This reflection is sober, plus or minus some ume-shu

This bittersweet day, I got kicked in the crotch.

A former coworker and his s.o., who came at the same time as us, are leaving for home. As mentioned, we went to a goodbye dinner for him (and others) a few days ago, and a couple of days ago about 20 people said goodbye to him again (this time it was just for him), but today there was a rather more intimate gathering in a cafe of him and 4 other of my favourite people in this country.

Clearly we seem to be fond of long, drawn out goodbyes, conducted in several rounds. But never mind that.

There were vague plans and promises and near promises to visit him next year, or the year after, but honestly there is going to be a limit to these sorts of reunions. If, as seems likely, my circle of friends in Japan ends up spreading all across the world, individually or (in maybe one or two cases) in pairs, it is wishful thinking to suppose that I'll be able to see them all again, ever. Where will I find the time and the money to travel to these far-flung parts of England, Australia, Cambodia (long story), Japan, and America? It's not going to happen. My life will move on, and I'll have more important things to do.

Towards the end of the night, the girls went home, leaving the four guys to, you know, bond. We stood for a long time at the corner of Hachiko, and in total we probably made a terrible nuisance of ourselves to a good one or two thousand pedestrians. We gave the old boy his last legal taste of alcohol on a city street. We got some bewildered Japanese girls to take some pictures for us.

I reminded him that he'd never kicked me in the crotch (it's one of his hobbies), and that's when he kicked me in the crotch. And then we all went our separate ways.

(There were also some twisted tales shared concerning a certain subspecies of gaijin guys, but those will have to wait for another time. I'm trying to be pensive, not disgusted and angry.)