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Exotic

I order a lot of stuff from Japan.

It’s mostly manga at the moment, but sometimes a few other things as well.  They have a lot of products that I want (and quite a few I don’t, but you can’t win ’em all).

Today a manga arrived from Japan.  As I pulled it out of the mailbox, I noticed the Japanese name and address in the “sender” field, the customs declaration, and then my name and address in the “recipient” field.

I wonder if the person who is taping the label to the package wonders about me.

I wonder about them.  Do they have an office like you’ll see in anime?  Or is it just one of those hole in the wall places with manga plastered everywhere and a desk in the center of the room where a couple Japanese people are busily stuffing manga into packages and adhering the label?  In my mind’s eye, I see them looking at the label, and their mind wandering just a little bit.  Texas?  What’s it like in Texas?  What kind of house does this person have?  What does he do for fun?  What are konbinis like there?  And then they shake it off, stick the label on, and forget about me.

Is Texas exotic to them, like Japan is (in some ways) to me?

Sometimes I wish I could visit the places I buy things from and pick them up personally.  I’d love to just hop on a plane to Nagoya or Osaka, and walk in, and pick up the order.  Maybe I’d ask them what their daily life is like, and maybe they’d ask me about mine.  And then I’d go home, having picked up the most expensive manga possible.

But, I guess, for now, I’ll just have to keep wondering.

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