secret service

There's been an enormous dump of snow here in Hiroshima city these last few days and nights. I have no regret for buying some new gloves, a beanie and a scarf. After watching the pathetic Ocean's Twelve DVD at Kate's apartment, the homeward taxi was sliding all over the road while the driver insisted on practicing his English with me.

It's always interesting to see everyone's different reaction to snow and winter. A rough survey:

• Canadians detest it.
• English see it as just cold (which is relatively normal).
• Americans - not sure, I can't get a straight answer out of my housemate.
• Australians love it! Well, I do.
• Japanese...?

Manager asked us to come in to work early for Sunday's morning shift to ensure we have no delay due to the snow. As she predicted, many students phoned in their cancellations and some arrived late for their lessons. A friend was worried the amount of snow might prevent us from going to the cinema after work.

The thing I picked up from seeing the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, was that the world of geisha is art and the rest is shadows. I asked my friend what she thought of the movie and she said it made her reflect on her own life as a Japanese woman. When I asked about her past, the response was that it is secret. I've heard this before from other Japanese people too. This was hard for me to understand at first. I like to be as open and as transparent as possible. I've made mistakes, stupid ones too, embarrassed myself plenty of times and had a lot of fun in my life. I have no reason to hide anything. I'm human. The complex world of secrets and levels of sharing dependent on closeness of relationships sounds like too much hard work and trouble to me. I think I'll stop peering over shoulders to read others' phone messages though.

Now I hear that it will rain on Christmas eve. I'm still dreaming of a white Christmas...