My nipples are chafed, but I`ve tuned in Tokyo. Turns out, my nipples are not good travellers either. But we knew that, didn’t we?
Welcome to Tokyo. Home of The Asian that Runs Off With Your Bag and Makes You Forget Your Other Bag At Baggage Claim and You Don’t Realize It Until You`re Already On the Train.
Nestled in the happenin` district of Bunkyo-Ku, it is here that I realize how much more fun it is to listen to a group of Japanese than to a group of Hispanics. What a clusterfu*k. But Jesus do they make funny sounds. This was also my first experience as a participant in a meeting with the Japanese; with simultaneous translation. Ten hours of juggling your earpiece and sharing one microphone amongst 15, it`s a wonder why none of the three translators strangled themselves. Or one of us. Namely one of the Germans. Speaking at an appropriate pace and not into your earpiece were key lessons learned. In the end, even the Japanese were ready to get drunk.
. . .
I didn’t know this, but the Japanese don’t have livers. Did you know this? Yeah. Half a pint of beer and if you turn your back for 1 minute, they`re slurring out words from a Karaoke machine. Who would’ve thunk it that so many of them knew the words to “It`s Raining Men”?
. . .
I`ve also learned another thing this week. This now completes my circular journey around Mama Earth. And lemme tell you. It`s a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge bitch out there folks. And a plane is no way to see it. If I were you, I`d get on up off that chair and go buy a train ticket. `Cause a train is the way to go. But buy some sandwiches before you leave because often they don’t serve food on the train.
. . .
I ate something with a head on it. I fear things will only get more objectionable. . .
We found the Hairy Crab that layed out our colleague last week. Trying to skip town.
Welcome to Tokyo. Home of The Asian that Runs Off With Your Bag and Makes You Forget Your Other Bag At Baggage Claim and You Don’t Realize It Until You`re Already On the Train.
Nestled in the happenin` district of Bunkyo-Ku, it is here that I realize how much more fun it is to listen to a group of Japanese than to a group of Hispanics. What a clusterfu*k. But Jesus do they make funny sounds. This was also my first experience as a participant in a meeting with the Japanese; with simultaneous translation. Ten hours of juggling your earpiece and sharing one microphone amongst 15, it`s a wonder why none of the three translators strangled themselves. Or one of us. Namely one of the Germans. Speaking at an appropriate pace and not into your earpiece were key lessons learned. In the end, even the Japanese were ready to get drunk.
. . .
I didn’t know this, but the Japanese don’t have livers. Did you know this? Yeah. Half a pint of beer and if you turn your back for 1 minute, they`re slurring out words from a Karaoke machine. Who would’ve thunk it that so many of them knew the words to “It`s Raining Men”?
. . .
I`ve also learned another thing this week. This now completes my circular journey around Mama Earth. And lemme tell you. It`s a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge bitch out there folks. And a plane is no way to see it. If I were you, I`d get on up off that chair and go buy a train ticket. `Cause a train is the way to go. But buy some sandwiches before you leave because often they don’t serve food on the train.
. . .
I ate something with a head on it. I fear things will only get more objectionable. . .
We found the Hairy Crab that layed out our colleague last week. Trying to skip town.
