It's a well-known fact that Maia and I are hummus junkies, and it must have been our collective desperation for it that drove the two of us to journey over an hour to Dazaifu and brave (well, what she considers) the scorching weather all to take the plunge into Deepest, Darkest Exported Americana at...Fukuoka Costco. Certainly curiosity had something to do with it. Would that stereotypical Japanese spirit of wa induce all the shoppers to pilot their oversized carts up and down the lanes single-file on the left and right, or would the spores of frenzied bargain hunting gain purchase in their minds leading to pileups of twisted metal and mass insanity? Would the quantities be pared down to fit Japanese sensibilities and the store restyled to look less like a wharf side warehouse? That's what we wanted to go find out, but first a little culture to immunize ourselves in case of the worst.
We once again made a stop off at the Kyushu National Museum, this time to see an exhibition of treasures from Tibet. I really like this museum, in case you didn't get that idea from the two or three other times I've written about going there. Its permanent collection is top-notch (even if the description cards fronting each display are in atrociously bad, hilarious Engrish), everything is immaculately displayed and the traveling shows it receives I'd pay to go see anywhere in the world. You can scam cheaper entry with a college ID despite not actually being a student also, but that's merely a happy bonus. Oh yeah, it's attached to the Tenmangu Shrine too, home of the best soft serve ice cream shop (it's a window, really) I've come across yet. At the exhibit itself we were treated to hundreds of Tibetan artifacts, some over 1,300 years old. In my opinion the star of the show was a thousand-arm Kannon statue that actually had, believe it or not, a thousand arms! I know because we did a rough count on each side and came up with a figure close to a thousand, so we probably missed some arms along the way in there.
Costco was a ways out of town from the museum and we took the entirely unremarkable local roads to get into the general vicinity. I say “general vicinity” because we actually didn't know exactly where it was other than being somewhere on the outskirts of Fukuoka and Dazaifu in the town of Hisayama. Really, the place can hardly be called Fukuoka Costco at all as it's something like twenty kilometers outside the city center, practically halfway to Kitakyushu. Regardless, we found it, and after witnessing the shopping center this Costco sits in I don't think anyone would ever say small and efficient are the only way the Japanese know how to build: The complex is so massive and sprawling it occupies two lots on either side of the road, has overpasses connecting both and a bus system that makes a circuit of the lots! You have got to be joking me.
After filling out the form, pating the obligatory 4,000 yen and getting a really really terrible head shot taken I had a member's card and was set loose inside with an altogether too large shopping cart. It's really been years since I stepped foot in a Costco for anything other than prescription glasses so I never noticed that the variety of goods isn't that great, there's just a lot of certain things. It's probably due to that quality that we never did find the hummus we came all this way for, instead settling for a huge block of cheese, angelic frozen cheese/spinach raviolis (how many years has it been!), green olives, coffee and a tub of salad greens. Altogether it cost something like 8,000 yen.
The shopping denizens of Fukuoka Costco are, I think, not so much different than those that frequent the Mother Stores: Big families, big helpings of soda and snacks, big asses. Yes, being a trashy slob is an international phenomena. Their cart driving is as annoying as America only with the Japanese twist that folks here treat this activity like they treat driving their cars, i.e. unbearably slow progress along the aisles and carts are left abandoned in the rows at awkward angles for everyone to navigate around. Really, if I wanted this I'd stay in Kusu and circle the town in my car.
Leaving that circus behind we made for the other side of the shopping complex for a shabby dinner and movie. I mean, only the dinner was shabby (sub-sub-par Italian), the movie was top-shelf stuff--Oppai Bare. Keep in mind that the sole reason we wanted to see this movie is because it was filmed in Kitakyushu, near Maia's former 'hood. I want to make that disclaimer because the name translated means "Tits Volleyball" and you may be wondering just what kind of couple we are. The movie's about a bunch of JHS class rejects who get all hot and bothered for the new teacher and exploit her emotional vulnerabilities in order to extract a promise that she'll strip naked for them if they can win a tournament. This movie embodies so very much that is wrong with Japan today, most especially that these kids can make any ridiculous (and illegal) demands they want and get away scot free, and that a teacher would allow themselves to go along with it. Eventually she develops a sort of Stockholm Syndrome about the situation, smiling and encouraging the boys to work hard in order to see her naked flesh and even declaring to her suave, Mr. Perfect ex-boyfriend who seems genuinely to want to be in her life again that her breasts "belong to their dreams". Why didn't I think of this brilliant plan in my youth? Wait, perhaps it's because none of my teachers were former swimsuit models.
Just when you think this country can't toss any more weird at you it glorifies underage teacher-student striptease pacts on the silver screen. God Bless Japan.
--Matt
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1 comment:
Oppai Bare hit a little too close to home for me. While no promises to flash their boobs were made (to my knowledge), the reluctance of the teachers I've worked with to say "No" to the students was shockingly evident. I'd be a wealthy woman if I had a nickel for every time a teacher tried to make friends with disruptive students, clean up their messes, and essentially do their work for them, rather than tell them to knock it off and take some responsibility for themselves.
That part about the heroine being called a liar by her former students and her vowing not to let that happen again is an accurate portrayal of many teachers in Japan (and elsewhere in the world, I'm sure) who prioritize being liked by the students over giving them a quality education. How tragic that it's come to this, and that the media reinforces this detrimental attitude.
Great soundtrack, though!
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