Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Memoirs of an immigrant
Growing up in Montreal-North, it happened a few times that I felt like a visible minority (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Visible_minority wow will you look at that, it’s a term we only use in Canada...). That sentiment was short lived because I was on a bus or whatever but it’s not as if I was a REAL immigrant. Especially with my private school uniform... Anyways, It’s not where I wanted to go.
What I wanted to point out is this:
Here, I am the immigrant. And it’s not like I live in a country where there are enough of us to start opening up our own schools and have our own supermarkets. There will never be a Little-Québec or a Little-Italy in Sendai. N-E-V-E-R. I am a white man in a sea of Japanese people (I heard that 99% of Japanese residents are 100% Japanese.........). Often times, except when I’m with my wonderful Gaijin friends, I am the only white boy in the area. In Natori, we’re like 5, and I know all of us. I’m getting used to all this attention.
Here’s a common situation:
- I’m at the Max-Valu (my supermarket) and I pass by this mom and her 3 year old daughter. I always look so lost at the supermarket it’s not even funny, so I’m in my own world. The mom, she will glance at me (of course, especially if she’s hot) but the daughter, she will stare at me as if I had 6 arms, and she will keep staring until:
A) She runs into something or
B) Her mom will tell her to stop staring at the Gaijin. It’s pretty funny. They seem intrigued to know what a gaijin eats. They look in my basket...
You want other cases? Here you go:
- My (girl) students ask me: ‘How do you prepare your hair, do you curl them every morning (lol)??’ Euuuh, It’s natural baby. 100%. I step out the shower and it dries like this. It’s magic! They tell me I’m really surprisingly good with chopstick!!! I tell them I was probably born with a gift. I kick further then them, I throw harder then them, I can bat a baseball like a champ and I felt like Happy Gilmore at the driving range last week .. It’s actually pretty fun; this attention... it’s something I’ll miss when I get back to Quebec.
BUT, the next guy who follows me to the bathroom, takes the urinal next to me when there are 40 others and stares at my cock, I’ll freakin’ PEE ON HIS LEG.
That is all.