I seriously don’t know how Tom did it. I don’t fit in this country. Each time I visit someone’s home I’m given slippers that barely cover half my feet. I couldn’t stand up straight in the bathroom at the restaurant today. Yesterday morning I clobbered myself in the mouth with one of the subway handles while getting my bag down from the rack. For the record, these handles are at forehead height for most Japanese and I nearly split open my lower lip. Classy, I know. In most subway stations I’ve had to duck while passing under the exit signs. There are a lot of exit signs.
But even worse than the size of this place is the ungodly heat and humidity. We had to walk 7 minutes to our participant’s home today and the combination of my stupid work clothes and otherworldly humitity had me literally sweating through the front of my shirt by the time we got there. It was very embarrasing and everyone around me had a good chuckle while I tried not to pass out from heat stroke.
I can’t think of a better way to exude professionalism than to show up at someone’s home with a flushed face and sweat seeping through the front of your shirt. Go me.
