GuyJin: man in Japan

Conclusions

2008-12-08T11:13:00.001-08:00

Having been back in the U.S. for a little while now, I've had the chance to travel around and mingle with a good variety of people. Always in the back of my mind is a tiny voice suggesting, "rook at differences!" So, for the sake of completeness, here are some hopefully-not-too-cliche observations. For those prone to being offended, I offer the following advice that has served me well: "Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused."

After stepping off the plane and back into an American airport, the immediate and undeniably obvious fact is that Americans are absurdly obese. Absurd in number and in proportion. No, it's not breaking news, but considering that we've been aware of it for so long and have done so little to rectify it is appalling. Indeed, more than our ignorance of world affairs, inability to speak other languages, or any other negative stereotype of Americans, the reputation of our corpulence precedes us. It is, after all, striking to anyone who isn't already accustomed to it.

It isn't the purpose of this post to go on about this one point, but I feel it's important enough to be listed first. Not for the sake of our image, but our very health, we have to combat this! The more complacent we are in our obesity, the more culturally acceptable it becomes, and the further we are accomplices to our own decline.

This isn't to say there aren't obese people elsewhere (Japan included), but that train of thought isn't going to help anyone. To draw a comparison, in Japan it was an event to spy a grossly overweight person. A rarity among a mass of daily encounters - seeing people on trains, bikes, walking the streets. It's not that the Japanese are genetically better off, and they don't consciously choose to exercise more than Americans (though urban life offers more opportunities), they just eat better. That's it - that's the big secret. More than any other factor, the diet of the Japanese - rice, fish, noodles, vegetables, tea - allows them to stay slim. There are other helpful factors: in most restaurants, refills are not free; the smallest cup size in the U.S. can often be the largest offered in Japan; and to no-one's surprise, food portions are generally not as large, either.

Give it a try. Incorporate more rice into meals; it will leave you feeling full but doesn't stay with you. Opt for fish over other meats. Substitute a flavorful tea for sugary beverages. Go out of your way to be more healthy - don't drive in circles looking for a better parking spot, park further back and walk. If you watch TV, you can simultaneously practice Yoga or do a stair-stepping exercise. And no, your life is not so fast-paced that only fast-food will suffice. Don't make your body suffer because you're a cheapskate - you'll find that cooking your own food is the most cost-effective way to eat healthy in the United States.

That got preachy fast, eh. On the topic of ingested items, though, alcohol is a big deal in both countries. The drinking age is 21 in the U.S. and 20 in Japan. However, in the U.S. you are asked to provide ID until your hair is white; I've not once seen anyone asked for ID in Japan. Americans have a sin tax on liquor that can make it as much as 20% more expensive than Japan. Sadly, bar prices remain the comparable. At grocery stores, though, Americans seem to have the better variety of wines and beer - especially micro-brews. On the other hand, sake selection is no contest.

As for the use of alcohol in society, heavily indulging in it is a warning sign to Americans. In Japan, it would seem to go hand-in-hand with success in a business career. Walking the streets of a Japanese city on a weekend, one would be hard-pressed not to run into a few cheerfully drunk groups of adult friends or co-workers, an occasional puddle of vomit or two on the sidewalk, and no fewer than five people lying unconscious and alone within a block of the train station. A friend of mine found this phenomenon so prevalent that he's amassed a picture collection of passed-out pedestrians (they're always male, by the way). I couldn't photograph them out of pity, but the most fascinating example I ever saw was a man lying with his back to the ground, head propped up on a bookbag, and a cell-phone held to his ear. It was as if he had almost called a cab to take him home, but lost consciousness at just the last minute. I suspect he rose with the sun and took the train home to a warm shower.

Come to think of it, one of my Japanese co-workers told me he'd come into work Monday morning after waking up along the side of a road. He didn't elaborate if he was in a different city, but he had to make it back to his place in time to shower, change, and bike to work. I asked him if he'd been out drinking alone and he told me that no, his friends were with him. What the hell kind of friends leave one of their group to spend the night alone on a sidewalk or in a ditch? A severely intoxicated group, I'd have to guess. Luckily, the Japanese live in one of the safest societies on this planet, and my guess is this behavior persists because they can get away with it. I cringe at the thought of what would happen if they'd instead passed out in Detroit.

In the States, this kind of thing is usually observed in the vicinity of a university campus or a popular strip of bars and clubs. Girls work harder to balance the statistics, but it may be harder to spot because in the same situation, they get taken home by their concerned friends or exploitative foes much faster than men. Unconscious males may grace any cityscape longer because they appear less vulnerable than their female counterparts.

In spite of alcohol helping people of all cultures to socialize, Americans are still much more apt to approach people outside of their "circle" spontaneously. Both cultures have parties and events where strangers get together to mingle, but in Japanese society, it seems that these sort of events have to be structured. There are parties where people get together with the premeditated expectation of finding a person suitable to date. Now that I think of it, I regret not asking more people where they met their significant others. I dated two girls during my time abroad - both I met at dance clubs. After initial contact, however, dates were instead at restaurants, movies, karaoke, and parks. When asked about dancing, both said they weren't really into it, but it was a good way to go out and meet new people. Although I didn't participate in any club activities, I suspect they serve as one of the most popular way for dates to find one another. I never heard once of co-workers dating (though there was often talk of who was cute or not) - I don't think Japanese office culture would tolerate the idea, and it would be hard for those co-workers to avoid the ever-watching eyes of the gossip machine.

Right, so on the whole, Americans are probably more open to communication with strangers while the Japanese take a mind-your-own-business approach to things. Small talk is abundant in both (especially as you venture into increasingly rural areas), but when it comes to being outspoken, the U.S. takes the cake. Talking in movie theaters is the tip of the iceberg. Shouting at others from your car, or talking back at the TV are easily more Western behaviors. The Japanese usually manage to maintain their composure, even if they're thinking similar thoughts in the back of their head. Even those with high amounts of daily stress from work or school compounded by the strict social expectations, the Japanese somehow manage to treat even the rudest of people with respect.

I think this can be attributed to the difference in culture, and thus, religion. Eastern Shintoism and Buddhism focuses on preserving peace with nature and your social group. Christianity, on the other hand, is more confrontational and full of martyrdom, punishment, and violence in general. Yes, these are generalizations; no, I don't think that impacts my point. Religion might seem like an extremely personal path, but is often simply dictated by your upbringing: if your parents are Christian, chances are you might be as well. If you and your family had been born in the Middle East instead, you would likely be just as whole-heartedly Muslim. Either way, in dealing with others you'd still be prone to fiery righteous indignation, whereas the Eastern religions would leave you feeling more pacified.

No wonder the Japanese have to drink so much - it's the only way they can let loose with what's been on their mind, and nobody can hold it against them because, well, they were drunk at the time. To me, this is also the main reason anonymous BBSs such as 2channel have become such a prominent place for a repressed people to vent their frustrations. To sum it up succinctly, if an American has a problem with you, they will have no problem telling you to go to hell. The Japanese person will smile, treat you with kindness, then go home and write an Internet post about how he wanted to tell you to go to hell. Is either one better than the other? I'll bet you the answer depends on which culture you or your psychiatrist is from.

Since returning, I've approached a lot of things in daily life with this expanded, "it depends" outlook. Even "trivial" matters are rarely black-and-white, as frustrating or inconvenient as that may be. The empathy I've developed while communicating through a language barrier forces me to see things through a minimum of two perspectives, and due to working with people from all over the world, sometimes more. No, I'm not claiming to be some divine emissary of clarity - I'm only human (and an unperceptive male, at that), but it is nonetheless astonishing to see people - from presidents to plebs - so ignorant yet so vainly sure of themselves. Don't worry: we're all in there together to some degree; all we can do is remain vigilant and keep our lamps of knowledge brightly aflame.

If that last paragraph is too "out there," fear not - I can at least say that I've found my calling in challenging people's preconceived notions (not to teach them what's "right" or "wrong," but to illustrate the alternative facets of an issue or situation). Through interactive media, I'd like to help people to be more open-minded at a young age, ideally to the benefit of our increasingly cross-cultural and interdependent world. Think of it as playing Devil's Advocate on a grand scale, but not just to be an argumentative dick. I feel this is one of the best ways I'll be able to "leave the world a better place than I found it."

In the same vein, I've been trying to become more outwardly positive, myself. One incredible aspect of my experience speaking so-so Japanese as a foreigner is that people usually gave me the benefit of the doubt in all aspects of our communication. Misunderstandings happened, of course, but they were never held against me, never used as an example of any ill-will, but just a casualty of my half-baked conversational skills. If you've never experienced this with a foreign language, then likely the last time it happened, you were too young to remember it. Either way, I was very happy that my mistakes were being met with understanding instead of opposition. Each day, there are likely a dozen instances where we judge others' intentions negatively and too quickly - perhaps without even knowing why. Our perceptions never amount to complete information, and that is where problems begin. At the most, we should be inquisitive, not hostile.

If this line of thinking seems like it's setting you up to be exploited, keep in mind that most of the people you interact with aren't going to be sociopaths or con artists. Nope, most of us out here are people just like you - frustrated at the cruelty of the human condition and wondering what it all means. It would take so little and mean so much if we could all calm our selfish tempers and relax our muscles a bit more. Stress won't disappear, but we can't allow ourselves to turn it into a positive feedback loop. No, the way to cancel out that stress is by allowing others the benefit of the doubt. It's surprisingly easy to do - just remember Ghandi's words: "We need to be the change we wish to see in the world."

It's the people wearing suits and smiles in executive offices that you need to watch out for.

Thanks for reading, and take care.

No, I didn't take pictures

2008-07-27T03:20:00.000-07:00

It's 7:30AM on a Sunday here, sitting in my room with the air conditioner at full blast, having just stepped out of a shower using only the minimal amount of hot water I could physically tolerate. It is summer in Japan (and has been, for a while!). A sticky, sweaty, and smelly season - but one worth experiencing... inside, usually.

My Saturday began at a meager 3PM (Friday was a karaoke outing), where my friend and I met our group at Don Quixote in Akihabara. The reason? Excellent supply of cheap cosplay outfits. This particular store could outfit enough maids for an entire aristocracy. Going there foreshadows a bit, but before our purchases came into play, we were headed to Asakusa for a fireworks display.

It was more like two or three fireworks displays - the river was aglow with vibrant colors exploding on either side of the bridge. The street leading to it was soon rendered useless as thousands of people packed together in hopes of getting a good view. We arrived late (finding just the right collar at the store proved a challenge) and had no hope of wading through all of those festively dressed bodies, so we took to wandering the side streets and working our way toward the park lining the river. Only then were we able to scale some shrubs and get a less-obstructed view of the action.

Summer festivals in Japan bring out the best in everyone. Women and men often dress up in Yukata and Jinbei, respectively. Also adding to the festive atmosphere are the street vendors offering all manner of treats: dumplings, cucumbers, noodles, squid-on-a-stick, and of course, alcohol. The drinking fuels a majority of the people, and it's not uncommon to find evidence of overindulgence splattered here and there while walking around. In spite of that, there's romance in the air and lots of laughter as well. So you've got fireworks, food, and booze shared with thousands of well-dressed but a bit less well-mannered-than-usual Japanese and a good supply of foreigners as well - what fun!

The police are tasked with herding everyone around and making sure Japan's railways continue to operate smoothly (even if everyone is packed together like colorful cotton sardines). Their efforts are respectable, but it can get annoying to have little barricades erected everywhere you wouldn't expect them and plenty of officials feeding a burning desire to shout into megaphones just because they have them. They did a good job, though - no reported stabbings as far as I know.

After the show, we went to eat instead of spending our time waiting in line just to get on a train to our next destination. We wound up at a little covered market with a nice couple who had maybe 150 years between the two of them. Cold soba noodles - that's the way to survive summer. Even with those little fan handouts one can pick up outside any station, you need to cool your body from the inside as well. Ok - beer and noodles. In a pinch, non-alcoholic beverages can do - those ubiquitous vending machines come in handy - but sobriety isn't recommended... it's just not the custom. When in Rome, and all that.

After eating, the crowds had died down a bit, and we headed for a club called "Marz" in Shinjuku. It's normally a goth club, but tonight's theme was "fetish party" and the flier was a laundry-list of stuff that could make anyone grin. The guys who searched through Don Quixote earlier came out each with all-black full body costumes. They were made of a thin layer of fabric, but covered every inch of their bodies - I guess they could see out from them alright, though there was no visible evidence of their eyes. Those who met up with us at fireworks hadn't known about the club beforehand, but also wanted to go. While dressing up wasn't mandatory (it got you 1,000 off the entry fee), they were good sports and didn't want to "stand out" as being the few without costumes. They visited the one in Shinjuku and came out with a maid outfit, schoolgirl uniform, and a sexy black onepiece - two girls, one guy. Myself, I was looking forward at the chance to reuse my old Halloween costume: Pikachu. Not to suggest that my fetish involves fictional electric rodents or any form of anthropomorphism; I bought a collar beforehand so I could go from cute children's character to being someone's "pet." At one point that evening, I was dragged into an actual pet store (why was it open so late?) and offered at discount prices. I doubt the employees will forget that either.

Our meandering around Shinjuku on the way to convenience stores (most vending machines don't sell alcohol - shock!), costume stores, and the club was easily the most fun I've had in Japan for a long time. Shinjuku didn't have a fireworks festival, but as far as alcohol goes, every weekend is a party there, and people are staggering around or being belligerent at any hour. We weren't surprised when we drew the attention of nearly every person we passed by. We put on a good show, too. The blacksuits would slink around and generally try to creep out anyone nearby - an objective they accomplished without much difficulty for the majority of women. For every "scary" we got a "cute", though - it was a personal parade of general merrymaking as we put smiles on faces by taking the art of challenging social norms to the street, literally.

The club was good, but surprisingly lacking in attendance. The first time I visited, it was difficult to move from one floor to the next. Here, our group was half of a floor. All the more for dancing! The other guests included vampires, punks and the standard goths. Periodically, one of the stage girls would bring out a "victim" who would be bound with rope and suspended from a harness hanging above the stage. She was pretty good at what she did, and she made it fun for her captives by kissing or teasing them. One guy, she'd climbed up on after he was lifted into the air with his legs slightly up and head slightly down; she went to pull his hair back to show his face to everyone, but his hair-piece came off! A casualty of cosplay, I guess.

There was one of these intermissions that outshined the others, and that was a "hooking". To sum it up, this guy sits on a stool while she pushes thick metal hooks into his back - two rows of four. I was astonished at how easily they slid in and out of the skin and how there was no blood. They then thread the ropes from that harness through the first row of hooks in his upper back and slowly raise him into the air - suspended entirely now from four fat columns of skin. The girl then threads through the bottom four and hangs from the guy as he's lifted even higher. In the end, this spectacle is stretching the guy's skin hard, and slowly, little streaks of blood begin to run from those top hooks that are now supporting the weight of two people. The question running through my mind the entire time is "how much weight before it rips and we have to take a mop brake?" I knew this place was hardcore... no wonder the door guy was giving me a rough time about the discount for my cute costume.

We were at the club until it became light out. We grabbed some Matsuya for breakfast and went our separate ways home. For as much as I can rag on Japan (admittedly, it is easy) for all its annoyances, it really is an incredible place - you couldn't get away with this sort of random stuff anywhere else. What fun!

The Sun Shall Rise Again

2008-06-09T21:48:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I was dancing mad with some new acquaintances in a goth club in Shinjuku. The small venue and rising body heat would push large groups outside periodically, much to the horror of many a casual passerby. Light crept into the Sunday sky and - to my surprise - none of the elaborately costumed wraiths chatting outside evaporated in a plume of smoke. I stuck out not because I was a foreigner, but my last-minute, (mandatory if I hoped to get in) all-black wardrobe appeared to be the bare minimum among the regulars who sported everything including ghoul-white skin, full leather trenchcoats, meticulously laced doll clothing, and rare to see full-color body tattoos. The Japanese goth style is a wonderful balance of cute and creepy, but the really shocking thing is how (typically) polite people with metal spikes in their faces can be. Even if someone is cosplaying in an SS uniform, you'll get a thoughtful sumimasen if they bump into you. They're certainly more agreeable than, say, the police... who are all smiles to foreign tourists but sure as shit don't want you living in the Motherland.

While I was calmly snoozing away after a long night of clubbing, a different fellow was making preparations for his big day of stabbing. The only clean black shirt I had before going out that night was one I wouldn't wear much in public, because it expresses my affinity for Akihabara and its shamelessly unique culture; as either native or foreigner, it's bound to draw smiles and stares. Of course, among the various alternative crowds we met that night, it was a pleasant conversation piece, and never taken the "wrong way." It's strange to think that we were carrying on about how wonderful of a place Akihabara is, when a few hours later there would be blood in the streets.

(not the original image, but same message)
Title: I'm going to kill people in Akihabara
Body: I'll hit them with my car, and when I can't use it any more, I'll use a knife. Goodbye, everyone.

Here's the story as reported by one news outlet:
http://www.japantoday.com/category/crime/view/12-stabbed-others-hit-by-assailants-car-on-akihabara-street
http://www.japantoday.com/category/crime/view/mobile-phone-posts-foretold-sundays-stabbing-spree-in-akihabara

It's still unbelievable to all the people I've talked to, but strangely because it's overly real. We've been in those streets, in front of those stores, been a part of that pedestrian crowd on Chuo-dori. Each picture or clip of video that documents the event, we've seen the surreal before - but instead of people dressing up as maids or superheroes, there are people dressed up as paramedics or corpses.

The bustling outdoor bazaar of music, color, and magic is too precious a bastion of raw humanity in Japan to be slain. The crowd may be more solemn in the coming weeks, but this wound is not mortal. One cannot murder a culture dedicated to fun - a culture that spreads at the speed of the electron - laughter is simply too powerful an elixir.

■

And now, most importantly, here's the thing to remember:
Japan remains one of the safest places on this Earth.

Don't let sensationalism get the better of you, please! The thing most disgusting to me after the actions of Kato is how some in the media have handled the event, wasting no time in attacking all manner of things - video games included, of course - as accessories to the crime. It's easy to criticize bloggers or wikis or [insert non-traditional medium here] as being full of shit, but the corollary to this observation is that any information outlet is just as likely to be stuffed with it; Sturgeon's Revelation spares nothing.

Concerned people uploaded newscasts of the event to YouTube and they were quickly pounced on and removed by the media companies. Obviously the dissemination of information is secondary to capitalizing as much as possible on (heaven forbid) an event actually newsworthy. On one of the sites I would have linked you to for the story summary, their video first required you watch an advertisement. Who gives a damn about your pathetic circle-jerk sponsorship when there's urgent news! What's it going to be, "This video clip brought to you by Ginsu - it slices, it dices!"? Thankfully in a country where everyone is born with a cellphone in hand, the all-hearing, all-seeing masses can usually provide the needed footage unfiltered by financial interest.

So instead of noting that Kato once drew a video game character in a yearbook, ignoring the fact that correlation does not mean causation, and clocking out early as an investigative journalist (the word "search" on that Google button is a lot like "investigate", right?), let's look at the real problem in Japan: there's just too much stress, too much pressure on everyone to perform perfectly every time, all the time. You are born and soon fed into the Great Japanese Gearwork, where you soon learn that you have to be the best in elementary school so that you can get into a good middle school and work hard there for the chance to join a prestigious high school that might just prepare you well enough (and there's always after-school cram school in case you're worried) for the immensely important entrance exams that will maybe allow you to get into a university deemed worthy by your future employer because that's the only criterion that matters to them in a sick, foreshadowing manner until you realize - hey - you will never amount to anything special in that company because your most sacred and esteemed elders don't want to hear from that last shred of creativity you were hanging on to after all these years but they would, however, appreciate it if you could volunteer a few extra hours for the company because schedules are tight and it's not as though you had other plans or a family or self-respect but it does explain why you've taken to drinking and smoking like many of your co-workers who supplement their loneliness and desire to feel needed with these drugs and an equally damaging workaholism until the completion of your transformation into a shell of a human who is just as bitter about others who try to escape the system that you have all learned to love.

Granted, some people escape the Gearwork and others come out only slightly maimed, but with many Japanese committing suicide (recently an average of 32,000 per year; 25 out of every 100,000 people; five times the number killed in traffic accidents [Japanese Statistics]) and only very recently a growing concern about mental health (due to cultural stigma), one can see where the occasional rampage comes from. Humans simply aren't meant to constantly deal with that kind of stress - they snap. It's my conjecture that with a high number of people willing to kill themselves, a few of them are going to try and go out doing something extreme since they feel they have nothing to lose and no consequences to face. Kato wasn't suffering from psychosis, he was just sick of living and unfortunately took his frustrations out on innocent people. But he was just one of those annual 32,000 with the capacity - the despair - to do something like that.

Good luck getting a Japanese journalist or politician to run with that one. They're the ones with the problem-solving skills, proposing to censor web sites with information about suicide because, well, people might use it to kill themselves. Clearly, they are the ones afflicted by psychosis, who can't wrap their heads around the fact that the people still want to fucking kill themselves. As The Complete Manual of Suicide demonstrates (likely the only book on Wikipedia in the categories "Suicide" and "Self-help"), there is a market for it. In fairness, the government began legislating social programs aimed to reduce the suicide count to 22,000 by 2010 - an impressive goal only eclipsed by how impressively it will fail. Now, I don't feel it is solely the responsibility of the government to solve this problem, but they could certainly pretend to be interested. They are interested at how low birth rates will ultimately cause the economy to rely more on foreigners (the horror!), but can't seem to notice that all these recent trends have to do with young people who aren't interested in getting married or having kids or otherwise terminating their youth by throwing themselves headfirst back into the Great Gearwork that their government has helped to maintain. The youth of Japan are obviously disgusted at the one-way road that has been laid before them, and are detouring it any way they can, for as long as they can: by just scraping enough money together with part-time work to preserve their freedom, to locking themselves into an escapist reality in their rooms, or by ending their existence altogether.

Japan is still a wonderful country, with truly incredible people, but it has a long way yet to go. I will be rooting for them all the way, though. Not for the nationalistic xenophobes that comprise the government today, but for those renegades who dare to challenge the status quo and inhuman expectations of the world around them. They are the radical dreamers who will usurp the established media and entrenched corporations, paving the way for the next generation of Japanese who will have the passion for their lives and the time to exercise it. They are the ones who fill Akihabara with the spirit that on a sunny day can bring a joyful tear to my eye. Here's to you, NEETs, Freeters, Hikkis - you underdogs of society - take your country back, break down that machine, and save the future generations from their own hands.

But will it blend?

2008-05-19T18:26:00.000-07:00

This past week, I was finally able to find a suitable replacement for my ex-laptop. The previous one has moved on to a better place, and thus probably won't mind as I pick apart the body to harvest components that I can pawn off in some Akihabara alleyway. Still, she lasted me much longer than I could have ever imagined, and I'm grateful. My now two-day-old baby is a.. MacBook. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but plenty of people have praise for the operating system, OS X Leopard. For me, the purchase was driven mostly by the fact that I needed some new hardware, and this laptop out-of-the-box plays well with Windows, Linux, and (thankfully) itself. I've held off on doing any additional voodoo just to see what OS X is all about, and so far so good.

One of the reasons I held off on the purchase for so long (about a month) was due to the feeling that since I'm in Japan, I should be able to find some incredible bleeding-edge technology at low cost relative to other countries. The callous truth that took so long to accept is that buying a new laptop (and likely any other gadget) in Japan is likely to be more expensive than anywhere else. Of course it's no surprise that products and prices vary between locations, but I was surprised by a number of examples:

Dell's US and JP websites allow you to customize the components going into your computer, but the models available are different. If you find the same model, there's no guarantee that the same hardware upgrade will have identical cost on both sites. Further, the cost will always be lower for the US crowd - I guess people are just too used to handing over large sums of money without much thought (exhibit A: Louis Vuitton bags). Disappointing fact: Dell supports Linux on the Inspiron 1420 for the US market only. Asking the clerks about it in the Dell store here only earned strange looks.
Sony offers some impressive Vaio notebooks here, also with the ability to pick-and-choose hardware. In spite of what seems like brilliant hardware design and engineering, their sales website is carefully crafted to be as useless as possible. In fact, I'm still pissed off about it to the point that I'll just skip down one.
Actually no, you know what? There was also that music CD rootkit fiasco in 2005 - fuck Sony. Boycott status: active.
I realize that most of you read this not for its technology coverage, so the short of it is that all the otherwise good or unique offerings for portables wound up way out of my price range. That said, it is possible to get some amazing stuff here; many laptops support more input options than your nearest red light district. One example: Suica cash cards are traditionally used for easy train use - much faster than buying paper tickets from a machine each time you want to ride. Stations then placed vending machines allowing the same wireless payment, and now you can find the capability embedded into laptops for online purchases - just hover the card (or compatible cell-phone) over the sensor and *beep*.

As I reflect on my purchase, I'm happy to have finally made it. I've been recently reading a book titled "The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less", and was able to immediately identify with the author's thesis and lamenting anecdotes. I'd recommend it and my only complaint is that he spends most of the time justifying the (often counter-intuitive and therefore incredibly interesting) observations of why committing to a choice can be so unpleasant, yet doesn't offer too much in terms of overcoming these problems. It's a bit anti-climactic to read essentially "now that I've told you about these depressing things, try not to do any of them", but hey - I'm not sure what else one can do beyond identifying the symptoms in statistics; the solution is philosophical.

While visiting Akihabara for the purchase, I noticed something I hadn't before. There was a group of scruffy-looking older guys spaced out along a construction wall, some standing behind small tables, others attending to curious clients pouring over a binder with photos. The alleys are always a sensory overload, but my eye managed to catch the unmistakable blue hue of a one-piece swimsuit in one of the pictures. Not as if this sight is an uncommon occurrence - there are stories-tall banners dedicated to showcasing anime characters in any state of dress (or undress) in order to sell anything from music CDs to pillowcases to alcohol. After stopping and leaning back against the opposite wall for a while, it became apparent that the album shots were all of middle- or high-school Japanese girls participating in gym classes or sports festivals.

My guess is that these were sample images from the DVD albums they were selling. If not buying directly, one could fill out an order form and have it delivered as well. I'd assume the impromptu storefront wasn't because the collections were illegal to photograph or sell but just due to the fact it would be tough to make rent with a business like that operating on normal hours. Of course, the ethical questions raised about photo-shooting unaware, underage girls in gym shorts to distribute for profit are the meat of this subtle observation. Rather than take a position on it, I figured it would be more fun to point it out and let you ponder it.

As always, there's more to talk about, but I'm done with describing the world around me and ready to head back into experiencing it. If you're the praying type, consider the Chinese earthquake victims - one of my co-workers says her Chinese friends had to take days off from work to look for their families. Shit.

The Midtown Mood

2008-04-30T03:47:00.000-07:00

One of the memorable places I was able to visit on my sunny holiday is named "Tokyo Midtown." It's a wonderful little escape hidden among the many other towering buildings of Roppongi. It holds a special place in my heart because in spite of the rich surroundings (and subsequently high prices inside), one can manage to find some good snacks on the ground floor and carry them out for a cozy picnic among the flowers and trees. The interior galleria is worth a walk around if you're like me and at times stunned by the modern aesthetics that billion-dollar properties tend to bring about. It would be simple and satisfying to spend the latter half of a day around the area, then head out to Roppongi or another lively spot once night falls. My visit was in the spring, and the cherry blossoms were gracing the outside with their snowy color and some winery had incorporated their flavor into the bottles they were selling. Up for grabs on the inside were the less tame rape blossoms - I regret not sampling the flavor when I had the chance.
The area isn't limited to shopping and eating, there is both space for living and working in what appears to be the tallest building I've stood under in a long while. Staying a night in a hotel that likely costs more than my monthly salary is only tempting if the company is offering. Dotting the surroundings are pieces from the Suntory Museum of Art, which also has a home inside.
I inform you not because I'm sponsored to, but because the Midtown is one shining example of Japan's ability to mix often conflicting elements and leave you feeling good about it. As always, more info can be found on the pages of Wikipedia.

Monomyth: the Return

2008-04-09T18:15:00.000-07:00

During the latter half of this hiatus, I was able to do a whirlwind tour of the Japanese mainland. Accompanied by my family, we traveled as far East as Nikko and as far West as Miyajima. The stops in-between were some of the most famed and popular of tourist destinations, including Tokyo, Hakone, Kyoto, Nara, Himeji, and Hiroshima. The timing of the trip couldn't have been better, and we enjoyed mostly calm, clear weather and cherry blossoms without any hassle from vacationing student groups.

We enjoyed exploring the country and its massive transportation network, utilizing buses, cars, trains, planes, ferries and our own feet. Our lodgings ranged in price and luxury from compact capsule hotel to royalty-worthy ryokan. In addition to sight-seeing, traveling without a fixed schedule allowed us to leisurely walk the back streets and get a feel for the culture away from the tourist traps. We were also able to go beyond simple stop-and-stare and instead actively participate in some cultural obsessions such as karaoke, pachinko, and even lunch at a maid cafe. I worked to ensure that we covered a good variety of restaurants and unique foods, and I was elated that my family was willing to try most of what was presented to them - natto included.

The time spent traveling together went by so quickly, it's hard to look back and recall that nearly two weeks had passed. Each day was a new adventure, but one that could never be adequately described by the mere page or two in my journal. I want to thank my family for their bravery, patience, and understanding that made this trip one I'll never forget.

Hopefully this much-needed refreshment will serve to energize my efforts for this blog once again. So thanks for your patience, dear reader; I hope you enjoyed your vacation from subjecting yourself to my ramblings as well!

Everyone looks away when the needle darts into the vein

2008-02-07T00:15:00.000-08:00

Last weekend I was invited along to go see the new "Gothic" exhibit at the Yokohama Museum of Art. Without too many details up front, it seemed like a good chance to learn about the current obsession with the genre from a new perspective. For the unaware, Japan has embraced all varieties of "Gothic" subculture - from freaky to cutesy. So what exactly does "Gothic" mean? Why do I keep surrounding it in quotes? Simply, language is inconveniently subjective and sometimes one can't attempt define a term without opening up a can of worms. Like most words, its meaning has mutated and evolved over time, and when applied to a culture it becomes infinitely more complex, leaving everyone with their own idea of what the word represents.

That said, I won't try to cover the etymology of anything, but instead focus on the exhibit and what it meant to me. I'll also cease capitalizing and quoting because it's annoying as hell.

The original description of the exhibit promised a look into the contemporary gothic culture in Japan. The first thing that came to my mind was the fashion that is ever-present here. Among the most popular merchandise here are cute characters such as Hello Kitty, which is why I was surprised to find that those from The Nightmare Before Christmas were also branded onto many store items. While each might seem like necessities to counter-culture, the kawaii and kowai (cute, scary) both have a part in this same gothic genre.

At the start was a collection of art focusing on exposing the more macabre side to the meaning of gothic. Using prints taken from 1950s-era magazines, the artist decorated the men and women with elaborate patterns and symbols evocative of death, drawn to look like tattoos (another eerie sight for the Japanese). The original, faded gray feel of the medium made this work well. Later, larger painted scenes of humans and demons with angry or sexual themes also established the morbid feel the rest of the gallery would bring. Each display was more bizarre than the last - examples include human-like portraits being constructed with colorful organs or other imagery cut-and-pasted from medical diagrams, or another set assembled with pieces from dismembered insects such as butterflies.

In spite of the museum's attempt to explain gothic culture, it seemed to instead enjoy shocking the patrons with discomforting imagery. One interesting exhibit was equipped with projectors showing various stages of life, but all in agonizing ways: the baby was left abandoned on a tile floor, crying and trying ot crawl out of its predicament, the middle-aged man was rolling around outside in agony while slowly becoming surrounded by barbed wire, and the older patient had her blood drawn and was painting sunny scenes with it. All in all, it was beyond adequate description, and served to unnerve everyone who was exposed to it.

There were more exhibits, but the only ones describing the Japanese youth and the related subcultures were limited to photography. A collection of (mainly female) people in their rooms, showcasing the various extremes they went to: elaborate, handmade costumes, old-fashioned dolls, Victorian style furnishings, or whatever they happened to take interest in. Those pictured had dedicated most of their living spaces and wardrobe to this alternative style. Some going as far as body augmentation to reach the ideal image they had envisioned for themselves. In fact, the last exhibit was a series of self-portraits following both a mental and physical male-to-female transformation.

While at first things seemed disjointed, after sitting around in the cafe and discussing it, we concluded that the entire purpose was to show how people will form an ideal image for themselves, then work towards realizing it. In a largely homogeneous society such as Japan's, this is one inviting way to break free from the bland. As to why the macabre element appeals, maybe because of its shocking nature, it feels foreign and exciting, drawing in those still possessing a morbid curiosity and driving away those without. The thing I wonder about most when looking at the revealing portraits of Japanese goths, is how long they will continue to live the lifestyle. Surely it is difficult to eschew the norms of society while hoping to earn a living within it.

Either way, I wish them luck in balancing their lives - it certainly makes my day a bit brighter to see fashion that doesn't involve a Burberry scarf or Louis Vuitton bag. And everyone could certainly benefit from exposure to a counter-culture that challenges their everyday assumptions.

Ski ga suki

2008-02-01T09:26:00.000-08:00

The week following the amusement park adventure, a huge group of people from the company and their various friends went to Nagano-ken for some winter fun. We had such a massive group that it was useful to rent a night bus of our own to travel there and back. The hotel we chose provided reasonably cheap Japanese-style (futon on tatami, no beds) furnishings and was a short walk from the slopes. When we arrived at 6 or 7 in the morning, it was almost too bright from the sun's reflection on the freshly-fallen snow.

After a bit of confusion trying to check in, we headed to the mountain to get equipped. Most people elected snowboards, but since I had engaged in a winter sport like this only once before, I went with what I knew best: skis. Mind you, I'd only done cross-country skiing one time, and many years before; downhill proved to be a tad different! All things considered, I think I did a damn good job for what was essentially my first time. Physics class finally payed off a bit, and it helped that turning on skis is a bit similar to leaning for turns on a bike or motorcycle.

That said, I'm happy that the snow is significantly softer than concrete, because one consequence of my dive into learning was that I was unfortunately diving into the ground a lot. Yet, I'm proud of my fearlessness in the face of.. face-planting: it enabled me to quickly learn the dos and don'ts - and much quicker than I expected. By the end of the first day, I had even gone down the "intermediate" course (admittedly skiing half and falling half ;) without too much permanent brain damage. (To give you an idea, there are parts to that course where you question if there is in fact a slope or just a cliff in front of you!)

One strange thing about skiing: it's harder to maneuver while standing calmly than while flying at violent speeds down the crowded beginner's course. Even if it was awkward for me while moving slowly, the poor snowboarders have to unstrap on of their feet and shuffle toward a slope since without inertia, there's no way for them to self-propel. It also seemed like you'd fall on your ass a lot more with a board. I think they make up for it with far fewer head-first falls.

The scenery from atop the mountain was absolutely, breathtakingly incredible. It was hard to ski at times because I felt like I was missing another rare sight. Japan has no shortage of mountains, but there's a significant difference between looking up at them and looking down on them. Furthermore, the ones in view were snowy, steep, and adorned with trees. The valley below held a thin veil of fog and the tallest mountains appeared to melt into the clouds above. When looking from the peak, you wonder who was the first explorer to brave his life for this sight - there's a certain romanticism to the idea that the technology in our modern world cannot comprehend.

I took no pictures. I'm pleased with the idea that only my eyes savored the sights on that mountain. Besides, everyone and their mother brought a camera, so I can get the pictures from them without having had to sacrifice any of my concussion-time.

We stayed two days, and the first was significantly more pleasant than the second. The human body is a fantastic and wonderful thing except for when any motion brings you immediate pain; such were the majority of us after waking up. The breakfast hall looked like it was catering to a bunch of vegetarian zombies. (Insert odd Japanese dish here: onsen-tamago - literally hot-spring egg - consists of a half-boiled egg served in cold water from a local onsen. If it were hot, maybe, but wow was that an unpleasant sensation.)

The next day on the slopes was fine and all, but by the end of the day, I wasn't interested in anything besides returning to a mattress for recovery. A few days later (after functioning at about 10% capacity at work), most everything was alright. The only longterm setback has been a jammed thumb, but the swelling and freaky discoloring has gone, leaving only a bit of weakness and pain. It should heal up soon enough I imagine.

The following Friday, I was sick with a fever. By Saturday it had already broken. It was fortunate to have happened on a weekend, and I only missed a half-day of work. Not too bad, except for the many trips to the bathroom in-between. Oh well, one day out of the year isn't bad considering the people here often only wash their hands with cold water and are densely packed on trains.

2008-01-23T17:59:00.000-08:00

It's been a while, and a busy while. The weekend after returning from travels, a few of us journeyed to an abandoned amusement park for some "urban exploration." We also wound up visiting an onsen and making some pottery. The next week was yet another trip, this time about twenty employees banded together to go skiing in Nagano. I didn't take any pictures at either of these places - it was too much fun to see and looking at it from behind a camera isn't quite the same. You know how people can sometimes get - they take loads of pictures but don't bother to soak up the scenery with their naked eye. On the other hand, counting on others to take pictures for you has an empty feeling to it. Looking through them, I often feel like there's something missing... like you're reviewing frames from a documentary instead of a home video.

The abandoned amusement park trip was.. amusing. We took the train to Takasaki and a bus ride to the base of a shrine with a thousand steps leading uphill to it. The walk became progressively beautiful as the entire region was slowly revealed behind us. At the top of the climb, one could see out to all the mountain ranges holding back the sprawl. There also happened to be a gargantuan Kannon statue unexpectedly poking out from the trees on the hillside. To our surprise, there was a bus stop, restrooms, and plenty of restaurants in the area before it. We had expected the park to be without a trace of people nearby, but the busy road leading to this parking area proved us wrong.

Ducking under some rope and into the courtyard, the sight was beautiful. The tall grass fighting through the concrete, some funny graffiti, various out-of-place pieces of garbage.. we headed for the dilapidated buildings before us. They consisted of a mess hall, kitchen, traditional-style restaurant, and what seemed to be a gift shop. What made walking through these dusty ruins both interesting and creepy at the same time was the state they'd been left in. The people closing down the place never thought it important to remove the furniture or tableware. Some others had trashed the place a little, so there were obstacles like broken glass around, but in general it felt like a very safe place to wander around. I had expected a hobo commune to be squatting it, so it being vacant was a relief.

The rest of the park was sadly barren. My assumption is that the rides could be dismantled and sold as scrap metal, but it wasn't worth paying to demolish the wooden structures we had rummaged through. There were concrete supports with metal in them still, but everything else had been hauled away it seemed. On one end was a suspension bridge crossing a few lanes of concrete in what seemed to be a go-kart track. It was built well, but still covered with rust and eager plantlife. An odd sculpture of a hand remained with flaking gold paint, and there was another stone carving of two children and woodland creatures with the taint of moss. Also left to rest in peace were the various toilets, though curiously all the sinks had been smashed. I'm not sure if that's standard plumber procedure or the work of vandals, but if it was the latter, they never broke a single mirror - superstition, maybe?

At the far end was a water park complete with lazy river and wave pool. The most elaborate graffiti was done in this area, since there were tall walls still intact; not much litter from it all, either. We did get a little muddy from trekking around, but it was easy enough to pick out with the help of the silverware back at the restaurant. I also grabbed a few beer mugs as omiyage. For our first foray into urban exploration, I think it turned out well. The trick is to have some company so that if things don't turn out as you planned, it's not a complete disappointment. Also, if you break a leg, you won't die alone, hungry and cold.

That will be all for now, I'm hungry.

What do you put in your mouth?

2008-01-09T23:50:00.000-08:00

Firstly, you'll have to forgive me for not posting any of the 800+ pictures I've taken from my travels ever since returning home, nor publishing any reflections. Lately I have been investing a lot of my free time in a "self-actualization" phase. This involves doing a lot of reading, thinking, and trying to decide how to spend my time while in Japan and what I want to do afterward. While I am a dreamer, it's rare for me to fully embrace this process - so I'm trying to milk it for all that I can.

I won't use this as an excuse to ignore updating the blog at all, I just wanted to fill you in. I won't detail my personal musings further, since it is beyond the scope of it anyhow. Have a mini-update as consolation:

The best part about the New Year in Japan is not only the time off, but when you get back to work, every employee offers omiyage (generally any type of souvenir, but in this case, snacks) from their respective hometowns. I've sampled many delicate flavors, from shrimp-cakes to rich chocolate - and not only from Japan, but Europe and the United States as well.

This reminds me of another oddity of observation: the holy trinity of flavor in Japan. I about wept with joy at seeing (in my local deli, no less!) some of the most surprising additions to otherwise "normal" foods combined into one edible treat. In case you never heard, Japan has an affinity for certain extras on food - unscrupulously added to just about anything. Some examples that stand out to me the most are corn (flavored snacks, or as a pizza topping) and mayonnaise (topping for salads, fried foods, in rice balls). Advertised in the deli was a tuna-flavored bread roll with corn and mayo toppings. .......wow.

No, I didn't try it.

電車アホ子

2008-01-03T06:42:00.000-08:00

Today I write from Himeji, quite far away from where I awoke this morning. I was able to finally visit Ganryujima and complete the last of my pre-planned sightseeing. The serenity the island deserves was unsurprisingly compromised by the modern Japan surroundings - many tall cranes and warehouses lined the cement coasts of Kyushu and Honshu. There was enough greenery on the island itself, and I found it good to take pictures from low angles to capture the life-size statues of Musashi and Kojiro with only the blue sky as their backdrop. There was a wooden boat left on the rocky shore with a length of timber like the one that Musashi fashioned into a weapon prior to the duel.

The remainder of the day was spent traveling via local train along the southern coast and reading. The normal fare would have been at least 7,000 yen but using my "Youthful 18" ticket, it comes to about 2,000 per day. Of course, it takes much longer to get around, but you can do fun things like stop at Himeji and visit the castle in the morning before continuing onward. The other thing I enjoy more and more is people-watching on the train. You never really talk to them due to social convention, but it makes the environment all the safer for my hobby.

Speaking of safe, today was the first time I saw anything dramatic occur on a train. I have on occasion witnessed some "non-Japanese" (being violent, loud, cying, etc. in public) but of course completely human behavior - which can usually be attributed to Japan's relationship with alcohol. The first time I was surprised by an outburst was walking in front of the station late one weekend, when a guy who was drunk and upset about something kicked a plastic safety blockade and it shattered, loudly scattering pieces into the street. If he'd kicked anything else, I doubt it would have drawn the attention it did from everyone nearby.

Today's event was something much more frightening. On the train headed from Hiroshima, there were two young guys sitting together across the aisle from me. Another guy was squatting over the floor in front of the door to my left (in spite of available seating) and quiet for most of the trip. They all looked around 20 years old, but if you aren't covered in wrinkles, everyone in Japan does too. I was reading a book (about body language, funny enough) when the squatter gets up and walks straight over to the nearest of the two seated guys in front of me. He's leaning way into the other's personal space, looking down at him and starts speaking. You don't have to know a language intimately to tell that someone's pissed off, I only wish I could have understood it well enough to say what was on his nerve.

Suddenly, the standing guy reaches his arm back and punches hard into the wall just above the guy's head. To give him credit, the seated guy didn't flinch too much, nor did he strike back in response. The rest of the train car drops to dead silence, and a surge of adrenaline makes me lower the book from my eyes. A few very long seconds pass. The guy yells again, pulls his foot back and kicks into the bottom of the seat just between the guy's legs, making another horrible crashing sound. After receiving no response, he turns and goes back to the squat, mumbling on about them. The pair got off at the next station and the agressor at the next.

The various passengers were still in a state of shock even after everyone involved had stepped off. Nobody addressed the incident while it was happening, but I was surprised that it was so hushed afterward. It makes me wonder had a fight broken out, if they would have done anything beyond staring like deer in headlights. Most Japanese come equipped with cell-phones right out of the womb, but could they really call for the police? Maybe getting a hold of the sole conductor would have been a better bet, but he was at the other end of the train (and busy operating it)! Due to this, my guess is things could have turned ugly - especially since the victim's friend was there and he probably would have jumped in. After thinking over the various ways it could have played out, I'm thankful the guy kept his cool and was humble enough not to escalate anything. I might have tried to break them up if they began to fight, but of course I didn't want to receive a blow like that wall did; I'm also sure the cops wouldn't be too keen on seeing a foreigner involved in any kind of violence with natives...

Most interestingly, nobody seemed under the influence of alcohol. (I wonder where that guy will be in a few years?) The whole event left me unable to return to my reading, so I instead tried to think of how I could have helped to defuse the situation peacefully. Reminds me of Densha Otoko - you should read a bit about if you've never heard of it before. Perhaps anyone who knows the story will be more willing to intervene should such a situation arise before them.

Southern Hospitality

2007-12-29T01:39:00.000-08:00

A quick summary of thoughts from today and yesterday before I head for Beppu by nightbus:

Beginning in Kumamoto, I was greeted with conversation by the Suizenji Garden's resident photographer as he was setting up his equipment for the day (I arrived as it opened). He offered to take a few pictures of me using my camera as "free service". While doing so, we met another fellow who, at the thought of accidentially intruding into our photo shoot, began to apologize profusely - in English! Incessantly!

I now understand the alien feeling we students were warned about by our Japanese instructors: not to over-do polite speech. It was bizzare to have this guy practically repenting as if faced with death. Luckily he made no attempts at seppuku in our presence (though the pictures might have turned out more interesting). It turns out he studies English in Tokyo and is still in university, though thankful he doesn't have to do part-time work on top of that. After talking a bit, he was kind enough to give me a postcard, which was met with my last keychain souvenier. He sure needed something to focus and calm with, though.

Reigandou was a confusing place to reach by bus. After much map checking and staring at long lists of tiny kanji I knew it would be faster to ask the police and let them solve the case. There was a koban directly attached to the bus boarding area - why not? Given how long it took them to figure a course, I would have likely wound up in a caldera somewhere on the other side of Kumamoto. I wound up taking one bus to an intermediate hub (with about 30 boarding areas) and mine had 8 different routes it serviced, but the one for Reigandou doesn't mention it as a destination, so you have to head for some onsen in the hills and get off at a random stop, oh and what time does that come because it's a Thursday let me see... it isn't normally a holiday but it's kind of near one so I guess they turned it into a holiday.......... blah.

The cave - when I finally reached it - was surrounded with beautiful scenery, and I can easily see why it would be a choice spot to write a book or die at. Seeing as it was such an ordeal to get there, I was worried a little about the return trip since these rural buses don't come by too frequently. If I stayed more than an hour, the last one would pass and I'd be spending the night with Musashi's ghost. There happened to be an older man accompanying two lively kids as I was leaving for the climb down the hill. As he drove past me later, he asked if I'd like a ride. There was plenty of time to make it to the stop, but being a fan of random encounters such as this, I gladly hopped in.

It was only a few minutes before reaching the bus stop, and I said I'd be fine waiting until it came since I had bought a book before traveling for such situations. He was heading into town anyhow, so I was glad to be rid of any bus headaches. The kids in the back were thrilled at the chance to talk with me more, and I was happy to be the object of their curiosity. Descending the hills provided such a magnificent view of the city and surrounding mountains and forests, I wish I could have asked him to pull over for a picture. My excitement was compounded by the speed at which he took the tight mountain turns in a slight fog. Graceful stuff, though. My two interrogators were keen to know my likes and dislikes on a host of subjects. I hoped to spark some interest in foreign cultures and travel, but maybe at that age Badmiton is still much more important.

I was let off at the perfect spot to quickly catch a train south for Kagoshima. Sitting next to me on the train was yet another guy who was more than happy to strike up conversation (in surprisingly consise English) and help me by explaining the necessary transfers. He went to Kagoshima University and studied diving, which he later explained had more to do with bio-diversity. His recommendation was to visit "Kaimon" - another mountain - at the end of the southern peninsula below the city. I regret not being able to visit... Sakurajima took a lot out of me and I felt one mountain was enough. This man's most memorable quote from our talk about rural travel: "cities like Tokyo are not Japan. I'll drink to that.

Not 5 minutes after stepping out from the station and into the warm Kagoshima winter, I heard a "hello?" from behind. Turning from the map and looking down, there was an elderly Japanese man greeting me with slow (but learned) English. In short, he wanted to chat and so we went to a conbini (I will just write this from now on since "convenience store" is way too long and I don't care to endorse specific ones) and grabbed a pair of beers... and here I thought I was too young to be sitting and drinking in front of a train station in Japan. One more "cultural experience" to add to the list, I guess. My new friend - English name: George - had traveled to Georgia in the U.S. during the civil rights movement. Interestingly, he says he was never the target of discrimination. His most lasting memory seems to be simply how "there were so many black people!"

This was probably the strangest day of meeting others while traveling ever. Too much at once, perhaps!

Kumamoto-jou

2007-12-27T03:06:00.000-08:00

Exterior view of Kumamoto Castle. This is one of the outer walls looking over a moat and bridge to the main keep. The leftmost "turret" has five floors and offers an amazing view of the surroundings. The walls have narrow rectangular cutouts for firing arrows down on invaders.

The main keep is under renovation and it made me not want to take many pictures of it.
"Best 3" my ass! This year marks its 400th anniversary - although the main castle was destroyed by fire in 1877. Originally populated by two generations of the Kato line, in the 1630's Lord Hosokawa moved in and kept it for 11. At one point, Miyamoto Musashi becomes retainer to him and is considered a guest. I wonder what room they put him up in.

View of the same turret from the inside. It is one of the few surviving originals on the grounds, because on that fateful day in 1877, the wind happened to be blowing away from it.

View from the 5th floor of the wall turret, modern Kumamoto in the distance.

I wanted to get a shot that exposed how tall and angled the walls truly are. There are varying styles of construction represented at this location, but most follow the same idea of stacking alternating stones together and filling in the cracks with.. more stones. The one on the right is much steeper at the top than the one on the left - suggesting it was built later. People for comparison.

Origin of the Bear

2007-12-27T02:01:00.000-08:00

First things first: Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

Christmas isn't celebrated in Japan because less than 1% of the population are Christians. As far as Santa and gift-giving are concerned, I was shocked to see that the normally overwhelming capitalist and consumerist attitudes here haven't strongly adopted the custom, either. Christmas isjust another holiday for boy/girlfriends to get one another a gift. On the Eve, I saw a few people in the streets wearing Santa hats and selling cakes (the convenience stores offer a cake catalogue, too). With the general stigma against obesity and people generally trying their hardest to look good at all times (over-dressing themselves regardless of where they go - McDonald's is a good example), nobody I saw was interested in cosplaying as the Fat Man himself.

The New Year, however, is the most important holiday there is; it has kindly provided me with about two weeks of vacation time. I currently sit in Kumamoto, Kyuushuu (near the middle of the southernmost of Japan's 4 main islands) after a good meal of butakimuchi (pig cooked with korean kimchi and onions) and raw horse. My travels will last until roughly Jan. 6th, when I am obligated to return to work. Unfortunately for me, this time of the year is the busiest for travel, since most of the entire country has a week off, and will most likely return to their hometowns and families to celebrate the New Year. Since all planes, shinkansen, ferries(!), etc. were already booked by the time I began thinking about it, I wound up on a night bus from Shinjuku in Tokyo to Fukuoka in Kyuushuu. To my pleasant surprise, the trip lasted a mere 12 hours instead of the 14 that was described on the webpage.

Fukuoka is probably cool but I don't really care to explore big cities so much when traveling far. I have one of the biggest in the world a 40 minute train ride away from my house, and I doubt there's much I'm missing. Cities like that are overwhelming at times - especially with my relaxed and roughly planned style of travel. As the bus was pulling into the station, I had just finished deciding what order I would visit the cities I had penned prior. Oh, speaking of which, here's the plan:

Fukuoka - arrival
Kumamoto - castle, gardens, the cave Musashi wrote Book of Five Rings and later died at
Kagoshima - volcano, southernmost point in Japan I'll visit (though Okinawa would be nice)
Beppu - hot springs, sex museum (as curiously mentioned on Wikitravel)
Kita-Kyuushuu - New Year's celebrations, island where Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro dueled
Nagasaki - WWII atomic bombing, museum, Dutch trade port/artificial island
Fukuoka - head home in one way or another

Since I am in a net cafe and not only have my camera but the base stand with it as well (I figured I'd need to charge it at some point), I can upload a few photos from the touristy spot I visited earlier today: Kumamoto castle (one of the "best 3" in Japan)!

That's it for Rebun, I promise

2007-12-17T01:20:00.000-08:00

Momo-iwa in all of its peachy glory.

The "fast way" down to the coast .

On the other side now, Momo-iwa is the top-right rock. Some of the most amazing scenery I've been able to witness.

The strip of white to the far right is a ski slope which faces the full view of Rishiri.

"Please stay out of the flowers."

Another look at Rishiri, this time with more snowy vegetation. The terraced farming in winter makes you feel as though you're hiking over a giant zebra at times.

Heading back from the hilly west, signs of civilization (even if practically a ghost town).

:3

The big payoff: lunch. It was a late one, and hurriedly eaten, but damn it was good. The true taste of Hokkaido: kani-ikura-don. The bowl is filled at the bottom with rice, then topped with shredded crab and fish eggs, then adorned with three more pieces of crab. The warm miso soup brought our body temperatures back to normal and the pickled squid side was one of the most oddly pleasant flavors I've been exposed to recently. The fish eggs were almost peppery in flavor, but its the texture that stands out on your tongue. Of course, the crab was real, fresh, and delicious.

Start of the Trail

2007-12-09T18:22:00.000-08:00

That was a busy week. Now, back to the pictures.

After arriving on hilly Rebun, the ferry boards before returning to Wakkanai.

The port holding the smaller fishing boats that provide food year-round for the island's residents. Even on a cold winter morning such as this, captains were removing the ice and heading out for sea.

The southeast coast of Rebun facing Rishiri, which looked more like Olympus on this cloudy day. The road follows the perimeter of the island has buildings on either side, making it one infinite, small-town "main street." Due to our visit during the off-season, nobody was manning the shops or restaurants, and it seemed more a ghost town than tourist destination. This, of course, was our preference.

Behind the ferry port was a winding road that we walked for an hour or so. Not knowing exactly where it was leading - and having amended our travel plans to be less demanding, not caring - we went on until coming to this fork. Momoiwa was the tall hill we'd read of and hoped to reach in order to get some great pictures of the surrounding terrain.

To our surprise and amazement, this was the first sight after ascending the 1km incline: a steep cliff sliding into the ocean. To get an idea of the slope's magnificent size, the tiny wooden barricades stabbed in to prevent avalanches are about as tall as an adult human. The travel guides mentioning Rebun's southwestern coast did it no justice. It is a breathtaking feat of nature, with a palette to match.

Intro to Hokkaido

2007-11-26T23:44:00.000-08:00

While I won't have enough time now to log many details of my trip, I can start by explaining where we went and what we did. We took a short domestic flight from Tokyo to Chitose after leaving work early on Thursday (Friday was a national holiday).

Flying has never been such a pleasant experience! One everlasting quote I'm reminded of: "In the U.S., the customer is always right. In Japan, the customer is God." Even as foreigners, we were still treated as humans - I can't say the same of back home, as I recall being subjected to the annoyingly repetitious shouting from the airport security.

We each had some sort of contraband item on us that we forgot about, but instead of making us throw them away, we could simply sign our name on an envelope and keep one half of the carbon paper. They stowed our dangerous goods under the plane with the rest of the baggage, then we picked it up from the claim carousel just the same, showing the paper to someone as we exited the area. Oh, you can also take bottles of liquid on board and they can simply be scanned with a special machine - thus eliminating the need to pay $5 for a bottle of water in the secure terminal.

After arriving near Sapporo by plane, we took a night bus to the northernmost city, Wakkanai. We arrived at 5:30am and tired as usual, but conveniently already at the ferry port. The first ship of the day was only a bit later and we were thankful to be able to sleep for another two hours while heading for the island of Rebun. The waves were surprisingly choppy, but the bobbing of the boat put us to sleep only quicker.
Rebun is famous for its wildflowers, none of which were in bloom during our visit. This was anticipated, however, and hiking around the snowy trails with no sign of others was refreshing considering how densely populated the rest of Japan can be. We had originally intended to spend a few hours on the island to make it back to Wakkanai and explore the coast there, but we were so impressed with the abundant natural beauty of the island that we returned as the sun was setting (about 5:00pm here). Walking perhaps 10km in total, we saw only a handful of people - who lived in the town - and the majority of businesses were closed, since who in their right mind would visit in the winter? We ate at the one open restaurant: inside the ferry terminal.

The view from our hotel room in Wakkanai. As if being cheap and clean weren't enough, this one used the entire top floor as an onsen. Artificial, but a wonderful way to relax one's sore muscles after a day of hiking. Wakkanai was larger than I expected, but spread out. Walking around at night wasn't difficult and we stumbled upon a true treasure of an izakaya where we spent 4 or 5 hours talking over drinks with the owner. She is one of the nicest people a traveler could hope to meet, and one of the most fond memories I have of Hokkaido and its people.

Cape Soya, another summertime tourist spot, is the northernmost point in Japanese territory. It also happens to be the windiest! Even taking pictures was a difficult task - holding a camera steady while trying to avoid becoming a kite was a new experience for me. There are multiple unrelated monuments scattered about the area, and thanks to our timing, few people to interfere with our photography or exploring. The day was clear and so we could see the Russian island of Sakhalin a mere 43km away. Most tourists were content to get off the bus, snap a picture with their cell phone, buy omiyage and get in line for the next bus and out of the freezing weather. We endured until past sunset, when one of the last (infrequent) buses came by. Missing it would have meant sleeping in a lavatory or some similar fate because much like Rebun, hardly anyone was around.

By night bus again, we left Wakkanai for Sapporo instead of Asahikawa as originally envisioned. We wished to spend less time held hostage to the schedules of off-season transportation, and the ultimate destination, the southern resort of Noboribetsu, looked like a good change of scenery - and temperature. Sapporo is the largest city in Hokkaido and has a wealth of eye-candy, but can't be compared with the more remote areas.. they're simply two different worlds. We arrived the day after a parade celebrating the baseball team (the "Hokkaido Nippon Ham Fighters") for winning the Pacific league championship. Scraps of confetti were everywhere we walked.

Behold the colorful cauldron of Noboribetsu's jigokudani ("hell valley"). A picture may be worth words, but unfortunately cannot convey the sulfurous smell of the area. Bubbling and steaming, it is a natural source for the numerous onsen resorts that make up the majority of buildings nearby. The spa I was privy to blew me away with its assortment of baths - varying minerals, temperature, or style to make them all unique. It was another great spot to relax before heading back to the airport and home to resume our lives as office worker-ants.

What an amazing trip it was, though! Certainly one of the best I have ever taken in terms of variety and unexpectedly pleasant finds. I have a mound of pictures, and I'll share the best ones as time permits.

News from the Eastern front

2007-11-21T00:38:00.000-08:00

The past week has been busy, dealing with the loss of my laptop hard drive and trying to plan out a visit to the northern island of Hokkaido for this weekend.

Thanks to a Linux liveCD, the computer is still usable, though in an even more limited capacity than before. I was lucky enough to have time to backup my data (after symptoms appeared... bad habit) and so as far as I know, nothing of importance is missing and I won't have to weep like a little girl about it later. The pictures I've been picking through and posting here were already stored off-site (read: at work), but all the code I'd been working on could have been lost. The moral is to back up early and often - get either an external hard drive or DVD burner. I prefer the DVDs since they are more portable and will last your lifetime. The external drive is just as prone to failure as the one inside your computer you are trying to back up. Don't be a penny-pincher on this, you'll come to regret it later.

The Hokkaido trip is taking place in late November, so it should prove numbingly cold and white. I'm not much into skiing, but I am excited at the opportunity to shoot pictures of the volcanic scenery. The island is (no surprise) famous for seafood, and I intend to try as much as possible. The plan is to arrive by plane near Sapporo and take a night bus to the northernmost city, Wakkanai. From there, a ferry to the island of Rebun (and back ;), then another nightbus to the heart of the wilderness - the enormous national park of Daisetsuzan near Asahikawa city. This may change, however, as I will be accompanied by one of the interns this time. I won't have the flexibility I normally enjoy, but the companionship while on the buses and trains is important... ever since I finished my book.

Speaking of food to try, here's a quick list of some "strange" food I've consumed so far:

octopus - pretty standard fare in Japan, but I'm getting to appreciate the flavor more and more. Rubbery and chewy, buy not good if you get creeped out by the suckers. The best by far have been deep-fried baby octopus (iidako).
whale - overpriced and not anything special besides the rarity. Tastes like a dark meat more than seafood.
squid - raw, pickled, or a side dish full of "guts" in vinegar - the raw texture and flavor is bland for me, but the other two are good, especially served cold with some sake.
horse - I've had two kinds of horse sashimi: dark and marbled. The darker one was at an Okinawa-style restaurant and far superior in flavor.
dandelion - this was a bit of an accident after some mis-translation (French, not Japanese!). I suggest you avoid putting flowers into your mouth.

2007-11-13T22:45:00.001-08:00

Some more of the architecture. It appears that the shutter-like wooden parts that jut out are used to hold the windowed panels. Whether they slide in or have to be manually moved, I can't say. The wood keeps its age well, unless it is constantly being re-paneled.

The stone path past the lantern had a nice effect and there weren't any other establishments that gave up so much space to the outside. The columns of side-lighting makes it enchanting to step into at the right time of day.

This was the house open to the public (for a fee, of course) and to this day still trains maiko. The Wikipedia article on geisha is quite comprehensive, though at times confusingly written. The main points are that maiko are geisha in training, and neither are prostitutes but entertainers skilled in the traditional arts. I encourage you to skim the article!

This one is unique among the others - its construction raises it off the ground. I wish I understood more about the design of the buildings, but the relevant information I found was limited to Japanese only; my vocabulary isn't that good.

Another shot of the aged lane on this wonderfully sunny day. My how the weather has changed since then. Rainy, windy, and cold seems to be the Japanese way for November. Mind you, all of the fair-weathered days happen to be workdays. Yes, it's statistically probable, but it still hurts.

Quick glance

2007-11-08T01:49:00.001-08:00

A look at the more modern Kanazawa.

And the old-fashioned. This is the Higashi Geisha District, the exteriors adorned with simple wood and style. Read more about this area (and the others I'll be later describing) here.

Japan is quick to showcase the clash between these two distinct eras. Often anywhere you travel, you will find some surprise - such as a convenience store or dance club alongside a shrine. It's not something to shake your head at, there's really no extra room in larger cities! At least the preservation of these centuries-old buildings affords Japan that unique dichotomy.

Another round of photos

2007-11-07T02:52:00.001-08:00

Here are some pictures from Kanazawa, the "other Tokyo." It can't really compare in size, but the mix of modern and medieval is something to enjoy. I found the city to be very welcoming, clean and densely packed with things to see and do. I'd highly recommend the trip to anyone, though the night bus can always prove cruel. On the other hand, waking up at 5:30AM gives one plenty of time to plan their travels for the day. Here are some images from around the station - I'll add some good stuff tomorrow.

Pretty standard interior as far as train stations go - one of the security guards was kind enough to help me spot some destinations on the map I picked up inside.

Reminds me of Kyoto station with the high mesh, but brighter. The wooden gate is composed of straight cuts of wood placed at angles to give a spiraling appearance.

Very cool place to chill and wait for people to show up. There is a U-shaped bus dropoff right in front of the entrance to the station, with a large parking lot off to the side. Very convenient.

How does one tour-guide company trump another? By bringing along companions such as these to entertain tourists. Wow.

This splendid little gadget is composed of a matrix of miniature bubbling water fountains. It cycled through both English and Japanese, including a clock - quite fun to admire.

Welcome to Kanazawa!

Boo!

2007-11-02T10:24:00.000-07:00

It's significantly more chilly outside than when I first arrived here. Was it so long ago that I stepped out of the air-conditioned airport terminal and into the great outdoor sauna of August?

A lot has changed but not much has happened. I have been slowing down on travels (not to mention blog updates) probably because I'm no longer a simple tourist here - this has become my home. For someone who travels often, I'd like to think my home is the space my body currently occupies, but there's still an inescapable state-of-mind aspect. It doesn't mean I will stop touring, of course, but there's more to it than touring for the sake of touring, because you're in a place that you won't be again for some time. Hell, I've willingly visited more places in Japan than in the United States. Firstly because I was a "visitor", but now that logic has faded.

A group of us watched The Motorcycle Diaries tonight, and it did a great job of breathing life into the descriptions that make Che's original reflections so powerful. A hundred pages or so, it would take about as much time to read it as to watch it, and I highly recommend either. It makes me wonder if a cross-country trip would even be possible in the States. In attempting to parallel the two, I'm left with little more than stark differences. Would you offer a meal to a man who showed up on your porch on a motorcycle? A place to sleep? Maybe instead of just guessing I should be content to honestly answer "I don't know" what kind of hospitality one could expect. Perhaps I'm too doubtful of Americans for my own good, but I feel that for most people, the culture is far too different and this concept would fail. I'd imagine both parties involved to be equally afraid of one another.

Regarding the "parties", the Yamanote train party was a huge failure.. to the point where we never made it to the destination.. because we never started for it.. because of yet another typhoon. Nothing like wind, rain and darkness that forecast a 90% chance of death with guaranteed uncomfortable sensations from wearing a soaked costume all night. We stayed in, had some drinks, and watched Evil Dead 1 and 3 while dressed up. As lame as staying in seems, I'm growing all too fond of the cross-culture confessionals - which alcohol always aids.

I hope you all had some sort of fun this season. If not, you can always learn as much from your kids as they can learn from you.

It was either this or doing laundry

2007-10-21T10:11:00.000-07:00

Time for some random rapid-fire posting. I can always upload pictures from the same month-old set a few at a time later to make it look like a legit update..

Had a good conversation the other night with many of the interns. Yea, I don't mention them too often, but normally we talk about trivial matters like international politics. This time, though it was about food! Instead of elaborating on the details, it will be much more fun to just leave simple bullet-points and plant seeds of stereotyping. Plus Blogger has the cool "list-button" icon I haven't clicked yet.

In China, they are willing to eat a surprising variety of animals. The south much more so than the north. Examples include snakes, turtles, rabbits, and monkey brains. Dining on turtles "of course" increases your longevity. However, the French are less prone to eat the turtles because they are much more useful as garden additions - think "living rocks." The French can also go for snake (apparently with garlic and around Christmas-time) and rabbit, but are a bit shy on the monkey-brains.

Anyhow, you have to be a high-roller to enjoy the ape. Apparently the gimmick is that the monkey is served alive. Indeed, the animal is kept concealed under the table save the cranium which will be prepped for you. (Honestly, would a guest be expected to break through its skull? How barbaric.) So you've got a live animal with half of its head missing exiled beneath the tablecloth, but the brains on display and awaiting you to put it out of its misery. The method? Hot oil. Yes, you pour hot oil directly onto the monkey's brain and snack away.

Hopefully, this should probably be the most absurd thing you've ever read in regards to upscale dining. I have a vivid imagination, so the sights and sounds of this scene brought me to a tearful fit of laughter (naturally, we were all eating at the time). Also, you'd have to hang around the French to know their contempt and disgust at such a description.

Completely unrelated but a bit of rare culture shock: I was going into the convenience store near the apartment and was served by a guy I swear was from India! Never in my wildest would I have expected to see a foreign face behind a counter in Japan... even if his Japanese was proper. Also a new first for me - communicating with people from other countries using Japanese as a common language. Usually wherever you go on this planet, English is going to be the second language that two foreign parties can use. But Shinjuku has a nice all-you-can-eat Indian curry restaurant and the folks there addressed me in Japanese as well.

Another tidbit: while Halloween isn't popular in Japan (at least I don't know of any trick-or-treating plans) there is a semi-planned, public party next weekend. It will take place on the Yamanote train line that circles the major districts of Tokyo. It's similar to a flash mob (look it up - very entertaining) but with more drinking and less police intervention. The basic idea is to get a costume, get some booze, and get to the train platform. The clips I've seen on YouTube from parties past have shown a shocking 70-30 gaijin-to-nihonjin ratio. It is hard to gauge however, as the Japanese are typically shorter and their numbers harder to properly count.

Naturally I had to find a costume. After some soul-searching (and wandering around various variety stores in Machida), I settled with something that was agreeably both American-funny and not Japan-creepy. I won't spoil the surprise now, but if there is photographic evidence from the event that is presentable, I'll be sure to... present it.

Since I'm about to go to bed, I must lastly add that I am happy to have received my new mattress. Ideally this will nullify the back pains I occasionally wake up with. If not, it makes a good temporary couch for guests. My pillow is still a bag of beans, but that's how I like it.

Take care of yourselves, and each other.

2007-10-15T06:08:00.000-07:00

Find the feline!

Perry Road.

View of the entire city and harbor from the open park atop a hill.

Kurofune ferry and small island with a shrine.

-

Taking a break, I'll post s'more later.

2007-10-15T06:03:00.000-07:00

I hope you can read this. I happened upon it while walking around, although it wasn't specially noted on the tourist map I picked up at the station. The whole story is so absurdly Japanese.

The graveyard the 16 were moved to.

Their grave seems recently touched up.

Nearby templegrounds with a lot of good elements present: bell, Jizou statue, some others hiding in a cave.

2007-10-15T05:58:00.000-07:00

And here we are in Shimoda, Japan. The end of the tracks as far as the peninsula is concerned. Shimoda has a rich history, especially in connection with the United States, and I'd suggest reading a bit about it on Wikipedia, but the article there is quite lacking - try this instead. Pictured is one of the famous kurofune (lit. "black ship") that showed up under Perry's command in the bay (pictured below).

What was most comical to me about the majority of Shimoda's history-telling on placards and in guidebooks is how the Americans and the affairs are described as friendly and good-willed. Of course, the Japanese didn't really seem that interested in opening up the port the first time around. Only after dropping in again (but this time with more ships and firepower), was Perry met with open arms. Nothing screams mutual respect more than staring down the barrel of a gun.

This cat is ready to negotiate a treaty.

2007-10-15T05:26:00.000-07:00

Something about these pillars of rock standing alone against the waves... it's a phenomenal sight to behold. The medium of photography was sadly unable to capture the fear of the people around me as I climbed up the slick stone and leaned arms outward near the edge. Chuckling about it doesn't make you appear any more sane, either.

2007-10-15T05:20:00.000-07:00

Some pictures of the bridge over the rocky coast. Apparently a popular place to jump from, according to locals.

What you see on the way down if you do.

This bridge leads into a hiking trail along the coast, but I didn't realize from reading about it online that it was more thick brush and tree roots than trail. The idea to walk toward the other train station was quickly cancelled.

Better later than never

2007-10-11T05:09:00.000-07:00

My trip to the Izu peninsula began with a stop in Atami. The main attraction there was the MOA Museum of Art - 25,000 square meters of floorspace carved out of a mountain overlooking the city and its blue bay. The image below looks to be more of a bunker entrance; after walking in, it takes a good five minutes to ride the escalator up to the exhibit floors. The fee was a cool 600yen for a card-carrying student combined with a discount available at the station.

Most of the works on display there are Edo-era Japanese paintings, calligraphy, or crafts. This includes 3 national treasures and many "important cultural properties" as well. An English guidebook was available, but unfortunately not much of the calligraphy was translated to English. However, one can certainly appreciate the writing style and age of the works without needing to know. My favorite of these would be the screens with softly painted deer dancing with wispy haiku lettering.

At the time I went, there also happened to be a great deal of (late 18th to early 19th) French art; some of the artists being Japanese nationals who learned the form while studying abroad. Some of the more surprising pieces to happen upon: Claude Monet's "Water Lilies" and a debatedly-Rembrandt-but-still-as-real-as-life "Self-portrait in a cap". Shocking to me because they weren't even advertised on the pamphlet! Oil on wood is just incredible when done well.

That was really all I was hoping for from Atami, so I got back on the train and followed the East coast to Jogasaki Kaigan and its oddly cute log cabin-styled station. The short walk to the coast wasn't as short as intended, but as usual, getting lost turned out to be well worth the trouble. I stopped by what appeared to be an outdoor cafe (and the only sign of life along the winding road) named "Candy". As I approached, I was invited by one of the patrons to have a seat with him if I liked. I had originally meant only to ask for some directions, but I was fatigued from being on my feet for much of the day. I asked for the iced cafe latte.

The middle-aged man had a pair of dogs accompanying him, one of which was significantly more energetic than the other. They kept on playing with one another, leaving us to talk. The guy worked as a wine commentator and had lived in France as well as Ireland and Oregon. He was able to travel around and work from his laptop, or simply from home. Soon, the owner came out with the drink and began to share with us tales of his travels to China, Tibet, and the US (best: Mississippi - worst: New York). Unlike my beret-sporting companion who had now turned back to his dogs, the owner was previously running the rat race in Tokyo as a salaryman. He and his half-Canadian wife decided to flee while they were still young and came to the Jogasaki coast to begin living their modest dream. Even if sales are "so-so", they don't regret the decision. They would ideally like to move to the US so they could have a big yard for their dogs to run around in.

Their shared affinity for pets wasn't coincidence. The entire purpose of the cafe was to have a place to walk your pets to and let them enjoy themselves while doing the same with a drink. The cafe turned out to be named after the owner's dog. As for the two belonging to the connoisseur, he explained that one of them was born with a bone problem and that it wasn't able to walk. I hadn't realized at first, but it indeed was dragging itself along to catch up with the other. The man said the original owner would have killed it had he not taken it, and that every night he would help it to grow stronger by fixing a life vest and letting it swim around in the bathtub.

It had already grown late and the retreating sun was causing the sky to dim. I told them I had to take off, but when asked where to, they didn't seem convinced that I would make it back to the train station in time if I were first going to visit the bridge on the coast. Sensing my internal struggle, the owner volunteered to drive and drop me off in the parking lot near it. I'm always pleasantly surprised at how often the Japanese - even ones you've just met - will act as if you were all part of a common team and help you out accordingly. I thanked the guy many times over and was soon gazing off into the Pacific.
More to come as time and energy permit..

Why updates have come to a sudden stop

2007-10-03T18:41:00.000-07:00

I see with its newer release of Picasa, Google has worked overtime to upgrade the level of suck beyond anyone's expectations. Something as seemingly simple as posting pictures to a blog has never been such a headache... It turns out in the past I used a closely-related program named "Hello" (yes, try searching for it) which could rapid-fire pictures along with quickly typed descriptions to Blogger with no problem. Apparently that process is now dead (and has been for a while).

This sums it up quite well, but I want to reiterate the important excerpts about how Picasa (with BlogThis) differs from Hello (with Bloggerbot):

The "BlogThis!" window takes up the whole screen, which make it difficult to produce the blog post, which often requires you to consult other windows to collect or check on information as you write.
Bloggerbot does not limit the number of photos in a blog post, whereas BlogThis! can only cope with 4
The BlogThis! window is very slow to appear, so you have to sit around and wait for many seconds before you can start your blog post.

From reading it, you may not get the full impression of how inefficient the process actually is. Think of it like the difference between typing and hitting enter to Instant-Message someone as opposed to starting your email client, filling in the relevant info, and sending a message of equal length to the same person. Now multiply that annoyance by every message you wish to send... the horror.

What the hell kind of arbitrary limitation is 4 pictures, anyhow?
I'll be looking for a better solution to this.

2007-10-01T02:52:00.000-07:00

After getting back from the hiking, I was hurting for something filling. I found some cheap meat, potatoes and onions at the 99yen store (yes it was safe ;) and made myself some "nikujaga" - literally "meat & potatoes" except it's usually made sweet with mirin. I fumbled around with the flavor - adding and adding new stuff - until I could no longer hold back my hunger. Good stuff.

And I will leave you with my kitchen for the moment. Yumm~

2007-09-30T23:17:00.000-07:00

Now from atop the bridge, the vegetable stand is in the bottom-left corner. Nanasawa is prime for hot springs because of the surrounding mountains that suddenly end all hope of sprawl.

Another view of the same peaks.

Carved into the handrails are the picture-equivalent "sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G" schoolyard rhyme (yes, it's a tree and not a love parasol). Not mocking, though. Each side has a name and of course this pact with the gods guarantees you will forever be in love with one another. Or at least until next grade at the elementary school, which is practically forever.

2007-09-30T23:01:00.000-07:00

The river that ran by. Not sure what the stones lining the side are intended for.

It's not often you find a bridge this size not crossing water.

Vegetables for your perusal on the left.

2007-09-30T22:47:00.000-07:00

On the way into the steep, wooded hills of Nanasawa, there was an eye-catching house. The plant-arch was something to ponder, but then walking around the side...

Your initial reaction is probably no different than mine. Other than perhaps, "I have to take a picture of this!" I am unsure if the structure served any additional purpose (garage perhaps?), but it certainly stood out. No Amazing Grace played, however. Also, the bush has eyes.

Overdue

2007-09-27T07:07:00.000-07:00

The following pictures are of Nanasawa, an area slightly northwest of my Atsugi home. If you'll recall, it was the first onsen I went to since my arrival in Japan a month ago.

This is a short distance from where I was let off the bus, the road forked and almost not in my favor until I found a map on the sidewalk to help orient myself.

The road on the left continues to cut through the area, whereas the one on the right begins to slowly spiral up the hill that the ryokan was built on.

The building off in the distance is a rehabilitation center - although somewhat of an eyesore, I'm sure that the area was chosen to encourage people to get out and do some walking. Hot springs are supposedly therapeutic because of water temperature and mineral contents, as well.

The foreground is a small garden, many of which offered roadside vegetables for the casual passer-by. Nobody was around, but a sign asked you to leave a hundred yen in the cup if interested.

The Shinto shrine along the dirt road up the hill.
There weren't many people around - just a few cars going by.

A little further along, there was a small creek with an outdoor "restaurant" that was manned by an older guy. I'm not sure what to call it really, a roof over a grill with some cookable meat inside. He was offering a cheap lunch to anyone who happened to be coming or going to the onsen since there certainly wasn't any other tourist attraction around.

There was some 1 liter vending-machine sake left out for the gods - I'm glad at least someone is thinking of them.

Mostly everyone living in this area was tending a farm. While there are some shacks in the pictures, to my knowledge they aren't living quarters; the real homes appeared normally modern from the outside.

Oh yes, this entire area is after I walked past the entrance to the ryokan. I was happy to have done so, though, because the area here was much more open. One could see a cemetery built into the side of the hill to the right, and some strikingly purple and pink wildflowers breaking out from the wall of green.

Of course, even here wasn't rural enough to escape the likes of beverage vending machines.

(I've got more to show, but this manual entry of photos is a real pain for the time being; instead of being stubborn about it, I'll find a better way to upload these with captions. I wonder how Picasa's doing these days?)

Green Dream

2007-09-24T10:31:00.000-07:00

I'd love to talk all about my latest trip, but I'm somewhat backlogged from before. Since I haven't prepared all the pictures nor typed up anything about Izu yet, I'll just fill you in on some of the other neat places I've been by the past few weekends.

First there was Kichijouji, the number one place that young people wish to move to. As soon as I stepped out from the train station I could understand why: bustling shopping district, but mostly small alley stuff - there wasn't too much domination by popular chains (at least from the route I took). The whole area feels as if it's trapped in a different period of time. Never before around Tokyo have I seen so many trees and walking pathsm, either. In fact, much of the area under leaf-cover is off limits to bicycles.

As for parks, there is a very large and well populated one a short walk from the station. It is packed with sidewalk merchants, musicians, young lovers, people walking their pets, and a good number of gaijin as well. The area is massive, encompassing a pond where you can rent a row-boat or swanly paddle-boat if you want to have some alone time. Thankfully, that isn't the only way to just sit in peace - the park is lined with benches (in Japan there is rarely a place to simply sit and rest, you see). Although the cherry blossoms won't be showing themselves for another six months, it wasn't stopping bands of people from laying out on tarps and making merry with their beer and wine.

One of the musicians. I don't recall the name of the instrument, but it was certainly impressive how fast he could play it. He mainly did themes from various anime that any Japanese person would recognize (eg. Tonari no Totoro).

Swan boat.

An artist doing characterized portraits. Looked as if she stepped out of a disco and into a time portal. Her style and coloring changed for each set of people she drew, although you may see on the faces of the girl to the right that she takes her sweet time (maybe 30 minutes if I recall correctly).

To the right of my bench.

Speaking of Totoro, the reason this place seems like a fantasy land is mostly due to the Studio Ghibli Museum also being located nearby. I know that they aggressively defend against development of the nearby environment. I'll have to get a ticket sometime.

That's about it, I had a good beer and a good chat. Was able to try out some exotic Okinawan food before taking the train home. Among the more unique and rememberable dishes I was served: pig ear, raw horse sashimi, and a variety of special awamori (like umeshuu). If you're one to dislike food because of an odd texture (more specifically crunchy cartilage), pass on the pig. The horse meat was incredible, though.

That should do for now, more to come as always.

My Salvation

2007-09-24T09:47:00.001-07:00

^{In the beginning, Gore created the Internets and the Web. The Web didn't have any shape. And it was empty. Nothingness occupied the series of tubes. At that time, the tubes covered the earth. The Spirit of Gore was hovering over the fiber.

Gore said, "Let there be light." And there was light. Gore saw that the light was good. He separated the light from the darkness. Gore called the light "on." He called the darkness "off." There was true, and there was false. It was day one.}

Too Hot for TV

2007-09-19T04:15:00.001-07:00

This past weekend was a lovely, relaxing time. Spanning from Friday to an extra-bonus Monday, it included the national holiday, "Respect for the Aged Day". I think I'll talk about that first because it was most recent and there are more details to cover. I woke up Monday with the intent of getting out into the wilderness, ideally somewhere with an onsen and a nice mountain view. I had been meaning to visit the Izu peninsula this weekend, but it wasn't in the cards (and next weekend also has a Monday off, so no real loss). It was good to stay out of Tokyo for a weekend, I'm sure my wallet and liver both agree with the decision.

Waking up at 8 or 9, I went ahead with the plan I had conceived the night before: after picking up some pamphlets about nearby onsen at the train station, I chose the one named "Koutakuji" (広沢寺) for its uniqueness and shockingly reasonable price for lunch. It also seemed to be more off the beaten path, but the map I had wasn't topological or even to scale, so who could really say. I took my bike to the train station and, after accidentally parking it in a place reserved for scooters, got on the number 9 bus designated by the guidemap.

30 minutes and 350 yen later, I was off the bus. There had been a little confusion since the map had shown a bus stop existing right in front of the Koutakuji onsen, but the bus only went as far as a place labeled "Koutakuji iriguchi". The walk didn't seem too far by map, but of course this initial assumption wasn't aware that the trek would be entirely uphill. I was glad to be wandering around the tree-spiked, mountainous countryside and happier still that I had my camera with me.

This is one reason I usually prefer traveling alone: I can do everything at my own pace. Walking, taking pictures, practicing Japanese, getting lost, stumbling upon the unexpected - it's all part of the experience. When others are with you, whether family, friends, or near-strangers, the delicate act of balancing what everyone wants or doesn't want can be more trouble than the trip itself. This isn't to say that I can't enjoy travel with friends, but to really have an adventure - to get out and genuinely explore something - there's no better company than your own thoughts.

The green route I was hiking also had the occasional farming house, area for garbage pick-up, and (of course) vending machine. I'll be sure to upload the pictures when I the chance. It took maybe half an hour to arrive at my destination, five minutes to walk past it, and another five to walk back. The onsen belongs to a ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn with supposedly impeccable service and food. I wouldn't know because they're usually outside of my budget; for instance, the map I had named about 10 of them and I would put the mean price at around 12,000 yen or about $100 per person per night.

Once inside the main building, I was able to rent a towel and buy a long washcloth (makes for a good souvenir!). Since I wasn't staying with them, I could still use the onsen, but for a fee. I also asked about the lunch I had seen mentioned, but was told since there "were no rooms available, I could instead order some food from the menu outside." I would have been content to take lunch in laundry room if they had only offered. I'm still unsure if I would have been able to do it if they weren't full, though. A lunch reservation, perhaps? Unfortunately, the listing outside was small and mostly consisted of various deep fried dishes (not so appealing on a hot day after getting out of a hot spring). There was one exception: cold soba noodles. I made a mental note and ducked into the men's entrance of the onsen.

Whenever I read the word rotenburo, I think of openness. The word literally means "open air bath." I imagine the body reaching an ideal calm between hot water and cool air thanks to a nice breeze. These are examples of what I'm picturing in my mind: 1, 2, 3. The bath I entered was far from these expectations, sadly. While the water still served to relax, it seemed as if the spring was hastily claimed by building all around it. The openness of the onsen was entirely compromised by the four tall walls surrounding it. Consequentially, that cool breeze was also hard to come by. Here's a picture of what the bath looked like (complete with old men, so it's just like the real thing!), the entrance to the ryokan, and map in relation to Atsugi.

The general protocol after entering is to get naked, set your clothes on the shelf provided, properly wash your body, then enter the pool. I witnessed some variation on this, however, with some people merely scooping from the spring with a basin, splashing some on their smelly feet/balls, and calling it good before getting in. This seems akin to the ritual cleansing of your hands at shrines with cold water, and the equally ritual - and equally ineffectual! - cleansing of your hands after going to the bathroom (also usually with cold water). Oh well, at least it was a kind gesture. It was Respect for the Aged Day, after all.

Speaking of age, there was a good distribution. I certainly wasn't the oldest, and thanks to some kids that came in with their dad, not the youngest. The onsen wasn't particularly roomy, and so there was a lot of strategic re-positioning going on. I gave up a prime spot, the rock-with-water-running-down-the-side, to try and enter a different area that was marked with kanji for "cold water" to try something else, but was betrayed to find it was the same temperature after all. All was not lost, however - I was able to get my chest and knees out of the water for a while by sitting on a tile ledge instead of a less comfortable rock. There isn't much talking except between the occasional father/son (I wouldn't expect younger Japanese guys to relax with their friends, just as I certainly wouldn't invite any co-workers along), so the whole scene becomes this strange, slow, silent ceremony.

I'd love to talk more about bathing nude with strangers, but I've really got to go - my ass is starting to hurt from sitting in this chair so long. Today's work day has been from 10am to 8pm with some breaks of course, but a good number of Japanese guys here have been in since earlier and I guarantee will be leaving much later. More on workaholics later.

And it's suddenly Friday again

2007-09-14T02:25:00.000-07:00

I think I will try to pass along some quick, random observations and thoughts I've had lately. It should be fun.

Elevator culture. Usually, the ride is deathly quiet. Sometimes people will be joking around or merely discussing work, but usually not in a normally loud voice. The elevators here operate more manually than in the US; this means the open/close buttons are much more responsive and they get used a lot. One person will usually take it upon themselves to operate the doors. When the elevator stops for a floor, even for one person, the operator will likely push the close button after they've stepped on or off to get moving along faster than if the elevator doors had waited and then shut. It also looks like when you hold the open button - even for one person - you will always get a slight nod of appreciation from them, even though the elevator's wait time would have been sufficient for them to exit.

Fashion. Much like in the US, there seems to be a trend in what I'd call "fake" shirts. The US specializes in selling shirts that have fake names, establishments, or dates; sometimes for the purpose of being clever with puns, but more often to appear retro (eg. "Tiki Bob's 3rd annual Surf-off 1978"). Chances are, the person wearing the shirt wasn't even conceived then, and it certainly didn't take 30 years to ship the shirt from the sweatshop in China. Japan has something similar, but the goal isn't to be retro as much as it is to bemuddle any native speakers of the language the shirt has printed on it. English was the traditional target of this unintentional butchering (hence becoming what we know as "Engrish"). Lately there has been a big surge in French, and I wouldn't bet on it being any more intelligible. If I were to type it out, you still wouldn't believe me, so I recommend searching around for "engrish" - you won't be disappointed.

Also in the fashion department, you can get away with wearing anything in public. Maybe it's a reflex from the dullness of wearing school or work uniforms for so long, but I'm happy to see such a variety of style whenever I'm strolling Tokyo. No, this isn't about cosplay, but that certainly qualifies - people just tend to be a lot more daring to push the limit of what's wearable. It could be that nobody would dare to bring it up if they thought it was goofy - not in public, not by a stranger. So what's there to lose? Strike a pose.

Speaking of this, last weekend my eyes caught a rare sight near the train station: a group of maybe 8 Japanese males donning knee-length sports jerseys, equally baggy jeans, sporting backwards ball caps and large metal chains. I had to stop my bike and stare just to make sure I wasn't just hallucinating (hey, it happens now and then). Even though I carry my camera around with me at all times, I'm not to keen on snapping shots of others, even if they're in public - especially if the intent is to post the pictures online. Sorry, I hope the description will suffice. What's strangest to me is just where they found the clothing. I know that American culture (and subsequently, clothing) is a big import here, but I don't recall noticing any FUBU stores. Yet, if there's a niche to fill, someone, somewhere will do it.

Completely unrelated: I was in the bathroom at work and music was playing overhead. I couldn't figure it out right away because, much like the karaoke, it's a simpler rendition of the original score by some poor, deaf bastard they gave a job and keyboard to out of pity. Then it dawned on me, and the toilet was suddenly a sadder and lonelier place than normal. As it turned out, the tune was "Amazing Grace" and I spent the next minute wondering if I'd actually heard that song played outside of a funeral before. I didn't stick around long enough to hear if there was another track or if it would keep looping.

Get it out of my head

2007-09-10T18:16:00.000-07:00

Friday after work, a group of us went out to Shinjuku for a birthday party. The venue was another izakaya, this one named "Toridori." Being the responsible adults we are, we made a reservation and printed a map prior. After walking from the station and asking to be seated, both the host and us were naturally confused when our name wasn't found on the list. Being the irresponsible kids we are, apparently the restaurant we were standing in wasn't the only one in the area. The host was kind enough to call around and find the correct one, and after printing a map for us, we headed outside once more. Now would be a good time to explain a bit about the Japanese idea of city planning: there is none. Tokyo is of course even more complicated than the rest.

What we would call "Tokyo" is composed of 23 wards, 26 smaller cities, 5 towns, and 8 villages; it was of course not originally the sprawling megalopolis it is today. After the destruction from WWII, the area was once again composed of small towns and villages centered around their core market areas. These areas were small and familiar enough for the residents and they had no need to name the streets. Things have developed since then, and what you see now is an endless sprawl of some of the ugliest buildings ever built. Interestingly, the geographical location of buildings isn't sufficient to navigate, either. In other parts of the world, they are sequentially numbered as the street goes on, but here the numbers correspond to the order in which they were constructed. So #100 could be right next to #7, with #101 much further beyond both. Luckily, none of this impedes me since I have no capacity for rote name or number memorization, anyhow - I manage to function mostly by landmarks or other mnemonics, both here and back there.

Even carrying a map with your destination clearly marked on it does not an easy trip make. Tokyo is so dense, so tall, so absolutely packed with lights, signs, and sounds that it is often a challenge to focus your attention and scan an area. I can't explain why, but I have some sort of knack for cutting through the surroundings here - probably because I have only so much attention to focus. Anyhow, we made it in time to get our reserved seats. This izakaya was a bit more fanciful than the last, although well-hidden from view - we had to descend about 4 stories from street-level. After barely fitting our over-sized shoes into the lockers, our socks could meet the dark, stained wooden floor. Behind a thin wall, our table was at floor-level and we stepped down one last time into our seats. The low lighting and elegant wall decor assured the food and drink offered would be a step up.

As the night progressed, we visited a club and, waiting for the morning train, spent some time at karaoke. I think I much prefer the singing than the dancing, even though it's what I'm worse at. The others may have a different opinion, although I was flattered to receive the request to rap Eminem's "Without Me." There really is no rhyme or reason to what English songs will be in store for you when you crack open one of those large volumes in the booth. You can always bet on finding a lot of Queen, Michael Jackson, Madonna, and The Beatles, your standard 1-hit-wonders, and a good mix of anything from "Piano Man" to "Barbie Girl" (yes, we've done both). The standard is 2 microphones, and occasionally you'll have the good luck to come across a tambourine or two. Not surprisingly, country music hasn't quite caught on here.

Weekends such as this have been a killer for my wallet, however, and in spite of diligently keeping track of my budget, I tend to carry enough money around to break it all at once. This usually isn't a problem, though, as I've never been one to throw my money out the window (hm?) nor do I spend my weekdays enjoying the same luxury. Often I treat (or torture) myself with self-made dinner, the most commonly consumed items being rice, curry, soba noodles, garlic bread, nikuman, and the supermarket meat I hope I'm translating properly. I had been ignoring breakfast out of habit, but lately I've been sleeping in too much; with the groceries I picked up this Saturday, I will hopefully be able to bribe myself out of bed earlier. The scrambled eggs with negi, soy, and pepper this morning were shockingly delicious.

Speaking of negi, I find that whenever I'm in a grocery store here, I will always spot someone with a giant leek in their basket. Consequentially, by the time I exit, a certain Finnish folk song is stuck in my head. This should serve to explain: www.leekspin.com.

There's always more to write, but I think for now I will leave it at that, lest I run out of things for the remaining weekdays.

キノの頼み

2007-09-10T02:50:00.001-07:00

Due to circumstances beyond my control, (more commonly referred to as GNU/Linux or the end-user virus) I once again found myself unable to move my pre-written post to USB stick this morning. It probably has something to do with the power going out the night before, but the details aren't important.. it just didn't work for me. I'll hope to get you that by tomorrow; in the meantime, what can I say?

It's 9/10 here, soon to be 9/11. It's sad to want to avoid talking about something because of how political it has become. I was attempting to compare with something Japanese: all I could come up with were the Sarin Gas Attacks and the Atom Bombings, two very different incidents, but both have relations to ours. The first was indeed a terrorist attack, but done by Japanese to Japanese. Only a dozen people died as a result, but if you mention "terrorism", this is what people will think of. It was as domestic as they come, right in the heart of a major city. You can see signs on trains asking you to immediately notify the conductor of any suspicious items or people. Thankfully, I haven't had the finger pointed at me, but it makes you wonder why. If the Aum Shinrikyo perpetrators had been foreigners like me, would things be different?

I doubt anyone would have guessed that six decades after unleashing two horrifying atomic weapons on largely civilian targets, the descendants of those civilians would be embracing American culture the way they do now. Will we, by 9/11/2061, be happily submerged in Saudi Arabian fare? Doubtful. It just goes to show how pervasive our creativity actually is. Even after a hundred thousand civilian casualties, though, the Japanese have been good enough not to hold the grudge this long. I have never had anyone here bring up WWII as if I had a part in it or should share the responsibility for America's actions during it, and for that I'm quite thankful. Time doesn't erase the past, but it can surely calm and heal - if we want it to.

In that same light, I wouldn't want the people visiting my country hoping to explore the culture and meet new friends to wind up having the same finger directing suspicion at them. This won't happen by itself, though. Every time we let a moment of silence be used as a Two-Minutes Hate, our inaction is merely condoning the xenophobia. My only hope is that people could remind one another to open their minds up and try placing themselves in the shoes of foreign visitors. If anything, they most likely need your help, not your scrutiny - believe me, it would make things a lot easier if we didn't have to carry the anxiety on top of our baggage.

Rains, pours

2007-09-07T02:26:00.000-07:00

It's Thursday evening and the day has only begun to get interesting! The raw power and awe of nature never fails to humble my thoughts. My expectations were to feel the storm this morning, and when it was only pouring I knew the weather report was slightly off. At work, sudden winds and rain would come and go, but nothing to keep us from heading outside and buying lunch as usual. Later, however, as I was about to head out to the city hall and pick up my alien registration card, things had become much more fierce as I approached the exit near my bike. There are two sets of doors, and as soon as the outer pair had been opened, a rush of wind immediately slammed the inner two shut. Attempts to open them from inside were met with failure until the outer doors had closed again.

Stepping out, I saw rain, but instead of falling down, it was being blown at an acute, near-horizontal angle. Every single person I saw with an umbrella (as is the fashion here, everyone will carry one for rain) was struggling to hold on to it, nevermind that the howling wind had already inverted and made it useless. At this sight, I quickly turned back inside wearing a giant grin on my face - already late to leave, my quest to make it halfway across town on a shit bike in this weather would not only be futile.. I'd be surely killed. My hand-me-down and personal death-trap is a testament to human stubbornness: boasting a rusted chain that has a habit of slipping off at intersections and a front brake that is outperformed by the Flintstonian method of hastily dragging my feet on the ground or nearby objects, it's a miracle I make it alive anywhere in optimal conditions. But hey, I can't complain about the price.

Deciding that tonight wouldn't be the most desirable for death, but not wanting to wake up under my desk tomorrow, I compromised to go home by foot. Always hoping to outdo the Japanese and simultaneously defy their wind-gods, I grabbed my loaner umbrella before heading outside. The trick to keeping an umbrella open in gale-force winds is to firstly remain unafraid of looking like a complete jackass. After all, you are doing something incredibly stupid and by no means trying to hide it - the fact you are a foreigner compounds the absurdity of your situation. Should you fail, it will be remembered by people who live to be 90 years old on average, and they will have a lot of time to tell everyone they know how much of an idiot gaijin you were. The next and final step is to simply walk home with the umbrella. Since you have already conquered yourself, this other task is trivial in comparison.

Friday has just arrived and brought the typhoon with it. According to the weather report I saw earlier, we only experienced the outer, yellow circle.. today will be the red. It's curious, the kanji used alongside the yellow meant "strong" but I've never seen the kanji used alongside the red. My guess is that since it wasn't a big skull, things will be alright. Then again, it could be one of those classical kanji that the Japanese know and foreigners are largely unaware of, ensuring our mass cleansing. Either way, I wonder whether or not my bike will be in the same spot I left it. All I can ask is that nothing freaky happens after crawling into bed - the last thing I want to experience is a sleepless night before going to work and later to Tokyo for another sleepless night. Then again, I'd settle for just waking up not covered in water or broken glass.

Update since I wrote this: I woke up alive (and without even a shard of glass in me). Just some strong wind today and that's all. Off to Tokyo~

大糞

2007-09-05T02:15:00.000-07:00

There was a sudden layer of cloud cover and heavy rain for all of 5 minutes earlier today. It was impossible to distinguish anything beyond the windows, but it wasn't particularly violent. In case you haven't been keeping up on Japanese weather reports recently, Typhoon Fitow will be coming to a town near me. Almost directly over, if it stays on course with that map. Should make for an interesting tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes and whether or not you should send supplies.

American flag beach tarp

2007-09-04T03:02:00.000-07:00

This weekend wasn't as busy as the last, thankfully. It's been nice to ease into things here rather than play it hard-and-fast all the time. Going back to last weekend, I was able to visit two beaches on the East coast of Japan. I was with two people from work and we met up with one of their (always helpful) fluent female friends. The four of us were having a good time chatting on the slower local trains that service the more out-of-the-way destinations, but we overshot our stop as a result. I really didn't mind so much, learning about Japanese driving schools is uniquely interesting (apparently the mandatory classes are expensive yet not extensive - mostly done on a closed course). While waiting for the next train in the other direction, we wandered around the quiet, little community near the station where the shops are open but unattended. Once you walk in and start browsing around, someone will poke their head in and ask if they can help. There wasn't much for us there and we were back on the train soon enough.

The first beach we met was a quick taxi ride away from Oohara station. To our surprise, it was packed with Japanese surfer-types: a breed I hadn't seen at all before. Most of them were sporting tattoos, even the women, which is so uncommon, our native said the inked beach-bums gave off a real frightening appearance. The relation is that yakuza (Japanese gangsters) normally fit themselves with full-body tattoos that are often completely hidden beneath long sleeves and pants, and tattoos have had a negative association in Japanese culture from long before. Now, though, it seemed pretty standard for anyone wishing to be a part of this subculture which spanned from surfing to dirt biking to skateboarding. In fact, the entire beach seemed dominated by this crowd for some sort of surfing competition that would later turn dance party.

We never stayed to watch it unfold. The surfers must have been disappointed because there was so little wave action it seemed like they were just kids in a pool floating around on foam body-boards. In addition, after swimming in the sea water for a bit, the skin near my elbow and knee joints became slightly red and irritated. At first, I thought this was due to my long time away from salt water and later wondered if it had to do with our proximity to the pollution of Tokyo Bay. Unlike the burning of salt water when it makes its way into your eye, this wasn't an expected sensation, so I decided to get out of there before turning into a walking rash. Not satisfied with our short-lived swimming session, we headed back to the station for another destination after a quick lunch and bathroom break. The hiyashi (seasonal food, cold noodles with hard-boiled eggs, cucumbers, ginger, etc.) was as delicious as I remember it and the public bathrooms just as disgusting.

The other town, Onjuku, was more of a tourist spot, but also boasted a better beach. The beautiful little town carved into the steep shore off in the distance was more appealing than the poured concrete flanking either end of the last place. The waves were not much better, but swimming was still enjoyable now that our bodies no longer felt as if they were slowly disintegrating. Here, you could rent inflatable dolphins or inner-tubes and while it may not have been the exact sea-side experience the others were hoping for, the atmosphere here seemed much more natural and fun. We were able to stick around until "closing" when (no surprise) music began playing and the beach patrol started to coax people back to land. It was great to get out and do something physical like swimming or hitting a volleyball around. The many hours it took to travel there and back weren't squandered like I might consider a commute to work by car; being in a train, you have the luxury of enjoying the scenery you pass through, conversing with your company, or - if you were as exhausted as I felt - simply sleeping.

Looking back, except for some minor subtleties, things at the beach were the same here as in the States. I think more people here were interested in eating/drinking. Many had tents and portable barbeque grills, while a another few were content to just sit with a group of friends around a cooler-full of cheap beer. In addition, there were restaurants eager to serve up and down the coastline just in case you hadn't brought anything. Beyond the realm of food (which is always of utmost importance in Japan), things seemed simple and natural in that most swimmers were content with just their bathing suits and weren't using snorkels, goggles, or even the rental offerings much. Less of the beaches were carved out specifically for sports, but a few people were kicking around a soccer ball in the sand behind the common seating.

My body suffered no long-term damage from the water, but did get two scoops of love from that ball of fire in the sky. With skin ranging from white to brown to red, I have become a giant walking slab of Neapolitan ice cream. No, you can't have a bite.

And now you're going to read about my laundry

2007-09-02T22:36:00.000-07:00

I had composed a post earlier this morning about the beach trip, but due to technical difficulties compounded by a pounding on my door saying, "let's go!", it remains stranded on my laptop. Oh well, I try to make these posts modular and unassuming so that chronology doesn't play in, but we'll see how that works out over time.

I had the good fortune of receiving the keys to the apartment of an employee who had recently left along with the go-ahead to take whatever I could use. It's an irregular opportunity to go through someone else's stuff, especially if you haven't known them much at all; being the opportunist I am, I didn't hesitate to have a look around. How much can you tell (or pretend to understand because after all, you're just guessing without much context and going along with some pre-conceived notions) about a person by rummaging through their unwanted belongings? I don't wish to expand beyond that, but here's a random sample of stuff left behind that isn't part of the standard welcoming package:

hand weights
beer bong (labeled "zero" to "hero")
enormous stash of sugar
full pack of menthol cigarettes
paperback copy of sci-fi classic Neuromancer
Taiko drum-master game and accessories for Playstation 2

..and I'm sure half of what was lying around was from the person before him. There's only so much worth shipping halfway around the world.

The most important of the items I found were hangers. I had decided to do all of the laundry and cleaning I put off from last weekend, but this proved to be quite the chore since my clothes are voluminous and the washing machines are anything but. It took 3 machines (unfortunately placed on two separate floors) to do my hamper-full. Attempting to figure out the kanji printed all over the buttons and LEDs on the machine isn't as easy as copy/paste, so I went with the defaults - there's actually a setting that translates to something like "trust me", and has a picture of a smiling washing machine on it. Feeling the computer knew more about the machine than I could, away we went. I watched as it poured about a careful 0.23658 liters (approximately one cup) of water into the base and then began to shake around my dry, stinky clothes and the one wet shirt on top.

I thankfully spotted the "more water" button and, after mashing it until my finger was imprinted with braille, the clothes were respectably soaked and primed for gyration. Although the other washing machines were different models, they still had near-identical layouts. The machines also have dryers fitted over the base at eye-level, but I have long since known them to be inadequate. Holding up a sock and blowing on it would be just as effective. Luckily, there are handy house-wares specifically for this purpose (holding the sock, that is). Think of a matrix of clothes-pins suspended upside down such that you could clip a sock to each one, or even towels, jeans, or underwear with two! I would tell you what it's called, but I didn't have to look up the name in a dictionary before finding it in a store - it naturally catches your eye sitting on a shelf.

This contraption, combined with all of the hangers looted from earlier, allowed me to simultaneously suspend all of my clothing from the line outside my sliding-glass windoor. Of course, I can't see outside any longer, but I'd much rather appear and smell respectable; besides, this way the sun can't wake me up at 5am when I forget to shut the blinds before hitting the sack. This morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find the majority of the shirts already dry and ready to go - maybe I will temporarily re-locate my closet to the clothes-line (being male and on the 2nd floor, I don't have to worry about my underwear not being there when I need it). I can only hope that it won't rain anytime soon.

Snippets

2007-08-31T02:30:00.001-07:00

Just a few quick thoughts before I don't have Internet access until Monday:

Last Sunday I was able to go to a beach far, far away on the East coast of Japan (near Chiba). It took about 4 hours by train, but wasn't too costly due to awareness of the Seishun 18 ticket. I've been meaning to write about it, but there are constant welcome/farewell parties going on here and I have been coming home at 1 or 2am and not in the mood to do anything but sleep.

I'm headed to Asakusa on Saturday blindly hoping the weather will be agreeable. It's currently Friday night and I'm staying late at the office blogging, woohoo - a new low. I'll be later meeting a friend who will be getting a new bike and passing the debatably-usable remains of his old one. The price was right, at least.

If you're curious to know more about aspects of Japan and Wikipedia isn't quite cutting it for you, japan-guide.com is a great resource for quick and easy overviews. ("What is this Asakusa place?") That's all for now, folks.

Home Sweet Home

2007-08-28T18:50:00.000-07:00

I suppose I can now talk a bit about my living conditions, as they are a bit different than what I'm used to. Probably even more so for you people with your fancy houses and vehicles and.. food. Spoiled, all of y'uns!

When I first arrived here, I had with me two generously large (one overweight) pieces of luggage. The taxi driver couldn't fit both in the trunk, so the "large" one had to occupy the front seat. I was shocked he got it to fit; it could have held like 2 bodies - or maybe 3 if they were Japanese; or 4 children.. maybe even 5 depending on how you cut them up. But you get the point, this thing was huge. The taxi driver was very cool about it.

Getting them up to my room on the second floor, however, was not so cool. Apart from 3 sets of stairs, there was only one elevator that someone must have engineered out of an old telephone booth. Its size permitted only one bag at a time, so multiple slow, doubtful trips were needed. Claustrophobic? Getting stuck in this elevator would feel the same as being buried alive. The most shocking part (moreso than getting dizzy from using the oxygen up all in one breath): it was rated for 4 people, but I couldn't understand all of the kanji, so maybe it was 4 only if you cut them up.

Allow me to describe the interior of my humble abode: you open the door and take a step in onto concrete. Just before your feet is a raised, carpeted floor, and you'll notice all of my shoes arranged near where you stand. Slip them off and move a step onto the carpet and into my kitchen. You did bring easily-slippable shoes, didn't you? Well where the hell are we going to find some in your size? Not in this country..

To the right, my kitchen is equipped with all the modern features you've come to expect. It boasts water from a faucet and accompanying sink, next to which is a cupboard on the right, and my gas stove on the left. Why does it smell like a flowery turd, you ask? I've been meaning to ask the same to the Korean who lived here before me and left a most potent pot of potpourri to deposit its foul stench in the wood. Maybe I should save some of the good adjectives for when we get to the fridge. Anyhow, the stove has only one burner, which has a hose going to a gas line on the wall. There is perhaps two inches between the stove, the gas line, and the sink - in sum, depending on how you shift it around. I sincerely hope no oil fire ever starts because there would be no way for me to turn off the gas without reaching my hand directly through the flames.

To the left, my bathroom is equipped with all the modern features you've come to expect. It boasts water from a faucet and accompanying sink, next to which is a toilet on the right, and my shower on the left. Why does it smell like a not-so-flowery turd, you ask? Must have been the curry, sorry. The bathroom has a door that doubles as a security device by blocking the kitchen off from the outside. The tub is deep but too short to be useful for soaking. This brings a tear to my eye since the long, hot soak was truly one of the best experiences a poor boy like me could hope to have regular access to. I guess this will at least be a catalyst for visiting a public bath-house. The shower also happens to be very picky about water temperature. Think roulette but always betting on the green spaces instead of black or red, which either freeze or scald you depending on your "luck". The toilet is fair (nothing like the space-age stuff I've seen before), has a "big" and "little" flush. Always makes me laugh because the little one barely accomplishes its meager task and the big one is so ridiculously long and loud - the first time I thought it was broken and that I'd soon be swimming. I feel bad for the guy next door who I bet can hear me cackling as it carries on.. those weirdo foreigners.

Drawing your attention forward, you can see all of my living room, dining room, and bedroom. I bet you wish you had a fridge in your bedroom. Or a computer in your dining room. Of course, all of these luxuries are standard here, where utility is master. Watch your head as you step down into my inner sanctum; all of these entryways are made annoyingly enough to appear tall enough to ignore, but that would be a lie.. a very painful one. The smell assaulting your right flank is my fridge. To the left is a closet with all of my clothing. Next to the closet, the collapsible futon on which I lay at night, wondering if it would be worth buying a mattress or not. At the foot of this "bed" and in the far corner rests a TV with 6 or so public access channels (surprisingly entertaining).

My curtains conceal the sliding windoor in the far wall between the TV and computer desk, or maybe they conceal me, instead. Due to the extreme temperatures, I'm often forced out of most of my clothing; this isn't particularly new. What is, though, is the small children's playground immediately outside. I'm not high enough up to be out of sight, and so anytime I sit scantily clad under the AC unit, I feel as though I'm inviting a world of trouble into my room unless I close the curtains. I don't recall a lesson in my Japanese books introducing the vocabulary to defend yourself from a police investigation.

So under the AC (in the other far corner) is where I sit, and to accompany this chair, I've got a desk and portable drawers. These components make up the most of my room, and I've pushed them all to one wall or another so that I can at least experience the optical illusion of having open space. I'm glad that I lived in smaller and smaller dorm rooms over time, this is simply the next iteration and coming from any other environment (say, an apartment with furniture), I suspect you would be very disappointed. Over time, places such as these tend to "grow" on you - not in a homely fashion, but you feel they are adequately sized, until someone else steps in and reminds you otherwise. Speaking of which, it would be logistically impossible to entertain a guest or two without some drastic re-adjustments. I'm content to dine on a box that I can hide away in the closet, but there's only enough room for me.. get your own box! Those fold-up TV trays never looked so appealing. I could even fit them behind the fridge.

Yes, the one you won't get to hear about today because I've got to shower and go to work at some point. Later!

Roppongi Nights

2007-08-26T17:02:00.000-07:00

Fast-forwarding into the future a bit, I'd like to pen my clubbing experience while it's still fresh in my head.

Friday was to be the last weekend that one of the fellas here at the dorm could have before returning to Europe for school. He had invited everyone around to go with him to Roppongi for drinking, eating, drinking, karaoke, drinking, and dancing. I was fortunate enough to have met up with him and his regular clubbing friend at a bar the day before and gotten to know them better, so I happily accepted his offer. It would be a chance to learn from the master, as he put it. Both he and his friend were very kind and funny in spite of being a little obnoxious as well - I'm sure they were aware, but not interested in sacrificing their amusement to fit in. The date was set for Friday night.

I met up with those two and a few others at the train station around 7:00pm (someone was kind enough to print me a map since I'm still stuck in the stone age - no bike, cell-phone, and surrounded by strange odors). The station still functions the same in that you've got a colorful map placed directly above the ticket vending machines. This way, when you are squinting really hard at the scatter-plot of station names, other people mistakenly assume that you are waiting in line to buy your ride. It's not too bad, though - many places are kind enough to subscript English beneath the kanji, and if all else fails (and this applies everywhere) you can simply ask someone to help you.

Unfortunately, Roppongi isn't just a stone-throw away from Atsugi. It took us at least an hour to get there, going by train to Shinjuku and then a transfer to the subway. Before going underground, I was able to get a rechargeable, hassle-free, and all-around badass Suica card. You buy it for 2,000 yen and it comes with 1,500 worth of train travel already on it. No more disposable (ie. wasteful) stubs that you have to feed into the gates - this guy can be swiped over a sensor (think security badge) and away you go. When you're done with the card, I understand that you can get the other 500 yen refunded. This is good for me since I can just keep the card in my wallet and swipe the whole thing, and not needing to buy tickets every time I wish to travel - I only need to put money on the card when it is low. It works for Suica, too, in that I'm giving them an interest-free loan and permission to track my travel habits. It's anonymous data, however.

We got to Roppongi to find a summer festival in-progress. The station was unusually full of yukata-wearing girls, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits. We walked out and immediately into the mob. The flow of people crawled along at a snail's pace, but with a lion's strength; it would have been foolish to try standing still, but instead of staring around, we were more interested in finding some squid-on-a-stick. The pedestrian streets were lined with vendors of all varieties: food such as noodles, chicken, octopus, and hamburgers; snacks such as chocolate bananas, candy-apples, and cotton candy; sellers of traditional clothing, hand-crafted earthenwares, rare pokemon cards - yes, everything was here.

I enjoyed my grilled squid with a beer, the choco-banana didn't taste as rich as it looked, but I was held hostage in a state of terror after I tried one of the candy-coated grapes offered to me. The coating was very thin and not strong enough to survive in a spherical form wrapped around the grape, but it soon shattered into many stronger, triangular, and razor-sharp pieces. I couldn't choke them down for fear of shredding my esophagus, but I wasn't too inclined to keep them scattered around my gums for fear that someone would bump into my jaw. In spite of their immediate threat to my ability to eat or drink for the coming week, their flavor was still something pleasant, so I kept my head as high as possible and let my saliva do its job.

To my surprise Auld Lang Syne started playing overhead, signaling the end of the event. Vendors began scrambling to get rid of their unsold perishables while cunning buyers began haggling them. We walked to a subway entrance to meet up with some friends-of-friends. While sitting, I had time to observe some natives holding out flyers to passer-bys. This is something you see in the vicinity of every train station. You will walk by and be offered a fan or a small pack of tissues with advertising printed on the exterior. At least it's useful stuff, I suppose. Most Japanese are jaded to this behavior, so to make their quota, they have to get fancy with their lines and presentation.

The over-dressed, over-compensating fellow was only interested in handing out to certain women walking around him. Conversely, his female friend tried to pass her wares along to any guy who came by. After asking one of the more knowledgeable people with us (living here 5 years and fluent), he confirmed that the first was trying to recruit the girls to work at some sort of men's club - this could be anything from dressing up nice to not dressing at all - it wasn't possible to tell from our vantage point. His female accomplice was hoping to get the guys to attend said club. What was most interesting to me was that the pair didn't come off as particularly seedy people. They would occasionally take breaks from pacing around, sit together and strike up conversation. I wouldn't say that they were friends or lovers, but co-workers just like those in an office building.

Once the desired people appeared, we walked to the restaurant we had thankfully reserved a day before. It was all-you-can-drink with a few courses of food that would be periodically brought out. The event was structured for 8 people and we were allotted 2 hours to do our damage. The place was filled with small, wooden gazebos that had cloth draped around for a bit of privacy in a densely-packed area. Wondering how we were going to pile into one of those, we were escorted to a surprisingly large, dark room in the back with exact seating. Expecting to be gassed, we were all happy to find that the vents were for air conditioning and our room was equipped with a TV for karaoke! Sitting in our climate-controlled paradise, we ate and drank merrily. We sang, too.. I just don't think it would have been merry for those who loved the song prior to our interpretation.

Food offered: shrimp appetizer with melon and avocado, veggie salad, thin-crust mushroom pizza, seared tuna sashimi, pork fried rice. It was filling! My share of alcohol was varied (many types of umeshuu to try), but Japan continues to leave me unimpressed with its selection of beer. The only good one I've found that didn't come from another country has been Yebisu black beer, and even here it's expensive and hard to find. The meal was 3,000 yen per person and certainly worth every.. penny. Two hours flew by and we soon left for a club.

Carefully following the leader (my experience around Roppongi is minimal), we stopped inside and found ourselves drowning in a wall-to-wall sea of people. The place had no cover charge, so it didn't cost us anything to find out it was overflowing with gutter trash (ourselves included). We quickly moved along to a less obvious club that charged 2,500 yen to enter. This came with a free drink in addition to us being greeted (or assailed, as my tastebuds were) at the base of the steps with champagne handouts. This place was much roomier - to the extent of being able to dance - and the Japanese/gaijin ratio was pleasingly high: our group was the only one.

We were all enjoying ourselves in cycles of talking, drinking, and dancing. I was happy to already be back into the groove of things, thinking about how much fun I was going to have this year. I'm sure that my friend was equally pleased to end his stay with a night like this. It would seem like meeting new people could get tiresome or boring, but I would have no regrets in telling my story over and over again provided that I have the opportunity to listen to the stories of others in turn. [I spent an hour typing and deleting here, and ended up deciding I would just leave it at that. You will be spared my inner philosophical struggles and musings.. for now.]

Of course, the more people you have in your party, the probability of one of them getting into trouble increases (one of the reasons why I normally avoid groups such as this night's). I noticed one of my acquaintances sitting out of the way on the floor - not a good sight since there were plenty of chairs around. His responses to verbal stimulus were not encouraging. Thankfully, if you've attended a university for any length of time, you have experience in treatment. (Perhaps they should provide additional certification along with your major on the diploma they hand you.) Thinking it good to get him out of the loud, hot environment and into the cool air (and afraid of having him donate to the dance floor), I pulled him up enough to get his arm over me, and we slowly ascended.

We sat down outside and the host out front asked us to move away from the entrance. I could understand his concern, and having him hostage to my deciding to move or not, asked him to have some water brought up (the only kind available in the club was in a 10oz bottle for 500 yen a pop). He obliged, we went away a bit further, and kept going back and forth between me sitting him up to him laying down. It is unique when you don't really know the guy whose head you're figuratively holding over the toilet. (Being in this situation is one way to tell who your true friends are, though.) You want to be their friend - their advisor - but finding the balance of it all is tricky.. especially if you know that you will see them again, worse yet if you will be working with them!

Now normally I wouldn't be opposed to babysitting a fresh coma - certainly not one with the prospect of vomiting up half-digested rice (looks like maggots kawaii ^_^). Unfortunately, I had abandoned my more responsible friends and also had to get rid of the water I had been drinking. So I did what any upstanding citizen would do and left him on the street (I at least made sure he was on his side and facing the sewer grating - what do you take me for, a barbarian?). It was OK, though; after telling our party about the situation we organized to periodically check on him. What, it's not like he was going to get robbed.

This would be a good time to mention that when abroad, I consider myself a cultural ambassador. I will be many people's sole impression of what an American is and how they conduct themselves. I don't like to play the "gaijin card" (compare with the "race card") here, I pay close attention in order to not be "that American" (compare with "that guy"), and - especially since our country has fallen out of favor with many - I try extra hard to point out to people that Americans can be good people. I feel as though in the previous few days all of my prior work has been undermined. From subtle cultural things such as talking in elevators to seeing a fellow American roll around in his own chunky stew and wear it home on his shirt, I feel overwhelmed at the task of trying to represent Americans. I will just act for myself, and if others want to positively correlate that with something else such as race or nationality, fine, but I won't be cashing in on it later.

We took the first subway train in the morning to Shinjuku around 5:00am, and after a long, sleepy ride (first pick on seats, woohoo) back to Atsugi, we all made it home alive.

Atsui Atsugi

2007-08-23T17:17:00.000-07:00

This one will try to be more briefly informative. After arriving, I spent the night at the Narita Hilton - a seemingly classy place from the lobby, but not really what I would have expected for the price. I suppose the service more than made up for the plain feel of the room. They were content to take my bags from me after I stepped off the bus and bring them up to my room so I could check in without the two monstrous eyesores offending other patrons. Looking back, I'm still grateful to the hotel for at least providing me with the soap and toothpaste to keep me presentable until I could acquire some from a store. The tub was deep (never long, unfortunately), and so I calmly soaked in hot water for a while (alternating legs and torso) before going to bed.

I took the same airport shuttle back to Narita in the morning and bought a bus ticket for Atsugi. None of this was complex, by the way, because the service industry is incredibly accommodating in that as soon as you can approach someone their gaijin detector has already been triggered and they are speaking to you in English. If you find yourself on this island sometime in the future, fret not - thousands of foreign businessmen each year manage to make it home, you can too!

My first impression of Japan, by the way: HOT. I don't sweat that much, but I sure made up for lost time as soon as I stepped out of the air-conditioned terminal and into the hellfire called August. The online dictionary translates mushi-atsui to "humid", but that doesn't really do it justice. Atsui already means "hot", and I like to think of mushi as the disgusting, heavy feeling of the humidity hovering around, forming your own personal greenhouse. Mushi translates directly to "steaming". All of those long dress pants and shirts I brought... *sigh* this is the summer of their discontent.

In most civilized nations, one would stave off such monumental discomfort with the century-old technology we have all come to know and love as "air conditioning". Indeed, this has proved so useful that it has spread all over the world, even to my dorm room! So all is not lost. Playing around with all of the buttons and sliders in an attempt to understand what they do is a good way to pick up some Japanese, much better than if it were the controls to a forklift.

Why is he still talking about airports?

2007-08-22T17:38:00.000-07:00

First, a quick note about the structure of this blog, as it differs from other things I've done prior. My intent is to inform a wider (still English-speaking, however) audience, and it has been somewhat difficult to wrap my head around what exactly I'm trying to accomplish. I would enjoy sharing any insights I have during my time here, I want to explain Japan beyond what is easily accessible to most people - really just some surprising or interesting observations and guesses as to how and why things work around here. I'll try and make it educational and entertaining at the same time, but you'll have to tolerate my bad bi-lingual puns and other oddities that may alienate or confuse you. Here's a tip: Wikipedia is your friend. It doesn't matter what your opinions are of a free, online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, it will answer your questions and if searching for "sushi" turns up text such as "LOL COCKS", then just wait a minute and a keen eye will revert the page and you can go on learning. Oh yea - there's Google, too. You should all get in the habit of searching for things you aren't immediately familiar with; it's too important a skill to neglect and as such I'll spare linking you to explanations.

This brings up another issue: this blog will have to be at least PG-13, and certainly with tendencies to push the envelope. I'd like to make it fine for you to show your grandkids on their school computer, but it wouldn't be fun for me - and I need to get something out of all this work ;) Think of it as safe for work in the sense that your boss wouldn't have the patience to stare through a wall of text while peering over your shoulder. Of course, when I eventually get pictures up I promise nothing obscene will appear without your awareness. I must admit, though, that I do get quite a joy from writing simply because I can image the various reactions you all will express. Speaking of y'all, the fact that there are a diverse set of people reading this makes it harder to write for. Mostly, this will describe my life outside of work.. it wouldn't be that interesting or educational to go on about, and if it were, it would probably mean I'm exposing proprietary data and will be promptly crucified - it's part of the contract. Also, I've got comments disabled; it's not that I don't want your feedback (I absolutely need it to motivate and further improve this), but I am trying to avoid cross-mingling between parties and the dissemination of personal information. Instead, please discuss amongst yourselves or contact me directly with your thoughts.. thanks!

::

After landing, I proceeded to customs with perhaps 2 other people; it was nice of them to let me in. I can imagine it being a real pain for foreigners wishing to work in the US for a year. After picking up my bags, the toughest question I was asked was "are you sure you have all of your luggage?" I was, and so I walked out into the airport unmolested. The nicest part about Japan for those of you who haven't been: respect. Exceptions exist everywhere, but on the whole, you find that people treat one another calmly and courteously (making it all the more amusing to consider it something of a "culture shock").

I remember at LAX, one of the security staff shouting aloud to the crowd over and over the same procedure of putting your belongings on the belt into the X-ray machine. Part necessity, part frustration, and part belittlement, the vibe was that this guy was disgusted at the idiots passing through his checkpoint, who - in spite of the guidelines he would announce - would still mess it up. And I watched it happen right in front of me, too. A guy who left his boarding pass in his carry-on bag that was under X-ray investigation as he was walking through the metal detector. With multiple people (PA system included) barking around orders or warnings, a highly stressful environment, and maybe half of travelers speaking English natively.. it's an error-prone operation. But what is strikingly different in the US is how people seem to feel good about themselves by bringing others down; for instance, the same security guy who said, "don't put your backpack or bag into a tray before putting it on the belt - it's already in a container, so it wouldn't make much sense to put it in another." What the hell, I've been in airports that mandated I put my carry-on bag inside their too-small tray.

Back to the point, you'd never hear anything like that in Japan - you would have to screw up quite monumentally or run into a real prick (who would most likely NOT be working a service job). As a quick aside: no, this will not be solely dedicated to suggesting that Japan has the best culture on earth - indeed, there are plenty of things that aren't so good here, and I hope to discuss as much as I can in my time here. (Do you really think any culture could be "best"?) I'll add some more musings later, but I'd like to get this posted so you all have something to read. I've got a backlog of stuff to write about, but for now I will begin my work. Bai bai.

Takeoff

2007-08-21T17:56:00.000-07:00

My voyage to Japan begins at LAX, probably the largest and most cumbersome of airports to take an international flight from. The TSA asks you to arrive two hours ahead of time under the pretense of security, and if standing around in lines until you are near collapse is their intent, then LAX puts Fort Knox to shame. From the time I was dropped off until sitting on the runway, I must have spent the full 120 minutes in a near-robotic mode: wait, detect movement, follow a step, wait... If I were to fly out from there again, here's what I would do differently: pay the sky-caps a meager sum to take my bags from the street immediately instead of waiting in line to check them, sit and read for 1.5 hours while eating/drinking the food I brought, wait until my flight is almost boarding and run to the staff, telling them I need to get through security ASAP, cut in line in front of 200 or so sorry bastards (savor this moment as everyone stares at you with utter contempt/envy), walk through the metal-detector and out into freedom. Being white, I can at least entertain this thought, your race-specific results may vary.

Dear TSA: really, why have a queue at all if you're just going to add more people to the front of it every five minutes? Doesn't that defeat the entire point? You have 10x the number of people in your airport, but only 2-3x the extra resources being utilized. That 4th security screening checkpoint that isn't being used? Guess what, you already forked out a million bucks for that machine, why not pony up the extra $6-an-hour for someone to run it? Then you would nearly double your capacity to humiliate and antagonize travelers!

The flight wasn't much of an issue once aboard. Eleven hours in the air is a breeze compared to the madhouse you have to endure on the ground. I didn't strike up any conversation, but it was relaxing to simply sit and read; I finished two of my books and got some sleep in-between. The in-flight dinner sucked a lot less than usual, with 80% of the items qualifying as "edible" and an astounding 50% of those being items you wouldn't later feel guilty or disgusted at having consumed (they always have that "motion discomfort" baggie just in case). Yes, I fly economy-class.

More to come as time permits - it would be rude to arrive here and immediately lock myself in when so many people are waiting to introduce themselves. As a quick FYI, there is no Internet access at the dormitory. The current procedure is to type out something on my laptop at the dorm, put it on a USB stick, take it in to work (security implications!), and upload it from the net-bound PC here. This will be remedied sooner or later, but sadly not soon enough.

First post!

2007-08-21T03:18:00.003-07:00

When attempting to register a URL for this blog, not only was "guyjin" already taken, but in my frustration I discovered that "allthegoodnamesaretaken" was too. Wow.

More to come soon..