I keep walking on the right.
There are times I go back and forth in my head so many times, I get myself talked out of the left side and then I’m back to walking on the right. It sounds simple, but I tend to overthink things… Imagine a peaceful stream of compact people, all dutifully going in one direction. The stream is confined to the corrugated yellow lines etched in the concrete, respectfully flowing along with everyone in their place. Suddenly a barge, full of ramen, steps out of the restaurant and crashes into the flow, plowing ahead just long enough to force the stream across the yellow lines.
“Sumimasen! Sumimasen! Excuse me! I’m so sorry”
Some smile and bow, some just move over. I liked the businessman the other day; walking along on his cellphone and without acknowledging me as he stepped out into the street, he muttered in English, “Left side.” No BS and right there he shamed me enough to remember my left from my right.
I try to fit in and not stick out. Or, I should say, I try and fit in as well as someone resembling a white refrigerator can when standing among a chest height sea of black hair. There are so many things going on around me that I don’t understand. Yesterday there was a big crowd in the street and I walked over to investigate. I got in line to see what I was I was missing and as I got closer, a young woman approached me and said, “130 yen.” I gave her 150, she instantly produced change and I was pushed forward to a man handing out a paper wrapper with a green, mushy, rubbery biscuit coated in peanut dust resting on it. I said my best, “Arigatōgozaimashita” and got out of the line. I had no idea what it was, every sign was in Japanese and everyone around me was Japanese and so excited about the green things. I moved to the outer edge edge of the chaos, wanting space to ponder. As I was about to take a bite, the bag of trash that I’d been carrying from Kyoto spilled off of my suitcase. There is zero trash on the streets of Japan and the foreigner just dumped his empty bag of weird salty, fishy snacks onto the street. In India, I saw parents tell there kids to just drop their trash where they were. In Japan, I’ve yet to see trashcan, but it’s the cleanest place I’ve ever been. So, the first trash I’ve seen on the streets is mine and it’s in front of a crowd. I frantically pick it up, shamed and embarrassed, I decide to eat my green thing. As I bring it to my mouth, I inhale a mouthful of peanut dust and cough, blowing peanut powder all over me… Now people are staring, so I bite in, thinking this will appease whichever Shinto god I angered. As I was trying to chew it (they're rubbery) and figure out what I was eating, this tiny lady smiled, reached up and patted my arm as if to say, “It’ll be ok.” Her smile was so comforting. I felt like I was no longer the evening's source of amusement, everyone around me shrugged and went back to their green things as if she’d given me the OK for trying. She looked at me with that look grandmas give you when they don't understand what you're doing, but it's ok. I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day, so I secured my trash and worked my way out of the crowd and started to wander off, headed off to my hotel making sure I was on the left side of the sidewalk.