This all happened two weeks ago. I am woefully behind on the blog. Even if I omit all of the really boring things that happened (which represents about 98% of my experience), there's a lot to cover.
Finally in our Nagoya hotel room, Lily fell into the fetal position both from fatigue and despair at the lack of good programming on the hotel television. She curled up tighter when I suggested it was "nothing that watching a good sumo match can't solve."
Parenthetically, this was before she discovered Gilmore Girls on Netflix. Now she only curls into the fetal position when we cut her off before she finds out who Rory is going to date.
Amy and I went to the lounge, where we both assumed the adult version of the fetal position.
Nagoya from 24 floors up.
Breakfast at the hotel. At this point, both teens were secretly wondering whether they might be able to live at the hotel or possibly be adopted by the Hilton family. From their perspective, the only downside was being in the same room as their father. But perhaps he might get his own room or pay for our stay by working in the kitchen (or both).
That afternoon, we took the metro from Sakae to Hongo Station, which was a few blocks from our new apartment.
I feel compelled to note that it is impossible to rent an apartment in Japan as a foreigner. Not virtually impossible, but plain impossible. As some of you know, I spent most of the summer hyperventilating every time I searched online for a place to live. There was nothing. My search terms were comprehensive and ranged from 'furnished apartments rent Japan' to 'warehouse space desperate foreigners." Our success in renting an apartment was completely dependent on the kindness of a friend.
We later learned that Japanese landlords are reluctant to rent to foreigners because they are convinced we cannot understand the trash sort system. As someone who has lived here for 3 weeks, I can tell you that is absolutely correct. The first week, we had piles of trash stacked in the apartment while we debated what exactly went in the blue bag versus the red bag. It got dark pretty fast.
Although we did find this helpful guide online, we honestly just run downstairs every day and see what other people have stacked in the dumpster area.
Shots of the interior. We weren't hoping to take 'spartan' to the next level. Our rental furniture had not yet arrived.
Lily demonstrating an advanced modern dance move known as the shindig.
Lily's attempt to break into the little known but ultra competitive Genkan modeling.
This is our tatami room. As a quick wikipedia search will tell you, tatami rooms are traditional Japanese rooms that are designed to serve as spaces of peace and meditation. Years ago, they were a sign of nobility.
Those days have clearly passed.
Lily had other ideas. Her first plan was to use the space as a "flop room" (not to be confused with flop house) in which we could randomly walk in and flop on the floor. She claimed that flopping filled her with a sense of peace and gravitas.
Her second idea was far more ominous.
Upon seeing this sign on the door, I should have immediately recognized that I had no place in that room. But, a remote, primitive and immensely powerful part of my brain has long refused to acknowledge that I am older than twenty four. That part of my brain continues to insist that I can do anything younger people can do, including walking at 4 mph and getting out of bed in the morning.
So I agreed to do the workouts with Lily (you should be grateful that there is no visual record of that experience because it involved a lot of sweating and grunting and complaining). She brought up an "easy" workout on youtube and it is here that I will offer some very useful advice to my elderly readers.
If the yoga instructor a) looks nineteen, b) can touch her toes, c) behind her back, and d) while speaking in a calm voice, you should immediately end the video. Don't be seduced by the "easy" label on the video. That is a lie. You can tell by the suggested video links to the side, which will include EMS Rescues and Pain Management Without Opioids, and Pain Management with Extra Opioids.
What I now realize I needed is someone who understands both me and my body. In the future, any and all ab workouts must be led by a fifty-something, "stout" individual who intersperses an occasional crunch with several sips from a craft IPA. You know, a routine I can do without injury and which simultaneously works abs and biceps.
If I can't find that online, I'm starting a yoga vlog.
In closing, I should mention that Lily crushed the ab workout. I didn't end up in traction, but I had to find creative ways to avoid using my abs for a few days.
