My Infallible Memory

On our way to meet a few friends for dinner, Shoko and I stopped into a gift store to pick out a gift for my brother's wedding this summer.

Actually Shoko was picking out the gift. As often happens when we go shopping together, my role is reduced to giving confirmation on decisions already made. Which is why I often try and sneak a book into my pocket before going shopping with Shoko.

While Shoko was shopping, I wandered up to the second floor of the store just to look around, where I was ambushed by a waiting salesman. "Can I help you find anything?"

"No, no just looking."

"Wow, you are really tall!" he said.

Living in Japan, there are certain conversations that I find myself having over and over again. The "Yes, I am quite tall," is one of the most popular ones, as well as the "Where are you from?", "Your Japanese is very good", and "Can you use chopsticks?". Under normal circumstances I might have taken this line as my cue to escape yet another mindnumbing conversation, but I was bored enough with shopping that I went along with it.

So when Shoko came looking for me a few minutes later, she found me engaged in a lively conversation about how tall I was. The Sales clerk broke briefly when he saw Shoko. "Can I help you?"

"I just came up to get him," Shoko said.

"He's very tall, isn't he," said the sales clerk.

Pretty soon all 3 of us were talking about my height. And then another sales clerk made her way over to the conversation. "Actually I know you," she said to me. "Do you remember me?"

I once heard a comedian say: "It's one thing if you forget someone's name, because you can still work around that, but have you ever run into someone you have no idea who they are? That's really awkward." Yes, it is. And unfortunately it happens to me all the time in Japan.

"Maybe," I answered.

"We've been drinking together back when you used to live in Ajimu," she said. "You've been to my house. I even gave you a ride in my car, and you told me I spoke good English."

"Um...sounds like something I would say, yeah."

As the conversation continued, I was able to remember a little bit more. Like the fact that her husband had worked for the town hall, and that a Chinese exchange student had also been present when we were drinking at her house. But still, it's amazing how much the memory fades after a few years.

Along the same lines, I had a student come last week who I think was one of my old Junior High School students back when I worked in Ajimu. I didn't have a clue until he mentioned it, and even then I didn't recognize him. Although to be fair to myself, I taught all the grades at 7 different schools back then, and I had a hard time remembering names and faces even at the time.

As of yet I have not made a big trip back to my former town of Ajimu, even though I only live about 40 minutes away. Partly because some of the past trips back I made after first leaving I got a rather confused and unenthusiastic reception. Most of the Japanese people in Ajimu fall into two categories: either they are confused as to why I'm still in Japan, or they are really excited to see me again and end up asking for more of my time than I'm prepared to give. Sometimes its easier just to stay away.

Although I did make a trip to the Ajimu Winery this past Monday to see Shoko in action at her job and to show the place to one of my new cowokers who hasn't had a chance to get out there yet. Shoko was a bit upset that my hair was messed up when I arrived. "You looked like you just rolled out of bed," she said. "Most of the customers at our winery don't come straight from bed."

I tried to explain that I had actually showered, but because the AC in my car doesn't work all that well we had the windows down the whole way over.

In other news, I also got in trouble for wearing shoes inside our apartment. I don't make a habit out of doing this, but sometimes when you put on your shoes, tie them up, and then realize you left your wallet lying back in the bedroom, it is a bit of a pain to take the shoes all the way off again.

"I was wondering how all that dirt used to get into our apartment," Shoko said when she caught me.

"Well," I said. "When you're living with an American, some of these things can't be he--."

"No," Shoko said. "There will be no more shoes inside the apartment from now on."

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