In your neighbourhood

In 2 and a half years, Matt and I haven't been on the receiving end of much anti-foreigner sentiment. To date, I've never been directly discriminated against (to my knowledge); no-one has refused to sit next to me on the train or called me a baka-gaijin (this, in particular surprises me having given the locals justifiable cause to call me this on many occasions).

We've encountered wariness, sure, and the usual stares, but maybe we've become immune to it. Maybe God is preparing a nice big present for us just before we leave.

BUT nearly every day, as we walk out of our door, we are reminded that we are not Japanese and therefore, do not deserve the common courtesies endowed on the locals. Our neighbours, let's call them the "Yanagidas", have in their midst, a rather bitchy middle-aged cow who, in 2 and a half years has NEVER said hello or smiled at us.

Every single day, we smile and say "Konnichiwa!" if she's out fussing with the front garden (and hell, it seems like that's all she does) and not once has she responded. We were determined to break her, but she is one hell of a stubborn monkey and refuses to give in to our unerring charm. Now, we do it just to piss her off, our "Konnichiwas" have become progressively more exaggerated and theatrical. One day we hope she'll just explode.

There is a lovely "Yanagida", who we think is her sister, and she always says hello, but we rarely see her. We have created a whole "Yanagida" mythology - that the Evil Sister locks up the Lovely Sister in the attic and forces her to listen to the yappy ferret that barks all day but that we've never seen (probably one of those toy pomeranian poo-meisters) and feeds her only canned dog food.

Of course, because Mother Nature has a sardonic sense of humour, the evil "Yanagida"'s efforts have now paid off. Yep, the first cherry blossoms have bloomed in her fussy little garden...