I don't like going to the dentist. I don't like the idea of someone taking a metal pick and rooting around in my mouth, scraping and prodding, and some of my nightmares are recurring dreams in which my teeth fall out. I've had two dentists in my entire life; first, a wonderful and jovial man who has known me since before I even had teeth, and feels more like an uncle than my DDM. Then when I moved to Washington, DC, I figured I should get a new dentist, since a) I couldn't just fly to Texas for my 6 month check up, and b) my old dentist wasn't covered by my insurance.
So you can imagine my state of mind when I ventured out for my first dental appointment in Japan. There was a baseline anxiety associated with going to the dentist, and on top of that, nerves associated with going to a new dentist, and beyond that, the trepidation of going into a situation where I can't actually communicate with anyone. My first we're-not-in-Kansas-anymore moment was when I had to remove my shoes and put on slippers in order to enter the dentist's office. Backless, too-large slippers are difficult to walk in, much less make a quick getaway, so I shuffled in feeling even more vulnerable. The cleaning and check up were fairly standard, except for a moment when the hygienist stuck in my mouth what looked like the blunt end of a cell phone charger that you plug into the cigarette lighter of your car. This probe made strange beeping noises, and a couple of sounds reminiscent of the forlorn sighs of R2D2 in Star Wars. "Not good," I thought, "Not good at all." The hygienist started conferring in rapid Japanese with another hygienist. In America, when hygienists start talking to one another in hushed tones after looking around in your mouth, it's usually a bad sign. The only word I could catch was "sealant-o" [sealant]. Panicked, I asked the hygienist, "Sealant-o daijoubu deska?" ("Are the sealants ok?") "OK," she flashed back at me, surprised. I heaved a sigh of relief.
The final hurdle was meeting with the actual dentist, who was a fairly young guy who spoke no English, but was determined to do his duty and give me his thoughts after a quick examination. "Good teeth" was the first bit of feedback. From there, it got more complicated, as he had certain bits of advice he wanted to impart to me, but the translation proved difficult. Out came his smartphone, and thanks to an electronic dictionary, he was finally able to convey that I am brushing my teeth the wrong way. Japanese dentistry dictates that you should brush up and down, not horizontally, starting at the gums, and flicking the toothbrush out over the teeth. This was demonstrated several times on the plastic teeth model in the office, and then more awkwardly in my own mouth by the dentist himself. Finally, I had to prove to him that I could perform this task on my own. Finally satisfied after a couple of tries, the dentist bowed me out of his office. I waited 30 minutes (having promised the dentist after doing the requisite fluoride rinse), and then had myself a few beers.
HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO
DL stopped by my desk last week to ask if I had heard "the news." Lacking any clues, I had no idea what he was talking about. "Well," he said, "I was at the train station on my way home yesterday, and I heard these male students saying some kind of awful things. At first I thought they were just trash talking each other, you know, because kids are like that sometimes, but then, as I looked more closely, one of them reached out and PUNCHED the other kid in the face! Hard! And the kid's friends just stood there laughing, and no one did anything!" So DL went to the station manager and told him what had happened, and the station manager asked the kid who got punched if he wanted to call a teacher at school. The kid demurred, saying he would talk to someone the next day. Not satisfied, DL called the vice principal and told him what happened, and the vice principal instructed him to come in the next day and point out in the student directory which students were involved. No word on how the attacker was disciplined, but I think DL was a little traumatized by the whole thing, particularly that no one stood up for the victim.
The grannies love any bit of gossip I can throw their way (sometimes I get outright requests for it), so I repeated this story to them. Their faces turned grave, and around the table, heads began to shake. "This is a big problem in Japan," said Jet Set Granny. Many students are bullied, and commit suicide every year. They were surprised to learn how bullying has changed over the years, with technology and the Internet making it possible for kids to torture each other from afar, or even anonymously. Mr. M spoke up, saying, "When I was child, we would fight all the time. It was part of growing up. You fight with other boys, but that's it."
FREE WHEELIN'
Biwako, or Lake Biwa, is Japan's largest lake, and the destination for one of my most recent Japanese adventure. The day had been framed as "a chance to do some cycling" along the lake, suggesting that we would take a leisurely ride, and at some point turn back. The full circuit around Biwa is 220 km, and no one seemed keen to do it in its entirety. So we set off in the hot sun, dodging joggers (one wearing a black ski mask), before coming across a battle of the rock bands held by some local universities. They had clearly been partying all night, judging by the litter, sleeping bags, and other detritus. We stopped to take a look at the set list, which included bands with innovative names like "Scheisse," and "The Dry Sex."
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| Scenic Biwa |
Moving onward, we soon found that Biwa isn't exactly a flat course. We rode uphill over several bridges, passing lone fishermen and jet skiers. About halfway into the ride, we stopped for sushi and ice cream (and wonderful mix) at the local 7Eleven. This decision came back to haunt us as we rode over a long bridge that turned out to be mostly uphill. Later it was determined that we rode 1.4 km at a 70 degree angle.
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| How we all felt after the bridge |
Post-bridge, we felt it was time to get back to the bike rental office. Unfortunately, this was the most tired and ugliest leg of the journey, along a major highway that lacked sidewalks for significant stretches. Thankfully, Japanese motorists are attuned to cyclists, and we rode on without incident. Five hours, several sunburns, and a mass case of dehydration later, we stumbled and limped around looking for food, coffee, any kind of sustenance. But we felt a sense of accomplishment, and, in my case, serious bruising in the bum region. It was all worth it as we watched the sun go down on the lake. We've pledged to do the entire route one day. Thanks to Google Maps, we figured out that we biked 40.4 km that day. Just 180 km to go!
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| Sensible athletic practices: group stretch post-ride |
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