Spacing Out

I've been in quite a writing mood lately, so enjoy this next post!

The daily commute to and from work or school (or whatever your thing may be) takes up a lot of time in the average Japanese lifestyle. You have to be careful to time things just right so as to not make it take even more time than necessary- say, for instance, taking the 8:30 bus and arriving at the station 2 minutes late for a train that only comes every half hour, as opposed to taking the 8:17 bus and putting up with a few spare minutes between the bus and the train. But despite this danger, I almost never pay attention to the train schedule when I'm going home. My morning route is planned out down to the minutes, but going home is more like, "Eh, whatever happens, happens." The result is that I occasionally end up spending a good half hour waiting for the next train (or bus, now that I'm with my new host family). Six months ago I had no idea what to do with the free time other than worry and keep checking the clock; now I do a much more Japanese thing: I space out completely. I'm like a dolphin; half my brain sleeps and processes the information overload being in Japan deals me, and the other half remains vaguely aware of the clock and other surrounding elements. And occasionally, this results in something funny, like today.

I was waiting for my train on the Kyoto side and pleasantly spaced out, when suddenly I caught sight of the most awesome looking old lady I've ever seen on the Kusatsu side. She had her hair streaked black, white, and silver- not all mixed up, but actual streaks. She had on gold-framed aviators and one of those gray, sort of puffy, knee-length jackets that everyone here is so into right now. And pinstriped pants. Heeled boots. A nice little white purse and her hands in her pockets like she knew she (figuratively) kicked the crap out of every other old lady there. I kept on staring at her, thinking, "I want to be this old lady in 50 years, my God." She was so, so awesome.

And that's when her dainty little girlfriend came up and grabbed her hand. The girl was waaayyy too young to be anything but a daughter, maybe even a granddaughter, but that wasn't right, because as far as I know teenage girls don't typically flirt with old women. I was a bit shocked. The half awake part of my brain was too confused to figure out what in the world was going on, so it reached out and shook the half asleep part out of its stupor, pointed furiously at the couple in question, and demanded an explanation. I was confused for a second, but then I realized I'd missed a few things. The height. The jaw. And the Adam's apple, primarily. The guy couldn't've been more than 25, and I had mistaken him for a woman 40 years older.

Oops.

But seriously, how bad is it that you look not only the opposite gender, but also the complete wrong age? Granted, I was half asleep, but still. As much as I love Japan's men's fashion, there are still guys I just want to go up to, smack, and strangle out a bit of the extreme, often cutsey-girly awkwardness that they call "high-fashion". The guy today was a bit different, though- he embodied not the overenthusiastic-schoolgirl-cute bomb of "METCHA KAWAII!", but I-fought-for-my-rights-and-won-b*tch old woman chic. Which isn't even right, because sexism here is as abundant as air- making me all the more frustrated with the guy.

Sigh. Oh well. That really surprised me today, so I thought I'd tell you guys about it. Another insight into the crazier side of Japan!

Talk to ya'lls later ^-^