Gaijin POWER

Some times being a gaijin in Japan is both frightfully scary and immensely interesting. Japanese, like no other people, love talking to foreigners and are both very curious about your country and often honoured that your are interested in their language and culture. My second night in Hiroshima I wanted to taste the local speciality: Hiroshima okonomiyaki - not to be mistaken with Tokyo okonomiyaki which rarely contains noodles. I had bought a Japanese guide book and found a nearby shop that looked good. It was a very small place where you sat at the counter and the owner made the okonomiyaki right in front of you. While eating I started talking with the man next to me about Denmark and Japan and work and okonomiyaki and everything in between. He was extremely impressed with my Japanese and the fact that I had come to Hiroshima all alone to visit his city. He was very friendly and I immediately liked him very much, and he invited me to come back to his apartment to meet his wife and two children. As a good boy I of course refused to go home with strangers but he kept pushing and even bought me dinner so eventually I caved in. Outside the okonomiyaki shop he had a car waiting for him and it was not until I sat in the car and heard the locks go “click” that the thought occurred to me that maybe this was not such a smart move after all. Well, either they were pretty brave to take on a big weightlifting Danish guy... or they were packing. So I leaned back and looked forward to see what was going to happen next. After 5 minutes we stopped in front of the tallest building in all of Hiroshima and we quickly rode the elevator up to the 41st floor. Joking that his wife might be in the shower he rang the doorbell. Once... Twice... And then the cutest 4 year old boy in pyjamas opened the door. With a smile his father introduced me as a new friend he meet and with disbelieve the boy asked where I was from. But before I could answer, his even cuter 7 years old sister appeared and I presented me as a Danish friend of their Dad. 15 minutes later I had seen the spectacular view from the balcony, met his wife, shown his children where Denmark was, established that we all liked Lego and gotten his email address. My new found friend was none other than the CEO of a Japanese Pachinko company running a number of stores in Hiroshima. And his “apartment” probably cost more a month than I make a year so I was quite impressed when I was driven home to my hotel by his driver.
And here he is, Mr. Takahiro Hasegawa, introducing his company's corporate philosophy : click me