Bicycles (the new car)

Bikes are the way to get around here in Japan, which is fine and wonderful except that it's illegal for them to ride on the SUPER WIDE, NOT AT ALL CROWDED street, so instead they ride on the narrow sidewalks where it's shoulder to shoulder people. They will think nothing of running you over, and you'll be lucky to get a precursory "ding ding" from their stupid little bell before your foot is broken. Old ladies are the worst, as they have little direction and often aim for the thickest part of the crowd, shoulders hunched, eyes determined. Afterwards they glare at you for having the audacity to be walking on the sidewalk.

Welcome to Japan. Leave your shoes at the door.

I've been in Japan for six days now, and the only real panic I've experienced is grocery shopping and stupidly realizing everything is written in Japanese. I wanted to buy a tube of toothpaste but couldn't be sure if what I was purchasing wasn't shaving gel or soap (it was toothpaste, thankfully, since I don't know the number for poison control). I bought what I thought were mini hamburger buns (typical American mistake) but turned out to be an pan, a delicious doughy bread, traditionally filled with azuki (sweet red beans), but in this case custard. One day in our kitchen, when I was reaching for what I thought were pink sugar packets, I peered more closely at the box and realized there was a cartoon depiction of a cockroach happily stuck in goo and that it was cockroach bait I nearly put into my tea (and anyway, the Japanese don't put sweetner in their tea). I still can't find soy milk and have spent the last four days at the supermarket standing in front of a huge display of milk cartons, pitifully trying to discern which ones might be soy. They all have pictures of cows on them, so I'm guessing none.