Uh, sure you do
I made a lot of mistakes with Saki, my first Japanese girlfriend. The most notable of which was attempting anything resembling a conversation.
“So you said you’ve got a sister, right"” I asked. “Does she live in Tokyo too"”
“I think so, maybe.”
“Well, when did you last see her"” I continued.
“Yesterday.”
“Huh. Okay…well, um, does she live by herself" Does she have a boyfriend"”
“Mmm,” she said, ?I?m not sure.?
?So you don’t know where she lives then, your sister"?
?Mnnnn,? replied Saki, ?maybe Chiba"?
In the Land of Tiny Cakes
We were sitting upstairs in a tatami room in a cafe in Azabujuban, having tiny cups of green tea and even tinier cakes. My legs were killing me. Why a nation renowned for its technology has yet to embrace the chair, I?ll never understand. And hey, I’d voted for a round of darts with some spicy fries and beer, but somehow that motion got overruled. Now all we were lacking was a Victorian doll house and a couple teddy bears. Care fo’ a spot o? tea, Mista Pibbles" But Saki was remarkable for two things. The first was the eye- and lip-liner she’d had tattooed to her face. Hey, that?s time efficiency, which I appreciate. If you still think tattoos are limited to yakuza, you?re living in the 1990’s. Younger Japanese are picking them up like wildflowers, onsen be damned.
Saki als...