Of Which Alison Recieves a Car

My car was dropped off today, but my friends only stayed for five minutes. It was a very bizarre feeling that made me reevaluate my personality. Had I done something wrong? I wondered. I had been irritable in Kanazawa, surely that was the answer. They were two hours earlier than they had said they would be, and it was very lucky I saw them, for I was just leaving to watch the traditional Japanese dancing.

I was late, and caught the tail of end of a ceremony that forced me to travel back into my imaginary past lives. Surely this is what a heathen felt at his/her first mass, befuddled by the ceremony, and completely unaware of its purpose. We bowed, clapped our hands, and offered up tree branches with a paper hanging off of them. Souta, who is Ishihara-san’s grandson, was just as disinterested as a child would be at mass, playing with his Aunt Aki’s mobile, which gave a tinkling, fairy-like tone every time it opened.

I spent most of the day moping about, and at complete loss of what to do. I had thought, after all, that I was going to have company. Now I’m wondering if I should go to Suzu this weekend at all.

Unfortunately, I felt out of place today. I wanted the Ishihara’s to enjoy each other’s company, so I did not want to intrude. However, by myself, I felt like a poser. Nevertheless, I was stalwart in my decision to stay, and to not let paranoia beat me. I met a very nice lady name Yamamoto, whose niece will be in my third year class. I wish that I had talked to her more, but I am always nervous when I first meet someone and I ran away to buy some very disgusting yakisoba. I forgot that when you live on the coast, the default meat is fish, so I had to throw it away. The Japanese won’t believe that I don’t like it, and then I remind them that my supervisor also doesn’t like fish. Always, they ask, “is he Japanese?” I laugh and tell them yes, but “isn’t he strange?” I also have to explain them that fish is just not something common in Colorado. In Colorado, beef is everywhere, and it’s cheap. “Shinjirarenai!” they exclaim, meaning, “I can’t believe that!”

I was invited to Ishihara’s for dinner again, and this time I did not get sick. I was careful to avoid even looking at foods that I did not want to eat. In Japan, I’ve noticed, all one has to do is look at an item, and they automatically assume that one wants to eat it. Staring straight ahead has become somewhat of an art for me.

Then, that night, I pulled a contraption that I did not know the name of. It was an anticlimatic event, for after two hours, we stopped, clapped and congratulated each other for finishing. The float was very pretty, with two mannequins posed stolid beneath a pine tree littered with red lamps. At their feet was a waterfall of pink blossoms, and behind them was a small temple, sitting as if it were on the horizon of their journey. The singing the floated around this strange display was impossible to interpret, but I imagined it to be a story of two people in search of something, being pulled by an inexplicable force away from their home, but the memories of it keep following them.