"There's something inside it," my dad stated, shaking the little New Year tiger up and down at the webcam enthusiastically. (He's done this every time I've spoken to him since December the 25th, incidentally.) "There's definitely something inside it."
"I don't think there is," I replied (and have replied every time I've spoken to him since December the 25th). "Honestly dad."
"But it rattles," dad said in confusion. "Can I smash it and find out?"
My mum, in the meantime, was pre-occupied with making her manga jigsaw puzzle, and then standing in front of it with her head tilted to one side for a few hours.
"There's a big bottom in it," she emailed me in a hushed tone this morning (it was an email, but it was still hushed). "I mean, I know that they're a bit more laid back over there then us, but there's a big bottom in it. I don't quite know where to put it. It seems a little unsuitable for the kitchen. That's where I eat."
My sister was thrilled, yelling "it's... it's.... it's a green hamster!" at me as she ripped open the package, and then impatiently listened to the explanation ("it's a what? A cross between a green bean and a dog? That makes no sense"), while her boyfriend kept prodding his toy's stomach and saying "there's something hard in it, Hols. If you're smuggling drugs, isn't the point to tell me so I know about it?"
In all of the thrilled confusion (because they now know that I really am somewhere foreign), it was only my beloved grandparents who remained steadfast in all the chaos. "Not got the foggiest idea what it is," they emailed about the Totoro figurine I'd sent, "but we love it and it's on the mantlepiece."
One of the greatest joys of the Japanese culture is in the way it shocks the Western mentality in the best way possible. I get to feel that every single day, but I love the fact that I managed to provide a whiff of that beautiful confusion for my family, if only for a few seconds.
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