The Clutz

So, with one week left in my apartment, the bugs gone, and just a scant two weeks left in Japan, you would think it would be fairly smooth sailing from now on. I mean, sure, leaving the country will have some bumps, but after the bugs, what could be worse?

Well, I'll tell you....going to the hospital is worse.

So, I almost don't want to tell this story because it doesn't paint me in a very flattering light, but my students enjoyed it, so I will share.

As I am moving out of my house, I need to get rid of everything; kitchenware, furniture, clothes, toilettries, EVERYTHING! Including my bikes. Yes, that is bikes with an 's.' You see, due to the extreme weather here, I need two bikes so that I can be sure that I can ride in both snow and on the street. I have the third bike because it was donated to me in the beginning, and it is too difficult to get rid of.

Anyway, as the temperature has risen to an ungodly level, I am now using my street/summer bike. I haven't ridden my mountain/winter bike in several months, and I thought I ought to give it some love before I sell it, you know, oil it, put on new brake pads, check all the thing-a-ma-bobs, and the like.

So, I go to my driveway, detail the bike, then hop on to make sure it is rideable. This is when I realize that the last person who borrowed the bike had raised the seat to an *uncomfortable* height. Trying to get off the bike, I found that I couldn't get my right leg over the seat, and since I was on my tippy-toes, my left leg wasn't balanced well enough to accomodate the weight of the bike that was now falling on it (from the inner leg).

The bike falling, wasn't what did it though. Rather, when the bike fell on me, I fell over, and the center of my left knee cap collided with the corner of a cement curb.

Strangely, the pain wasn't what struck me first. First, I felt the embarrassment of having fallen off a bike even though I wasn't moving, no cars, children or small animals had rushed out in front of me, and I hadn't in anyway, been affected by any elements except my own clumsiness. After looking around to make sure no one had seen me, I tried to stand up...but I couldn't.

(bad picture 20 minutes after crash)

The pain was excruciating. I couldn't put weight on the leg at all, nor bend the knee. Blood was gushing everywhere.

It was pretty late in the evening by Japanese standards, so I knew my only hospital choice was an emergency room, which, frankly, with my Japanese is not an option.

So, I hobbled upstairs, wincing with every step, to investigate my wound. Dr. Me, Medicine Woman to the rescue! The cut was deep...really deep. So deep that no matter what I did, it couldn't stop oozing. Even when the blood stopped and it started to make that scab juice, the scab juice would just pour out, not having enough time to solidify before escaping the enormous ocean of a cut.

Not really wanting to brave the ER, I did what any sensible girl would do...I sutured it myself. Now, don't freak out! It was really fine! I cleaned the cut thoroughly, I cleaned the needle, and I used clean, new, plastic thread. Even the doctor said so when I went to the hospital the next day. She asked me where I had gone to get it done! Too bad I couldn't sleep from pain.

The next day I did go to the hospital where they gave me 6 stitches. They didn't x-ray it, and in fact, I am not convinced it is not broken, but I don't think I could take being on crutches now, with 2 weeks left in the country. I learned some interesting Japanese. I learned the Japanese words for pain, stitches, suture, cut, curb, cement, knee, doctor, x-ray, cut, blood, ooze, and some other fun ones.

I am told not to bend my knee for a week, at least. That should be fun considering I am moving out of my second-story apartment this weekend. Yay me! I can hardly wait to see what malady next week brings me. First cockroaches, then cuts. Yatta!

The Infestation

I love my apartment. I wish it had more counter space, central air and heating, and I wish that the walls were insulated, but for the most part it is pretty great. It is very modern, clean, open, white, and well taken care of. By Japanese standards it is pretty big, with a large kitchen, living room, bedroom and a loft. I was very surprised by its size when I arrived in Japan. Also, it has really good sunlight and lots of windows for god air flow. All in all, I'd say I lucked out big time in the housing lotto that is the JET program.

Yet, with only two weeks left in my apartment, the absolutely worst thing happened. What's more, I have had to relive it over in over again at each class as my teachers ask me to retell the story to my students.

So here's what happened:

On Monday I got home late completely starving so I decided to make a snack before bed. I opened my utensil drawer to pull out a knife, and was halfway through cutting up some chicken when a cockroach the size of my tow ran out of the drawer, across the counter, and down the cabinet behind my bag. I screamed bloody murder. My first thought was to call my bug-killing friend, Lux, but he was sadly to far away for any help. Luckily, though, my downstairs neighbor (who goes by the same name as me) heard me scream and came running upstairs.

She banged on the door asking if I was all right, and I let her in and described the situation.

Now, my neighbor is possibly the one person in the world more scared of bugs than myself, with butterflies topping her list of terrifying creatures, but we decided teamwork was in order. So, she grabbed two cups, and I offered to lift my back pack. The plan was that she would trap the cockroach under the cup as I took the risky action of grabbing the bag, on which the bug could be, entirely unarmed.

Alas, there was a hitch. My neighbor and I followed our plan, screaming the whole while, but when my neighbor put the cup on the bug, she only got half the bug. Meaning that his little head was on the outside of the cup, and his body was on the inside.

Neither of us was brave enough to smash the cup completely, so we developed plan number 2. In plan number 2, my neighbor ran downstairs to get her bug spray while I watched the bug. After debating who would spray the bug we came up with a rather insane plan. My neighbor would, in the end, spray the bug, but she would only do it if she didn't have to watch. So, we did what anyone would do. We blindfolded her, as I called out directions from a distance.

As she sprayed, we both screamed, and in all honesty, it was the most gruesome thing I have seen in a long time. Apparently the spray is some kind of nerve agent, and the bug twitched, writhed shrunk and finally died over the course of several minutes. I don't know the actual time because shortly after the deed, my neighbor sprinted home, and I barricaded myself in my bedroom, sealing off the kitchen.

You may think I over-reacted. I mean, what is one dead bug? And, it is true that after an hour or so of TV, I felt well enough to consider going to bed.


Then...


Out runs another one from underneath my bed. This cockroach was not as big as the other, but I was no less scared. Again I screamed, and again my neighbor ran upstairs to see what was wrong, avoiding eye contact with the one in the kitchen as she ran into the bedroom to find me standing on the bed looking like I could vomit.

Again I pointed to where it was hiding, and we followed the same routine as the first one. I lifted the carpet, my neighbor cupped it. She sprayed it blind as I gave instructions...

But now I couldn't sleep. Cockroaches in the kitchen is one thing, there is food and water in there, but in the bedroom? What could they be after aside from me? Every slight breeze, or hair or sheet movement, and I was up in sheer panic. I knew they were just waiting for me to fall asleep so they could crawl all over me. If it wasn't the phantom movements keeping me up, it was nightmares, and in the end I got no sleep.

The next morning I bolted out the door without doing anything more than changing well-shaken clothes, and grabbing my toothbrush. Later, Lux came by to discard of the two carcasses, and he and I completely cleaned the kitchen. I mean, removed every article, wiped down every surface, washed every dish, and threw out any fleck of trash. In the middle of cleaning he found one and sprayed it, and as it died it ran into a hole under my sink. Apparently there is a pretty big space under my cabinets, accessible via a tiny hole in the space between my pipes. Knowing this both creeped me out and was a relief. Lux and I set up tons of traps, and sprayed the hell out of the hole.

I slept well thinking we had hit their home.


Then...


Wednesday. On the third day I woke up decently well rested. I only had a couple nightmares, but was feeling pretty good. I got dressed, and though I still didn't use my kitchen, I felt pretty confident that I would in the evening. Mind you, I had been living on convenience store food since I saw the first one. When I got home I invited Lux over for a celebratory dinner. I made a really good avocado soup, and we enjoyed it as we watch more bad TV.

After dinner we went to kitchen to clean up and put away the leftovers...that's when I saw it...bug number 4. Apparently he had just run through one of the traps. The nature of the trap is this: bug runs through, he is covered with poison, dying, he runs home where he infects all his friends. Only this idiot bug doesn't run home, he runs to my stove top where he lies twitching, dying, and writhing NEXT TO MY SOUP...oh dear god...I will never eat again...

Lux, then proceeds to get rid of #4, and investigate the surrounding area. He now suspects that we didn't hit the bug home, and that it may be somewhere else.

We spend the rest of the night putting out more traps, and I again go sleepless and hungry.


I spent the weekend out of my apartment, with several traps set up all over the house. I was terrified that I would come home to a battlefield of dying bugs all over the place, but when I came home I not only didn't see any dead ones, but I haven't seen any live ones either. This is mostly comforting. I am able to both sleep and eat again, but at the same time, I dread the day while packing that I find an entire lair of dead cockroaches....


eeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeee....

Flying

Last year, every day on my way to work, I got to pass Sky Shishiku Park. Basically it is a gondola that goes up to a really nice park in the sky where you can ski in the winter or paraglide in the summer. Whenever the sun came out (a rare feat in itself), you could see dozens of jumpers take the plunge with beautiful, brightly colored chutes on their backs. I have wanted to go paragliding since I first saw them, but my lack of Japanese always felt like too great a barrier to overcome.

But, finally, with only one month to spare, I took the dive.

Paragliding was a lot different than I expected. I don't know why, but I imagined it to be more similar to skydiving, where you just jump out of a plane and open your chute. Paragliding, however, was suprisingly more scary, mostly because of the takeoff. Basically you lay your chute out on the ground on a VERY sloped hill. The one I was on I could barely stand on it was so steep! Then, you just run down the hill, and eventually the chute picks up and lifts you off the ground. So, if you muck up in the first couple seconds, you are pretty screwed. Say, if you fail to run fast enough, your chute won't open, and you will just keep running down an increasingly steep hill. Or, if you fall back into your "seat" to early, you essentially get thrown back into the mountain/hill (ouch!).

Luckily, I had a perfect take off. The wind wasn't as strong as the instructors would have liked, but it was good enough to lift me and my tandem partner into the air.

Running down the mountain was by far the scariest part, and once the chute opens, being pulled back into the mountain made it difficult to continue running forward. But, once you are in the air, it is amazing and suprisingly relaxing. I felt like a feather that slowly drifted back down to earth. We just sailed around in the valley, looking at the peaceful town below. A couple of times I was worried we would miss the target completely, but my instructor was a real pro, and guided us down to a perfect landing.

The landing was fairly gentle. As long as you run as fast as you can the second you touch the ground, you are fine. I would have liked to be told that we would be pulled backwards, but I was very proud that I was able%2