Kibbutzing in Kyoto

And now that we have that little surprise out of the way, I can get on with Dax Watches Movies. This all happened before I watched Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, but I wanted to put it after (above) the post about the film because I did say that my next post, that one, would be about a movie.

By the way, her name is Foxy Cleopatra. Because I was watching Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold like an idiot, instead of going to the hospital to be near my wife while Foxy was born. Oh, and Foxy because of Pam Grier, but I didn't really have to type that out, did I?

I was never promised a rose garden, and I am not the type of person to expect one but I was promised a wedding party. I won't say by whom, but a wedding party was promised. For such purpose, I shlepped my tuxedo (not the rental in the wedding photos, but my actual tux), and two of my best suits and all the extra bits to Tokyo. Well, it turns out that I brought an extra bag because there was/will be no wedding party. Instead, Kohei-san had planned a tidy little three day trip to Kyoto for Ali and me. Kohei and Genya Number Two would shadow. Separate hotels and trains and such, but they were never not there. That turned out to be a good thing.

On the second day Ali and her father were feeling a little under the weather. I put that down to the deep-fried fish bones they ate the night before at the sexiest restaurant I've ever been to. Ali was not doing well for a completely different reason, and slowly got worse as the day progressed. In the early hours of the third day, Ali conked my forehead with a hotel tumbler and rather loudly said, "Hello Fuckface. Get up and ring [Genya Number Two]. You stupid fuckface, get up!" I still can't pronounce the guy's name, but whatever. I dialed the number, so many numbers, and before I could even get my trousers on the night manager was there with two really big dudes and a stretcher. Moments later, GNT and Kohei arrived and rang for an ambulance. The two big dudes went away with the stretcher, and three dudes with a stretcher replaced them. These guys looked official, they had white helmets and first aid kits and all that. We went downstairs to the ambulance and while Ali, Kohei and I waited in the back of the van, GNT and the driver spoke in hushed tones about which hospital to take us to. The driver got a little excited and at that point GNT had to speak over him. I'm guessing GNT doesn't like to raise his voice because that was the last thing said by anybody apart from radio chatter until we arrived at Kyoto First Red Cross Hospital.

It's at this point that I should mention that Japanese hospitals are weird. I've never been in a hospital where everything except the emerg is shut between 8:00 pm and 8:00 am. Ali was in labour, so the doctor admitted her and gave her some muscle relaxants to delay contractions and antibiotics for nothing. She was four and a half weeks early, so the doctor didn't want things to escalate. Because we had some very expensive non-refundable shinkansen tickets and I had an assignment due, we swapped out. Ali's mum came down to Kyoto and Kohei, GNT and I all went back to Tokyo. I buried my nose in the books and had the assignment done in record time - all for nought, but I didn't know that then.

Two days pass, and we wait. We got the call while watching Cleopatra Jones, at about 10:00 that Ali was going into the delivery room. We were standing on the platform at Tokyo Station waiting for our train to Kyoto when we got another call. The baby was born. I had to wait for a third call before I could know the gender. Mr. and Mrs. K don't say a lot when they talk to each other. Which is why we didn't know sooner that Ali was in labour and why several calls are needed sometimes. Speaking later with the doctor, the only person in Kyoto besides the overworked hotel clerk who actually tried to speak English, I was informed that Foxy came out so fast there was an audible "pa-shoon" sound in the delivery room.

This time, I brought my books with me. GNT set me up in a business hotel, not the nice hotel I was in the first time I was in Kyoto. I don't know where he stayed and I don't want to know, but he wore the same clothes and they never got dirty. Mr. and Mrs. K stayed somewhere downtown close to Kyoto Tower. On the second day, Foxy had to be transferred to the NICU and be held for observation. She did well, and was released earlier than expected but after a reasonably safe time in the hospital. In perhaps a surreal way, we did some more sightseeing in Kyoto while Ali and Foxy were in the hospital.

It was starting to get to me. My hotel included Viking, which is what many Japanese people say to refer to a buffet meal. They know they are the only ones who say it, so when a gaijin like myself walks into the restaurant, they also say buffet but in the French way not the American way with the short u. It always makes me laugh to hear it that way because it reminds me every time of a line in La Reine Margot when Daniel Auteuil as Henri says he wants to get down and dirty with the Queen. All the chicks in my French class cringed. Back to the point - it was getting to me. Every morning I was reminded of Randy at the deli (or delica as they say in Japan) in Patterson:

"Who do I have to blow to get some decent pumpernickel in this place?" Spoons dropped, and chatter stopped but somebody quickly ushered Randy's less than acceptable Reuben away.

"You know they're gonna spit in the new one, dude".

"I don't care. If it's quality bread I'll take my chances". Not for a second did I think he was serious, and he wasn't. He checked.

I couldn't get any milk for my tea. I was getting rather frustrated because they always gave me cream as if it's the same thing. It's not, it cannot be. Even after painstakingly using words that I know they use in Japanese, the staff still couldn't understand. I guess because even if I say it perfectly, I'm still a gaijin so I can't possibly be saying something Japanese. The only thing that prevented me from getting angry was a little perspective. I thought back to Donny K., and the hissy he threw because he couldn't get a proper cuppa in the Andes. At the time I thought he was being ridiculous. I felt like offering to go outside and milk the nearest llama, but Don was serious so I thought I shouldn't make light. In my situation, it would have seemed even more ridiculous to have a hissy because I wasn't sitting in a shack at a multinational goldmine in Peru. I was in Kyoto, and if I swung a cat I'd hit at least one mini-mart, and a pachinko parlour. So instead, I told myself it could be worse and sipped my tea, ate my scrambled eggs wih chopsticks and listened to Bryan Adams muzak. So perfectly Japanese.

On my last night in Kyoto Mr. K decided it was time to eat. He often thinks of food, in fact he never stops thinking of food. We had to find a place to eat. We roamed the back streets of Kyoto and I spied a sign for Red Stripe. I said we should eat there because they have Red Stripe. Boy, was I wrong. After being mocked by the waitress, I went to the barman and led him outside to the poster of Red Stripe. He apologized and said that the poster was actually for a promo and handed me a flyer for a Jamaican dancehall gig that was happening up the street every Saturday. Like many people, I can't turn down Jamaican dancehall but there was Perspective again, encouraging me to think about my wife and newly arrived daughter. I just shook my head and asked for two large Asahi. It was during this meal that I witnessed the near collapse of a marriage and the birth of a new plan. Flowcharts and timelines determined what was in the best interests of everyone involved. Mr. K, myself and GNT would again return to Tokyo and Mrs. K would stay there to help Ali with anything.

Ali and Foxy and Mrs. K came home when Foxy was a week old, and I met them at Tokyo Station. Foxy is a good baby. She doesn't cry and she sleeps most of the time. I almost want to say that Enzo J didn't get enough sleep when he was that age because I remember that he was up a lot. Sissy was fixing bottles too often it seemed. That's a step Ali has managed to avoid, but it just feels like this baby is too easy.