The Japan worsts, I have so many humiliating stories, but I think I shall write of the Chikans.
Picture young, starry eyed Quiana and a tiny adorable Japanese girl (sent by my exchange program) riding the train from the airport. Seated next to me is a tiny elderly Japanese man in a suit and trench coat. Slowly the man 'falls asleep.' As he 'snoozes' his hand somehow finds it's way to my upper thigh, and manages to move northward. My horrified companion became a fine shade of crimson when I slapped his hand and said, "Don't touch me again if you want that hand back!"
Towards the middle of my stay in Japan I decided to do some traveling. I had always wanted to go to the Yuuki Matsuri, the Snow Festival, in which the army brings tons of snow into Sapporo and then various artists, schools and businesses compete in giant snow sculpture making. It is quite amazing actually. On my way to Hokkaido my luggage was searched (I should mention that this is right after the Yemen terrorist thing, but long before September 11th). And they stole my underwear. I arrived in Sapporo with no undies and had to find new underwear that fit western women. I should mention that I was double pissed, because, and this won't surprise you, I really prefer to wear matching bra and underwear sets. Thank God I weighed like a buck ten otherwise I would have been completely screwed.
There was actually quite the market for used undies- particularly western women's undies. So it is hard to say if the person who stole my undies was a pervert or just a money grubbing bastard.