A Weekend With The Police

WOW, what a crazy time I had last weekend! I actually had a lot of things to do, a lot of obstacles to overcome, and a pretty fun time. I really want to write more about Turkey, but that'll have to wait. (I've got so many stories and so little motivation!)

Let's start with the present and go backwards...

A few minutes ago, a team of police detectives came to the junior high school office to take my fingerprints. And the fingerprints of every other staff member. And they dusted the desks, the safe, the windows and doors and other surfaces for more fingerprints.

It seems a thief struck the school, most probably on Saturday afternoon. He or she made off with 40,000 yen that was kept in the supply closet in an (unlocked) safe. Yes, an *unlocked* safe. Not a very safe safe, I'd say!

It was interesting to be fingerprinted. I can only remember having my prints taken twice in my life -- once when I was in elementary school (in case something bad happened to us, they took our prints and other identifying info.) and once when I first arrived in Japan and they took a thumbprint and printed it on my Alien Registration Card. They don't do that anymore - it's insulting to foreigners, I guess. (Listen up, America!)

This time, instead of using black ink, the police officer rolled my lil' fingers around on top of this whitish, waxy-like inkless inkpad. I can't really describe it, but it was cool. They took prints of all my finger pads, then my entire fingers, and finally my palm. When the clearish inkish stuff touched the paper, it slowly turned into a regular black fingerprint. What WAS that magical, invisible ink-like substance?

On the paper, above each fingerprint space, was the character (kanji) for all the different fingers. I noticed that the names used by the police are different from the names used in everyday Japanese. For example, thumb is usually called "oyayubi" and the character means "parent" but according to the police, the thumb is called "boin" and the character means "mother."

How I love learning new and interesting bits of information each day!

So, that's been my Monday so far. Saturday and Sunday were spent with four other friends who'd come to my house to enjoy Turkish food, desserts and water pipes and to share tales from the winter holidays.

It was a lot of fun, even though it was the first time for some of them to meet each other. By the end of the overnight party, we'd all made new friends! I don't have many close friends around here, but the few I have are very cool people and they make me laugh a lot. I'll miss them, but I've convinced them all - through tales, photos and food - to go and visit Turkey someday.

The Saturday party almost didn't happen, actually. I'd had to go to The Prefectural Capital on Friday for a meeting and sleep over in a hotel since there are no evening buses back to my village. On Saturday morning I caught a train to Small City, where I would switch trains and continue on to Small Town and then catch a bus to Tiny Freaking Village.

Arriving in Small City, I noticed a signboard that spelled doom. The signboard announced that all - ALL! - afternoon trains to Small Town were cancelled. It's a Saturday, after all, who needs the train?

ARGHHHHH!!! GRRRR!!!! I NEED THE TRAIN!!! How am I supposed to get back home?!?! How am I going to explain to my guests that dinner won't be ready till 11 p.m. and, oh, er, please don't mind the stinky dishes sitting in the sink and the dirty socks hiding under the kotatsu?! I was supposed to be home by 2 p.m., not 6 p.m! My guests are due to arrive at 5 p.m. (or 4:30 for the Japanese ones!) - what will they think when they see I'm not there? Shit! I still haven't done the shopping and I've got rice to cook and beans to soak AND cook and I'm never ever gonna make it and ohmygoodness I'm just going to cancel the whole darn thing. Sigh.

Where do I go when I'm lost? When I need help? When there is no one else to turn to? When I'm scared and alone?

Why, I go to Officer Friendly, of course! Or, in this case, Officer Friendly Yamamoto.

I noticed a police "box" just outside Small City Station and I went in to ask about the location of the bus station as well as the local car rental shop. Officer Yamamoto was really helpful, as most police-box police officers are, and tried to help me figure out all my options:

1. take a bus to Small Town and wait an hour for the next bus to Tiny Freaking Village
2. wait for the early evening train to Small Town and take the next bus to TFV
3. hitch-hike all the way home*
   
4. rent a car
5. ask a friend to come and rescue me

*was not suggested by Officer Yamamoto

1 and 2 were do-able, but they'd both get me home after my guests had already arrived. 3 was possible, but still no guarantee I'd get back in time. 4 was way to damn expensive. 5, yes, 5 it had to be.

I called my friend, The Explainer, who lives 35 minutes from Small City and was going to my party that night. He discouraged me to cancel the party and agreed to come and get me as soon as the mechanic finished putting winter tires on his car. Yippee!

In the meantime, I hung out with Officer Yamamoto and another police officer, as well as a woman from Small Town who was heading back there on the bus. She actually offered to drive me from Small Town to TFV, but I told her I'd already made arrangements... and I didn't have enough change for the bus... but it was so kind of her to offer! Thank you!

Yamamoto made coffee for us all and Nice Lady (Morimoto - I remember!) gave us all cakes and the other officer told me how he used to be an officer in Small Town for 17 years before he moved on to Small City and he knew my friend The Weaver and her sister and he even remembered the years they were born in. Small Town, Small City, Small World After All.

I asked if they got the bad guy who'd killed a 9-year-old girl in her home last September, but they said they hadn't. I asked if there was a lot of crime in Small City and they said yes... then laughed and realized where I'm from and that we must have very, very different ideas about what "a lot of crime" means! Finally, I asked if there was a yakuza problem in Small City and, after looking over their shoulders and taking a peek out the windows, they whispered to me, "Yes!" Well, no, it didn't happen that way. They just said "yeah" - it's everywhere, really. Even in TFV, I've seen the tattoos and missing pinkies!

The officers then turned the table and started asking me personal questions. When is your boyfriend coming? Is he Japanese? Where does he live? I explained that he was my friend, not boyfriend. Unfortunately, most older Japanese are like little brothers and sisters and think every friend of the opposite sex is actually one's boy- or girlfriend. Says a lot about the society, I guess.

Finally, The Explainer came to my rescue. Before we could go anywhere, he had to sit down and have coffee and cake and chat with the officers. We left and he helped me get groceries and then got me home by 5 p.m.! He even vacuumed my room and set up the kotatsu and peeled carrots! Of course, he's a Texan. We're all lovely people, didn't you know? :-P

I'd e-mailed all the other guests about my plight and they promised to show up late and not hungry. With a bit of teamwork, we got all the veggies peeled and chopped and sliced and grated and beans made and rice cooked and so on.... we had everything on the table, ready to eat, by 8 p.m.! Whew!

Thank you Explainer! Thank you Painter!
Thank you Weaver! Thank you Teacher!

Next up: another TV tale! Stay tuned...