1/18

This morning I woke up with a smile as were privileged enough to ride yet another bullet train into Hiroshima.  Again, I slept the entire way.  Bullet trains are amazing.  These things are like high-speed nap pods. 

Hiroshima was very, very interesting, but it became clear to me there that despite being one semester away, I still have the emotional maturity of my 8^th grade self.  All up until this trip we joked about draping ourselves in American flags while walking around.  Every picture we took around the sites that were preserved to show the destruction we took with poses of us flexing or some other disgustingly immature and insensitive pose.   The first thing we saw was the Atomic Bomb Dome, and we honestly made “bomb dome” or “atomic dome” jokes for the rest of the day.  That day at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park there was a marathon, and the irony of seeing thousands of Japanese running in a huge crowd away from the site of the atomic bomb landing was not lost on me.  I should probably stop there. 

The previous night at dinner there was a little mutiny between us and Takagi.  Takagi was pissed about girls missing their train, people complaining about shit and getting hammered and threw around things like, “curfew in Kyoto” and “negatively affect your grade.”  Also it should be noted that at this point in the trip when people have fucked up she has taken to calling them “Nick” to show her displeasure.  The best part is that I have never complained about shit to her or missed a train, or been late for anything.  Why she has reached this point of contempt for me is beyond my comprehension.  Needless to say I was one of the more vocal opponents of both of those statements.  Tensions ran high.  So the next day while walking through the park on our way to the Hiroshima Museum (I cannot even begin to tell you the awkwardness that is being one of the only Americans in a museum crowded with Japanese people and dedicated to revisiting the absolute historical damage my country has inflicted on their people) I spotted Takagi by her lonesome and made my move.  We walked and talked together while strolling around the park, making jokes, asking Hiroshima related intelligent questions and just generally charming the shit out of her.  Obviously, this isn’t the first time I have had to damage control with Takagi.  We have had several moments on this trip that can best be described as “tender” but this certainly was the most redeeming.  Nothing like ironing out cultural tensions between America and Japan while taking a stroll through Hiroshima.

Japanese Cultural Aspect that I Have Either Ignorantly, Willfully, or Both Disrespected: Since this entire post could fall into that category I am gonna switch it up and talk about something I entirely respect about Japan: Fanta Grape.  Everyone has heard about the magic of the vending machines in Japan (you can get beer, clothes, cigarettes, etc. you name it, it is in a vending machine) but there is no treasure like a Fanta Grape.  My first encounter with Fanta Grape was out of desperation.  I have a severe Diet Coke addiction and was about to break down when I realized Japan (like most countries) does not subscribe to the Diet Coke.  I stared at the vending machine for 5 minutes, before moving on to another only to meet the same fate: no DC.  Purely because I could actually read the label of Grape Fanta as opposed to the gibberish on every other can, I settled for the Fanta Grape.  That fateful moment has forever altered my life.  From the first sip of that acidy, sugary artificial goodness I could feel my teeth rotting, the onset of diabetes, and I was hooked.  As a fan of grape-flavored anything, this truly is the pinnacle of faux-grape infusion.  It’s been two weeks and I would guess I have had about 267 Fanta Grapes since I got here.  Diet Coke is not even a thought to me anymore.  The sweet taste of Fanta Grape forever made me forget that old hag DC.  It’s like I went on a trip with a wife back home and came home asking her to move out to make room for my new girl.  There better be readily available Fanta Grapes at home because I don’t want to think about how empty my life would be without it.