The Story of How I Was Gifted Eriptico

This is a story that goes back to last year, when I was struggling with that certain job of mine.

A student of mine, to whom I give private Japanese lessons, traveled to the United States amidst this pandemic to visit her son who is studying abroad there.

Before leaving for the U.S., she said, "Sensei, once I arrive in the U.S. and settle down a bit, I will take Japanese lessons from there, so I will contact you again."

That is what she said when she took off for her one-month trip.

I had a vague suspicion, and as expected, I received no contact from her even after the scheduled date I heard she would be returning to Hong Kong had passed.

Surprisingly, I had heard that she keeps an apartment of her own rented in the U.S. specifically so she can visit her son studying abroad there from time to time, so I naturally assumed her plans would be extended.

Such a celebrity-like woman is this woman right here ↓↓

(Ah, maybe she couldn't leave her son alone and her one-month plan is dragging on? She might not even come back for half a year...)

Just as I was thinking that, about a month after her scheduled return date, I received an excited email saying, "Sensei! I just arrived at Hong Kong Airport!!"

(...I knew it...)

"Sensei, what shall we do? When can we resume Japanese lessons? Is the same day of the week as before okay?"

It seems she wanted to resume Japanese lessons early to distract herself from the pain of the 21-day quarantine life that was about to begin.

"But Sensei, while I was in the U.S., I didn't touch Japanese at all, so please take care of me in that regard."

Me: "...(;^_^A"

I introduced in a past article how thorough this 21-day quarantine life is. Hearing various stories from an acquaintance who returned to Japan temporarily—that after finishing this 21-day quarantine, completely unable to step one foot out of the hotel room, not even allowed to open the window, they ended up hospitalized or suffered mental health issues—and knowing her, who hates boredom above all else and always packs her schedule to the brim, I was more than a little worried about whether she would be able to survive these 21 days.

And so, we resumed Japanese lessons the very next week.

"Hi, Sensei!! Ohayou!!" (No matter how many times I teach her, she won't add "gozaimasu" (;^_^A)

As high-tension as ever, she started by giving me a tour of the hotel room where she would spend 21 days, barely even greeting me.

(By the way, the photo in the header is the view from her hotel. A perfect sea view.)

The hotel suite was twice the size of the house I live in now, and looked as spacious and comfortable as a resort hotel's training room.

She, who employs three helpers even at home, had various items delivered and set up in her hotel room in advance so she could maintain her daily routine there.

The camera moved through the gorgeous living room and spacious bedroom, and I thought I saw a bicycle.

"Wait? A bicycle???"

I said.

"Yes, Σ´〇׶Θ△★"
She said something in English that I couldn't understand.

"Huh? Ellip...?"

"elliptical (elliptical)"

In Japan, maybe calling it an 'air walker' would ring a bell?
Yes, that machine that lets you walk in the air while reducing the strain on your knees.

But what she was using was a training machine where the rear part is elliptical, meaning oval-shaped.

"Wait! You went to the trouble of bringing that from home too?!"

Needless to say, ordinary people don't bring in enough items to turn a hotel into their home like that, so I was once again amazed by her extraordinary determination to get through these 21 days in a healthy way, and by her financial power.

"No, the one at home is too big and wouldn't fit in this room, so I bought this one for here."

She said.

What...!!

You went to the trouble of doing that just for these 21 days...!?

"Doctor, do you want it? I already have an elliptical at home, so I have to figure out what to do with this one when I leave here, but when I asked my friends, they all said they didn't have the space for it at home."

It seemed she had already checked with her close friends.

Oh, really? Her friends are all quite wealthy too. Rather than not having the space, they probably all have one already...

"Oh? ...Well, let me know the dimensions later, just in case."

Then, she showed me her breakfast on camera and started eating right in front of me.

(No, no, I have a class starting now...)

I had heard various things about ordering food at the hotel—that the selection was limited, that it tasted bad—but what she was eating looked like the kind of room service you'd find in a suite, or something you'd be served in first class on a plane: a gorgeous fruit platter, a fresh vegetable salad, croissants, toast, an omelet, and hot coffee.

It was the kind of breakfast amount that a commoner might get greedy about and overdo when they go on a rare trip and see a hotel breakfast buffet.

"The service here is great, the people are wonderful, it's the best!"

she said, and when I asked if she had this quality for all three meals, she replied, "Oh, yes. I only order from the hotel for breakfast because of the timing, but for everything else, my assistant brings me whatever I want to eat."

Of course, no matter how gorgeous the suite is, the fact that she couldn't step one foot outside the room for 21 days must have weighed heavily on her mind, that's for sure, but her quarantine life looked elegant, as if she were spending a vacation at a resort.
At the very least, it was certainly a cut above the quarantine life of others.

After the lesson, she immediately sent me the dimensions of the machine.

When I told my husband K about it, even though our home isn't particularly spacious, it's not like we have absolutely no space (we could clear up space if we packed things away, but it would feel even more cramped), and K, who normally wouldn't say "yes," seemed moved by the fact that it was an "air walker" model and that we could "get it for free," so

"Alright! Let's throw away this sofa!"

He pointed to the vertical section of our L-shaped sofa that we almost never use and made an immediate decision.

From her, who is quite impatient, messages were sent one after another that same day, asking,

"How is it?"

"Is the size okay?"

"...Well, if it's okay, I'll buy it. That ipukuri...?"

"elliptical (elliptical)"
She corrected my mistake—I have a hard time remembering the sequence of sounds for some reason—with wonderful pronunciation, and then said,

"No, no! It's fine. This is a truly great machine, so it would be such a waste to just throw it away. If someone can take it, and especially if you, Sensei, can take it, there is nothing that would make me happier."

"Oh... well then, at least let us handle the transport ourselves," I said.

This is a quarantine hotel, so no outside vehicles or people are allowed in. We will handle everything here.

...And so, after all that attentive service, it arrived.

For some reason, the name kept coming out in my head as "Ipukuri..." and I just couldn't remember the correct name, so I gave it the easy-to-remember Japanese nickname "Iripuchiko," and finally, I learned it.

The size is indeed, just as she told me, a compact length of about 1 meter 50 centimeters, but it's taller than me...!

It really seems like the kind of machine you'd find at a gym.

Even now, months later, the friend who generously gave me such an expensive item starts every lesson by asking, "Are you exercising?" and then follows up by checking in detail, "Have you lost any weight?"

According to her, "I'm an elliptical person. As long as you just do the elliptical, you'll definitely be fine."

Since that's the kind of item it is, I'm working hard with high hopes that this elliptical, gifted to me by the mercy of a celebrity, will also bring a blessing of rain to my chubby life...