Of all the super awesome toys I've picked up this year in Japan, Pepsiman just might be my favorite. I happened upon this gem at a weird little shop in Hiroshima, and successfully haggled him down to a reasonable price in broken Japanese. I was, and still am, quite proud of myself.
He is very confident of his physical ability.
This thing has so many priceless features! Not only does he supposedly smell like Pepsi, he comes with a snowboard, crutch, and leg cast. So he can catch some rad air and then snap his leg and hobble around on a cast. Plus, mine is some kind of special edition where his body seems to be liquefying into Pepsi.
Especially, he is so into sideways-riding-sports . . .
This guy, an amalgamation of Silver Surfer and a Pepsi can, used to be Pepsi's mascot in Japan. In the commercials, he would basically come flying out of nowhere on a snowboard or something equally x-treme, and then a big gaping mouth-hole would open up on his otherwise featureless face miraculously filling some helpless thirsty person's empty glass with Pepsi. The Pepsi didn't actually flow from his mouth, it just kinda appeared in the glass when his face would open up. Pretty creepy, actually.
The Pepsiman commercials all seem to be set in the United States. Everything is even in English with Japanese subtitles. Too bad we never actually got Pepsiman in America. All we got was that little girl with the manvoice. Remember her from the early '00s?
Now if I could just track down a copy of Pepsiman for PlayStation . . .
Written in English on the back is,
"we could have a good time with you!! Thank you!!"
A student gave this to me today. She came to the English office and asked to see me, and when I stepped out she bowed deeply and presented this to me with both hands--the most polite way to present a gift in Japanese culture.
I was really touched, and after the ruckus I caused thanking the girl over and over just outside the office, all my coworkers wanted to see what I got. They were so jelly.
In one of my classes today, when I explained that I would be returning to America soon, one of my boys started to cry. He turned red with embarrassment, and he was literally crying tears. These aren't even little kids; they're teenagers. I wasn't really sure what to do, so I gave him some doodads from my prize basket to remember me by.
Until today, I hadn't realized how much my students really appreciate me. It's going to be seriously sad saying goodbye next Friday.
Most Americans and Japanese can easily agree that fried chicken sounds like a good meal. When I have the opportunity to take my pick from a big greasy bucket of the Colonel’s secret recipe, I go for the breast, of course. That’s the logical choice, right? It’s the biggest section of white meat with the least obstructive bones. The darker, greasier, veinier, sinewier, bonier bits are just the leftover scraps if you ask me.
Japan thinks we Americans eat the leftover chicken scraps. To them, white meat is dry and flavorless. They go for the dark stuff. If you order a pricier high quality chicken sandwich over here, you’ll get an extra veiny patty of pressed together dark meat scraps and gristle. At McDonald’s in the States, the Chicken Selects get their name because they’re supposedly “select” portions of nice white meat chicken. McDonald's Japan "selects" the darkest gristleiest scraps. Most Japanese bars have fried chicken gristle or cartilage on the menu. People order that. On purpose. At the grocery store, nice big cuts of white meat are discounted. Nobody wants to buy them.
Seoul's palaces, museums, and vast 24/7 shopping districts nearly destroyed my feet. Good thing I've got Super Sentai band-aids.
