The Little Pleasures of Life

I guess I'm pulling double-duty on the blogging this weekend.

Last night it was Denise's birthday, so we took her to the Hard Rock Cafe. While it may be mediocre and over-priced in the states, as far as I'm concerned it was completely worth the $17 USD for a Sam Adams (beer that actually tastes like something!) and a gigantic cajun chicken salad. Hard Rock is so hardcore that they even import American Heinz ketchup. (There's Heinz in Japan, but it's different. Some people can't stand it but it doesn't phase me -- it's darker and sweeter; I guess it's sweetened with actual sugar instead of corn syrup.) When I went to the HRC in New York a couple of years ago, they only played heavy metal and annoying indie rock; here, it was mostly stuff from the late '80s and '90s, which made for a lot of nostalgia.

As I sat there looking at all of the rock memorabilia (Elvis's walking stick (???), Melissa Etheridge's guitar, fliers declaring the end of the Vietnam War) I couldn't help but feel proud of American culture. If Hard Rock is what you go by, then American food is hamburgers, Tex-Mex, and cajun -- and who's going to object to that? Even if the Hippies were stupid and self-indulgent, the fact that they happened at all is amazing. Our Constitution invites us to disagree with our government; even though the current Japanese constitution is in many ways more radical than ours (but it was written by Americans so go figure), protest has generally been discouraged. It's not just a "cultural thing", though -- once MacArthur purged the militant right in Japan and released the radical leftists from prison, a viable liberal movement was born in Japan. Of course, these guys were radical by necessity, and it wasn't before long that the US wanted to clamp down on Communism in Japan before it turned into another North Korea.

After I mentioned that we frequently argue with my dad about politics over meals (which seemed to make my host dad uncomfortable, even after I explained we didn't get mad at each other) my host mom said to me, "It must be so hard in America, since everyone has their own rights and opinions." When I brought up the lack of a protest tradition in Japan in my Political and Social Issues class, one of the Japanese students said that most people are reluctant to share their opinions because they don't want to make other people uncomfortable. Another one pointed out that people don't like to protest because it makes them feel like an outsider if they object to mainstream culture.

Call me a chauvinist, but I'm so grateful to be American.

Speaking of which, I managed to catch the end of the Yankees-Angels game. I hope Mom and Dad were awake then; it'd be crazy if we were watching it at the same time.

This morning I slept in 'til 10 (!!). After my host mom get back from her English school, we went to go see a house that's under construction in the next city over. She started to explain to me why they went to look at it (they just moved into this house, so it's not like they're in the market for another one) but we got distracted. I think they just wanted to compare, or something. The construction process was virtually identical to what we did in Habit for Humanity. When I explained how the house would be made they were surprised that I knew. I wonder if they were a little weirded out that I like carpentry? Whatevs. Regardless, I forgot how much I loved the smell of fresh-cut pine. The title of this post is from one of the brochures the development company passed out.

Since the weather was fantastic, I asked if we could walk around a nearby park on the way back. We got drinks from MickyD's (which reminded me why I haven't been to a McDonald's since I was 8) and sat and watched all the kids playing baseball with their parents. One group was a dad, his son and two daughters. They all took turns pitching and hitting, but eventually the girls got bored and started drawing in the dirt. The son (who was maybe 9) couldn't catch his father's hits, and kept trying to tag him out. It made me think of playing sports with Dad when we were little and how much fun it was. Dad, we'll definitely do Spring Training this year.

Side note: if you think k.d. lang is totally hot, feast your eyes here.