By Brendon David, Assistant Language Teacher, Chiba Prefecture, 2001-2003 As a JET I lived amid the rice paddies that shared the same land as Narita Airport, and my apartment stood in a maze of fields tended to by elderly lady farmers. When I first moved there I was overwhelmed with typhoon warnings and nothing to do...I was free from direct oversight by my supervisor, and I had a lot of alone time. One day I awoke to a cool breeze passing through my apartment. Inspired, I got on the mountain bike I brought from the U.S. and began to explore. I rode through endless trails of bamboo forests, rusted cars, and hidden love hotels until I came to an abandoned road that presented had itself to me. I went on and unexpectedly rode through several thick spider webs that had been undisturbed for a long time. I had web all over me -- in my mouth, on my sunglasses, in my ears, and on my bare skin. I started "dancing" to get the large, brightly-colored spiders off of me. I thought I had gotten rid of them all when I looked up and found myself face-to-face with a menacing yellow and pink spider the size of my hand. I didn't panic, though. At the time I believed that none of the spiders found in Japan are poisonous. I didn't know at the time that I believed wrong. Getting back on my bike, I came across a love hotel buried in the trees. I saw a couple that was quite unhappy to see a tall white guy watching upon their secret rendezvous. The following week I regaled my new colleagues at work with tales of my encounters with wild spiders and love hotel customers. It was then that I learned the meaning of the word "abunai"...indeed, my co-workers deluged me with the word for a full fi ve minutes. Poisonous spiders. Hidden love hotels. My introduction to the Japanese wilderness and the dangers found there was a wild ride to say the least.
