Cuddle in the Cool Shed

26 Feb

I was walking home from kinder slash school the other morning when a K-Truck pulled up and vestling X poked his head out his window to inquire as to whether I would like me a bag of oranges. I didn’t really, I already had two crates of half rotting ones at home that vestling Y had given me last week. They are grown quite a lot round here and I have come to the conclusion that once you get down to the dregs at the bottom of the crates you just drive around and try and palm as many half rotting oranges as you can off to unsuspecting gaijin who you may or may not happened to have entered a duathlon with 17 years ago (vestling Y) and who may or may not have taken you on a tour of NZ as part of her job 18 years ago (vestling X).

But I couldn’t turn him down so I smiled and said how much the entire family just loved oranges.

He told me to turn back around and walk to his storage shed about 150m back in the direction I had just come. If I’d been young and limber I would have just thrown myself gracefully onto the back of his truck but in reality walking the 150m was going to be faster than trying to leg it up onto his truck in any kind of fashion that didn’t end with me face planting the concrete – no doubt in front of a teacher or another parent on their way to the school.

I get to the shed and he hands me a plastic bag and ushers me into the storage part filled with oranges. It isn’t really a ‘cool’ shed. In fact the place is hot as fuck and if he ever thinks he is overkilling the orange production he can open a sauna. BUT, ‘cool’ worked better than ‘hot’ with cuddles for the title. Although I guess I could have titled the post ‘hugs in the hot house’. hmmmmmmm

Anyhoo, he fills my bag up, completely ignoring my cries of ‘that’s enough’, no honestly it seriously is cause I have to walk another 2km with that there sack of oranges.

As I graciously thank him for the oranges and apologize for the inconvenience of him giving them to me I turn around and go to head out the door…

And then I get totally blind sided by a bear hug from behind. I mean he is about 70 and he wasn’t trying to grab a feel of my tits or anything but damn, it really came out of nowhere. Well, I don’t ‘think’ he was going in for a grope because I had so many layers on under my winter coat that he would have had a hard time finding anything.

I just kind of laugh and apologize again, because that’s what Japanese people do best and I dunno, perhaps I stumbled into his open arms and its like all my own doing or something. Ya never know. Stranger things have happened. Perhaps not at 7:48 on a Tuesday morning but still.

I then congratulated him on the fact his grandson was starting school in April and 7 seconds later walked away with another student for my 6 year old English class. Not really my intention as the class is full as it is!

I was talking to a friend about the whole bizarre thing and she wondered if perhaps he just thought foreigners hugged all the time so maybe it was appropriate for him to hug me in thanks for taking some of his nearly moldy oranges off his hands – or perhaps it was an apology hug? I’m not sure.

I do know he is the most well travelled vestling I know so it wouldn’t surprise me if he has been nearly hugged to within an inch of his life by gran ma mas in Italy or something.

I guess it just seemed so strange because nobody hugged me when saying how sorry they were about mum and dad passing – although one woman did touch me on the shoulder and actually look at me when she said how sorry she was. I had to practically run out of the supermarket because such sincere kindness left me in shock and in need of a box of tissues – and a pen so I could get her number again and put her in a group on my iPhone labelled ‘people who genuinely give a shit and don’t just want you to practice their English on’

So, that was about the most action I’ve had on a walk home from the school run – like ever ever, and I hope it isn’t repeated because as much as the old guy is lovely, it was highly inappropriate – although it kept hub in fits of laughter for nearly half and hour.

Right, off to do a bit more translation before no doubt OCD-ing by checking the door on the fire is shut 12  times, making sure the stove is off – even though I haven’t used it for coming up to five hours now and if I’d left the fucker on we would have all be burnt to a crisp by now. I will then have to check the front door, stop myself from going out to the English room to check that I switched off the heater, and then try and calmly climb the stairs in the dark whilst shutting out the images of dead ancestors following me from the alter room.

AWESOME. I LOVE the nights I don’t drink. My wine-induced bedtime routine is so much easier and results in me actually getting a good chunk of sleep too.

Night you lot.

SDGH&QL

 

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9 Responses to “Cuddle in the Cool Shed”

  1. littlebelgianwriter February 26, 2015 at 6:07 pm #

    The orange story makes me think of a local 80-year old vesting coming round with eggs, ‘fresh’ from his chickens … Omelet, anyone? 🙂

    • gaijinwife February 26, 2015 at 10:53 pm #

      haha, still warm perhaps? I do appreciate the sentiment and intention of getting produce but sometimes I end up with far too many seasonal vegetables on top of the ones Granny K is already harping on at me about for not eating!

  2. mightyatom44 February 26, 2015 at 7:20 pm #

    “checking the door on the fire is shut 12 times” Makes me think of a friend whose mother’s act of “turning off the gas” before leaving the house “twice.” lol

    • gaijinwife February 26, 2015 at 10:54 pm #

      God, twice would be nice. Sometimes if I only check it twice I can convince myself that because I have only checked it twice I have probably checked it wrong. I really need more confidence in my fire door checking skills 🙂

  3. japanmama February 26, 2015 at 9:53 pm #

    I would love a hug from a local. Not surr I would know what to do. I would probably burst into tears.

    • gaijinwife February 26, 2015 at 10:56 pm #

      I would definitely like more hugs 🙂 Perhaps ones that weren’t from behind while coming out of a dark shed would be nicer.

      • Anonymous February 27, 2015 at 9:21 am #

        8 years in Japan and I don’t think anyone ever hugged me. Got inappropriately groped quite a lot though.

      • gaijinwife February 27, 2015 at 9:45 am #

        yes, definitely had my fair share of inappropriate gropeyness. I must say though that I hugged one of my closest Japanese girl friends the last time I saw her before going back to NZ for five months – and she hugged me back properly which was nice.

  4. Elly February 28, 2015 at 2:20 am #

    I reckon he’s been watching Massan on NHK in the mornings. The (supposedly) Scottish heroine goes around leaping on unsuspecting old Japanese men in squealy hugs to demonstrate her gratitude. He probably thinks that’s just What Forriners Do and couldn’t wait to try it out on you so thought up the whole elaborate mikan ruse as a pretext. Sneaky bugger.

    …Am I overthinking this?
    Curse you NHK, anyway. Schoolboys keep whispering “Massan, Massan” and tittering when they see me with my husband on the train.

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Mrs D Is Going Without

Too much wine in rural Japan

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