The X-Files

Ginza Kaisha
Originally uploaded by Tokyorosa

I was recently contacted by some administrator for a flickr group that collects photos of matters related to femine sanitary concerns. The woman who contacted me wanted to include a photo of a "charm box" (a receptacle for used tampons and pads) that I took in Kanda station. Of course I was honored by her request and granted her permission. The photo that she wanted to use was next to this photo on my flickr page. This photo I took from the window of a Ginza Kaisha classroom. (I didn't work at the Ginza Kaisha, but because of some building repair at the Kaisha where I did work, we were temporarily assigned to the Ginza Kaisha. You should know that the Ginza Kaisha and the Kaisha where I worked were about three minutes walk from each other.)

This photo looks down on one of the most famous intersections in Japan: Ginza 4-chome (say "yon-choh-mei"). The first and second stories of that rounded, glassed in building housed a coffee shop called Le Cafe Dotour. You can see people sitting at the counter that ran the length of that front window. It was a terrific place to sit and people watch. I spent many an afternoon break in that coffee shop drinking iced coffees, writing in my diary, watching the world go by, reading. It was in that cafe on one fine Sunday morning in November that the Ex-Student and I had our first date.

I got an email from him recently. (Like yesterday kind of recently.) He's just returned to his hometown after a stint in another city where he has been working as an inspector in a shipyard. He's got a new girlfriend now and is thinking that the relationship may eventually lead to marriage. (It's Japan. He's twenty-seven. It's time.)

He writes, "Dear Brenda san, Hi! How are you??"

How are you?

How am I?

Did I ever tell you about my first date with the Ex-Student?

It came about this way:

Because he was only in Tokyo for a short time, he managed to finagle a short-term contract--perhaps a month--with the Kaisha. (Most students signed up for months and months of lessons at a time.) I met him on his first night at the school. The last classes were finished and it was getting late and I had to get something out of a supply closet in what I thought was an empty classroom. I walked into the classroom and he was standing there, alone. I introduced myself and chatted with him for a couple of minutes before his teacher returned to talk to him.

The next week, he was in my class. The week after that, he was in two of my classes. The week after that, he joined a group of students that I was going drinking with. That night, he walked me back to my station from the bar and he did that hyper-polite Japanese thing where someone continues to stand and bow and bow and bow as you walk away from them. (The Japanese consider it to be the height of good manners, but it made me really really uncomfortable.) His apartment was within walking distance of Ginza, which would have tipped any Japanese woman off to the fact that he was sugoi rich--but I, not being Japanese, had no idea about the layout of the city as it related to the economic status of its residents.

He came out drinking about once a week. One night, we stayed out all night with another student (ironically, that student was the Handsome Businessman) and did karaoke until first train. One night, as he was walking me back to my station, I happened to ask him if he had any plans for the weekend. He told me he was going by shinkansen to Hokkaido. I asked if it was for business. No, he said, I've been dating a girl there. She wants to get married and I don't want to get married and so I have to go and end the relationship.

Being me, I had to--even at the risk of missing my last train and having to spend fifty bucks on a taxi home--ask for details. (They met in Australia. She was born in Japan but her family was originally from Korea. They had been dating for over a year. He thought himself too young to get married. I agreed.)

After his month of lessons were finished, I wrote him a thank you note for coming to my class. I did this for many students. When I went to hand it to him in the lobby, he said to me, "What is this? A love letter?" I burst out laughing. "No," I said, "It's a thank you note. Thank you for coming to my class."

He signed up for another month of lessons with me.

I had included my email in the thank you note, which was nothing more than a polite note saying that I had enjoyed being his teacher and that I hoped he would continue to study English and that he could contact me if he ever had any questions. I included my email address, which I routinely handed out to students.

He emailed me and I emailed back. It was simple. He had gone to school in Australia and worked in America. I wrote that we should get together sometime over coffee and he could tell me about his experiences in those places. He wrote back that he was free that Sunday.

We met early on Sunday. It was my day off and on my day off I usually slept late, did some grocery shopping, went to the gym. I arranged to meet him early--10:30--so that I could talk with him and still have time to do all those things when we were finished. I assumed our meeting (I did not consider coffee with a student a "date") would last an hour.

We met at 10:30 in front of the Kaisha where I worked. We walked to Le Cafe Dotour and had coffee. He was so nervous that his hands shook and he sloshed his coffee over into his saucer. He had brought his electronic dictionary with him. (He later abandoned it as we became more familiar to each other.) We talked for about forty-five minutes. As we prepared to leave Dotour, he said, "Where would you like to go now?"

Uh.

I decided to see where the day would take me.

We went to Shinjuku and Harajuku, had lunch in a pizza restaurant, looked at pictures of his recent trip to London, went to Omotesando, met his college roommate for okonomiyaki in Sakurashimachi. We parted ways at Ginza station.

Our first date was thirteen and a half hours long.

I made my last train--barely--and came home in tears.