It takes a village

Wednesday was the day that I had to go back to Camp Zama to pick up my international drivers license that I had taken the test for the day before, so that I'd be allowed to buy a car. Camp Zama is 2 hrs away. It sucks getting to Camp Zama by train. It sucks more getting to and from Camp Zama by train with two kids. It rains in Camp Zama. Camp Zama starts with a "z". I HATE Camp Zama. This was a day to be survived, not savored (I think I read that on a friend's blog somewhere - I like the alliteration of it). Good news is that I have an international driver's license. Bad news is that now the Japanese know that my children aren't very well-behaved.

It started off well-enough. Everyone was in a good mood. The weather was clear, not too hot, not too muggy. The boys were excited about the adventure, and we stopped at our local "conbini" to stock up on cool drinks and snacks. We rode for about 45 mins, catching the express trains, making good time - then I chose the wrong train. We travelled for another 45 minutes IN THE WRONG DIRECTION!! In the midst of a rousing game of "rock paper scissors" with Chris, I realized my mistake. So, off the train, back on a different train for another 45 minutes, to catch the correct train. Then, there was the 20 minute walk to get to Camp Zama - it rained. I had one umbrella, and two whiny kids. It wasn't going well. Got my license, got some lunch, David bought a new suit (see pic of suit top), it stopped raining, and we had to make the return trip. Go figure both kids, especially David were falling apart by now. David refused, just flat out refused to walk; sat down on the sidewalk and wouldn't budge. Chris tried to get him to stand up. My patience was very thin - ok, non-existent, so I just walked ahead about 200m and waited for him to decide that he could indeed walk. Fortunately this was still on base and there was only one passerby to witness the entire drama of David screaming at the top of his lungs for me to come back and pick him up, and me refusing. So in the fashion of the old "obaasan" that I've become, I carried him on my back, hunched over, sweat pouring everywhere, and walked to the train station.

I should have known it wouldn't have taken long - but less than a week? On the longest leg of our train ride, the train was quite crowded already, and there were very few seats. There were two seats available, one on each side of an older, kind of dirty Japanese man. I should have known there was a reason no one was sitting next to him. Anyway, my kids needed to sit - so sit they did - one on each side of "ojiisan". My one rice ball stomach began to have a fit as I witnessed what I can only imagine is a rare buddhist ritual. The man raised his left arm, reached over to the right side of his head, and proceeded to dig at some scab or carbuncle. The left arm would slowly flow to its rightful side, and he would examine the results of his archaeology under his 1/4 long fingernails, and flick his treasures onto the ground. The next part of this ritual was to take the same scythe like nails and excavate for more treasure in his left ear. The fruits of his labor again to be examined and flicked onto the floor. As much as I tried to avert my eyes - it was just too engrossing at how methodical and exact he was. He stopped after doing it 10 times. Then, he began to get annoyed at being surrounded by my kids. David has a few tics. His most frequent is to clear his throat and wipe his mouth with the back of each hand in succession. Well, of course, as you are wiping your mouth, your elbow comes out and sometimes bumps the person next to you. You guessed it, David's skinny little elbow bumped "digger-man's" own skinny arm one to many times, and "digger-man" started pushing back on David. A seat came open soon after this, so I sat down and had David come over to sit on my lap.

"Digger-man"

And then it happened... As David was situating himself on my lap, Chris was a little too fidgety for "digger-man" and "digger-man" reached out and SMACKED Christopher's foot!! What's a foreigner to do? I know if I yelled at him, I would have only been able to get out the equivalent of "What are you doing?"...after that, it would have been a fruitless battle of misunderstood and incorrectly pronounced words. Plus, we're the aliens. My kids don't have Japanese manners (much less well-honed American manners), so we were in the wrong. Part of me was also thinking, "Ha! I told you so, Chris. You've GOT to stop fidgeting so much!" Nothing was said, I just scooted Chris closer to me, and the three of us occupied 1 1/2 seats on the train, all the way home. Oh, right "home" is all relative. "Home station" is more like it, because from the train station to "home" is another 10 min walk at which point David again became incapable of walking.

Lessons Learned -

1. If there are empty seats on a crowded train, make sure to survey what's being avoided.

2. Avoid Camp Zama - no reason to go there

3. Wait until I get a car before taking kids anywhere in public.

JaMata!!