Mori the impossible

in a uniform society that is obsessed with the latest fashion, it’s not everyday that you come by a girl who keeps it real in her converse shoes and a hooded sweatshirt:

Mori Muri – enter the impossible girl.

“the big daikon” is okayama’s most popular venue for alcohol consumption and "international exchange". it’s populated and packed nightly with every idiot gaijin in town. i had heard a lot about it (from every idiot gaijin in town) and i admit i was curious, but i’m sticking to my story – i was dragged there by a coworker.

when we rolled up around 11pm, the party was well underway. i went up the stairs and was slapped in the senses by red light, cigarette smoke, and a tom jones hip-hop remix. people were yelling and dancing and drunk! an australian man “dressed” like a cat (wearing nothing but his briefs and boots) greeted us. “never met you blokes before, ya’ backpackers?” no, and i’ve never met you either, dude – i would have remembered a naked man with ears and a tail.

i spent about 2 beers scoping stupid people. it was easy – they were everywhere! there was a chubby drunk white girl dancing on the bar inches from a young passed-out japanese. there were 2 japanese women in their 60’s sitting at the bar and playing gaijin grab-ass. but mostly there was a wide assortment of skinny, nerdy, white guys wearing haircuts and frat boy uniforms dating back as far as 1997.

even among the handful of english speakers who shared my situation in okayama, i wasn’t fitting in or having any fun. i went outside to avoid people and feel sorry for myself (my favorite activity when stupid people are having more fun than me). mori must have had the same idea. she was sweat-shirted, sneaker-ed, and balled up on the steps out front. she was drinking a can of vending machine coffee and it clearly wasn’t working in whatever way she hoped it would. i sat down and publicly expressed my disinterest in hanging out with “stupid fucking gaijin.” she laughed out loud (in english, that is. most girls here sort of giggle and cover their mouths) - i had made a friend.

“you are a stupid fucking gaijin, de-sho?!” (aren’t you?)

i denied it flatly, “iie, nihon-jin des.” (no, i’m japanese)

“than you are a stupid fucking japanese! no problem, yo. i am too – i have to fucking work tomorrow.” we talked and laughed. she was absolutely tickled by my use of profanity and my cruel generalizations regarding the okayama gaijin. she struggled to keep up. “you are fucking cool, yo.”

i told her i was leaving and she was coming with me. she tried to tell me she couldn’t, but didn’t know enough english to explain why. so i was able to drag her away from the daikon and her friends and we had a beer at my favorite izakaiya. She updated my phrase book with impolite men’s japanese and “dirty” okayama dialect (the only japanese she uses). i thought she was great.

we took a ride on my bicycle and she chanted “move it, move it!” and reached around me to ring the bell for the duration of the ride. i would have kept her forever, but she insisted i take her back to the daikon and her friends. we traded phone numbers and I she kissed me on the cheek.

now mori’s my new best friend! we’ve been on a few adventures and i hope there will be many more to come!