I had just purchased a sweat shirt at the Gap, picked up some shampoo at the Body Shop and ordered pizza from Pizza Hut when I received an e-mail saying: "You live in Japan? How exotic!"
I cleared my throat, made up a cup of Starbucks home brew and pondered: Does exotic Japan still exist?
It was 5 p.m. and out my window fisherman were leaving on their old wooden boats. They come back at 2 a.m., their wives rushing to the port to meet them. Sometimes the ruckus awakes me as I hear fishermen call out the names of fish as others put them into flat wooden boxes by variety: "Mebaru!" "Tai!" "Chinu!"