Livin' La Vida Lost In Translation

Hello, Fukuoka. First things first, it's pronounced not as something rude a Canadian might say but as "Foo-kwo-ka." Now that we've got that straight, I'm off to explore.

I got in around 11:00 last night and did what any respectable gaijin girl would do in my place - headed straight to the bar. (Hey, they have a wireless hotspot there.) Depending on how bad my currency exchange math is, the gin and tonic cost me either ten dollars or a hundred dollars. I'll figure it out when I get the bill.

The language is going to be a petite probleme. What's maddening is that I minored in Japanese, and that fifteen years ago I was functionally fluent. Oh well, it's all behind me now. Engrish, anyone?

"Honey, I'm not home" email sent, I toddled up for some well-deserved sleep. God, it's nice to be in a five-star. Lady Gillette Sensor accidentally left in Ed's shower? No problem. The marble and mirror bath has every amenity. I used up all the Dead Sea salts and fell into a deep and dreamful sleep. (Shout out to the Keanu Reeves/husband hybrid: Thanks for the memories, big guy.)

But now I'm up, sufficiently caffeinated, and off to see the world. This corner of it, anyway. What I see, in the rain from my fifth-floor room, I like. The cherry trees aren't blooming yet but the plum trees are, the river's a translucent jade, and rumor has it a girl can find sushi here. Sayonara, y'all.