I’m not tired yet, but my eyes want to be closed.  I did go to the pool and swam 50 laps of breaststroke – the fifty laps started out as 24, then 40, then became 50.  I knew it wasn’t a 25-meter pool, so after I was done (and pretty exhausted, although my eyes hurt more than my muscles) I walked the length of the pool in 16 steps.  I’d secretly hoped it was a 20-meter pool, which would have meant I’d swum a kilometer, but now my hopes were down to 800 meters.  Still, not bad. 

I walked back to my towels and suddenly realized I had not worn the bath cap they’d given me.  I’m so not used to it that even carrying it along in my hand hadn’t reminded me to wear it.  To make up for it, and to at least get it wet, I pulled it on my head and swam two slow backstroke laps, then headed to the jacuzzi.  I’d been alone for all my laps, but just as I finished, an Asian guy walked in, spent a few seconds in the jacuzzi, and then liberated it just in time for me. 

After the jacuzzi I dried off, wrung out my swimsuit, and got in the ofuro, the Japanese hot tub.  There were two other Asians in that room, and by their language I figured they were Chinese.  After a short hyperventilation-inducing dip in the cold tub I entered the sauna, where I sat along with two of the Chinese.  One left after the hourglass ran out, but the other turned it around and held up his hand with his thumb and pinky sticking out.  “Six minutes,” he said.  (He said that in English, obviously – I would not have understood it otherwise.)  I held up my hand the same way, and he gave a short, surprised laugh, then proceeded to show me how to count with one hand in Chinese:
one: index raised
two: index and middle finger raised
three: index, middle finger, and ringfinger raised
four: all fingers raised except the thumb
five: all fingers raised
six: thumb and pinky raised
seven: thumb touching index and middle finger, the others folded into the palm of the hand
eight: thumb and index raised
nine: fist with a hooked index raised
ten: fist
These can also be combined to form two-digit numbers, but apparently it’s only used for small numbers.  Nobody motions 99 that way. 

This same guy kept knocking the hourglass whenever he suspected it was stuck, not realizing that the knocking was what made it look stuck: knocking would even the sand out, which would then run out starting in the middle and creating a crater in the middle without hardly moving the outside edges.  This would make it look like the sand wasn’t moving, which led him to knock and generate an apparent jump in the sand drainage. 

There was a notice on the sauna door asking guests not to throw water on the heating system, because it was an electrical heating system.  I suppose somebody once shorted out the sauna, ideally also shorting out the lights in the sauna and the ofuro – I can only imagine the mayhem.  “Holy heater, Batman – I can’t see a thing. and it smells like seared meat and cracked skulls in here!” 

After I got back out I noticed that the hotel supplied a swing dryer for the swimsuits.  The instructions noted that the machine might move a little, and asked to therefore not put it near the wall.  I stuck my trunks in and flipped the lever, and the machine started dancing the mad fandango – I had to hold it down to stabilize it and get a chance at flipping the lever off again.  So I rearranged my trunks with Swiss precision, the waistband encircling the legs and the pockets facing inward, closed the lid and flipped the lever again, and this time it quickly achieved a balanced high-speed rotation and started to drip water out the bottom.  I’m pretty thankful I don’t have to pack wet trunks tomorrow. 

I confessed the bath cap transgression to those in charge, who only laughed.  I guess they don’t take hygiene quite as seriously as they say, or at least not when no Japanese bathers are around who might be bothered at the sight of an uncovered swimmer.  I also asked about the length of the pool, and was told it was 15 by 8 meters.  So I’d swum even less, only 750 meters, and not only that, but my steps are only 93 centimeters instead of a manly meter. 

I consoled myself with the thought that I couldn’t have swum a kilometer anyway, because who’s gonna stop two-thirds of the way across the pool…

I wanted to title this entry “Bye bye Snoopy,” but that would have been yesterday’s title, inspired by the disappearance of the Snoopy store right opposite Harajuku station.  It didn’t touch me nearly as deeply as when the Hiestand bakery only a few steps from there disappeared, but it still seemed to mark a shift of some kind. 

From where the Snoopy store was I walked on over to Takeshita dori, the prime address for people dressed up in ways we don’t think of when we use that term.  And they were out in force: on the corner I spotted this warrior:

I was too embarrassed to just walk in front of him and ask a guy whose face I couldn’t see if I could take a picture.  Won’t he feel horrible, I think in such situations, if I show up and by my gawking prove to him that he’s certifiably weird?  Well, others didn’t seem to think gawking at him was bad etiquette:

I strolled on down the street to my goal, the mighty soxer socks shop, where I picked up a selection of socks one would be hard pressed to find in Switzerland.  Perhaps one would also be hard pressed to find someone to appreciate them – we’ll see.  Pretty happy with my purchase, but not totally satisfied, I stopped at the Lotteria burger joint for a small bite and a spell of reading, but soon realized that this was where a lot of the dressed up folks went for bites or makeup checks.  I’ll admit that the parade of outlandish dress distracted me a fair bit from Obama’s book.  I also managed to capture on memory a new footwear fashion that I’d noticed this time round: the gladiator look. 

These shoes are not part of a costume, unless you call the standard Japanese short skirt a costume.  They’re not as impractical as they seem – they have a zipper down the back, certainly an improvement over the days of Russell Crowe – but I’m nonplussed as to why they’ve garnered such popularity.  They’re also available with heels, and two of the brands are HEX and BANK – perhaps a veiled reference to the subprime mortgage crisis?  This photo also illustrates at least half of how much more likely Japanese women are to show their legs than their cleavage. 

I’d hoped, in a way, to head to the beach, but I soon realized there was going to be no time for that, so instead I took the subway to Tokyo Midtown to buy a “blue” for Chloe and have another look at the pool that has two drains, one draining clockwise and the other counterclockwise.  This time I took a video, but it’s a couple MB in size, so it’ll have to wait to be posted.  I took a few pictures of the building, which I still like, of which here is one:

Inside, I also stopped in a fruit shop, just to take pictures of price tags. 

The current exchange rate is 94.9 US cents, or 97.2 Swiss Rappen, or 60.4 Euro cents for 100 yen.  Would you buy these fruits? 

Would you buy them if your beloved loved mangoes?  Or your boss? 

From there I took the train to Yokohama and there only barely left the station to buy more footwear and suntan lotion.  I think the sales representatives always wonder why I buy a suntan lotion that’s marketed clearly for women, but I like it ever since I bought my first bottle in the Sapporo Chitose airport, and I don’t care who thinks it’s weird.  I headed home and grabbed a quick dinner so that I’d be back in time for a talk with Janet. 

And then Skype acts up.  Our voices are distorted, they cut out, the things we say get lost, what should be quick, irrelevant tidbits of information become drawn-out repetitions interrupted by a frustrated “I can’t hear you” over and over again.  What would have been a one- or two-hour call turns into a long skype/chat/phone ordeal at the end of which we’re both disappointed and frustrated and tired and grumpy.  So not only am I faced with a mere six hours of sleep so that I can make it to church, I’m also annoyed (and annoyed at being annoyed) enough to (want to throw my laptop out the window and) not be able to fall asleep. 

I did get up; I did make it to church.  I’d picked up a booklet on prepaid phones in Japan, but after seeing the rates for calls I’d rather get a decent Swiss cell phone that works in Japan, or something like that.  9 yen for 6 seconds in Japan and 75 yen for 30 seconds to Switzerland on weekends and evenings?  And I can only have a subscription once I’ve lived in Japan for two years?  Come on, Softbank, you can do better!  What I find ironic is that the face of the Softbank campaign is Cameron Diaz – who probably can’t even use the product she’s promoting. 

Church was good – I appreciate that Mr. Dedachi hands out outlines, which at least help me follow to a certain degree what he’s saying about Moses and the burning bush.  We sang “もちいてください,” one of the few songs that have been written by a Japanese, and one that I understand a lot better than the translated hymns.  I need to ask someone for the lyrics. 

I said goodbye to Judith, who asked when I’d bring Janet, and walked with Tim to the train station.  He got off at the next stop to hang out with the folks from Park Cities Presbyterian Church, a few of whom I’d met on the morning train.  I continued on to Tokyo, got a lunch at Matsuya, bought the Spitz album I mentioned in an earlier blog secondhand (at about 30% off), bought my train ticket for tomorrow (leaving before 6 am), bought dinner, checked my audio hardware as best I could, and am now hoping that Janet and I won’t have a repeat of yesterday’s performance. 

Or I will throw my laptop out the window.