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Last night when I was coming home from Takesaki, a Pakistani man asked me for help. He needed to get to Tatebayashi, and had no clue how to get there. His English was fair, but even after explaining several times how to get home he couldn't figure it out. I tried to draw him a map and draw out the train time schedule, but he wasn't getting it. We both needed the same train, so I talked with him until the train came, and we got on together. He was nice enough. Probably about 30 yrs old. He worked in Saudi Arabia, tried to got to America after that, but his TOEFL score was too low, so he came to Japan. I think he is in the travel industry or something. Anyway, his Japanese sucks; couldn't even read the kanji for his town. Although he was a nice man, I got the willies from him. He sat too close to me, and seemed far too friendly that a stranger should be. I put my bad between us to insure some space, but he kept leaning on it. One on the train, there was nowhere for me to go. So we sat and talked. He said that he wished he could buy me some coffee to thank me. He asked if there were another time we could do it, but I said I was far too busy to meet him. I told him I went to Takesaki every weekend for church and to be with my friends. We continued talking, and he continued to sit too close and try to touch my hand, and he kept leaning on my bag, which was now half in my lap because the space between us kept evaporating. The conversation turned to Clinton, then to Japanese people, and of course to the fact that America is a great country (that's what every non-western foreigner says to me), then to how much he missed his mother. This is where the conversation started to get weird. He said that he really missed his momma, especially at night. He said he often had trouble sleeping because he missed her. Then he said he wanted to ask me one question, and he wanted to know if I'd answer it. He said,"this is very uncomfortable because we are not alone." But before he could pop the question, which I suspect was of an inappropriate nature, the train stopped in Ota. Thank goodness! I don't understand these men I meet. I was helpful, yet cold to him. I tried not to smile, and constantly looked around, instead of focusing my attention upon him. I was evern wearing a silver band on my left finger, and was flashing that around, hoping he'd think I was married or something. Maybe this man was being sincere and friendly, but I think it was more than that. Not even my friends would sit that close and constantly try to touch me or put their arms around me. No worries, just another adventure on the Tobu train line. Valerie Straayer |