So far, I think my Doc Martens have been the worst decision concerning the items that I packed for Japan.

It is customary to take off your shoes when you enter somebody’s home and some other indoor spaces. I went to see a dermatologist and was required to remove my boots as I went into the building. The first thing I saw when I entered my new apartment was a red sign on the floor near the door that said SHOES OFF! Apparently, it is demanded of me that I remove my shoes in my own home. So as you can imagine, boots above the ankle are extremely impractical if you’re planning to go indoors more than once a day. All that shimmying on, and lacing, and unlacing, and shimmying off gets pretty tedious.

I don’t fit any of the bikes in Maebashi. The woman assigned to help me get settled let me borrow one of her old ones while I look for a bike big enough for me to want to spend money on. Like almost all the bikes in Japan, it’s a cruiser (they call them “city bikes”) with no gears. It’s also a bit rusted because it’s old and not well cared for. It was probably a bit cheap to begin with. The breaks don’t work that well, but there’s no way to go fast enough for this to really matter. Despite that it’s one of the larger sizes of bikes in Japan, it’s also considerably too small for me. You can jack the seat up as much as possible but there’s no way to make the bike any longer. The handle bars crash into my knees everytime I try to turn. I ride down the streets of suburban Maebashi with my blonde hair and my silly Caucasian face and my ridiculously tall body on this little cruiser and I can hear circus music playing. I feel like a trained monkey on a bike. A side show spectacle. Step right up! See the gaijin ride a bike!

On Friday it was really windy. I was pedaling around trying to remember where this bakery and this produce store were located. I wanted bread and vegetables. The wind was so strong it blew me off course almost into the busy road. If I came to a stop, I had to place my foot down very firmly to keep from falling over. Sometimes I would be pedaling furiously against the cross wind, leaning in a certain direction to compensate for the push, and then suddenly the wind would let up and I’d go flying in the opposite direction. See the gaijin careen around like a shanghaied sailor!

I had given up looking for the particular bakery with the great croquettes (and produce store) and was heading back towards a different bakery when I suddenly couldn’t pedal anymore. I looked down and realized that one of the loops tied into my bootlace had gotten caught and pulled taught from one end of the pedal shaft to the other. I stopped and tugged at it. I always double knot my bootlaces because they are so long. I don’t want them to become untied every time they snag something. Smart, lucky Lauren! The lace loop was stretched to the point that the double knot was too tight to untie. Also, the lace had somehow managed to get stretched out from one point of the pedal shaft to the other, but it certainly wasn’t going to go back the other way. I didn’t have a knife or scissors or anything. The wind was still gusting mightily. I swung my leg over the bike so that I had both legs on one side and was more stable. This somehow just managed to twist the boot lace even tighter. So here I am a dumb blonde gaijin on the side of the road with her foot stuck to a bike. I only have one leg to stand on and the wind is going to tip me over at any moment. About a block and a half away was a 7Eleven, which I assumed would have a knife, or scissors, or a box cutter, or something that would cut a shoelace. So inch by inch I stumbled sidelong the bike to the convenience store. The manner of movement was: shift my stuck left leg to the right to back pedal a bit, shift the bike forward and bring my left leg down… hop on the right foot! Shift my leg to the right, bring the bike forward, hop! and so on. As you can imagine, everyone is staring at me but no one is stopping to help. See the gaijin do a funny jig down the street!

I only know a few phrases in Japanese and most of them come from watching anime as a teenager. Maybe my favorite phrase is “Tuskete!” Which means, “help me!” I really like the way it sounds. Dramatic and pathetic at the same time. Excellent, especially when wailed by a nubile damselle in distress in a high pitched Japanese voice. I’ve always wanted to say it. But how foolish is that? Desiring an occasion when one would have to say “Help me!”

A mother and child stared at me from inside a black SUV-like vehicle. When I got to the parking lot of the convenience store the son finally opened the door and asked me something in Japanese. And there! I finally got to say it “Tuskete!” I pled. The mother and son hurried out of the car with electronic dictionary in hand. We never needed it. I’m sure it must have looked like I was injured, limping along, leaning against my bike for support. The woman pulled up my pant leg a little to see what was going on and I wished I had gone ahead and shaved my legs that morning instead of being lazy, lest she think all we gaijin are hairy. As soon as she understood what had happened she started cracking up and proceeded to try to twist my leg into all sorts of positions it wouldn’t go to loosen up the shoelace. Finally and thankfully she gave up, made a cutting motion. I nodded. Choto matte. Wait a moment. And then she went into the store. A clerk came out with scissors. Dijobu? which is a confusing statement that seems to mean “Are you ok?” or “I’m ok.” or in this case “Is it ok?” I grinned and nodded. It’s not as if they were amputating my foot. What’s a shoelace? The other alternative is that I go around the rest of my life with this bike stuck to my leg.