put me down for 2

Yesterday the police came to my school and took my photo. Why? Because 2 weeks ago, I'd stolen a bike from a trash heap that had been stolen from it's rightful owner 2 years ago. The fact that I was the one ultimately caught with the bike makes me the culprit...evidently.

Two months before, my 2 bikes had been stolen. One in the town in which I work; my from-station-to-school bike. The other was stolen in the city in which I live; my from-apartment-to-station bike.

I enjoy walking a great deal, but it's just not as thrilling as cruising along on a bicycle nor is it as easy to haul 10 kilos of groceries when you're hoofing it.

I was so elated when 2 weeks ago Friday it was one of the big trash days--one of the very very few days in the year when you can throw out anything you damn well please and the garbage men will pick it up free of charge--and the school's biology teacher came to me and told me of all the unwanted bikes sitting on the street at various dump sites just waiting for someone to claim them.

I didn't have any classes that day, so my boss granted me permission to rummage for a new set of wheels.

After a strategic survey of the neighborhood dump-sites and some close calls with the garbage truck who was in a sense competing for the same rubbish as I, I found myself with a 3-speed frame and 2 flat tires, a rear-tire lock and key, a basket, and a seat. The school's handyman helped me put the components together, clean, and oil them.

When it was all said and done, I found myself standing with the handyman and 4 other teachers admiring the day's catch.

About 1 week ago, the police did a routine scan of the bikes parked at the train station. My bike's number came up as having been stolen. They didn't tell me this, but they asked me for my name, my age, my nationality, and where I got my bike. While I could not explain the finer points of how the bike came to be in my possession, I did make it perfectly clear that I had gotten it just the week before from a trash pile on Special Trash Day. [Even if it wasn't perfectly clear, they did nod their heads emphatically and say, "Oh, yes." when I asked them if they understood my Japanese.]

They said that they had no further questions, but I told them that incase they did, please call the school.

A week passed and I began to think that everything was okay.

Unfortunately, everything was not okay and the police decided that it was neccessary to come to school and photograph me, the handyman, and the bike; photograph the former site of the trash heap from which the bike was taken; and require that both the handyman and the school's principle escort the bike to the police station.

Now, I am not only eligible for the Database on Foreigners[see entry below], but am also good for the Database on Convicted and Potential Bike Thieves.

Watch out. I'm dangerous.

database on foreigners

If it weren't for my mom's weekly installments of her daily journal and the odd newspaper clippings that she includes, I'd be really out of touch with, well, everything, everwhere and everyone.

A clipping I received today made me think that out of touch may not be such a bad way to be.

In this week's letter, Mom included a short clipping about a new database in the works in Japan's Ministry of Justice.

Japanese government plans new database on foreigners

TOKYO-The Justice Ministry likely will introduce a new database to collate information on foreigners visiting and residing in Japan, and has requested a budgetary allocation for the system next fiscal year, ministry sources said Saturday.

The sources said the ministry can currently search online-only text information, such as an individual's name and nationality, and plans to upgrade the system to download images, such as people's photos and fingerprints.

My mom thoughtfully added in the article's margin, "Be sure to smile!"

She's funny like that.

I'm taking some comfort in knowing that by the time they get this thing up and running, I will most likely be out of the country. I do not relish the chance to be made to feel not unlike a convicted sex offender residing in California simply because I was born outside of Japan.

I wonder, will Japan's site be like this?

www.meganslaw.ca.gov

I hope that after the government has completed the Database on Foreigners, they get a Database on Highschool Students up and running. That way, us poor foreign teachers can study our students' faces and names in the privacy of our own homes. Before that however, I hope they get enough funding to start the Database on Convicted and Potential Bike Thieves started. Everyone knows that bike theft is the most common crime in Japan...and it is not even a crime typically commited by foreigners.

the farmer in +L

Others are born to be wild. I was born to farm.
[Incidentally, I was also born to seek out dark corners of crowded rooms, procrastinate, be successful at a number of things but truly master none of them, be unreasonably insecure, and play unpopular sports.]

About a week ago, I had the opportunity of helping my friend's family plant their rice fields. It was a great day.

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Let's start with the basics. This is what a tray of sprouted rice looks like. Using last year's seed, the farmer plants a couple hundred trays [depending on how many fields he has] about 2 months prior to field planting.

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After being lifted from their trays, the carpet-like rectangles of sprouts are slid into place on the planter's rack. My friend, Hajime, is handing the sprouted rice to his father.

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Hajime's mother tells him that he's not straight yet, keep backing up.

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My favorite task was smoothing the field with a wooden rake. If the mud is not at even levels [ie. low spots created by footprints or tractor tracks], the rice sprouts will not be anchored in anything when the planter's mechanical arms thrust them below the surface of the water. The sprouts will then float away, leaving a bare patch.

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This is Hajime's mother planting rice by hand. She either adds extra sprouts to clusters that have too few [5 is a good number], or puts a cluster where the tractor missed a spot.

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I did the same as Hajime's mom, but took the time to pose.

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After we finished planting, I sat with Hajime's grandmother and pounded sun-dried fava bean pods so that the beans would fall out. Fava beans are huge green beans about the size of the end of your thumb. The green outer surface of the bean must be removed before the beans can be cooked and eaten.

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I hope that I'm as hip as Hajime's grandma when I'm her age...which nobody seems to know.