Flushed from the bathroom of your heart.

Just to drive my point home regarding the usage of english language in a country that is the owner of an alphabet that is non-romanic in origin, please observe a picture that I took this past winter of the sign posted for the “sightseeing toilet”.

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Said toilet was across the street from a trail head that you can take that will lead you to one of many of Japan’s ice waterfalls. My wife and I were part of a sightseeing trip that hiked to the aforementioned waterfall. To clarify, “ice waterfalls” happen all over the world, for sure. But when you are temporarily living in a foreign country like Japan (like my family and I presently are), you are duty-bound to see at least one ice waterfall.

On this particular trip, said waterfall was still free flowing. My wife and I went anyway.

Free-flowing water aside, what wasn’t properly conveyed to us on this hike was the particular type of hell that we had to hike through just to get to the damn thing. Narrow to no paths, sudden elevation and inclines, erosion and makeshift bridges that offer little to no safety…

I wished for death a few times during said hike.

What made things worse (because I am an egotistical man-child at all of the wrong times) were all of the locals that our group passed on the trail. They were traversing said trail like they were one part Ibex and one part monkey.

By the end of the hike, the real sight for me, was definitely the bathroom.

Sound of Da Police?

Once upon a time, I was a green, American male, still getting used to living in Japan.

Then one day, my wife said, “You’re taking me to the Strawberry Festival”. After details and logistics were squared away, I learned that the festival was to be held in the warehouse district of central Yokohama.

SPOILER: it wasn’t really a ‘festival’ like most American’s think of festivals ala Lollapalooza, every Medieval Fair, etc. It’s was a big ass tent that had food vendors (who were selling strawberry themed confections) and almost the entire population of central Japan. It was my first experience with the phenomena of Japanese crowds. ¬†Pretty terrifying. Strawberries were good though.

Never having gone to a ‘city’ in Japan yet, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.¬†After embarking on a long ass train ride that was filled with what felt like an insane number of transfers, we had finally gotten to our destinations.

I couldn’t have given less of a fuck about the strawberries. I had finally gotten to see what a Japanese city was like. Pretty. Fucking. Dope.

Crazy architecture!

The Bay of Yokohama (The first time I had seen a significant body of water since we had left Florida)!

People sleeping on benches in the train stations because it’s easier/more affordable than turning on the heat during the day in the abode!

A man out of his vehicle, yelling at the cops (who were in their vehicle, behind him) who had pulled him over for some reason.

Wait: what?

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That’s right, what you’re looking at is a quick photo I managed of a Japanese man tearing the cops a new asshole and not being put in a choke hold for it.

In case you were wondering, yes: I completely felt like I was in a foreign country when I experienced this guy going after the cops as hard and as loud as he was (we heard him from a block away, before we saw him).