First, it's pretty common for foreigners here to be cast as Santa Clause this time of year, mainly for kids. Last weekend, after a long night of little sleep, I headed off to a friend's English school for kids, slipped undetected into a back room and prepared to don the garb of Old St. Nick.
It was the full outfit, beard and all. Before I went on, they fed me. Not milk and cookies, but close enough. In the room across the hall, an unsuspecting group of kindergarten kids munched on snacks and learned about Christmas.
I was busy checking myself in the tiny make-up mirror every few seconds to put my mind at ease over the beard issue. You see, the beard has straps, and I was doing everything I could to conceal them under the jolly red cap or behind the jolly white whiskers. I am a method-acting Santa, you see, and one little slip up could knock me out of sync with the North Pole.
But all went well. One by one they took a seat on my leg and attempted to communicate with the strange man in the red suit who may or may not have suspiciously smelled exactly like what they all just ate for lunch.
It was easy. A couple hours later I returned for another group, this one larger and somewhat more energetic. I walked away from the scene, in my street clothes, $30 richer. And the kids seemed happy, except for that one girl, who is more than likely still crying.
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What else? We had our end-of-year party on Friday (stage one of my long night), which is not quite like your office Christmas parties back home. Instead of decorating the conference room and awkwardly forcing yourself to socialize for two hours, everyone shows up at a rented conference room at a hotel and awkwardly socializes for two hours. Except it's only awkward at first, and then the drinking starts.
First you drink only with the crew at your table, where you were randomly placed by lottery (I was with the head hanchos, the only ones whose names were attached to seats). Shortly after the drinks start flowing, people start roaming the room, from table to table, offering to refill drinks, be they sake, beer or tea.
This goes along with a key part of dining etiquette in Japan -- you do not pour your own beverage. Instead, an empty glass is a signal to others that you are ready for a re-fill (and usually, maintaining a full glass is the secret to avoiding a never-ending supply of booze, if anyone ever does this). In the party setting, people were so eager to socialize through the glass re-filling process that a full glass was no excuse to turn down an offer. Instead you be polite and take a sip, opening up a centimeter of space for your new friend to fill. It really gets the party moving.
The momentum from the glass re-filling circus carried right through into the trivia game, which began right as people were starting to get tipsy. Even Sam and I were made to play and we were covertly fed answers by Mr. Sato. I escaped the game uttering something in Japanese, but I have no idea what it was.
Japanese work parties are a different cup of tea. They can get wild. People can get quite drunk. Horribly inappropriate things could take place in the fog of booze and detachment from the real place of work. But then on Monday, it's all erased. It's not spoken of. Nothing wild and crazy happened at our work party, though, so I'm afraid I don't have any good stories in this department.
No do I have a good ending for this post, except to say that I'll be appearing again as Santa at Nanaimo's Christmas Eve party. There will be two Santas ... the other a tall, lanky Englishman who may or may not be dressing as Mrs. Claus. Stay tuned for a full report.
First you drink only with the crew at your table, where you were randomly placed by lottery (I was with the head hanchos, the only ones whose names were attached to seats). Shortly after the drinks start flowing, people start roaming the room, from table to table, offering to refill drinks, be they sake, beer or tea.
This goes along with a key part of dining etiquette in Japan -- you do not pour your own beverage. Instead, an empty glass is a signal to others that you are ready for a re-fill (and usually, maintaining a full glass is the secret to avoiding a never-ending supply of booze, if anyone ever does this). In the party setting, people were so eager to socialize through the glass re-filling process that a full glass was no excuse to turn down an offer. Instead you be polite and take a sip, opening up a centimeter of space for your new friend to fill. It really gets the party moving.
The momentum from the glass re-filling circus carried right through into the trivia game, which began right as people were starting to get tipsy. Even Sam and I were made to play and we were covertly fed answers by Mr. Sato. I escaped the game uttering something in Japanese, but I have no idea what it was.
Japanese work parties are a different cup of tea. They can get wild. People can get quite drunk. Horribly inappropriate things could take place in the fog of booze and detachment from the real place of work. But then on Monday, it's all erased. It's not spoken of. Nothing wild and crazy happened at our work party, though, so I'm afraid I don't have any good stories in this department.
No do I have a good ending for this post, except to say that I'll be appearing again as Santa at Nanaimo's Christmas Eve party. There will be two Santas ... the other a tall, lanky Englishman who may or may not be dressing as Mrs. Claus. Stay tuned for a full report.
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