Ugh, I feel sick. I have a stalker.

It all started at the beginning of the year, where after a lengthy weekend seminar I returned to my town with my suit needing to be dry-cleaned. I stopped in the shop to drop it off and talked to the shop owner and his wife forever, even though I didn’t understand anything. I think they invited me to eat udon or something. It was kind of really long and bordering on irritating, but whatever, it was happening a lot in Japan.

Never went back since, had no reason to.

Then on Sunday I went to the supermarket. I was walking by and I heard someone say my name. Looked up and it was an older woman with a strange placid expression… the woman from the dry cleaner’s half a year ago. I wasn’t completely sure ’til she asked about my hawaiian friend (Lisa, the other ALT in town.) I smiled, said hello, chatted for a moment, and continued shopping for cheap cup ramen. She went her own way.

A bit later she approached me again in a different aisle and started asking questions… wasn’t really sure what she was saying. Zero english, zero attempts at making it easier to understand her… she would just repeat things over and over again when I claimed to not understand. She was not deterred… suddenly she was starting to ask about where I lived… the name of the neighborhood, Tabeta. No big deal, her store was in the same ‘hood, I’m sure I’d mentioned it before. Basically, though, I had no idea what she was going on about. The whole time she was just staring at me with the strange kind-of-friendly, placid face that was growing increasingly creepy to me. I literally started walking away and saying goodbye to break free. Pain in the ass, but i realize being here makes all interesting to the locals, and I stick out. These things happen.

But the fear sunk in as I pulled into my apartment lot after work. It was a miserable rainy day today, with the rain really bearing down at random intervals. It was raining as I pulled in, and standing next to my building under an orange umbrella was the Dry Cleaner’s Wife. My face froze in fear as I pulled into my spot. She was already upon me as I climbed out of my car.

We stood under our umbrellas, me trapped between cars and a wall, the woman blocking the only exit. I believe she was requesting that I eat udon noodles with her and her husband. Her face had the same placidity that had become nightmarish by this point. I told her in broken japanese that I was meeting a friend for dinner (which was a lie). She asked if it was the Hawaiian, and I said no, a different ALT. She said I could bring him, I think. I told her I was busy. She asked about tomorrow, which fortunately I had an actual prior engagement to use as an excuse. She sort of got the point that I was busy for a bit. She then looked over her shoulder at my apartment building and asked which room was mine. I just said “Yes.” She pointed to the second floor, second window, which was mine, and asked if it was that one. I didn’t answer. She started walking away, then turned around and asked for my telephone number. I faked like I couldn’t understand, even though the word for phone number is unmistakeable, “denwa bango.”

Bad move. If i don’t understand, its her signal to just keep repeating the words over and over and over again. She wasn’t going to stop. Finally I said, “Ooooh, denwa bango,” making a phone with my thumb and pinky finger. I said very rudely, “Himitsu desu.” “It’s a secret.” She nodded and walked away.

HOW LONG HAD SHE BEEN STANDING IN THE RAIN OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT?! I come home much earlier than other workers, at like 4:30. Most other japanese teachers work ’til at least six, or later! Was she going to stand out there for another two hours? More? I felt really nauseous.

After talking about it briefly online with Lisa, we agreed that she was probably just trying to be friendly and hospitable, but overly so. Lisa agreed with me that it was creepy that she knew where I lived, but ALTs had been living there for years, so really I think its common knowledge in the area. But that she was standing there… waiting… *shudder*.

I hope I don’t see her again. I hope she got the hint, or was offended. I don’t want to create a bad name for foreigners; however, I don’t want to sacrifice my privacy and sense of security, either. Blech.