Troubles With Being Troubled

It troubles me a great deal that I have spent the last month cleaning out my storage unit and moving what we wanted to keep in what is now a spare bedroom since my daughter got married and moved out. The overall goal was to eliminate 90% of the shit we had in storage, keeping only what truly necessary. I did well, I reduced a 20′ X 20′ unit, packed to the gills floor to ceiling and wall to wall to a stack 3′ deep, 7′ wide, and 7′ or so tall. Also giving plenty of room for my bowflex and Arachnid arcade coin operated bar style dart board. The intent was to keep shit handier than 5 miles away. But I’ll be damned if it hasn’t already happened, I couldn’t find one thing I kept out to assist me in hanging some new shelves I recently built.

But no, it was MIA, until after 3 hours of searching, then to find out that even with a brand spanking new battery, my fucking stud finder has taken it’s final shit. Yes, I know I could have bought one and been done in the time it took me to locate this dead one, but it was the principal of it, I had one, and I’m a cheap bastard. Hence why I’ve depended on the same one for some 15 years or so. My shit must be broken before I replace it. Only this time duct tape and bailing wire cannot make this work. So, how did I lose it to begin with? Beats the crap out of me. I went from having a well equipped woodworking shop to 2 roller/stacker craftsman toolboxes, 4 tool chests, 4 tool boxes, and three 20MM ammo cans. Now that I write that out it seems a bit excessive, but the only tools I sold during the foreclosure 7 years ago were power tools like a table saw, lathe, router set up, 2 air compressors, a handful or air tools, and my 10′ clamps. I didn’t get rid of one hand tool or smaller electric tools. What I still have is my little gold mine. Figures the one Stanley product I own is the one that took a shit.

Eventhough I know where each of my tools are located, the stud finder found its way into a box with miscalanious shit my wife wanted off the dining room table, she didn’t know it was a “tool” when it was put away. Know something else? I have quite a large collection of knives come to find out, all of them in one place now makes it look a bit excessive, just saying. But, when one downsizes and condenses one’s belongings, one finds out he has some weird collection habits. So, in the end, I was forced to do things the old fashioned way. As a result, my shelf was hung without the aid of my elusive stud finder, and now that this little project is done its time to find more trouble to play with to keep me busy. Made me wonder tho, made me think back when I was being educated, that this occasion gave me an opportunity to share my knowledge with my son. Moral to this little story is that there is always more than one way to skin the cat. Sometimes one must rely on tried and true ways instead of technology and convenience. This entire episode taught me a valuable lesson, sometimes shortcuts fail and we have to rely on experience as well as being able to adapt to a changing environment, if we don’t know more than one way to do something then we are screwed. Too deep this early in the day? Anyway, on to the next project.

Onsen (温泉) In The Land Of The Rising Sun

I have been asked numerous times to write about my experiences living in Japan, the Land of the Rising Sun. So, I thought I might start a new series here chronicling how things were while living in Misawa Japan. Yes, it was the United States Air Force that brought me to Japan, but I want to talk about living there and not so much working there. The easiest place for me to start this all off is to tell about certain traditions that I chose to be a part of while living in the local economy. We rented a house deep in the heart of farm country, nothing new for me since I grew up in southeast Texas. The great thing about the location of this house was straight out the back door and across the parking lot there was an onsen (温泉) (public hot bath). This was important because the bath tub in the house was the size of a postage stamp. We were informed of what exactly it was and the traditions around the onsen there locally by our realtor.

My (ex)wife decided that going to the onsen was not something she was going to take part in. My wife was never real keen being naked in front of other people, high school gym and sports classes proved that fact to me years before. Which is strange because she was quite the quiet exhibitionist when it was just her and I out in public places. She was a closet tease to say the very least. However, that is yet another story altogether. We had it explained to us that the onsen setting was not unlike group showers in American high schools or in public and private gyms. Fair enough, seems like the Japanese got the whole keeping clean thing under control because most local neighborhoods had an onsen or three. Not to mention the large resorts that were centered around the very ornate onsens inside them. We were lucky, we lived in billeting (on-base hotel) for close to two weeks because of the snowstorms that had blown through. This time allowed our belonging to meet us in Japan and gave us time to purchase the other furniture we needed. All we shipped were our clothes, a television, a vcr, towels and wash cloths, dishes, pots and pans, a hand-me-down couch, and my king-size water bed.

The day arrived where we took possession of our rental house. It was brand new, one of eight houses built-in this courtyard style block. It was a townhouse, like the rest, we all shared a common “drive” which all of the houses faced with a one car car-port to the side. We were the first people to ever live in the house since it was built. It had a layout we were familiar with which was way different from other houses we looked at. On that same day our belongings arrived and were hastily unpacked by 2 very fast men. Also, the other furniture and furnishings we purchased were also delivered and set up. After some unpacking we needed to go back to billeting to gather our belongings and check out. It never crossed my mind, looking back, to grab a quick shower after such a long day. When we got back to the house she was tired so she laid out on the couch for a nap. I looked in our bathroom for the bath tub, I wanted to soak my cold bones for a while. What did I find? Well, the entire bathroom was a shower basically, if that makes any sense, and in the corner there was a tub created out tile set around three feet into the floor. This “tub” measured 30 inches by 30 inches square. No way to lay out in that tub for sure, it wasn’t happening.

I needed to get cleaned up however, so I told my wife I was going next-door to check the onsen out. It was the 2nd week of January, the temp was about 3 degrees farenheit, the wind was blowing at around 40 mph, and there was close to 4 feet of snow on the ground. I grabbed my wallet, flip-flops, shave kit, my shoes, a towel, walked out back across the parking lot. I had no clue what to do and everything was in Japanese. We lived far enough from the base that they didn’t see too many Americans on purpose. Luckily, the women who was clearing the water and snow from the entrance “showed” me where to remove my shoes, place them in the cubicle, and put on my flip-flops. Then she pointed me in the direction of the lobby. In the lobby there were a multitude of vending machines that sold everything, and when I say everything I mean anything from food, drinks, toiletries, clothes, cars, a date, porn, and tokens to the hot bath of course. I was surprised, the token for the hot bath was the U.S. equivalent to about 65 cents. As soon as my token dropped I heard a grizzly grunt at me who was the man behind me holding his hand out pointing that I should put my token in it. So I did and he then led me the men’s side of the bath house.

It had a typical look to a locker room I guess. Benches to get undressed, sinks and mirrors, and toilet stalls as well. As I was getting undressed I wasn’t sure where to put my belongings so I had to look around like a pervert stalker to see what others were doing. Okay, it’s really simple, place all of it into what looks just like a laundry basket, and then place that into one of the cubicles. I found very fast that I had to get over my trust issues because nothing is secured or locked up. I grabbed my stuff out of my shaving kit and placed it in a small plastic container which I then took with me into the next area, following others as I was unsure of the “process”. Watch and learn right. The next room was the washing area. Reminded me of once when I was in 4H of the washing stations for the livestock. There were three double-sided concrete barriers which had numerous “stations” that included a mirror, a shower head, and the faucet. One sat down on a 6″ tall stool to bath. But watch out, I found out by being smacked in the leg, not to put any body part in the trough that ran at the base of the wall, which served as the drainage that led to a large grate down at the end. Who knew. I had picked a cozy spot right in the middle. I found out later that the desired spots are those at the top of the trough. Lesson learned.

Now, the funny part for you. I’m 6’8″ in the land of the little people, which got me more than one funny or cross look. This place was not built for people my size for sure. Now, it was allot like being at home, I shaved, brushed my teeth, washed my hair, bathed, then rinsed off. I need to mention the water had one temperature, freaking scalding hot. About midway through getting clean a very, very, old man, my guess was he was well over 100 years old, sat next to me. Standing to the rear of him was a young girl, I figured about 16 or 17, completely nude as well, began washing the old man. First thing I noticed is he took out his teeth and handed them to her to clean, which she did with what looked like Lava soap and a brush one would scrub floors with. I’ll admit, she had my attention. I think more so because we were on the all male side of the hot bath so she was quite an unexpected surprise. Perhaps she could see the confusion in my face because she squatted down next to me and began to talk, in great English I might add. She explained she was the great, great grand-daughter of this man, and it was tradition for the youngest to assist the eldest in daily tasks. She also explained that girls up to the age of 19 can assist on the male side and boys up to the age of 13 can assist on the female side. Interesting tidbit of information to say the least.

Nobody, and when I say nobody I mean nobody, paid her any attention whatsoever, except for me it would seem. More out of curiosity than anything really. Here I had only been in Japan for just a few weeks and I already have seen my first live nude Japanese female. I know what you are thinking, and yes she was young, but it was hard not to stare. I got up to go to the first sitting pool which was so hot I sat on the edge with only my legs in it at first, which were turning bright red as I sat there. The girl walked over her grand father to pool I was trying to get the courage to get into and helped him straight in up to his neck. Damn. She then scampered off to do her cleaning. When I forced myself down into the water, which took my breath away, I couldn’t help but to notice she was back. She entered the pool right at my eye level and tended to him. She sat with the old man for a while. I had seen others get out and move to the next pool, so I followed suit.

Now, I only thought the first sitting pool was hot, this one had it topped by at least 500 degrees, but I was able to slither right in because I was already cooking. The men sat in this one for a short period and then moved on. Like a lost puppy I followed them to the next pool. There should have been a sign on this pool, something that reads “Caution. Water Will Melt The Skin From Your Bones. Caution.”, but there was no warning for this Gaijin (外人) (look it up, it was the nickname the Japanese called the servicemen) and I found out the hard way. But, damn, did it feel good after the shock went away. One didn’t sit in this one very long at all. Then, they head to the steam room, a quaint, small room that had a 2 minute egg timer because it was so damn hot. So, in and out it was. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs were on fire, and I wanted to just die right there. Yea, clean up in the sauna please. When I exited the sauna I was basically grabbed by the arm to stop me from walking, I was shown to watch the man in front of me who was in a small “tank” which he was squatted in up over his head in the water. He was out and I was in. One fluid motion until the water covered my head, it took my breath away because it was a temperature just above freezing. Out of there just as fast as I went in. A quick wash off and I was on my way out.

After getting dressed I felt drained of all of my energy and will to live. I don’t think I have ever been that relaxed in my entire life. When I left the dressing room I was guided over to some tables where I was sat down. Soon after I was brought a cup of warm herbal tea and a bowl of some of the blandest noodle soup I have ever tasted. Come to find out, it was ginseng root soup and they weren’t noodles after all. It was to recharge a person, to put a little wang back in your step before you left. It was relaxing and it does bring the energy back. Come to find out it is all included in the price of admission. So far, I’m liking the onsen just behind my house. It was one hell of an experience and became my daily bad habit. I probably went there almost every single day for close to the five years I was there. When I went back home after my first time I really wanted to talk to my wife about it, but she didn’t show an interest or really care because she wasn’t ever going to try it out for herself.

About a year after my daughter was born my parents came to Japan to visit as their big summer trip. This part of the story I have been forbidden to ever tell my mother because, in my dad’s opinion (because he is old-fashioned), he saw things that he should feel guilty for seeing. Anyway, going to the onsen became my everyday, twice a day, habit because everyday that tiny postage stamp size bath tub got smaller and smaller. My dad made the comment that he wished to retire for the evening and was going to get washed up before bed. The look of horror on his face will remain forever priceless when he entered the bathroom and just as fast came out asking where the shower or tub were. So, I explained to him what I knew, well, not everything, but I explained how things were here. You see, he is 6’4″ @ about 265lbs, which makes it hard for him to squeeze into anything. After a brief discussion, we collected our things to head to the hot bath. I gave him one instruction, which was to just follow my lead and follow what I do so he doesn’t embarrass me.

We made the walk across the parking lot, it was fairly warm this time of year so the walk was pretty leisurely to say the least. We went through the “tourist” mode where I had to explain everything in the lobby to him. After 1 1/2 years I have really gotten good at reading Japanese and knew a handful of phrases to always get me on my way. After getting our tokens we entered the area to change out of our street clothes to get ready. Shortly after sitting down to begin the washing of ourselves I get a nudge on my arm from my dad. When I looked over to him he was 12 different shades of red with embarrassment and was holding his wash cloth over his privates. He was showing me that there were young females in the room so I had to go through the ordeal of explaining the traditions and protocols here. He played it off but I could see he was pretty bothered about it all. I remember my first time and after that it became common place, even routine enough where one doesn’t notice it as standing out any longer. We continued with what my routine had become, it really gets shortened to about a 30 minute trip as time moves on because one gets in and gets out. We did sit and have the tea and soup when we were done, sitting there in silence except for one simple command, “never speak of any of this to my mother, not even at her grave”. Unfortunately for my dad, this was his first and last trip to any of the hot bathes in Japan, he decided he could and would make do with the facilities we offered at the house.

Over the years I frequented a large sampling of onsen in my extended local area, my absolute personal favorite was a resort on the edge of town that was very cool. I didn’t go there too much, 3 or 4 times, because it was a fair drive and much more expensive. I was wondering how to explain the one at the resort because it was out of this world. Minecraft players or those familiar with Minecraft will understand better. Imagine taking the elevator down, getting of said elevator, and entering through some very large opaque glass doors. The changing area looked like all the other ones I had seen, pretty basic, but going into the hot bath area was incredible. Imagine opening a door and being in a very dense forest, looking up you see the tops of the trees and the stars in the sky. This place looked like being outdoors the way it was done up, it looked so real it made you touch the fake trees and the walls just to remind yourself you were a few stories underground. It’s just hard to explain I guess, but it throws all your senses for a loop with the big waterfalls and whatnot.

My (ex)wife never went to an onsen the entire time we were living in Japan, however, my daughter went with me on occasion once she started toddling. I learned allot while I was in Japan, beyond the language difference, beyond the cultural differences, and beyond the cuisine differences. Tradition is complex and deep-rooted, everything, and I mean everything when I say everything, had a meaning of some sort. The people I interacted with where I lived locally became to know me all to well. I would get invited to a stranger’s house a few doors down for snacks or people would bring local cuisine or gifts to my house as gestures of our “friendship”. Fortunately for me, I chose to immerse myself in the culture and get to know as much as I could. The hot baths were just the tip of what I would take away from Japan when I left. Ask my (ex)wife and she would only be able to tell you the tourist places we went to go visit. Its sad, but very true, but then again, she never got over being roughly 6600 miles from her mother the entire time we were there.

So, this was interesting and fun for me. It was nice to take a trip back in time to a place I really enjoyed living on the northern tip of Japan. I look forward to writing more of these specific subject related posts about living in Japan. Who knows, maybe I will expand and just write about everywhere I have been. Well, I can’t write about “everywhere” I have been, but I can give some insight about place x and place y without giving away the actual place or why I was there. Everywhere I traveled in the world was a “challenge” in its own special way. Until we meet again, thank y’all for taking the time to read a little bit about my life in Japan.

Onsen, as defined by Wikipedia:

• Onsen (温泉^?) is a term for hot springs in the Japanese language, though the term is often used to describe the bathing facilities and inns around the hot springs. As a volcanically active country, Japan has thousands of onsen scattered along its length and breadth. Onsen were traditionally used as public bathing places and today play a central role in directing Japanese domestic tourism. Onsen come in many types and shapes, including outdoor (露天風呂 or 野天風呂, roten-buro or noten-buro^?) and indoor baths. Baths may be either public run by a municipality or private (内湯, uchiyu^?) often run as part of a hotel, ryokan or bed and breakfast (民宿, minshuku^?). Onsen are a central feature of Japanese tourism often found out in the countryside but there are a number of popular establishments still found within major cities. They are a major tourist attraction drawing Japanese couples, families or company groups who want to get away from the hectic life of the city to relax. Japanese often talk of the virtues of “naked communion” (裸の付き合い, hadaka no tsukiai^?)^[1] for breaking down barriers and getting to know people in the relaxed homey atmosphere of a ryokan with an attached onsen. Japanese television channels often feature special programs about local onsens. The presence of an onsen is often indicated on signs and maps by the symbol ♨ or the kanji, 湯 (yu, meaning “hot water”). Sometimes the simpler hiragana character ゆ (yu) is used, to be understandable to younger children. Traditionally, onsen were located outdoors, although a large number of inns have now built indoor bathing facilities as well. Onsen by definition use naturally hot water from geothermally heated springs. Onsen should be differentiated from sentō, indoor public bath houses where the baths are filled with heated tap water. The legal definition of an onsen includes that its water must contain at least one of 19 designated chemical elements, including radon and metabolic acid and be 25 °C or warmer before being reheated. Stratifications exist for waters of different temperatures. Major onsen resort hotels often feature a wide variety of themed spa baths and artificial waterfalls in the bathing area utaseyu (打たせ湯^?). Onsen water is believed to have healing powers derived from its mineral content. A particular onsen may feature several different baths, each with water with a different mineral composition. The outdoor bath tubs are most often made from Japanese cypress, marble or granite, while indoor tubs may be made with tile, acrylic glass or stainless steel. Different onsen also boast about their different waters or mineral compositions, plus what healing properties these may contain. Other services like massages may be offered. People often travel to onsen with work colleagues, friends, couples or their families.

Moving Madness Multiplied

I like to think that I’m real easy-going most of the time. In person, people know that I usually have no problem helping out someone when asked. People know I have certain equipment and that I usually work pretty cheap. With that being said, a few weeks ago I was asked by my wife to contact her pastor so I could sit down with him because he had a “favor” to ask of me. At first I was in shock because she had the absolute brass balls to come to me with something he wants. You see, the pastor and I have a little history of bad blood. In other words, I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire. Get the connection. I don’t like him or what he stands for. However, money is money if there is money involved. She told me that they would “rent” my time and the use of my dually and my 48′ box trailer. Rent me? apparently my time and equipment is worth money now, who knew. Perhaps I could chat with the jackass and see what he has in mind. The whole meeting was real uncomfortable for me because, in no fewer words, I despise him as a human being. The meeting was short and involved the details, which were pretty sketchy if you ask me. Anyway, I needed to be in place at the church by no later that 6 a.m. on Saturday 14 September 2013 with my truck and trailer and should be done somewhere around 3 p.m. that same day. I was pre-paid the entire “rental fee” as it was listed on his receipt I signed and noted as “other church services” at the bottom. What was I paid? I was paid $1,500.00 for my services. Which, after doing a little research was real cheap since most rentals of the same caliber, like a 48′ box truck, had a $1,5000.00 deposit, $495.00 per day rental, $1.09 per mile, and the cost of the amount of fuel used. So, I was real cheap in comparison. He never asked me what I wanted to charge, he just told me what he needed and what he was willing to pay, take it or leave it. I should have left it right on the table. I shouldn’t have just returned his call and told him to kiss my ass and never looked back. But, for some reason, my wife gets involved and she asked me nicely. Her, I respect her opinion.

So, anyway, Friday evening my son and I prepped the trailer, meaning we swept it out and made sure all the tires were aired up properly since this trailer has been sitting in the same spot for over a year. Everything checked out which was a relief. We went into town and fueled up the dually then returned and hooked the trailer up. Again, no problems. We were ready to go in the morning. My son and I arrived to the church at 5:30 in the morning. While we waited we ate our breakfast burritos we got on the way, my sons request. At just after 7 in the morning not one person has shown up yet, not one. I called the pastor and my call went straight to voicemail. Seriously. I called my wife, who in turn was on her way to the church to collect my son to go to get his hair cut and do a few errands. She has not heard from the pastor. Promptly at 8 the pastor showed up, parks, and comes to my truck. He asked why I was here so early at the same time I was asking where everyone was. He apologized as he must have “forgotten” to call me, there was a change of plans because a few people couldn’t show up until 8 in the morning. According to him he did tell me when this all developed 2 weeks ago. Thinking back, that would have been the perfect time to just drive away. It was breach of contract on his part. But, I’m a sucker for punishment I don’t deserve, so I stayed. Immediately I was being told to move so I could back up across a sidewalk and across a section of grass, about 30 feet. Doesn’t this idiot know how heavy this truck and trailer are? Come to find out, nobody cared, it will all be okay. Piss on that, I will not pay to get towed out. So, I continue backing up, I hear screeching as the tree branches slide down the sides of the trailer. I’m thinking it just keeps getting better at this point. It made ruts going in I can’t wait to see the ruts when I pull out. Have y’all ever just known that something was going to turn into a great story. I knew that it would be a factoid when I was first told about this crap. Sometimes I can see the future.

Pretty much the entire day I either sat in the a/c in my truck or I would walk around a bit to stretch and see how loaded the trailer was becoming. According to my wife, somebody donated a large sum of money to the administration of the church so the church could update their offices, the two classrooms, and the day care. So, that is what they were loading, all the furniture coming out. I was supposed to take the loaded trailer to a warehouse where the people who bought all the furniture at auction were to unload it. At almost 7 p.m. they finished up. They almost completely had the trailer full and packed pretty well, I was almost impressed. After closing it up one of the men guided me out back into the parking lot. I thought I was stuck coming across the sidewalk, but after the trailer snapped it as it rolled over it everything was smooth getting out. I wonder what will be said about that because I told them it was going to happen, not maybe, but that it would get broken, my opinion was dismissed by the pastor. So, the pastor gives me the address and directions to the warehouse, it was about 30 minutes away. The only thing I can think is I hope they unload it faster than the trailer got loaded. When I arrived to the address I was presented with a rather tight turn into the driveway, it took me a little time to negotiate it but I got it. I went up to the office and explained who I was and I was told that I didn’t have permission to be in here number one and I needed a copy of the manifest or receipt before they would accept it. I was told to hurry up because they closed at 9 p.m. and would not be back until Tuesday. After multiple calls to the good pastor and to my wife I was getting nowhere fast. I was, however, growing more pissed by the minute. At 9 I was asked to remove my truck and trailer from the property. At 9:15 I finally get a call from the pastor who explained he had taken the men and woman who helped him all day out to dinner which is why he couldn’t take my calls. He says he was unaware that I needed paperwork and would talk to his contact about making arrangements. I told him I was going home. When he asked where his stuff was going to be I explained it will be at my house tucked away out of my way. I waited all day Sunday for his call. Finally around 3 I called him and he actually answered the phone. He has been busy all day and has not been able to make arrangements and rushed to get off the phone with me.

Today, being Monday, I still have their stuff inside my trailer which is parked out at my house. At this point I really don’t know when he thinks I will be able to take it to the warehouse. I work, I have a day job that I can’t just up and leave at the drop of a phone call. After Wednesday when I get off work if he has not arranged anything then he will be having to wait until the end of the following week since I have foot surgery scheduled bright and early this Thursday morning. I told my wife I am charging him storage, $150.00 a day and that started Sunday. Snidely, she told me to do what I am comfortable doing and hung up. This has worked out well so far I think. Should be an interesting week. I have a feeling when this is said and done I will never be available to assist these people again. Everytime I do it turns into a complete clusterfuck on their part.