A Quick Trip to Osaka

As I believe I've mentioned a few times, Hirakatashi is set almost exactly in-between Osaka and Kyoto. The only time I've spent in Kyoto so far is the day I traveled from Tokyo to here, but I can now say that I've spent an evening in Osaka. I meant to spend a day in Kobe and ended up spending a night there in preparation to do so, but upon waking up sick, I had to forego enjoying the Lunar New Year festival (one of Japan's three Chinatowns is in Kobe) with friends and go home instead. But hey, at least I can say now that I got to spend a really fun evening in Osaka.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned Zachary on here yet, but he's a friend I met in a McDonald's almost a month ago now and have been hanging out rather routinely with ever since. He's sort of connected me to his friend group at large, mainly through a Pokemon GO group chat on LINE, so pretty often when one of us has a plan to do something fun at least a few of the others will end up joining in.

Anyway, last Friday evening's trip to Osaka was born out of me stumbling over a "Watch It Again!" recommendation on YouTube. It was a thumbnail for a video for Uncle Rikuro's Cheesecakes, a sweet that went viral almost three years ago due to the fact it's a super fluffy and jiggly cheesecake.

"Huh," I murmured. "I wonder where that shop is."

Well, as luck would have it, it's not only in Osaka (a mere hour away from me by transit), but literally inside Osaka Station. So, suddenly in the mood for cheesecake, I hopped on the Pokemon GO group chat.

"Anyone up for going to Osaka this Friday after classes to get some cheesecake from this cool place in Osaka Station?" I linked the video for others to see.

Zachary answered right away. "I'm up for it." He and I share a class on Wednesdays and Fridays, which also just so happens to be our last class on Fridays, so it's pretty easy for us to hang out together then. We've made a couple of trips to a local multi-floor thrift store, the local two-story SEGA arcade, and now Osaka too because of this fact. "I'll reach out to a couple friends in other chats too and see if they're interested."

A couple minutes later, he asked, "Wait, how far away from the Umeda Sky Building is Osaka Station?"

A quick Maps search showed it's only about half a kilometer. When I let him know this, he got really excited. "We have to go there, too. That place sounds amazing."

"I'm up for it," I assured him, despite having no idea what the Umeda Sky Building is. A quick Google search told me it's the tallest building in Osaka, with an outdoors rooftop observation deck. It's not nearly as tall as the Tokyo Skytree, which I visited in January, but it's pretty amazing all the same.

And a few minutes later, he informed the group, "Guys! The Osaka Pokemon Center is in the station too!"

Welp, it looked like the evening was all planned for us now. Unfortunately, as it turned out, everyone in the Pokemon GO group chat had later classes that evening, but Zachary's friend Isobel said she could come. So the three of us made our way to Osaka Friday afternoon after class, rode up thirteen floors' worth of escalators to the Pokemon Center, and enjoyed looking around at all the plushies and toys and stuff there. Then, we walked over to the Umeda Sky Building and got in a line to get in an elevator that would take us to buy tickets to ride an escalator up the last few floors.

We stood in that first line for 45 minutes.

On the bright side, Zach and I were able to trade several Pokemon on Pokemon GO in the interim, and he was kind enough to hold my backpack for a bit (since I don't have a dorm and my homestay was out of the way, I had to carry mine all day, while he and Isobel dumped theirs off at the dorms before meeting me at the station. Since I had a bus pass, I took the bus there to save my knees as much as possible). But still, the wait was ridiculous.

Once we got out of that line, I thought it was time for the elevators, but no. We got into a smaller line that was waiting for the elevators.

Finally, after another fifteen minutes, we were in the elevators up to the 39th floor. From there, we each bought a ticket for ¥1500 (think $13.50, basically, at the current exchange rate which keeps skewing more and more in the dollar's favor by every week) and took the escalator up to the 42nd floor.

The view was... I don't want to exaggerate, but it was extraordinary. The wraparound windows revealed the by-now-night-shrouded city of Osaka glittering as far as the eye could see.

And then Isobel spotted the staircase up to the rooftop.

We all but sprinted up the stairs onto the roof. The roof in and of itself was a really cool space--there were black lights that caused the ground to glow like a starry sky, making it easy to see where the path was. Of course, a side effect of this was that everything white glowed. Zach was suddenly wearing glowing blue shoes--"I have Skechers! Yay!" he joked. My polka-dotted sweater was now gleaming all over the place.

But the view.

Wow.

I can't get my photos to my computer very easily at the moment (it's a long story), but I'll definitely post some of them here at some point, even if not till this summer. If you've been keeping up with my Facebook story, you saw some of them there. I also have a video of two trains crossing a huge bridge into Osaka in the dark.

The whole view was beautiful, and for whatever reason, the loudspeakers were quietly playing English pop songs. I sang along with a couple that I recognized, just for fun. Isobel spotted an area where couples were placing heart-shaped locks bearing their initials, high in the sky. We figured out that the gift shop sold the locks just for this purpose.

"Humans and our ridiculously intricate customs," Isobel observed.

As most people who know me well can attest to, one of my lesser-known talents is the ability to randomly spout deeper-than-it-needs-to-be nonsense off the top of my head sometimes when the moment calls for it. This, apparently, was one of those times.

"What would be the point of human existence if we didn't have our ridiculously intricate customs?" I asked quietly, leaning against the railing and surveying the starry-sky-like city around us.

Isobel fell silent for a moment. "Valid point," she agreed finally, emphatically, though with a bit stronger of language.

We finally headed down a bit later. Zach and I ended up at the tail end of a group that was ushered onto a long escalator down to the 37th floor that was encased in a wraparound window. When we got to the bottom, the escalator was empty, making for a perfect photo op. Isobel joined us in the line for the elevators down a few minutes later, and then we stood in that line for about twenty minutes.

"I don't see any stairs anywhere," I murmured. "What do we do if the building catches fire?"

"We die," Isobel offered helpfully.

"Or we could bust a window and jump out," Zach observed.

"And die," I muttered with a shudder.

"You either die or you die," Isobel shrugged.

"GUESS I'LL DIE," Zach, me, and several other foreign students/tourists mixed throughout the crowd replied in unison, striking the now-iconic meme's pose.

We got a few funny looks from non-English-speakers in the crowd, but we weren't loud enough to cause any real consternation, and aside from several laughs and finger-guns directed at each other in recognition of the fact that we all knew the same silly internet joke, we quickly went back to being as quiet as everyone else.

We finally made it back down to the ground level. In the basement of the building was an area designed to look like an outdoors restaurant district of Japan's past (unfortunately I was too tired and hungry to remember to take photos). We found an inexpensive pasta place there and enjoyed a really good dinner before heading back to Osaka Station to find our cheesecake.

Despite the fact that it was after 8 PM at this point, there was a line over twenty people long at Uncle Rikuro's. Thankfully, it was quick-moving, and while we waited, Zach and I got to watch the cheesecakes being made through a window. We each bought a hot-and-fluffy cheesecake fresh from the oven (for only ¥695, no less), and then it was time to head home for the night.

We all three took the train back to Kyobashi (a fairly big hub station that connects the JR lines and the Keihan line--a long story, that), but from there, Zach and Isobel headed back to Hirakatashi on a Keihan train, while I got on another JR line to the station nearest my homestay. I actually ended up in a women's-only car, and despite the fact that I've never once felt in any way endangered during my time here, I have to admit that I appreciated that car's existence. Going by the fact it was pretty crowded, I'm guessing the many other women inside it agreed with me.

The trip home was uneventful. I got on a bus at the train station, walked the rest of the way from the bus stop to my homestay, and delivered the still-warm cheesecake to my host mother to be refrigerated and eaten for dessert the next day.

And let me tell you, when we finally did eat it: it was a really dang good cheesecake.

"Good recommendation," Zach texted me Friday night when he tried his. "Very fluffy. Not too sweet."

So, even though the Umeda Sky Building ended up stealing the night overall, my initial idea to go try some jiggly cheesecake still proved meritorious in and of itself.

Amefuri no Toki

I’ll never quite understand people
Who say that they don’t like the rain.
Those who hide underneath their umbrellas,
And grunt that the weather’s a pain.

Because rain’s not just good for the planet,
But it’s also good for the soul.
In the same way it grows trees and flowers,
It helps to make my heart whole.

I’m glad I’m not that type of a person—
“Amefuri no toki, amari genki janai;”
No, “amefuri no toki ga daisuki” for me,
Underneath the lovely gray sky.

*"Amefuri no toki, amari genki janai (desu)." (Ah-meh foo-ree no toh-kee, ah-mah-ree gen-kee jah-nai dess.) (When it rains, I don't feel very energetic/well.)
*"Amefuri no toki ga daisuki (desu)." (Ah-meh foo-ree no toh-kee gah dai-ski dess.) (I love it when it rains.)

♫ I Want A Church Girl Who Goes to Church...♫

♫And reeeeeads her Biiiiiible♫

To anyone who has never experienced that particular vine, I apologize, but I had no idea what else to call this post.

Essentially, probably totally unsurprisingly to everyone who knows me at all, I did indeed manage to find a bilingual Christian congregation here, which I've been attending pretty regularly. The church, Agape International Christian Fellowship, only has about 15 people at service every Sunday (unsurprising since only 1% of the national population identifies as Christian), and as such, they don't have a church building, but meet in a city-owned room at the moment. Services consist of an hour of worship music (led by the pastor, Pastor Watahara, on the guitar and his wife on the flute), and about an hour of scripture study/preaching. Even though services are longer than the ones I'm used to back home, they don't feel as long for some reason.

As I mentioned, the service is bilingual. What this means is that worship songs are primarily sung in Japanese (which is printed on the song sheet in romaji (Roman letters) so I can easily sing along), but occasionally we'll sing a verse and chorus in English. (I save the song sheets since several of the songs are ones I know from home; I'll try to post a video to YouTube fairly soon of me singing a couple of worship songs in Japanese that fellow Morningsider Christians will recognize.) When reading the scriptures, the pastor will read a verse in English, and then immediately read it in Japanese. In the same way, in the sermon, he'll say a sentence in English, and then immediately say it in Japanese. It's a cool way to both practice my Japanese listening recognition skills and hear the Word of God.

There is one major interesting thing I've noticed about the Japanese take on Christianity that surprised me a little. First of all, you almost never see Japanese people get emotional, at least not in a negative sense. Even laughter is often restricted to the home if it's anything beyond a short laugh in most cases. You definitely never see someone crying in public, unless they're a very small child, in mortal agony, or have just lost a relative/good friend or something. It's just not done here. Even at home, crying is rare. Aya-chan banged her elbow good on a countertop the other day, let out a single cry, and curled over on herself, before taking a deep breath and standing back up with a big smile.

"Aya-chan daijoubu?" (You ok?) Mama asked.

"Hai-hai," (Yup-yup!) Aya-chan replied, and went back to making herself a snack.

That said, the only time I've ever seen Japanese people getting truly emotional is at church. I've only been to one communion service somehow so far (I'm not sure about their schedule for those), but when the pastor read the Words of Institution over the Holy Sacrament, he was teary and his voice was shaking. There were several people throughout the congregation sniffling, and it wasn't runny nose sniffling (I've learned good and well what that sounds like by now, since wiping/blowing your nose in public is frowned upon here). At first I was a little confused by the emotional reaction, mainly because it was so unexpected, but when I got back home and thought about it a little, I began to understand.

When you live in a country where Christianity is legal and fairly readily available to you, if you choose to go looking for it, and you yourself are a Christian but practically no one else you know is, well... I can see how it would become all the more precious. The Japanese have religious freedom, of course, so Christians aren't legally persecuted, per se, but... When what you believe to be the most important thing in the universe is rare in your home country, and you know that the vast, vast majority of people around you will never experience why it is so important to you... I can see how that would make it hard not to be emotional every time you get to experience it.

I kinda wish the American church were that enthusiastic and emotional over Christianity, still.

Unfortunately, for the lovely little church I've found, times aren't the best (from a worldly point of view, at least) right now. I'm not entirely sure why, but after the end of March, religious groups can no longer use local city buildings for meetings. So, the room they currently use, and the library (their backup location) are both off the table as of April 1st. They won't have anywhere to meet, and they're not sure where to go.

Last week, the pastor met with the director ("a very kind person," he said) of the building they typically meet in, and asked whether anything could be done to allow them to continue to meet there.

"Well, you're all very kind and polite people," said the director, "and no one else needs that room Sunday mornings anyway, so I really want you to be able to keep using it and doing exactly what you've been doing. So I tell you what--if you say you're just studying the Bible for knowledge and being a chorus group, I'll let you keep using the room another two years, no questions asked. You can keep doing exactly what you've been doing; you just have to say here and now that what you won't be doing is worshiping God. As long as you're not worshiping God, or at least, as long as you say you're not worshiping God, you can stay."

Of course, Pastor Watahara replied, "We can't say that."

So, as of April, they won't have anywhere to meet.

The pastor explained, "From a worldly point of view, this is the worst time for our church. It probably seems like God doesn't really care about us, that He's giving up on us as a church. But from a godly point of view, this is the best time for our church. God is leading us on a new journey of faith and trust."

The native members of the church are trying to figure out where to go, so to anyone who prays, we'd all appreciate prayer on that front. The people of this congregation are all very sweet and kind. Every week, they all take the time to shake my hand and greet me, even if some of them don't really know any English and I don't know enough Japanese to have a full, in-depth conversation with them. The pastor (who is, of course, fluent in English) always takes time to check in and ask how I've been over the past week. The first Sunday I worshiped with them, he told me, "The precious prayers of God's people have brought you to us from across the sea. He has a plan to bless you and others through you this semester. If you need any help with anything, please tell us; we are all God's family."

And then this past Sunday, as I was preparing to go, he told me, "I might not know you very well yet, but you are very polite and joyous, and we are all very happy to see you every Sunday when you walk in."

I beamed back and replied, "Hai, watashi wa ganbarimasu!" (Yes, I try my utmost/do my very best!), only for him to gently interrupt.

"No, I don't think you understand," he said. "What I mean is that your very being and spirit are very polite and joyous." He meant, "You don't have to ganbarimasu. You already are the thing you're striving to be."

I kinda wanted to burst into tears, but in good Japanese fashion, I just smiled brightly and thanked him several times before heading out.

I guess what I really want to say overall is, God bless Pastor Watahara and the people of AICF. I hope and pray they find another place to meet soon.

Happy Artificial Holiday Day!

As everyone probably knows, I tend to be a little bit salty about Valentine's Day. Growing up, my siblings and I called it Chocolate Day, because our parents gave us chocolate candy every year to celebrate. Now that I'm grown, I find the whole "holiday" to be a little silly--Why only do loving things for your s/o once a year? Why not be loving year round?--and the fact that I've never had experience with having a so-called Valentine makes it a little hard for me to understand the hype.

That said, I'll still always enjoy the day for being Chocolate Day, and I'll still always send all of my internet friends meme Valentine cards that seem semi-threatening in a goofy way. (e.g., last week I sent one friend a "card" of a Kirby character exclaiming "Happy Valentines Day! I promise I'll never eat your soul!" that I found on Twitter. They loved it.)

Surprisingly to some people, Valentine's Day is just as big a day in Japan and East Asia as it is in the States/Europe, possibly even bigger. Everyone is highly aware when Valentine's Day is coming up, especially the moms and grandmas who are responsible for helping their elementary-through-junior-high schoolers make homemade treats for everyone in their class.

In my homestay family, Mama and Aa-chan (Grandma; a shortened form of Obaasan/Obaachan, grandmother) made little cakes for everyone in both daughters' classes. I attempted to help but mostly just ended up giggling every time the mixer broke down and I and Aa-chan would scold it. "It's not very kind," ("amari yasashikunai desu ne,") I added helpfully, which thankfully, the whole family found quite amusing.

And, of course, Rimi-chan and Aya-chan brought home treats from all of their classmates, a few of which (and one little cake) they gave to me with a little post-it note that said "Dear リズ" (Rizu being the nickname given to me by Aa-chan the week after Setsubun).

(And on the subject of nicknames, Mama called me "Erizabesu-chan" the other day, which just about made my day. Ever since I've been walking around thinking "I am the smart and cute protagonist of my own anime and abso-freakin-lutely nobody is allowed to make me feel bad about myself." It's nice to feel self-confident for once.)

But beyond grade school, Valentine's Day is still a serious matter over here. You see, Valentine's Day actually goes hand-in-hand with a March holiday known as White Day. You can't really have one without the other.

Valentine's Day is the day when girls high-school-aged-and-up give homemade treats (usually chocolates they've molded into cute shapes) to the boys they like/have crushes on, oftentimes as a quiet way to confess. White Day is the boys' turn to reciprocate--if a boy gives you chocolates/treats back, congrats, he likes you. If you never hear anything else about it after Valentine's Day, well... Better luck next time, I guess.

But the point here is that Valentine's Day is a day for girls to take action when it comes to matters of the heart. Which, overall, is pretty different from the way it works in the States.

Funnily enough, this difference led to a group of single American young women giving our South Korean professor a brief crash course in United States Valentine's Day.

First of all, a brief word about Professor Chang. As I mentioned, he's South Korean, and so far I know he's fluent in English, Japanese, Chinese, and that he knows at least some Russian and French. He might be fluent in those too; I don't know for sure. He used to work for the South Korean government, and was part of the Six Party Talks that up until a few years ago were attempting to persuade our jolly friends the Kims of North Korea to not build nukes. Since that, fairly obviously, has fallen through, he's now started teaching about nuclear weapons at the college level. So, I'm taking nuclear weapons class with him this semester.

(Also interesting is that, before the Six Party Talks, he was part of the branch of government in charge of keeping track of which South Korean citizens were currently abroad and whether or not they made it safely home when expected. "We lose three or four citizens to India every year," he told us, "whether by death or just disappearance. India's not a safe place. Don't go to India. If you have to go to India, whatever you do, absolutely never drink the water outside of a hotel." Considering the things my best friend's boyfriend (an Indian citizen) has said about India, I think Professor Chang's advice is pretty solid.)

Anyway, on Valentine's Day, I had class with Professor Chang, and after class, as most of the guys had left and a few of us girls were taking our time getting our backpacks re-packed and ready to go, someone coming in for her class afterwards mentioned, "Today is Valentine's Day."

Professor Chang agreed, "So it is," and then asked in surprise, "They have that in the United States? Is it a big deal?"

We single-and-salty American ladies gave each other a look somewhere along the lines of "oh boy."

"Yeah, but it's pretty different," I started off. "Here, it's more about girls doing things. In the US, it's more like... guys giving flashy gifts to girls they're already in relationships with."

"And then the girls bragging about the gifts all over social media and making every girl who doesn't have a boyfriend feel bad," another girl chimed in.

About this time an American guy came in for his next class (otherwise, it was just a bunch of female students at this point) and sat down at a desk to listen.

"It's also a time when you hear single people complain a lot," I added. "Some people jokingly call it Singles Awareness Day."

"So you have to already be in a relationship to celebrate?" Professor Chang clarified.

A round of nods. "Basically," a girl agreed.

"The week before Valentine's Day, you see a bunch of memes online that say things like 'If anybody likes me, they need to tell me now!'" I added.

The professor nodded. "I can see why that would make sense, if you have to already be in a relationship."

All of us girls kinda sighed and nodded.

Professor Chang turned to the one guy in the room. "Sounds like you need to get some chocolates or something for the ladies."

The guy laughed in embarrassment. "Yeah, I guess so."

Anyway, shortly after that I left, but it was still funny. I think the funniest part was how odd Professor Chang found it that Valentine's Day in the States is more about bragging about what you already have, and less about confessing to someone that you like them.

Of course, people who are already couples tend to celebrate on Valentine's Day here, too; they just tend to be a bit subtler than in the States (where you're all but guaranteed to see at least twelve posts on Instagram featuring a girl being noisily given a giant stuffed animal in the middle of a school somewhere. It's almost as bad as promposal season, I swear).

Overall, though, I think I like Valentine's Day better over here. It's less of an opportunity to show off in a materialistic fashion, and more a time to actually tell someone you like them for the first time. And honestly, I think that's pretty sweet.

It's still just Chocolate Day for me, though. I bought myself a Valentine's Day Kirby collector's tin of several little chocolates, which I enjoyed eating while listening to music that evening. And that's cool too.

Setsubun, or, Banish Those Demons

So I've officially experienced my first Japanese holiday/festival (I'm not entirely sure which classification it fits into). Setsubun, held every year on February 3rd, is the celebration that marks the last day of winter. The next day, February 4th, is known as Risshan no Hi, the first day of spring. (And yes, the Japanese do observe the equinoxes as well, but due to climate differences, they're not really thought of as the beginning of spring/autumn.)

Essentially, Setsubun is celebrated by eating special sushi rolls. Unlike most sushi rolls, these aren't cut into pieces (from what I've read, doing that is bad luck). Instead, you actually eat them with your hands (and, yes, they are definitely delicious). After dinner, a member of the family (oftentimes the father, but in my homestay family, the sisters take turns; this year it was the younger sister) wears an oni/demon mask, and the other members of the family chase them out, shouting "Oni wa soto! Oni wa soto!" ("Demons go out!")

I'm not entirely sure why the last day of winter is a good time to banish demons, but some of the articles I've read indicate this is a time of year when people get sick a lot, so they're hoping to avoid illness over the next several weeks. Whether this is accurate or not, I'm unsure.

The family member with the mask then hurries back in, and the door is promptly shut, to keep the demons stuck out in the dark.

Inside, the family throws peanuts at the "oni" while shouting "Fuku wa uchi! Fuku wa uchi!" ("Fortune, come in!") After this, (at least in my homestay), this devolved into me and the two sisters tossing peanuts at each other for the fun of it.

At the table, Okaasan (Mother) counted out beans for everyone present, one for each year of their life, and one extra. We all ate our portion, for good luck, and then we all had mikan (oranges) for longevity. It was all a rather simple and easily-executed celebration, at least from my perspective, but it was a lot of fun.

I Didn't Expect to Get Roped into K-pop in Japan...

But here we stand. Oh, well.

My homestay sisters love to play DVR'd music shows on the family's TV, so they can follow the choreography and sing along to the songs. Their favorite group is TWICE, a group that makes Japanese versions of their songs, but is, as my homestay father put it, originally "a Korean unit." This post will be short, but I just wanted to share a few of the earworms that have become the background music of my life. (I honestly set up a Japanese iTunes account and bought a yen iTunes card from 7-Eleven just so I could buy some of these singles, which you can only buy in Korean on the American iTunes store).

(Well, and also so I could buy some songs I love that aren't available on American iTunes, like Mitchie M's "Viva Happy" ft. Hatsune Miku. Definitely one of my favorite songs in general. And, possibly surprisingly, Owl City, a singer from Minnesota, has two Japan-exclusive singles. So, of course, I had to buy those too now that I can.)

First, "BDZ," (short for BULLDOZER). I dare you to listen to this and not get the repeating English line stuck in your head. I can't sing the whole song without a lyrics sheet in front of me, but I can definitely sing that line from memory, at least.

Second, "Likey." This song is actually about how toxic Instagram culture can be, but it is definitely "a bop," as the kids these days say. (Zach H., if you're reading this, be proud of the fact that your obnoxious mannerisms are still haunting me from across the ocean.) Again, the English bits will get permanently lodged in your head.

I've also permanently got "Yes or Yes" and "What Is Love" by the same group stuck in my head, but those haven't had an official release in Japanese yet, so I haven't been able to find those songs on YouTube yet. Check back in March when the EP drops (which, yes, I have already pre-ordered).

Another song they like listening to, by a Japanese girl group, is "Synchronicity" (シンクロニシティ, if I recall correctly). This comes from the group Nogizaki46. This song has a rather touching message, and I really do enjoy listening to it.

I think those are the three main songs I wanted to link to... Oh yeah. Nix that.

I can't forget Da Pump.

I am never going to get the line "C'MON, BABY, AMERIKA" out of my head, ever again.

The Magic of Konbini (or, ♫SEBUN AND AI HOLDINGS♫)

Firstly, I apologize for the lack of content updates the past couple of weeks. I'm not often on my laptop so far, so I've mostly been microblogging through my Facebook's story feature. If you want to see daily updates and photos, feel free to add me there, and if I actually know you, I'll definitely accept the request!

That said, today I wanted to talk about a Japanese feature that has quickly become one of my favorite facets of everyday life here. I've mentioned the konbini a few times already, since 7-Eleven is my main cash source (bless the proverbial heart of 7-Bank) and where I bought most of my food my first week in Hirakata.

But I don't think I've quite made clear how unlike American convenience stores konbini really are, while still looking nearly identical in many ways. First of all, while many American convenience stores do offer hot food, it's honestly not nearly as good as the hot food available over here (at least in my opinion). Pretty much every konbini has fresh and hot karage (fried foods like tonkatsu, fried pork, and korokke, croquettes) made behind the counter. Many also offer hot buns (like pork buns, butaman, one of which I just had for lunch at the 7-Eleven in which I'm currently spending my lunch break). Even the non-hot food, like the sandwiches and bento, are delicious too. I guess you can probably chalk it up to the fact that the Japanese tend to take their jobs/occupations very seriously, and the fact that the nation's motto is basically "Quality." Whatever it is, I crave 7-Eleven sandwiches nearly constantly. Aside from Casey's Pizza, I don't often do that with American convenience store food.

Oh, and if you like bread/cake/baked goods in general, Lawson's is the store for you. Their cake, melon bread, pastries, and just every bread in general is amazing. 12/10, do recommend.

Besides that, the variety of items is quite a bit better than most American convenience stores, I'd say. Also a plus is the fact that normally the front area doesn't smell of gasoline, since gas stations are usually their own thing (and I haven't seen a gas station run by any of the three major konbini brands yet, though I wouldn't be surprised if they're out there).

Another thing I love about konbini is their ubiquity. There's a 7-Eleven large enough to have a seating area on my campus, and a smaller one right across the street from the front gate. There's a Lawson's near KSGD's secondary campus, and another one right next to the bus stop I get off at to go to my homestay (perfect location to grab homework/study snacks and/or an afternoon drink). I've only been to a FamilyMart once, after I went somewhere with a new friend and got a little bit lost trying to find a bus stop. But thankfully, FamilyMart was right there, easily spottable, and entirely ready to provide a drink, a snack, and a relatively quiet spot to check my Maps app.

However, if there is one thing I don't like about konbini (primarily 7-Eleven), it's the background music (which is actually the phenomenon that inspired this specific post at this specific moment). Apparently at some point in the past, some team of psychologists discovered that a Muzak version of The Monkees' hit song "Daydream Believer" is the perfect tune to induce people to buy more stuff or something, because at every 7-Eleven in the country, if you stay inside for more than a few minutes, you're going to have that song permanently seared into your brain. They play it over and over and over and over. Thankfully, some of the individual shops offer a little more variety than that, especially if they have a seating area, but I've been in this 7-Eleven for about half an hour and have already heard the above-mentioned song twice. For the most part, I can tune it out, but once it gets to the brassy chorus, nah. I'm fully aware of it all over again, at least for a few seconds. If there are circles of purgatory as there are in hell, then one of them is a Japanese 7-Eleven where you can only look at the food, not buy or eat it, and Muzak "Daydream Believer" loops for all eternity.

The only other mildly-irritating thing I can think of about 7-Eleven is how catchy the jingle they play on TV/radio commercials is. It's gotten to the point where whenever I see a 7-Eleven sign (which is, of course, multiple times a day), I have to fight hard not to quietly sing "Sebun and ai holdings!" under my breath. (Printed as "SEVEN&i HOLDINGS.")

But honestly, I'm willing to forgive the chain and buy lunch at their stores two or three times a week, if only because 7-Bank is a blessing and the sandwiches are so incredibly dang good (and affordable).

So, overall, hooray and hurrah for konbini! They are my friends. Definitely check out 7-Eleven and Lawson's if you're ever in Japan. Just make sure to also bring a pair of headphones if you plan to stay more than a few minutes, so you can escape the overly-cheery eternity of instrumental "Daydream Believer."

Update 2/5/19: I went and found the song on YouTube, just so you can experience it if you really want to.