I’m leaving in five days. Five days! Holy shit! I have no idea how I’m going to get everything done; my landlords are stealing another month of rent from me and my apartment is still a mess, but whatever.
I woke up in Bali- specifically, Bali An, a supremely luxurious love hotel in Kabukicho. (English site and official Japanese site) GTAbf suggested we stay at a rabuho since neither of us had before, and without going into too many details, they really are fantastic. Or this one was.
Anyways, I woke up in a big ol’ fancy bed and had a bath and sat in the massage chair and all that good stuff. Got home to our sad, empty, raped little apartment and then went right back out to Harajuku to pick up some things for a friend.
I had to go to the Meiji Shrine, which was okay, because I’ve always been fond of it. The greenery smelled wonderful, the temperature was perfect, and I was walking along and grooving to my iPod when a Japanese man with a big camera ran up to me. “Excuse me! Excuse me!”
I took out my earbuds. “Yes?” I thought maybe he wanted me to take a picture of him, which is cool.
Instead, he said, “Oh, please! May I take your picture?” He gestured to the entrance. “Your blond hair in front of the gate…so beautiful!”
“Oh.” It happens more often than you think. Foreigners are often photographed here, especially blond chicks. I stood in front of the gate and tried to make him happy. I was wearing no makeup, my hair was thrown up in a clip, and I was wearing a bra that’s gone gray over time, the straps of which could be seen underneath my Zara jersey dress that’s my only outfit up until the move. In short, I really didn’t think he was doing anything pervy.
He spent forever adjusting me. “Now like this…okay, this hand here…can you put your glasses on top of your head? So cute! Your eyes…so beautiful!” I complied, but it wasn’t until he asked me to turn to the side and throw my head back that I clued in.
Finally, he came to the point: “Excuse me…excuse me…ahhhh…mmm…excuse me…sexy pose?” He mimed placed his hands behind his head and thrusting out his chest. Typical!
“Sexy pose?” I laughed, but shook my head. “No, thank you!”
“okay,” he readily agreed, and bowed. “Thank you! Thank you very much!
I escaped and bought the gifts for my friend, but despite my nervous caution, he caught up to me as I was leaving. “Oh, please, please! One more? With the sunset?”
It’s cloudy today.
But, he wasn’t rude or mean, so I carefully posed with a sunken chest (what Tyra would call the “broken-down doll” look) until he finally said, “Okay, now push chest OUT!”
“I’m so sorry, but I have to get going…”
“Thank you!” I bleated before running away, my face red.
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