This afternoon I headed over to the post office, having rehearsed in my head exactly how I would be asking to send a letter; you can imagine my disappointment when I arrived only to find it closed. Not to be dismayed I went into the nearest combini and attempted to buy a stamp and post the damn thing myself. ‘How much?’ asked the shopkeeper when I asked for one stamp, ‘I don’t know, but isn’t that supposed to my line of questioning?’, I didn’t say. Instead I showed him the letter and just kept pointing to the address until he sold me a stamp. Heaven only knows if I have purchased the correct post-based pseudo-money for it to reach the destination, but I very much doubt it.
This evening, as I was about to prepare dinner, I heard my doorbell ring, opened the door, and was greeted by the smiling face of my landlord. This time he came bearing senbei (Japanese savory crackers) instead of sweet potatoes, but his visit was still very enjoyable, as we sat and chatted for a while about Chernobyl and the dangers of tsunamis for the Western Japanese coastline. I say chatted, but in reality I just listened and tried to pick out words that I recognized, pieced them together into a possible reality and then told him how I had just returned from England, and how much I missed Japanese rice. I look forward to his next visit, where no doubt he will attempt to discuss Cartesian Logic whilst I comment on how large Japanese vegetables are in comparison to their English equivalents.