The perks of being different

Last week, I grabbed a to-go meal from MOS Burger. I asked for my usual, which includes: an iced tea, a cheeseburger and an onion ring-potato fries set. When the store manager emerged from behind the counter, he handed over my brown baggie. In addition, he discreetly gave me a small cardboard box containing a brand-new tumbler for my drinks. “Cup, cup!” he told me. I think that the burger joint is having some kind of promotion involving tumblers, but I got one on the house!

As I'm the lone foreigner in my neighbourhood, the local people have taken notice of me. I’ve written about this odd – yet flattering – recognition for most ALTs in a small town. Weirdly enough, it means that the store clerk ringing up my bottle of plum wine is most likely the mother of two of my students. But it also means that I get a lot of free stuff.

There was a grandmotherly stooped over her garden last year. She gestured me to come over, asking for some help to bring her sleeves up. As a gesture of gratitude, she sent me on my way home with a couple ears of fresh corn picked from her square plot of and.

For the longest time, my local car garage referred to me as “sensei” (teacher). (I finally read out the Romanized letters for them). They always provide me with some tea and cookies, while I wait for them to inspect my car. Moreover, they never charge me for assessments, and I didn’t have to pay when they fixed my seatbelt for me! That’s service. Last week, they also gave me a free box of kleenex, with the garage's logo printed on the side. (Japan is all about giving out free tissues.)

I also have a string of local taxi drivers who shuttle me between my house and the train station. One of my favourites has to be the dude who is fascinated with Canada and the English language. He remembers all of my trips, too! Last time I saw him, I gave him a small Canadian pin. In return, he insisted that he shave off about 500 yen from cab fare. Bless him!

Of course it's not always rosy when you're different. There's a certain cab driver who furiously honks his horn outside of my apartment, despite arriving a good 5-7 minutes before my desired time. I can tell he hates it when I ask him for a quick drive over to the station; in fact, I think he purposely takes the long way there, ha.

Nevertheless, the good trumps the bad. I appreciate all the little things people do to make me feel welcome.