Like to Complain About [the first world addition]

I'm  I am keenly, keenly aware that I lead a uniquely blessed life. For starters, I'm a young, single, adult living in the 21st century with a supportive family, and a college degree.  This means I'm one of the few women who's ever existed on this planet that has had the privileged to essentially do whatever the f*%K I want. And with my decision to move to Tokyo, I'm doing just that.This ability to do whatever I want is one of many things on the "list of shit I'm grateful for" including a steady income, roof over my head, healthy body, thoughtful & caring friends and family, just to name a few. We all know being grateful is healthy and helps give us perspective when thing get a bit bumpy... but to be honest, sometimes it feels good to revel in self-pity, and the beginning of this week, I did just that.

To set the stage a bit, getting over here to Japan was an emotional/logistical nightmare. I mean this in the "OMG the traffic on the way home today was a nightmare" sense, not the "living through political despotism, famine, and financial instability was a nightmare" sense. Negotiating my contract extended into a two month processes that bred a fair deal of discontent on both sides, and even once those details were ironed out, the laborious process of actually moving to a foreign country took over. As it stands, I'm still waiting on my visa to come through, which means no bank account, no health insurance, no cell phone plan, and no way to lease my own apartment. For the first week, the excitement actually being in Tokyo had me DGAFing about these "details". However, a month in, the stress of it has really begun to sink in. 

Since le company had anticipated my visa being processed within a week of my arrival in Japan, the original plan only had me in corporate housing (the word "corporate housing" alone sheds light on how diva a situation this is) for 3 weeks until I could find a place of my own. Unfortunately, 4 weeks in, I'm still visa-less and legally unable to sign a lease. Furthermore, news came that my visa will take at least another month to process, if not longer. 

Last week, with my move out date of June 15th fast approaching and my visa no where insight, a mad scramble for housing ensued during which it was suggested I pay for and live in an Airbnb while awaiting my residency card. Nothing against Airbnb, but after your company asks you to move to foreign country before your paperwork is complete, your response to "why not pay for an Airbnb for a few months until this bureaucratic 'process' works itself out" is "hell.fucking.no." And by "hell.fucking.no." I mean I begrudgingly agreed to do so while internally building up feelings of extreme resentment and anger  (cite previous nightmare with contract negotiations/my internal disposition to try to please anyone and everyone around me) .

Luckily, I work with some truly amazing, compassionate people who put employee care before all else, and I was moved into another corporate apartment to wait out my visa. Unluckily, because of the last minute nature of these arrangements, there were no places available for a full month, which means I, and all my belongings, will move to yet another corporate apartment in two weeks time. Moreover, the place I'm in currently is pretty gross, i.e. weird stains on the bed sheets (don't worry bought new one's and replaced them) and an overall layer of grim/cigarette smell throughout the whole apartment. I've hesitated to unpack given the grossness and how soon I'll be moving, which has lead to piles of clothes everywhere and a mess so extensive that it begins to trespass physical/mental boundaries, causing chaos and discontent within both apartment and psyche....

...okay, so that was mostly just me wanting to use some flowery language. But, in all honesty, at the beginning of this week the transiency, and the dirtiness, and the griminess, and the uncertainty, and the moving 2 ginormous suit cases and 3 heavy boxes all by myself really started to get to me. It got to me in a way that made feeling pathetic and sorry for myself feel good. It made it so I was almost happy that the translucent brown stain on the bed forced me to sleep on the floor, on a towel, because that let me feel even more sorry for myself. Somehow, the in-your-face-shittiness of the situation justified the thing I had previously been unwilling to allow myself to acknowledge - that moving here is scary for me. (*ding dong* ya idiot) 

Anyway, after a good night of crying myself to sleep on the floor of my (actually fairly nice) apartment, I woke up less tired and more mentally capable of appreciating how incredible things are right in my life right now. Both here and at home I have friends, coworkers, and family who have been and continue to be selflessly supportive of me. I get to work on a client I'm that I'm excited about with a smart, innovative, compassionate team of people. I've had the pleasure of meeting new friends, friends-of-friends, friends-of-family and learning that there are some people with whom I'm glad not to be friend with (yeah, I'm looking at you @Abe from Tinder). I eat what is probably some of the greatest food on earth everyday, and for the first time in my life, I live in a city that inspires me to my very soul. So, while egocentric self pity can feel good at times, it feels even better to be at peace with the fact that to some extent, I'm scared of being here. Gratitude, excitement and fear are not mutually exclusive, and in many cases, it's probably the scary situations that inspire excitement and expose reasons for gratitude.

Well, I really didn't start this with the intention of being that emotionally reflective. Originally, I planned on just a bullet pointed list of all the crap I wanted to complain about. As Chrissy Teigen once wrote in an Instagram caption, "that's as deep as my sarcastic heart can go." 

Byeeeeee,

India 

PS HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DAD!!! I'd write more but after 40+ years of Father's Days, you gotta know you're a pretty darn good dad. 

PPS still riding the one post a week train weeeee 

A Post Per Week

That is my goal. One measly post per week.

At the moment, I have 1 hour and 34 minutes to complete said measly goal. As I think of what has seen worth noting this week, the first thing that comes to mind is the food.

There are few things in life I find more noteworthy than food. Full disclosure, I just spent a fair amount of time trying to craft a segue that explained why food is so noteworthy, but honestly, it's such a profound part of life that trying to capture all food's importance and nuance in this one post (1 hour and 14 minutes left to write) is just ridiculous. The main point is that I like food a whole freaking bunch. (Had to pause for a work "emergency," 43 minutes left to write).  

If you follow me on Instagram, you know I'm a serial poster of low-quality food pictures. It's something I'm completely unwilling to apologize for until Instagram allows me to share the smells and tastes of food through the app. If I post a picture of some blob on a plate, it means that blob tasted so good that not sharing it with the world (and by "world" I mean the plus-or-minus 5 people who follow me on Instagram) would be unequivocally selfish. Posting that blob is an attempt to capture the savory, or sweet, or flaky, or creamy, or フワフワ deliciousness of something you should probably be eating. So, here are four things I ate this week that you should probably eat too. I noticed only after adding the photos that 3/4 are fried. And I thought I'd loose weight here. Yeah, right. 

Maguro, ikura, uni, saba... I mean COME ON. 

とんかつ まい泉  aka Maisen

aka if you want to die happy

stop by here and eat tonkatsu when you come to Tokyo

 天丼 (tendon) from an incredible shop we popped by for lunch on Wednesday.

Apparently there are at least 15 others I should try in Tokyo.

Long-ass fries from the Vietanese Food Fair at Yoyogi Park.

Yes, this was the only stand with an American flag on it. 

Yes, we also ate actual Vietnamese food. 

If you saw fries this long, you wouldn't pass them up either #sizematters

#indiainsingapore Photo Diary | June 2015

Marina Bay

ArtScience Museum

ArtScience Museum

Part of the spread | Din Tai Fung

Soup Dumpling | Din Tai Fung

Fudge Cake & Tea Ice Cream | TWG Tea 

Super Sky

Singapore Flyer

Gardens by the Bay

Sweet treats| Toa Payoh

Popiah | Toa Payoh

The iconic MBS Hotel

The Queen of Fruit | Mangosteen

Doughebard English

Yes, this is one of the most incredible gchats I've ever received in my life. Ever. For some background, earlier this month, my coworker described how bankers are stereotyped in Japan. Essentially (and perhaps unsurprisingly) what she described is what we in English would call douchebags. This lead to me attempting to teach the meaning/use of the word douchebag, and evidently I was quite successful. The only other word I've taught her so far is "pore", which says more about the severity of my adult acne than it does about our English lessons.

I can only image what ridiculous things I have typed to her in Japanese. Such is learning languages, 仕方が無いね。

India

Post 1 (of hopefully more than 1)

Generally, I find the idea of creating and maintaining a blog abhorrent. I've tried it once before and the overall experience left me anxious and insensibly self critical. In large part, these feelings stemmed from knowing that people could read my posts and judge how I wrote and what I wrote. I had started a blog to start a blog and didn't have anything in particular to write about and I knew people would  recognize that. However, this time around, I have content. I swear. During my first few weeks in Tokyo I've wanted to write and share my experiences with friend and family, but have hesitated to do so because the blog-related anxiety persists...so what gives?! I guess it's some deep-seeded need to always try and get and A+ in whatever I do (#thanksmom #tigermom #jkmymomwasntatigermom #havewedecidediftigermomisaderogatorytermornot) which I know is impossible in this blog-filled world of  Jessica Steins, Chiaras, 12hrs and perhaps most impressively, Lonely Cheetos. But somebody - soiled in mediocrity and smelling of the inherently average - has to fill up the middle of the pack, so, without further adieu, #indiainjapan.

...

Just sentences ago, I swore I had content and I really, really think I do. Here are 3 things I've noticed or learned about Japan since arriving that I think are worth sharing: 

1. Literally everything is wrapped. Everything. Down to each individual q-tip in my bathroom. You want to buy one onion? Guess what, it's wrapped. With a gold bow to tie it shut. How about 3 carrots? A bushel of bananas? A pack of tooth pics? All. Individually. Wrapped. I'll add photographic evidence when I'm back from Singapore but for now, you'll just have to take my word for it. Perhaps this culture of wrapping explains the low birth rate (it's a sex joke, people, get it?!). 

2. Cameras on phones always make a loud shutter noise when you take a picture, even when your phone is on mute. This loud shutter sound prevents me from taking SnapChats  of men with their man purses (which for the record, I'm totally in favor of), but, more importantly, stems from a government-lead effort to prevent pervs from taking pictures up people's skirts (which I'm also totally in favor of). Molestation and how it's reported - or isn't reported - is a huge problem in Japan, and it's a topic that warrants it's own, more serious, less hashtag filled post. 

3. Most stuff just has a little bit more thought put into it than it does in the States. For example, when you buy a car cup of gum, it comes with a tiny pad of post-it notes inside so you can dispose of your gum like a civilized human being. Like, seriously, Wrigley's?! You've been around since 1891 and cinnamon roll flavored gum is the most innovative thing you can come up with?! 

Well, to end this like all my business emails,

以上、宜しくお願いいたします。

India