A surprise, a record, and a large pot of food

One of my students, a man of about 60, runs the camera shop across the street from my school. His lessons are particularly frustrating for me because his English is about as good as my Japanese, and I think he'd prefer conversation to book study. Usually he brings in photos (he's not an amazing photographer, but every so often he comes up with a top notch picture), so we spend most of the time talking about them, the city they were taken in, and any tangents I'm lucky enough to ride.

Difficult as that class may be to teach, he's very nice, and a couple weeks ago invited me to dinner at the restaurant next to his shop as soon as our schedules converged. That was about two hours ago, and several beers later and a stomach full of octopus, egg, tofu, cabbage, and whatever else was in the Oden, I'm sitting back contentedly listening to some music while I digest both food and thought (read: procrastinating taking my clothes in from the line and ironing).

Maybe the most exciting thing to happen in the last two weeks was a flu shot (one of my students is a nurse, hurrah), hence the lack of update. That and I've been otherwise very busy, trying to maintain two jobs, some semblance of a social life, and learn Japanese. But tonight proved interesting after a fashion.

The Oden restaurant was, all told, about half the size of my US bedroom. It featured nine seats and a very large pot of food in broth that had been cooking since about 2pm. There was barely room enough to pull the chair out to sit, which, of course, is less a problem for a person of typical Japanese stature.

As per usual, I was a subject of interest for the few patrons there partaking in a meal, and, as per usual, English was a scarcity. The man to my left, however, had recently been to New York and Washington, DC and was able to communicate a mite better than anyone else in the place. After about half a beer in a glass no bigger than a small can of Hunts brand tomato paste, my host was bright red. And then after about three plates of various food items soaked in a delicious broth, I was through.

- Are you ready for more?
- Oh no, I'm stuffed.

This elicited a laugh and a friendly pat on my crotch. Wait a second, did he just pat my crotch? My host was then immersed in conversation with the fellows farthest down the bar so I made a quick glance at my shirt to see if it was, perhaps, deceiving as to where stomach ended and crotch began. I was, in fact, wearing a shirt a little longer than normal but no, no there could be no mistake. Less than two months into my Japanese adventure, a man definitely copped a quick feel. Since I teach 95% women, this particular violation came as a complete surprise.

For an English teacher in Japan, that may be a record... for longevity. It is well documented that that Japanese adolescents are fascinated with foreign penis, often going to great lengths (no pun intended) to explore their foreign counterparts (again). A friend tells me that his friend, a teacher in a middle school, had a student that managed to unzip his pants and grab his junk all in one swift, time-bending moment, faster than the image of the event transpiring could even register in his vision.

Even more curious than this, though, is something strange I discovered in my dictionary. The Japanese word for penis is apparently penisu. Vagina has its own distinct Japanese word, but penis is penisu. Did penises not exist until they were introduced by English speaking foreigners? It would explain the fascination, anyhow.

- Let's grab foreign penis for studying of socials.
- Yes, we'll do well for social studies!
- Penis, hoooo!