Folks, today is Ann's birthday, so I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you a little story. Almost exactly one year ago, Ann and Rachel drove me to the airport and helped soothe my panicky nerves as I set off on my grand Japanese adventure. Their sendoff meant more to me than I could ever express, especially considering the world of alienation I was about to inhabit. They were the two first friends I made in San Francisco, and Ann was almost crying when I left.

In the months that followed, the two of them, each in their own way, tried to help ease the pain of my transition. (Read back to this blog's earliest entries for an idea of what life in Tsuruse was like.) Rachel proffered her trademark tough-love advice, while Ann countered with one of the coolest ideas anyone's ever proposed to an expatriate suffering from culture shock: a photo scavenger hunt.

Can you take digital PICTURES? Or get yourself a disposable and take pics and send it out here. I wanna see: the building that you work in, one roomate, your train station, your favorite japanese packaged product, inside a grocery store, the street sign for the street where your apartment is, a japanese mailbox, a japanese cop, and a fire hydrant anything else that is an everyday object that is different from the states.

It was all ostensibly for her benefit, but what she was really proposing was a way out of the doldrums—a distraction intended to get me off my ass and exploring my surroundings, documenting all the while. I was so grateful. It was quite possibly the perfect suggestion, and I recognized that immediately.

So when I proceeded to spend the following months obsessively staying home, depressed, and not taking pictures, I felt lower than dirt. Not only had I betrayed myself, I'd betrayed Ann. She'd handed me salvation, and I was too self-involved to take it.

For months, I kept telling myself that I was going to write her back as soon as I finished the series, but as my loserness became increasingly obvious, guilt and shame overtook me. She was like a saint, and I'd abandoned her. How was I supposed to face her now?

Eleven months later, as her birthday approached, I realized there was only one thing I could possibly do. Finish the hunt.

Ann, I've been a terrible friend. Moshiwake arimasen. Here are some pictures for you. Happy birthday!

The building that I work in:

Wakoshi Nova HQ. As far as buildings go, it's pretty boring and drab, much like the job itself.

One roommate:

As many of you know, I live alone now, so my only companions are this Japanese daruma and a stuffed GIR.

My train station:

Yeah. It's kinda like that.

Favorite Japanese packaged product:

This varies. There's an incredible variety of packaged products here, with new ones coming out every week, adorning shelves for a couple of months, then disappearing. My previous favorite was Scorpion, a Coca-Cola-produced ginger-ale/lemonade/Red Bull with a bad-ass scorpion on the can. But it's gone already, so I've switched to Shinoa, an exquisite oolong tea in a spiral bottle.

I wouldn't say it's that good, but it is pretty smooth.

Inside a grocery store:

You want a grocery store? I give you a grocery store. Tobu's one of the biggest department stores in Japan, and their basement grocery area is second-to-none. Three sub-levels of the ritziest foodstuffs you can put into a shopping cart.

Does the Safeway where you live have aisle displays like this? No. No, it does not.

One day, I'm gonna be back in America, tossing cereal into my shopping cart, and suddenly I'll realize that I can't buy tentacles anymore. And I'll be sad, because, you know, tentacles.

The street sign for the street where my apartment is:

Trick question. Tokyo streets don't have signs, 'cause they don't have names.

A Japanese mailbox:

Yup, they look like this. Now you know.

A Japanese cop:

Look. For the last time. Stop asking me why the Shibuya police operate out of a building that looks like a giant owl head. Or why they need four officers on duty in an office the size of a broom closet. Because it's Japan, all right? It makes sense when you live here.

Great Scott! A citizen needs our help! TO THE OWLMOBILE!

A fire hydrant:

It took me a while to find one, and you can see why. Tokyo hydrants are quite a bit different from the ones in, say, Brooklyn. They're built into the sides of buildings pretty much all over the city.

Here's a closer look. I have no idea how I managed to get a picture like this, but it's going straight to the stock-photo agencies.

Anything else that is an everyday object that is different from the States:

Um... Our Eiffel Tower is orange?