How is everyone today? Good I hope. Upon the request of a friend I am going to let you all know what a usual day for me is here at Sapientia University, or Eichi University; we have two names here and most people still have never heard of the school (or schools...Depends who you ask). So here it is.....
7:30am-Wake up, stretch, and go for a run. Hahahahahaha. Just kidding. I'm usually still sleeping about this time; but there was this one time when I got up and went for a jog. It was alright and all. But I really like sleeping too.
between 9 and 9:20am-Usually the time to get up. I have my first class at 9:30, so I at least need to splash some water on my face and go pee. Most of the time I wish that I had some breakfast, but I am really bad about grocery shopping...mostly because the stores only have products with some sort of a foreign writing. So unless I want to live off of noodles that only require hot water, cereal, or food products of that nature, I have to either get my meals from a convenience store (which isn't all bad), or I have to learn to read, cook, and eat mostly all Japanese. Which isn't going to happen anytime too soon.
9:30-Class. Okay, so I will break down the best and the worst things about my students. Best: they are always and usually constantly amusing. Some speak English very well and some don't really want to try. The classes that I teach are non-credit courses and are used by the students to merely assist them in speaking English more naturally. Therefore most of the students have a very good understanding of how to speak, or they at least know a few words. This is good as I am not really an expert in such things as linguistics or in teaching English as a foreign language; as many of you may know my own English skills have often been brought into question, the best example being when I took the ACT and received an 8 on the Grammar Usage and Mechanics section. Don't let 'em know. They rely heavily on standardized tests and are likely to take my score as losing face. I don't know about you but I am a sucker for peer pressure and one of the only ways to regain face (or respect) is that fancy ritualistically suicide, and I don't know if I would be able to say "no" if they asked me to help them out in the aforementioned way. Seriously though, this is a horrible cultural joke. The Japanese practice of harakiri (はらきり) has essentially ceased since Japan has become more westernized since opening it's doors again in 1853, after 213 years of total isolation. I am sure that some still take part in this exciting ritual; but it is no more apart of their daily life now as lynching is in America.
Moving on...
I teach classes from about 9:30 until 4pm. Not a bad day. On my busy days I have classes back to back, but there are a few days a week when I have some free time. Which is not all bad think that the hardest part about teaching here is that I don't know how well I am doing. No one really wants to criticize or offer up suggestions...Maybe that's a good thing.
Nighttime: Well, my nights are quite varied. Usually they involve eating and sleeping. Sometimes we jump on the train and head out to Umeda (station within the city of Osaka). Some nights I cook dinner...or at least eat a sandwich that I bought at the local convenience store. One thing I don't do too much of is watch TV. As mentioned before this option is pretty much not there. But I do rent videos of the great American TV show 24. It's pretty darn good.
Pretty exciting huh...You may be thinking, "well Dan I expected a little more than that. But it does sound different." Well it isn't all bad. There are some other things that I have left out. But they are difficult to explain. The people's expressions when I am on the streets are interesting. They are neither ever happy nor surprised by me. Not too many smiles nor too many scowls. Just blah looks. See I can't explain it.
Well I think that I am about done with this post. Sorry if I didn't do it any justice Erik. It was a good idea. I just screwed it a bit. Alright then. Take care. I love you all.
12.16.2004
12.09.2004
How have you been?
Well my friends it has been a while. Sorry for the delay in humor and insightful enlightenment on the Japanese culture, but I was away for a bit. But now I am back. To those of you that may not know, my Grandmother passed away recently and I journeyed back to the States to pay my respects and attend the funeral. For this reason I would like to dedicate this post to the life that she led.
Those of you that know me well enough know that I love to tell the few tales of her life that I knew. And the details that I did not know usually materialized in the moments when I was mid-story and did not know how to tie it together. I have often thought about the life that I only know second-hand; it must have been amazing to live, yet I am sure that it would have been far too much for most of us to bare. It is a bit of an essential thought to think that her life was the pinnacle of difficulty, but then again it is all that I ever knew of such a thing. I am rambling; let's get focused again (second attempt, new paragraph).
Each of our journeys through life are relatively simple. You wake up each day, you make a serious of choices, and you go back to bed. The next day is effected by the past day and by those around us. But no matter what we awake, we think, and we sleep. Each day is a microcosm of life; birth, toil and trouble, death. Therefore, is my life more difficult than my grandmother's? Or is it just as complicated in it's own way? I think that my grandmother would think it is. Not because it involved the same struggles, but moreover because she didn't like to argue. Pacifism always trumps perspective.
I have lived an interesting life; if it were a novel it would be by no means a bestseller, or even a selection for a list of recommended reading by any elementary teacher. I think that it would have be popular with my friends and family; but only because they are just interested enough to see how they would be portrayed. Now if it were a movie...It wouldn't even be stocked on the shelves of Blockbuster or even Family Video. But if it were transcribed to any form of popular media it would, without a doubt, be shelved in the library of congress. As everything is there. Where is that building? And why is it that they collect everything? Why is it that they don't have a book mobile? My story really should get out somehow.
So how are you? Are you happy at the moment? Maybe a little sad to hear about my Grandma. If so than thanks for the care, but save the sympathy for those that need it as I am sure that she is more than delighted with her current situation. What is happiness anyway? I find happiness in the distant, almost even absent, gaze of someone when I am talking to them. Because it is at this point that I know they are no longer listening to me but are instead thinking of something that makes them happy. It is at such a point in our conversation that something in their mind has clicked and they are now thinking about maybe past memories, or maybe I reminded them that they have to tend to something before too long. I know that I always enjoy being subconsciously reminded of something. It really takes away a lot of the pressure of life. I always hated it when something, or someone, reminds me of something that I absolutely have to do at point blank range.
One of my favorite, yet subtle, memories of College would have to be when I was on a Leadership Retreat with about 20 people I either didn't know, and some that I just didn't like, and we were sitting around a campfire (how "retreat" like, no?). And someone decided that we ask deeply involving questions of each other...You know, intellectual stuff. And the question of, "if you were going to die tomorrow how would you spend your last day?" Or at least something like that. When it finally got to me I think that the question had been reduced to, "how would you spend your last hour," or something like that (at least in my mind). And I had thought about this seemingly empty question for sometime, as everyone before me was taking their stab at being poetic or materialistic in deciding their dying day. Before I opened my mouth I had it all figured out, I was going to beat them all down and make them cry...Because I was sure that if anybody knew beauty or poetry it was obviously me. But as I opened my mouth my heart took over and all I said was that I would want to spend the last hour of my life with my family and friends in silence, just looking into each others eyes and celebrating the lives that we had lived together in thought. I still believe that. Thoughts and spoken words are too sporadic; at least when you write you can edit or at least be reminded that things aren't always as good as you think they are. But silence is best.
My grandma didn't speak much. But I could still feel the weight of her desires, emotions, and regrets; even now that she is gone. The worst thing about Japan though is that I now have one more regret to an ignorantly un-regretful life; I never got to look in her eyes and motion good-bye with my tears and tell her I loved her with my smile. Oh well. It's all about experience. Right Grandma?
Those of you that know me well enough know that I love to tell the few tales of her life that I knew. And the details that I did not know usually materialized in the moments when I was mid-story and did not know how to tie it together. I have often thought about the life that I only know second-hand; it must have been amazing to live, yet I am sure that it would have been far too much for most of us to bare. It is a bit of an essential thought to think that her life was the pinnacle of difficulty, but then again it is all that I ever knew of such a thing. I am rambling; let's get focused again (second attempt, new paragraph).
Each of our journeys through life are relatively simple. You wake up each day, you make a serious of choices, and you go back to bed. The next day is effected by the past day and by those around us. But no matter what we awake, we think, and we sleep. Each day is a microcosm of life; birth, toil and trouble, death. Therefore, is my life more difficult than my grandmother's? Or is it just as complicated in it's own way? I think that my grandmother would think it is. Not because it involved the same struggles, but moreover because she didn't like to argue. Pacifism always trumps perspective.
I have lived an interesting life; if it were a novel it would be by no means a bestseller, or even a selection for a list of recommended reading by any elementary teacher. I think that it would have be popular with my friends and family; but only because they are just interested enough to see how they would be portrayed. Now if it were a movie...It wouldn't even be stocked on the shelves of Blockbuster or even Family Video. But if it were transcribed to any form of popular media it would, without a doubt, be shelved in the library of congress. As everything is there. Where is that building? And why is it that they collect everything? Why is it that they don't have a book mobile? My story really should get out somehow.
So how are you? Are you happy at the moment? Maybe a little sad to hear about my Grandma. If so than thanks for the care, but save the sympathy for those that need it as I am sure that she is more than delighted with her current situation. What is happiness anyway? I find happiness in the distant, almost even absent, gaze of someone when I am talking to them. Because it is at this point that I know they are no longer listening to me but are instead thinking of something that makes them happy. It is at such a point in our conversation that something in their mind has clicked and they are now thinking about maybe past memories, or maybe I reminded them that they have to tend to something before too long. I know that I always enjoy being subconsciously reminded of something. It really takes away a lot of the pressure of life. I always hated it when something, or someone, reminds me of something that I absolutely have to do at point blank range.
One of my favorite, yet subtle, memories of College would have to be when I was on a Leadership Retreat with about 20 people I either didn't know, and some that I just didn't like, and we were sitting around a campfire (how "retreat" like, no?). And someone decided that we ask deeply involving questions of each other...You know, intellectual stuff. And the question of, "if you were going to die tomorrow how would you spend your last day?" Or at least something like that. When it finally got to me I think that the question had been reduced to, "how would you spend your last hour," or something like that (at least in my mind). And I had thought about this seemingly empty question for sometime, as everyone before me was taking their stab at being poetic or materialistic in deciding their dying day. Before I opened my mouth I had it all figured out, I was going to beat them all down and make them cry...Because I was sure that if anybody knew beauty or poetry it was obviously me. But as I opened my mouth my heart took over and all I said was that I would want to spend the last hour of my life with my family and friends in silence, just looking into each others eyes and celebrating the lives that we had lived together in thought. I still believe that. Thoughts and spoken words are too sporadic; at least when you write you can edit or at least be reminded that things aren't always as good as you think they are. But silence is best.
My grandma didn't speak much. But I could still feel the weight of her desires, emotions, and regrets; even now that she is gone. The worst thing about Japan though is that I now have one more regret to an ignorantly un-regretful life; I never got to look in her eyes and motion good-bye with my tears and tell her I loved her with my smile. Oh well. It's all about experience. Right Grandma?
11.15.2004
J-Pan Boogie, duhdadanant, duhdadanant, J-Pan Boogie, duhdadanant, duhdadanant…
To begin this day’s update I shall first tell you a funny little story; here she goes. So I was out to eat at a fine little restaurant (where I ate a pizza with lil’ smokey’s, you know, those funny little snausages, ham, and hardboiled egg…I didn’t even request these toppings, it’s just what’s popular here I guess) and was chatting away with a fellow Loras grad and I began to take note of a discomforting presence in my nose, a bat in the cave if you will. I began to poke at it slightly and inconspicuously. Soon enough I realized that my efforts were futile and that it was embedded like a CNN reporter in Iraq. After a quick recon of the table top I noticed a real rarity here in Japan: napkins (this may sound odd, because it is…hardly any of the restaurants here give you napkins of any sort. But they do give you warm towels…which are quite nice). So I grabbed one of the free paper products occupying the corner of our cozy nook and answered the life long question of, “How do you make a napkin dance? You put a little boogie in it!” Ha. Really though I honked away in the napkin until I took care of the little nose insurgent with extreme prejudice and quite a bit of malice as well. Cultural note: Japanese people are really “into” cleanliness. This means that when they are sick they wear those little surgical masks in public. Needless to say I thought that I was about to have a lynch mob surround me and find the nearest bonsai over 6’5”. Boy oh boy was my face red! As soon as I opened my eyes after a resounding and pleasing blow I caught the glare of at least six or seven people’s eyes burning their Japanese hate rays deep into my soul. Okay, that was at least how I felt; but after a quick and honest, “すみません,” or “Sumimasen,” those that were previously staring at me were now laughing at me. I think that they caught onto the fact that I was not bringing the second coming of SARS, but was just in my own world and had forgotten that this place is a little uptight about germs…I am just glad that no body informed them of cooties.
Side story: last year when the SARS epidemic hit China this fine little country that I am temporarily calling home began to fear an invasion. Not the little commies themselves, just their disease. Then the poo hit the ceiling fan in the form of a visitor that later obtained the virus after returning home to the land of Mao. In order to secure the future of J-Pan the government decided that a purge must take place. Not to be confused with past atrocities or pending genocides. I am speaking strictly of germs that may have been left behind by the now is sick, but once was fine, tourist. They began at the airport and continued to visit each and every place that the man had visited; with determined and spectacular zeal. It was major news, or so those that were here tell me. Everyday there were headlines revealing where it was that the man had visited. For example, “Sources say he went to Universal Studios Japan, Cleaning Imminent!” or something like that…I wouldn’t know exactly as I was absent.
“So, what else is new?” you may be thinking. Well you have caught me on a good day, one in which I feel like writing about all of the things that I haven’t really informed you of. For example: have I told you about the bikes in this country? Whew, there are a lot. However I will not take you down the path of boring detail about such things. But I will give you a rough outline of such a boring topic. Here it goes: the bicycles here are all like my older sister’s old bike (yes the one that I used to ride and consequently left outside without a lock and am guilty of allowing it to be stolen. Sorry Sarah) so back to the bikes, they are all shaped similar to those littering the beaches of Florida retirement community, this is to say that they all have the lowered middle bar, curved handles, and long, slender fenders. Another standard option is the stylish and oh so attractive basket. They are a little feminine, but for some odd reason they are also a lot of fun. I once read an article in a magazine given to me by a co-worker that described the adventures of a freakin’ idiot that decided to ride his bike everywhere for a month. Of course it was a tale of fitness and fun! Or that was the yarn that the writer wanted to spin. I didn’t buy it. But then I came here. A land in which you have no choice whether or not you want to ride a bike. My often find my subconscious giving me little pep talks that sound similar to this dialogue, “Do you want to go somewhere? Well get your rear on your bike and peddle fatty.”
As one could guess the furniture in this country is quite similar to the people, places, and things: small. Before leaving the states I told many people that I was expecting to break many different things; such as chairs and other random objects. This was mostly as joke, but nonetheless, I thought that it would be inevitable. Up until now I have proven myself wrong and have left much of the furniture weakened, but not in pieces. Yeah for me. But I cannot say the same for bicycle tires; of which I have gone through two. Explanation: the first was on the bike that I inherited upon arrival. It was a fine bike, at least I am sure that it was quite a catch back in the late 70’s when it was in it’s prime. But by the time that I got to it she was creakin’ more than a geriatric jazzer-cizer bending over to put on her leotard. Not to mention the fact that the tires were as worn as my lovely friend and former co-worker’s knees after a weekend of playing “cops and robbers” with his long time friend and man in uniform.
Bottom line: the bike was old. I am dumb. I did not have a tire gauge and inflated the tires way too much so “pop” went the back tire. Not my fault; at least as far as I am concerned. Next week I purchased my own bicycle as I thought that it would make more sense then me paying to get the old piece of poo fixed.
So I picked out the nice baby blue one. It was the cheapest one and I thought that the color would assist in me being able to identify it in public more easily as I often forget where I parked my bike. No I am not always drunk, but there are a lot, and trust me I mean a lot, of bikes in this country.
And then there was the second tire. Okay, so this one may leave me with a little more guilt then the last. I was stupid and tried to jump up on some stairs with my new and smooth blue bike. Whoops. Not a good idea, I admit it. But here’s the kicker: I was given a ride early last Saturday in a truck, with bike in tow, to a place that would fix the ole girl up. When we arrived I noticed that I did not bring my bike key (all bikes in Japan have a really simple lock that is attached directly above the tire of choice, either front or back, that simply slips between the bike frame and in-between the spokes, thus limiting the movement of the tire. Think of what happens when you place a stick between the spokes of a person’s bike: it stops or at least ceases to be able to move. わかりますか？wakarimasuka-do you understand?).
My ride left after we were informed that it would take about 30 minutes to get the bike fixed. I was tired and feeling a little absent minded and said my goodbyes without a second thought. What could possibly be the problem? I was about to have my fairly new bike back in tip top shape in about 20 more minutes. Right? Oh yeah…I forgot the key.
After 30 minutes the bike was ready to go; but I wasn’t. Ho hum. Oh well. So I hoisted the completely working and just repaired bicycle over my shoulder and began my ten-minute walk back to my home.
As stated before I feel a little out of place at times. Especially when in public. Well this time things were a little different. This time people stared for a little longer and wondered a little harder, or so I am convinced. I really do wish that I could have spoken Japanese at this point and time in my journey; because I would have loved to tell each and every one of them, “I’m stealing this bike. You wouldn’t happen to have a saw or something like that would you?” How would they have responded? I think that they would have looked in their trunk for me; they really are so kind and submissive. But I could only imagine that many of the people who crossed my path began to think, “damn. I wish that I could speak English. I’d love to tell that idiot that he’s supposed to ride that thing not carry it. Poor guy. No wonder Bush got re-elected…”
Well I’ll have to be honest; I think that you got off lucky this time. I was going to go into detail about some of the food that I ate this weekend, as it was a little uncommon from the general experience that I have gotten while I’ve been here. But I am almost to three pages…oops, I mean four…and I honestly don’t think that many of you have the time or patience to read this much. But I will tell you that this past weekend I picked at the head of a squid covered in Mayonnaise. During the same treat I also ate an unidentified food-item, which I would like to remain unknown to be honest. You know that piece of the chicken, I think that it is the tale-bone or something like that, that is really rubbery but still semi-soft? You know the one; it’s chewy enough that you will keep it in your mouth for about 20 seconds before you spit it into your napkin and then cut into your piece of chicken at which point you notice that there is a whole chunk of semi-bone/cartilage like substance on your plate. Well I ate a whole bowl of something like that.
There was actually one point this weekend when I really wanted to take detailed notes of the shit that they eat here because you really wouldn’t believe it. If you have ever thought that seaweed, or kelp, was strange then you should try what is referred to as “devils tongue.” Half the time I can’t tell if a food item is animal, mineral, or human waste. Enough is enough. Have a good one and I hope that you have a nice day.
Side story: last year when the SARS epidemic hit China this fine little country that I am temporarily calling home began to fear an invasion. Not the little commies themselves, just their disease. Then the poo hit the ceiling fan in the form of a visitor that later obtained the virus after returning home to the land of Mao. In order to secure the future of J-Pan the government decided that a purge must take place. Not to be confused with past atrocities or pending genocides. I am speaking strictly of germs that may have been left behind by the now is sick, but once was fine, tourist. They began at the airport and continued to visit each and every place that the man had visited; with determined and spectacular zeal. It was major news, or so those that were here tell me. Everyday there were headlines revealing where it was that the man had visited. For example, “Sources say he went to Universal Studios Japan, Cleaning Imminent!” or something like that…I wouldn’t know exactly as I was absent.
“So, what else is new?” you may be thinking. Well you have caught me on a good day, one in which I feel like writing about all of the things that I haven’t really informed you of. For example: have I told you about the bikes in this country? Whew, there are a lot. However I will not take you down the path of boring detail about such things. But I will give you a rough outline of such a boring topic. Here it goes: the bicycles here are all like my older sister’s old bike (yes the one that I used to ride and consequently left outside without a lock and am guilty of allowing it to be stolen. Sorry Sarah) so back to the bikes, they are all shaped similar to those littering the beaches of Florida retirement community, this is to say that they all have the lowered middle bar, curved handles, and long, slender fenders. Another standard option is the stylish and oh so attractive basket. They are a little feminine, but for some odd reason they are also a lot of fun. I once read an article in a magazine given to me by a co-worker that described the adventures of a freakin’ idiot that decided to ride his bike everywhere for a month. Of course it was a tale of fitness and fun! Or that was the yarn that the writer wanted to spin. I didn’t buy it. But then I came here. A land in which you have no choice whether or not you want to ride a bike. My often find my subconscious giving me little pep talks that sound similar to this dialogue, “Do you want to go somewhere? Well get your rear on your bike and peddle fatty.”
As one could guess the furniture in this country is quite similar to the people, places, and things: small. Before leaving the states I told many people that I was expecting to break many different things; such as chairs and other random objects. This was mostly as joke, but nonetheless, I thought that it would be inevitable. Up until now I have proven myself wrong and have left much of the furniture weakened, but not in pieces. Yeah for me. But I cannot say the same for bicycle tires; of which I have gone through two. Explanation: the first was on the bike that I inherited upon arrival. It was a fine bike, at least I am sure that it was quite a catch back in the late 70’s when it was in it’s prime. But by the time that I got to it she was creakin’ more than a geriatric jazzer-cizer bending over to put on her leotard. Not to mention the fact that the tires were as worn as my lovely friend and former co-worker’s knees after a weekend of playing “cops and robbers” with his long time friend and man in uniform.
Bottom line: the bike was old. I am dumb. I did not have a tire gauge and inflated the tires way too much so “pop” went the back tire. Not my fault; at least as far as I am concerned. Next week I purchased my own bicycle as I thought that it would make more sense then me paying to get the old piece of poo fixed.
So I picked out the nice baby blue one. It was the cheapest one and I thought that the color would assist in me being able to identify it in public more easily as I often forget where I parked my bike. No I am not always drunk, but there are a lot, and trust me I mean a lot, of bikes in this country.
And then there was the second tire. Okay, so this one may leave me with a little more guilt then the last. I was stupid and tried to jump up on some stairs with my new and smooth blue bike. Whoops. Not a good idea, I admit it. But here’s the kicker: I was given a ride early last Saturday in a truck, with bike in tow, to a place that would fix the ole girl up. When we arrived I noticed that I did not bring my bike key (all bikes in Japan have a really simple lock that is attached directly above the tire of choice, either front or back, that simply slips between the bike frame and in-between the spokes, thus limiting the movement of the tire. Think of what happens when you place a stick between the spokes of a person’s bike: it stops or at least ceases to be able to move. わかりますか？wakarimasuka-do you understand?).
My ride left after we were informed that it would take about 30 minutes to get the bike fixed. I was tired and feeling a little absent minded and said my goodbyes without a second thought. What could possibly be the problem? I was about to have my fairly new bike back in tip top shape in about 20 more minutes. Right? Oh yeah…I forgot the key.
After 30 minutes the bike was ready to go; but I wasn’t. Ho hum. Oh well. So I hoisted the completely working and just repaired bicycle over my shoulder and began my ten-minute walk back to my home.
As stated before I feel a little out of place at times. Especially when in public. Well this time things were a little different. This time people stared for a little longer and wondered a little harder, or so I am convinced. I really do wish that I could have spoken Japanese at this point and time in my journey; because I would have loved to tell each and every one of them, “I’m stealing this bike. You wouldn’t happen to have a saw or something like that would you?” How would they have responded? I think that they would have looked in their trunk for me; they really are so kind and submissive. But I could only imagine that many of the people who crossed my path began to think, “damn. I wish that I could speak English. I’d love to tell that idiot that he’s supposed to ride that thing not carry it. Poor guy. No wonder Bush got re-elected…”
Well I’ll have to be honest; I think that you got off lucky this time. I was going to go into detail about some of the food that I ate this weekend, as it was a little uncommon from the general experience that I have gotten while I’ve been here. But I am almost to three pages…oops, I mean four…and I honestly don’t think that many of you have the time or patience to read this much. But I will tell you that this past weekend I picked at the head of a squid covered in Mayonnaise. During the same treat I also ate an unidentified food-item, which I would like to remain unknown to be honest. You know that piece of the chicken, I think that it is the tale-bone or something like that, that is really rubbery but still semi-soft? You know the one; it’s chewy enough that you will keep it in your mouth for about 20 seconds before you spit it into your napkin and then cut into your piece of chicken at which point you notice that there is a whole chunk of semi-bone/cartilage like substance on your plate. Well I ate a whole bowl of something like that.
There was actually one point this weekend when I really wanted to take detailed notes of the shit that they eat here because you really wouldn’t believe it. If you have ever thought that seaweed, or kelp, was strange then you should try what is referred to as “devils tongue.” Half the time I can’t tell if a food item is animal, mineral, or human waste. Enough is enough. Have a good one and I hope that you have a nice day.
11.12.2004
"How's the shitzu?" "Tastes like crap."
It has been a while my friends. Over this little sabbatical I can only hope that I have not lost both of my readers. Come on guys; don’t give up on me yet…
Well nothing to new to report. Life is fair here in J-Pan. I am currently learning the language and have stayed out of bad bar situations for some time now. Recently I have been thinking about what I could write that I have not discussed before. There’s been weird experiences, food troubles, geography, nature, activities…just about everything. But I haven’t talked about the women. Oh the women. These confusing beasts are even stranger then the semi-domesticated creatures of the fairer sex at home.
I shall explain: you see, the Japanese society is extremely sexist. Now this isn’t your regular little slap on the rump, you look good “toots” sexism; it is institutionalized and heavily social. You know how people in America usually now scoff at the idea that the color pink represents girl and that blue means…boy, that’s right (good job). Well I am pretty sure that there are many individuals my age in Japan that still believe such things. This is only really scratching the surface as well. In one of my conversation classes a student informed the class that they were going to be taking a survey on what people look for in a partner (romantic partner that is…you know, dating material). I then took her survey and made it the topic of the class; I was curious, what do these people look for that may be different then myself? Hmmmmm….Well, I then found out that they seem to look for many of the same qualities that we do; such as sense of humor, communication, etc. Not too different then what you or I may look for in someone to grow old with. But then they spoke up, they being the older women in the class (mid-40’s or younger), and informed all of the younger women that they had better quit thinking about things like that and instead just go for the money. Honestly, they said that the most important thing about love was that you marry someone with wealth. This definitely was not the style of gold-digging that I was used to seeing; they were extremely overt about their aims and honest in their reasoning. Which was that each of their husbands had changed after they got married and that they had to then rely on money for their subsequent happiness. Wow. Now you may think to yourself, “Dan you big ninny, what does this have to do with sexism?” Well my response to you would simply be, “Well what do you think that created and fed the beast that these women now are if not their sexist husbands?” Question with a question…I know, shut up. It’s just sexism. The women here are a lot like the bicycles: they are very useful, many used for a long time leaving the rider happy and fulfilled. Others go through many in one year and do not think twice about it. But the biggest similarity rests in the fact that both are looked at and used simply as necessary utilities. Sad isn’t it? Oh well Japanese men are ugly. Who cares if they only marry the monsters that they have created.
Oh wait, there is more on relationships. Some parts of Asia still use the old school of thought and believe that when one gets married they have to then buy a house that is big enough not only for them and their newly betrothed, but also for the husband’s parents (if he is the oldest in the family) or the wife (if she is the oldest of a family of only daughters). When this occurs, especially with men whose parents move in, the wife is placed at the bottom of the pecking order and is used only as maid to the parents with the mother in-law usually barking out orders and administrating the home front. This may not be a shock to many of you, but did you know that they still really eat dogs in China? Seriously, dogs man. And horses too. I haven’t asked about monkey brains yet…but I got a feeling that I am going to get a big, “hai” on that question. Now that’s shocking.
Bottom line: to those of you who thought that I was going to bring home a Japanese, or just any ole Asian, bride I say to all of you now, “fat chance.” I can’t stand the way that they think, let alone understand what they are saying. Plus I really don’t want to have to live with her parents if her mother is an evil old hag (funny anecdote: do you know why it is that so many Japanese old women wear hats? Because they have horns. Or at least that is what I was told. The punch line was then followed up with the explanation that this is because “they are evil…like devils or snakes”). Ha. Crazy eastern mythology…So, rest assured mom, I’ll stick with women that you can berate in English. Ha.
Ps: they do have Chinese food in Japan, no dog though.
Well nothing to new to report. Life is fair here in J-Pan. I am currently learning the language and have stayed out of bad bar situations for some time now. Recently I have been thinking about what I could write that I have not discussed before. There’s been weird experiences, food troubles, geography, nature, activities…just about everything. But I haven’t talked about the women. Oh the women. These confusing beasts are even stranger then the semi-domesticated creatures of the fairer sex at home.
I shall explain: you see, the Japanese society is extremely sexist. Now this isn’t your regular little slap on the rump, you look good “toots” sexism; it is institutionalized and heavily social. You know how people in America usually now scoff at the idea that the color pink represents girl and that blue means…boy, that’s right (good job). Well I am pretty sure that there are many individuals my age in Japan that still believe such things. This is only really scratching the surface as well. In one of my conversation classes a student informed the class that they were going to be taking a survey on what people look for in a partner (romantic partner that is…you know, dating material). I then took her survey and made it the topic of the class; I was curious, what do these people look for that may be different then myself? Hmmmmm….Well, I then found out that they seem to look for many of the same qualities that we do; such as sense of humor, communication, etc. Not too different then what you or I may look for in someone to grow old with. But then they spoke up, they being the older women in the class (mid-40’s or younger), and informed all of the younger women that they had better quit thinking about things like that and instead just go for the money. Honestly, they said that the most important thing about love was that you marry someone with wealth. This definitely was not the style of gold-digging that I was used to seeing; they were extremely overt about their aims and honest in their reasoning. Which was that each of their husbands had changed after they got married and that they had to then rely on money for their subsequent happiness. Wow. Now you may think to yourself, “Dan you big ninny, what does this have to do with sexism?” Well my response to you would simply be, “Well what do you think that created and fed the beast that these women now are if not their sexist husbands?” Question with a question…I know, shut up. It’s just sexism. The women here are a lot like the bicycles: they are very useful, many used for a long time leaving the rider happy and fulfilled. Others go through many in one year and do not think twice about it. But the biggest similarity rests in the fact that both are looked at and used simply as necessary utilities. Sad isn’t it? Oh well Japanese men are ugly. Who cares if they only marry the monsters that they have created.
Oh wait, there is more on relationships. Some parts of Asia still use the old school of thought and believe that when one gets married they have to then buy a house that is big enough not only for them and their newly betrothed, but also for the husband’s parents (if he is the oldest in the family) or the wife (if she is the oldest of a family of only daughters). When this occurs, especially with men whose parents move in, the wife is placed at the bottom of the pecking order and is used only as maid to the parents with the mother in-law usually barking out orders and administrating the home front. This may not be a shock to many of you, but did you know that they still really eat dogs in China? Seriously, dogs man. And horses too. I haven’t asked about monkey brains yet…but I got a feeling that I am going to get a big, “hai” on that question. Now that’s shocking.
Bottom line: to those of you who thought that I was going to bring home a Japanese, or just any ole Asian, bride I say to all of you now, “fat chance.” I can’t stand the way that they think, let alone understand what they are saying. Plus I really don’t want to have to live with her parents if her mother is an evil old hag (funny anecdote: do you know why it is that so many Japanese old women wear hats? Because they have horns. Or at least that is what I was told. The punch line was then followed up with the explanation that this is because “they are evil…like devils or snakes”). Ha. Crazy eastern mythology…So, rest assured mom, I’ll stick with women that you can berate in English. Ha.
Ps: they do have Chinese food in Japan, no dog though.
11.04.2004
Kind of like Kishwaulkee, but a little higher Altitude
I would like to begin by thanking everyone for caring so greatly about yours truly.
Beauties never thought Possible...
Well, I have seen what I thought was only made for the movies in Japan. The countryside. This week has been pretty kind to me. I didn’t have to work the past few days (as we were having a campus festival, and all of the teachers were given some time off). Therefore I thought that it would be good to get out of town.
Heading out for the second time by myself I didn’t know exactly what it was that I wanted to do or where I was going to go. Then it dawned on me that I hadn’t been anywhere yet where the trees were taller than the buildings; so I headed out to the mountain, Mt. Rokko.
After navigating my way through the city and onto the train I was headed out towards the mountain; which was easy, they stick out a bit. I then found a bus and through the few words that I do know I found someone going to the top.
Now the tough part; how do I describe this? I have been in an area that is constantly surrounded by buildings, cars, bikes, businesses, people, and so many other things that provide elements for headaches that to see or experience something different was to experience Japan again for the first time. It was beautiful.
The bus drove up the steep hills cut into the side of the mountain so slowly that I didn’t know whether to gasp for breath because of the height and it’s consequent fear or because of the sight of the area I was slowly escaping. It was amazing.
When I reached the conservation center at the top I immediately began to wander. Eventually I found a path and set out taking pictures, about three rolls within an hour…a little overkill maybe, but I was happy. After walking around in the bright sunlight I began to realize that I this was a first, I hadn’t seen or heard someone for about an hour…weird. It was nice, but it had to end.
Wandering and than turning back around to go home I experienced a little rejuvenation. Japan ain’t so bad.
Kyoto
Still having time off a new day dawned; today it was off to Kyoto. Kyoto was one of the only cities saved from the attacks upon Japan during world war two; therefore it is a little more traditional than the area that I live in now. We were all set to go and see the golden palace, once a playground of the Emperor, it is now a bit of a temple and a bit of a tourist attraction. It was quite an astounding place. Painted all gold and stuff…but there were too many people. But it was cool to see some of the more traditional architecture and ornaments.
Then it was off to the movieland…woo hoo! Okay, so have you ever seen those horrible samurai movies that they sometimes show on late-night tv? You know, the ones that are all dubbed over and have those horrible bad-guys or maybe even monsters? Or have you at least seen “Big Trouble in Little China Town,” starring Kurt Russell? Because if you haven’t then you must go and rent it. Well anyway, I went to one of the places that they keep some of the sets and props from such blockbuster films. Imagine universal studios in the 1980’s, because that’s about what it was. No startling visual effects or amazing feats here…just robotic dragon heads popping out from behind fake hills and mountains while scary water flowed faster.
The highlight had to be when we waited in line for about 20 minutes to enjoy one of the main “attractions.” It was an exciting ride called, “To the Office.” After sitting in a chair made for someone slightly smaller than I the lights went out and the screen came up, it was off to work for me. After skiing down a mountain, taking a boat ride, and then jumping onto a motorcycle (all of which felt the same thanks to the chair) I finally made it to work. How exciting. But then I found out that I worked with the 7 God’s of…something (past actors from this amazing movie house). Oh what fun! It was totally lame…dude.
So, after walking around a little bit more my companions and I began to wonder why it was that we had paid the \2,200 to get into here. Then we remembered the words of the cabbie who asked if we were going to try the haunted house, which cost an extra \500. Would it be as “great” as the last ride? Who knows? We sure didn’t and weren’t sure if we wanted to pay anymore money for some lame stuff. But then again, we were curious. Needless to say it was one of the best and most frightening things I have experienced, outside of the man in the ape mask from Halloween. There were fake, or so I thought, dead bodies everywhere; along with some people in costume hiding and waiting to make me wet my pants. And did you ever see The Ring? Because I am pretty sure that the girl from the video lives in that haunted house. One of the best parts: we are walking along with me leading when we turn a corner and see another figure with extremely long matted hair standing in front of me, I think to myself “she is so alive,” just as someone asks, “is she alive?” and another responds, “no she is fake, it’s okay, really, we are almost done.” Well, he was wrong and he did a good job of losing someone’s confidence that day as the long-haired kimono wearing woman jumped on top of the scared girls in the middle making them collapse to floor crying. Ha. What a blast.
So the cost was made up and things were alright.
We then headed out for a nice dinner and ended up in a Tijuana-Prison-like hell at a place called “Mexican,” there may have been more, but this was the English translation offered on the sign. The food contained far too much egg and not enough beans and the tacos tasted like rump-roast (without the tasty carrots and potatoes). It was interesting to say the least; and then he started singing. His singing was like karaoke as suicide is to murder. Ouch, my ears still hurt. But at least he was taking requests; but he wanted money for them. “Please, here, have my money and make me sick.” It’s not like I was trying to get out of gym class by coming here (you get it, sickness, gym class…).
Well, I’ve talked enough. If I save up my money maybe I will get the pictures developed from the past few days and try to learn how to scan and post them. No promises; If I do get them scanned, and you are interested in some pictures, then please e-mail me. Peace love and happiness.
Beauties never thought Possible...
Well, I have seen what I thought was only made for the movies in Japan. The countryside. This week has been pretty kind to me. I didn’t have to work the past few days (as we were having a campus festival, and all of the teachers were given some time off). Therefore I thought that it would be good to get out of town.
Heading out for the second time by myself I didn’t know exactly what it was that I wanted to do or where I was going to go. Then it dawned on me that I hadn’t been anywhere yet where the trees were taller than the buildings; so I headed out to the mountain, Mt. Rokko.
After navigating my way through the city and onto the train I was headed out towards the mountain; which was easy, they stick out a bit. I then found a bus and through the few words that I do know I found someone going to the top.
Now the tough part; how do I describe this? I have been in an area that is constantly surrounded by buildings, cars, bikes, businesses, people, and so many other things that provide elements for headaches that to see or experience something different was to experience Japan again for the first time. It was beautiful.
The bus drove up the steep hills cut into the side of the mountain so slowly that I didn’t know whether to gasp for breath because of the height and it’s consequent fear or because of the sight of the area I was slowly escaping. It was amazing.
When I reached the conservation center at the top I immediately began to wander. Eventually I found a path and set out taking pictures, about three rolls within an hour…a little overkill maybe, but I was happy. After walking around in the bright sunlight I began to realize that I this was a first, I hadn’t seen or heard someone for about an hour…weird. It was nice, but it had to end.
Wandering and than turning back around to go home I experienced a little rejuvenation. Japan ain’t so bad.
Kyoto
Still having time off a new day dawned; today it was off to Kyoto. Kyoto was one of the only cities saved from the attacks upon Japan during world war two; therefore it is a little more traditional than the area that I live in now. We were all set to go and see the golden palace, once a playground of the Emperor, it is now a bit of a temple and a bit of a tourist attraction. It was quite an astounding place. Painted all gold and stuff…but there were too many people. But it was cool to see some of the more traditional architecture and ornaments.
Then it was off to the movieland…woo hoo! Okay, so have you ever seen those horrible samurai movies that they sometimes show on late-night tv? You know, the ones that are all dubbed over and have those horrible bad-guys or maybe even monsters? Or have you at least seen “Big Trouble in Little China Town,” starring Kurt Russell? Because if you haven’t then you must go and rent it. Well anyway, I went to one of the places that they keep some of the sets and props from such blockbuster films. Imagine universal studios in the 1980’s, because that’s about what it was. No startling visual effects or amazing feats here…just robotic dragon heads popping out from behind fake hills and mountains while scary water flowed faster.
The highlight had to be when we waited in line for about 20 minutes to enjoy one of the main “attractions.” It was an exciting ride called, “To the Office.” After sitting in a chair made for someone slightly smaller than I the lights went out and the screen came up, it was off to work for me. After skiing down a mountain, taking a boat ride, and then jumping onto a motorcycle (all of which felt the same thanks to the chair) I finally made it to work. How exciting. But then I found out that I worked with the 7 God’s of…something (past actors from this amazing movie house). Oh what fun! It was totally lame…dude.
So, after walking around a little bit more my companions and I began to wonder why it was that we had paid the \2,200 to get into here. Then we remembered the words of the cabbie who asked if we were going to try the haunted house, which cost an extra \500. Would it be as “great” as the last ride? Who knows? We sure didn’t and weren’t sure if we wanted to pay anymore money for some lame stuff. But then again, we were curious. Needless to say it was one of the best and most frightening things I have experienced, outside of the man in the ape mask from Halloween. There were fake, or so I thought, dead bodies everywhere; along with some people in costume hiding and waiting to make me wet my pants. And did you ever see The Ring? Because I am pretty sure that the girl from the video lives in that haunted house. One of the best parts: we are walking along with me leading when we turn a corner and see another figure with extremely long matted hair standing in front of me, I think to myself “she is so alive,” just as someone asks, “is she alive?” and another responds, “no she is fake, it’s okay, really, we are almost done.” Well, he was wrong and he did a good job of losing someone’s confidence that day as the long-haired kimono wearing woman jumped on top of the scared girls in the middle making them collapse to floor crying. Ha. What a blast.
So the cost was made up and things were alright.
We then headed out for a nice dinner and ended up in a Tijuana-Prison-like hell at a place called “Mexican,” there may have been more, but this was the English translation offered on the sign. The food contained far too much egg and not enough beans and the tacos tasted like rump-roast (without the tasty carrots and potatoes). It was interesting to say the least; and then he started singing. His singing was like karaoke as suicide is to murder. Ouch, my ears still hurt. But at least he was taking requests; but he wanted money for them. “Please, here, have my money and make me sick.” It’s not like I was trying to get out of gym class by coming here (you get it, sickness, gym class…).
Well, I’ve talked enough. If I save up my money maybe I will get the pictures developed from the past few days and try to learn how to scan and post them. No promises; If I do get them scanned, and you are interested in some pictures, then please e-mail me. Peace love and happiness.
All I have to say about that...
The cover of the novel Timequake reads, “At 2:27 p.m. on February 13th of the year 2001, the Universe suffered a crisis in self-confidence. Should it go on expanding indefinitely? What was the point.” I think that Mr. Vonnegut missed the time reference by a bit, it was supposed to read, “At 10:57 a.m. on November 3rd of the year 2004, the Universe (especially the planet Earth) suffered a crisis in self-confidence. Should it go on expanding indefinitely? Or will Bush simply make it all implode? What’s the point of caring anymore.”
I am not happy. I am not entirely sad. I am apathetic. I am America. Or at least the America that I think I know, living 6,000 miles away. How could this have happened? What was it that just didn’t settle the stomachs of the United States within Kerry’s platforms? Economics? No, I don’t think that people felt too confident with Bush’s economics either (insightful note, this quote was taken off of a website this morning: “Cheers erupted on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange as Kerry conceded and U.S. stocks rallied. The Standard & Poor's 500 Index climbed 1.4 percent, with all 24 of its industry groups advancing. U.S. Treasury notes fell; Bush's tax cuts have contributed to a record budget deficit that will force the government to increase borrowing, investors said.” I’m in debt and I know that it’s bad; take it from me, U.S. Government, you may want it now, but you just wait for the bill to come in the mail.)
Was it terrorism and the war? I thought that most agreed that Kerry had served well and that he wasn’t one who flip-flopped his positions just for a solid career foundation. What was it then?
What’s that, you want my opinion. Well, I have to agree with the staff of CNNJ (international version of CNN) that it was morals that cost Kerry is seat in the big house. It was the simple fact that America rallied behind the new crusader. Why wouldn’t we? He is the one that is against the evil Muslims in the Middle East, the beacon of light shining against social disasters like abortion and homosexuality. Hasn’t he? How is it that such things are even involved within the realm of politics? Why do such topics as a constitutional amendment against same-sex marriage have to appear on 11 state ballots? States that, by the way, are known to be extremely far-right and have traditionally voted republican? The most conservative state being Oregon and the rest being in the south; who would have thought that states like Kentucky and Georgia would have been against such things? But whatever you do, don’t ask Massachusetts or California. Why are these issues even on the ballot? Why waste the time, effort, money, and various other amenities to even ask, let alone count, such an arbitrary question within American life.
Government, to me, was established to assist in the development of society, not control it. I may have to consult my mom, but I am pretty sure that the lines of the preamble to our constitution read, “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” Break it down: Justice, domestic Tranquility, defense, general welfare, and securing a solid future. Where on God’s green earth does same-sex marriage or stem cell research fit into this equation? If you want to focus on moral issues focus on the poor, homeless, and abused within this country. Are they to suffer in the background while easily persecuted social/religious topics are flaunted in the front?
President Bush loves Jesus. As do I. But where and when was it that God told Mr. Bush that he needed to assume the highest level of power within our country, possibly the world, and continually exploit it and the people that looked up to him? He has made a sham of democracy through his use of non-issues and lies. The last few weeks I continually saw characters speak about the idea of fear; this fear was toward terrorists, not god. People today are ready to support a man that they think adheres to a higher calling, but they are afraid to look for a man that may be open to a higher power. President Bush’s actions have been anything but Christian. He has persecuted, he has lied, he has acted in vain, and he has not reached out to those in need. He, to me, is reminiscent of the Vikings of old; they raped, pillaged, and plundered for hundreds of years. But look at them now. People love ‘em; even named a sports team after them. I’m sure that in four, eight, ten, or maybe even a hundred years some people will still like George Bush Jr.; but for now, I think that I would rather contemplate whether or not I should just keep on going. What’s the point? While writing a pop-up advertisement asked if I wanted to purchase flood insurance. Maybe I should. Something has to come along soon to clean up this mess. Let me aboard Noah; I’m just one of the animals occupying this space too.
I am not happy. I am not entirely sad. I am apathetic. I am America. Or at least the America that I think I know, living 6,000 miles away. How could this have happened? What was it that just didn’t settle the stomachs of the United States within Kerry’s platforms? Economics? No, I don’t think that people felt too confident with Bush’s economics either (insightful note, this quote was taken off of a website this morning: “Cheers erupted on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange as Kerry conceded and U.S. stocks rallied. The Standard & Poor's 500 Index climbed 1.4 percent, with all 24 of its industry groups advancing. U.S. Treasury notes fell; Bush's tax cuts have contributed to a record budget deficit that will force the government to increase borrowing, investors said.” I’m in debt and I know that it’s bad; take it from me, U.S. Government, you may want it now, but you just wait for the bill to come in the mail.)
Was it terrorism and the war? I thought that most agreed that Kerry had served well and that he wasn’t one who flip-flopped his positions just for a solid career foundation. What was it then?
What’s that, you want my opinion. Well, I have to agree with the staff of CNNJ (international version of CNN) that it was morals that cost Kerry is seat in the big house. It was the simple fact that America rallied behind the new crusader. Why wouldn’t we? He is the one that is against the evil Muslims in the Middle East, the beacon of light shining against social disasters like abortion and homosexuality. Hasn’t he? How is it that such things are even involved within the realm of politics? Why do such topics as a constitutional amendment against same-sex marriage have to appear on 11 state ballots? States that, by the way, are known to be extremely far-right and have traditionally voted republican? The most conservative state being Oregon and the rest being in the south; who would have thought that states like Kentucky and Georgia would have been against such things? But whatever you do, don’t ask Massachusetts or California. Why are these issues even on the ballot? Why waste the time, effort, money, and various other amenities to even ask, let alone count, such an arbitrary question within American life.
Government, to me, was established to assist in the development of society, not control it. I may have to consult my mom, but I am pretty sure that the lines of the preamble to our constitution read, “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” Break it down: Justice, domestic Tranquility, defense, general welfare, and securing a solid future. Where on God’s green earth does same-sex marriage or stem cell research fit into this equation? If you want to focus on moral issues focus on the poor, homeless, and abused within this country. Are they to suffer in the background while easily persecuted social/religious topics are flaunted in the front?
President Bush loves Jesus. As do I. But where and when was it that God told Mr. Bush that he needed to assume the highest level of power within our country, possibly the world, and continually exploit it and the people that looked up to him? He has made a sham of democracy through his use of non-issues and lies. The last few weeks I continually saw characters speak about the idea of fear; this fear was toward terrorists, not god. People today are ready to support a man that they think adheres to a higher calling, but they are afraid to look for a man that may be open to a higher power. President Bush’s actions have been anything but Christian. He has persecuted, he has lied, he has acted in vain, and he has not reached out to those in need. He, to me, is reminiscent of the Vikings of old; they raped, pillaged, and plundered for hundreds of years. But look at them now. People love ‘em; even named a sports team after them. I’m sure that in four, eight, ten, or maybe even a hundred years some people will still like George Bush Jr.; but for now, I think that I would rather contemplate whether or not I should just keep on going. What’s the point? While writing a pop-up advertisement asked if I wanted to purchase flood insurance. Maybe I should. Something has to come along soon to clean up this mess. Let me aboard Noah; I’m just one of the animals occupying this space too.
11.02.2004
Happy Halloweend Kansai, or There but for the grace of God go I.
Have you ever had one of those life-altering experiences that really makes you sit back and think about the course of life? For some it may be drug induced, or perhaps it came as a near death experience. Well for me it was Halloween.
Before the weekend was here I knew that I was going to go out, and I knew that it was going to be quite the experience. The last train runs at about 12:30, which is no time to return from a night on the town. But then again the first train doesn’t come until about 5:30 or so in the morning. What would you do? It was going to be a long one.
The evening started at about 4pm when I first woke up (the night before was my first Karaoke experience…whoa, whole new world, and I’m not talking about the wonderful song from Disney’s Aladdin…maybe another time I will discuss this wonder, but for now, it’s Halloween and epiphany time).
Okay, where was I; Halloween, just got up at 4pm, and I needed a costume. Now since I am a large human being I knew that I could not go the most popular Japanese route which was to pick up a nicely packaged costume at some gijin store and throw it on. So I had to use a little thought. So, with very little thought I decided that I would obviously take the easy way out and just tie a couple of sheets around myself and viola, presto, change-o, TOGA! Woo-Hoo; instant linen party. So I was a Greek god for Halloween, or if you are an American, I was an American God, John Belushi.
Then it was out we went. Andres and I were to meet a few of our friends that work here at Eichi as well as a few of Andres’s former students. Upon meeting them at the Osaka station I thought that we would slowly fall into our costumes with the help of a few drinks; but no. Diasuke, Andres’s buddy, thought that we should just change right there at the station and walk around all of Osaka dressed as idiots. * Side note: I get stared at all of the time for looking out of place (I have even been called impure and pointed at because I was not Japanese). Why then would I decide that maybe it would be all right if I dressed like an idiot and walked around the second largest metropolitan area in Japan, fourth in the world, and said to the entire Japanese people, “not only did I vote for Bush last election but I am now uprooting the foundations of your culture with holidays like this?”
Because it was Halloween of course.
In order to best celebrate the American tradition we engaged in a wonderful traditional American meal at this quaint little restaurant called, “Outback steakhouse.” Heard of it? This is a wonderful place because it truly torments most native people. Why? Because it has Australian crap all over the walls, including a huge crocodile, but it’s an American Steakhouse. Oh the confusion! But we did get a free drink…yum yum.
Okay, quick time.
Eat.
Drink.
Ate.
Drunk.
Okay, now we are at a disco and it is time to take in the other idiots in costume. We had pimps, and drag-queens, and cowboys, oh my! There were even people in paisley bodysuits (I don’t know what to say or think about this style of costume. It was like the blue man suit, but in any color/design that you could imagine). But the best costume had to go to the person that looked the best.
They walked into the nightclub like they were walking into a…I don’t know. This person was very confused. They came dressed in tights, underwear (woman’s underoos), with a bra, and a monkey mask. I might add that the individual must have worked out because it’s female proportions were nicely accented. You know, well-defined abs, biceps, and shapely legs…oh wait, those are no female proportions’, it’s a man. Did I mention that Japanese men do not seem to have very much body hair? Or that they have very effeminate characteristics? Because they do. Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.
Quick time again.
Drink.
Sit.
Drunk.
Dancing.
The Japanese are not as bad at dancing as I thought they would have been. They really like the break dancing and, “You’ve Been Served (Right Title?)” seems very big here.
Well, it is time to be honest. I don’t remember too much past this point. I kind of fell off the planet. The few things that I do remember (the colored pencils for you to make your own sketch if you will):
l Being guided around by a kind friend of Diasuke who was dressed like a Priest
l Paying some street musicians \1,000 to play a song that I knew. They ended up with Norwegian Wood by the beatles.
l Getting people to partake in the vodka that I had been carrying around with me in my Nalgene bottles. Selling point: “Look, it’s okay, I can drink it…”
l Breaking open a bottle of Bailey’s on the curb because the darn thing wouldn’t open on it’s own accord. Twist tops can be so stubborn.
l Hitting the street a few times with my head…much like a bouncy ball.
I think that’s enough color for you to draw to your hearts content.
I awoke cold and alone (which is good) in my room at about 6pm the next night. I then spent the rest of the day, what little was left, contemplating my own existence (only natural I think). And I have offered up my penance, and I know I am forgiven. I hurt no one but myself. So, do not be worried, but instead do what I couldn’t do. Laugh your ass off. I would join you, but I think that I fell on a bicycle rack and bruised my rear, and it hurts when I chuckle. Te he…ow.
Happy Halloween.
Before the weekend was here I knew that I was going to go out, and I knew that it was going to be quite the experience. The last train runs at about 12:30, which is no time to return from a night on the town. But then again the first train doesn’t come until about 5:30 or so in the morning. What would you do? It was going to be a long one.
The evening started at about 4pm when I first woke up (the night before was my first Karaoke experience…whoa, whole new world, and I’m not talking about the wonderful song from Disney’s Aladdin…maybe another time I will discuss this wonder, but for now, it’s Halloween and epiphany time).
Okay, where was I; Halloween, just got up at 4pm, and I needed a costume. Now since I am a large human being I knew that I could not go the most popular Japanese route which was to pick up a nicely packaged costume at some gijin store and throw it on. So I had to use a little thought. So, with very little thought I decided that I would obviously take the easy way out and just tie a couple of sheets around myself and viola, presto, change-o, TOGA! Woo-Hoo; instant linen party. So I was a Greek god for Halloween, or if you are an American, I was an American God, John Belushi.
Then it was out we went. Andres and I were to meet a few of our friends that work here at Eichi as well as a few of Andres’s former students. Upon meeting them at the Osaka station I thought that we would slowly fall into our costumes with the help of a few drinks; but no. Diasuke, Andres’s buddy, thought that we should just change right there at the station and walk around all of Osaka dressed as idiots. * Side note: I get stared at all of the time for looking out of place (I have even been called impure and pointed at because I was not Japanese). Why then would I decide that maybe it would be all right if I dressed like an idiot and walked around the second largest metropolitan area in Japan, fourth in the world, and said to the entire Japanese people, “not only did I vote for Bush last election but I am now uprooting the foundations of your culture with holidays like this?”
Because it was Halloween of course.
In order to best celebrate the American tradition we engaged in a wonderful traditional American meal at this quaint little restaurant called, “Outback steakhouse.” Heard of it? This is a wonderful place because it truly torments most native people. Why? Because it has Australian crap all over the walls, including a huge crocodile, but it’s an American Steakhouse. Oh the confusion! But we did get a free drink…yum yum.
Okay, quick time.
Eat.
Drink.
Ate.
Drunk.
Okay, now we are at a disco and it is time to take in the other idiots in costume. We had pimps, and drag-queens, and cowboys, oh my! There were even people in paisley bodysuits (I don’t know what to say or think about this style of costume. It was like the blue man suit, but in any color/design that you could imagine). But the best costume had to go to the person that looked the best.
They walked into the nightclub like they were walking into a…I don’t know. This person was very confused. They came dressed in tights, underwear (woman’s underoos), with a bra, and a monkey mask. I might add that the individual must have worked out because it’s female proportions were nicely accented. You know, well-defined abs, biceps, and shapely legs…oh wait, those are no female proportions’, it’s a man. Did I mention that Japanese men do not seem to have very much body hair? Or that they have very effeminate characteristics? Because they do. Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.
Quick time again.
Drink.
Sit.
Drunk.
Dancing.
The Japanese are not as bad at dancing as I thought they would have been. They really like the break dancing and, “You’ve Been Served (Right Title?)” seems very big here.
Well, it is time to be honest. I don’t remember too much past this point. I kind of fell off the planet. The few things that I do remember (the colored pencils for you to make your own sketch if you will):
l Being guided around by a kind friend of Diasuke who was dressed like a Priest
l Paying some street musicians \1,000 to play a song that I knew. They ended up with Norwegian Wood by the beatles.
l Getting people to partake in the vodka that I had been carrying around with me in my Nalgene bottles. Selling point: “Look, it’s okay, I can drink it…”
l Breaking open a bottle of Bailey’s on the curb because the darn thing wouldn’t open on it’s own accord. Twist tops can be so stubborn.
l Hitting the street a few times with my head…much like a bouncy ball.
I think that’s enough color for you to draw to your hearts content.
I awoke cold and alone (which is good) in my room at about 6pm the next night. I then spent the rest of the day, what little was left, contemplating my own existence (only natural I think). And I have offered up my penance, and I know I am forgiven. I hurt no one but myself. So, do not be worried, but instead do what I couldn’t do. Laugh your ass off. I would join you, but I think that I fell on a bicycle rack and bruised my rear, and it hurts when I chuckle. Te he…ow.
Happy Halloween.
10.24.2004
you really don't have to read this one...
My neck, my back, my Rugby (and Ex-pat) experience while in Japan
So it was pretty cool. Today I absolutely pounded the hell out of this deaf kid; it was empowering, exciting, and totally allowed. When I told many people that I would be playing rugby in Japan they all informed me that I would easily be twice the size of my opponents. It was at about that time that I began to wonder just how it was that so many Americans had such an understanding of sports in a foreign country. Do you all collect the cards too? Because I haven’t seen that collection yet.
So anyway, back to the deaf kid.
In sports that contain physical interaction most people tend to try and go around me, but not this one. He may not have been able to hear my heavy out of shape breathing, but he should have at least felt the ground shaking as I ran at him on the dirt field. Either way he took the hit and I buried him. It was fun. But after I felt a little bad, however I had to remind myself that “that” is what the whole game is about; physical contact, and all guilty feelings were definitely gone after the match and the other team lined up to poke at my soft stomach…just kidding, but if Michael and Patrick Howerter had anything to say about it, that is how any organized sport containing myself would end, right boys?
So yeah, rugby: before I took the big trip Martin (Professor at Eichi, and fellow rugger) told me about the Kobe team. He then began to send me running workouts, both short and long distance, and gave me the advice to not get too “fat and lethargic over the summer.” When I read this I wanted to immediately respond with, “but anything that happened before the summer is fair game…right? Because I am already a little bit, or a lot, of both of those things.” But I felt that this type of response could be damaging to our then online relationship (ps, I’ll never forget the times in the chatroom…Ha. Jk Jk. Lol. Lol. ASL?).
So when I arrived I was met at the airport and met Marty for the first time, he didn’t seem angry at the fact that I had obviously disregarded his advice and I didn’t really prepare myself for the season; but I did show up with a lot of heart and dedication (which doesn’t really help your endurance, but it sounds good…and takes away some of the guilt). I was then asked, on the same day that I arrived from a 14 hour flight, if I would be able to play in a few days; why not? My schedule was free at the time and I couldn’t think of anything else that I wanted to do. This was to be my first game in Japan and about the seventh overall for rugby. When we arrived at the pitch, or field, that Sunday I soon began to feel less worried about how I would fare that afternoon as half of the team showed up extremely hung-over and smoking like a chimney, not that they can’t run or that I am in better shape then any of them, but in my opinion, their current health choices leveled the field of ability pretty well.
We lost.
Although we did not win the match, it was still a good chance to get to meet some fellow native-english speakers, many I could not understand, but they said that it was English. Most of them are from New Zealand or Australia (you know, Australasia). They all turned out to be a fine lot. Now, as time has progressed I am beginning to enjoy their company a bit more and I am now fairly fluent in their language. Does that make me bilingual?
So anyway. I don’t feel like writing anymore, my neck and my back hurt. The opposition may be small, but they sure can crank the opposition’s neck with their lack of height in a scrum. But in all honesty, the opposition has been really good here. To further illustrate this I can inform you all that the Kobe Regatta and Athletic Club has a current record of 1-2 for the season. But today we smote the silent typhoon; a group of hearing impaired men who I am sure would have rather poked my belly then shook my hand. But they were true sportsmen. Next post will be much better, please don’t stop reading me.
Let’s take an online poll: Who are you going to vote for…just kidding. What do you think I should do (i.e. what activity should I embark on) to write about for the next post? Got an idea? Drop me a line and I will most likely do whatever you tell me to. Tomorrow’s pay day. No more eating like a college student. “Goodbye Blue Monday or Ramen No More!”bye.
So it was pretty cool. Today I absolutely pounded the hell out of this deaf kid; it was empowering, exciting, and totally allowed. When I told many people that I would be playing rugby in Japan they all informed me that I would easily be twice the size of my opponents. It was at about that time that I began to wonder just how it was that so many Americans had such an understanding of sports in a foreign country. Do you all collect the cards too? Because I haven’t seen that collection yet.
So anyway, back to the deaf kid.
In sports that contain physical interaction most people tend to try and go around me, but not this one. He may not have been able to hear my heavy out of shape breathing, but he should have at least felt the ground shaking as I ran at him on the dirt field. Either way he took the hit and I buried him. It was fun. But after I felt a little bad, however I had to remind myself that “that” is what the whole game is about; physical contact, and all guilty feelings were definitely gone after the match and the other team lined up to poke at my soft stomach…just kidding, but if Michael and Patrick Howerter had anything to say about it, that is how any organized sport containing myself would end, right boys?
So yeah, rugby: before I took the big trip Martin (Professor at Eichi, and fellow rugger) told me about the Kobe team. He then began to send me running workouts, both short and long distance, and gave me the advice to not get too “fat and lethargic over the summer.” When I read this I wanted to immediately respond with, “but anything that happened before the summer is fair game…right? Because I am already a little bit, or a lot, of both of those things.” But I felt that this type of response could be damaging to our then online relationship (ps, I’ll never forget the times in the chatroom…Ha. Jk Jk. Lol. Lol. ASL?).
So when I arrived I was met at the airport and met Marty for the first time, he didn’t seem angry at the fact that I had obviously disregarded his advice and I didn’t really prepare myself for the season; but I did show up with a lot of heart and dedication (which doesn’t really help your endurance, but it sounds good…and takes away some of the guilt). I was then asked, on the same day that I arrived from a 14 hour flight, if I would be able to play in a few days; why not? My schedule was free at the time and I couldn’t think of anything else that I wanted to do. This was to be my first game in Japan and about the seventh overall for rugby. When we arrived at the pitch, or field, that Sunday I soon began to feel less worried about how I would fare that afternoon as half of the team showed up extremely hung-over and smoking like a chimney, not that they can’t run or that I am in better shape then any of them, but in my opinion, their current health choices leveled the field of ability pretty well.
We lost.
Although we did not win the match, it was still a good chance to get to meet some fellow native-english speakers, many I could not understand, but they said that it was English. Most of them are from New Zealand or Australia (you know, Australasia). They all turned out to be a fine lot. Now, as time has progressed I am beginning to enjoy their company a bit more and I am now fairly fluent in their language. Does that make me bilingual?
So anyway. I don’t feel like writing anymore, my neck and my back hurt. The opposition may be small, but they sure can crank the opposition’s neck with their lack of height in a scrum. But in all honesty, the opposition has been really good here. To further illustrate this I can inform you all that the Kobe Regatta and Athletic Club has a current record of 1-2 for the season. But today we smote the silent typhoon; a group of hearing impaired men who I am sure would have rather poked my belly then shook my hand. But they were true sportsmen. Next post will be much better, please don’t stop reading me.
Let’s take an online poll: Who are you going to vote for…just kidding. What do you think I should do (i.e. what activity should I embark on) to write about for the next post? Got an idea? Drop me a line and I will most likely do whatever you tell me to. Tomorrow’s pay day. No more eating like a college student. “Goodbye Blue Monday or Ramen No More!”bye.
10.23.2004
Chance of a lifetime
Lost in My Bedroom Sweepstakes
The Chance of a lifetime awaits, how will you respond?
So here’s the deal. I was thinking the other day that I would like to travel sometime in the near future; but then it dawned on me that it is really very difficult to get out of this country. It costs a lot of money to travel, plus it is kind of difficult to imagine myself in a foreign land and not being able to speak the language, know the food, etc. So I was thinking that maybe the best way to spend money and not get too bored over my long winter break (January 18th-?, I can’t read the calendar very well yet) was to fly a friend out here. I know that this sounds kind of stupid, or maybe you just think that I can’t do it…but you are wrong. Where there is a will there is a way. The difficult part is finding the person that would like to come and visit me; also someone that has the money to pay for the ticket here and someone that can get the time off to make the trip. So if you are an adventurous person here’s the gist: I’ll pay for three quarters of the cost of the ticket (no first or business class, you have to fly as I did…steerage). I will also be your gijin (foreign) guide around the Kansai area. I am sure that more perks will present themselves as it becomes more apparent that people are going to take me serious. So seriously, lets make it happen. If you are an interested party then please send me an e-mail (dbaxelson@yahoo.com) or leave a comment detailing why I should pick you. It’s not really a contest, but I don’t know whom to ask personally or who could swing it. If you are unsure of dates or anything like that then get a hold of me and we will work it out. Cool? Good. You think about it and we’ll make it happen.
Current Events:
Nothing much is new. The English department held a very nice welcome party for myself as well as another new professor. It was real nice n’ fancy-pants. It was a good experience for me as I really got to know the professor in my department as well as how to act in polite society in Japan. But from this experience came another new understanding of Japanese drinking. Party tip #1 if you are going to hold a Japanese fancy-pants dinner: don’t let a glass become empty. I think that it is perhaps bad luck in this country if one has to hold or be near an empty glass. Also, if you find yourself in Japan and you are asked, “what kind of liquor or drink do you like?” Try and mention only one instead of making a list of what you have had and what you liked. Reason: there was one point in the night when I had a glass of sake, show-chu, beer, and scotch in front of me at once. Wow. I am also pretty sure that this concoction of liquor can also be used in substitution for ex-lax if stuck on a desert island with a well stocked bar…but then again, the after effects may have been linked more with the foods that I ate at the meal; I am not sure whether or not western stomachs can truly handle sashimi (plane raw fish…which was tasty, but still…) within the first month.
But as I said before, and I will stick to it until the end, it was a great party and if any of you Professors read this, let’s do it again sometime…perhaps once a month. Thanks to all and to all a good day.
Ps The deadline for “Lost in my Bedroom” sweepstakes is the day before I leave this country. Sorry, no extensions as I cannot guarantee the accommodations. Peace.
The Chance of a lifetime awaits, how will you respond?
So here’s the deal. I was thinking the other day that I would like to travel sometime in the near future; but then it dawned on me that it is really very difficult to get out of this country. It costs a lot of money to travel, plus it is kind of difficult to imagine myself in a foreign land and not being able to speak the language, know the food, etc. So I was thinking that maybe the best way to spend money and not get too bored over my long winter break (January 18th-?, I can’t read the calendar very well yet) was to fly a friend out here. I know that this sounds kind of stupid, or maybe you just think that I can’t do it…but you are wrong. Where there is a will there is a way. The difficult part is finding the person that would like to come and visit me; also someone that has the money to pay for the ticket here and someone that can get the time off to make the trip. So if you are an adventurous person here’s the gist: I’ll pay for three quarters of the cost of the ticket (no first or business class, you have to fly as I did…steerage). I will also be your gijin (foreign) guide around the Kansai area. I am sure that more perks will present themselves as it becomes more apparent that people are going to take me serious. So seriously, lets make it happen. If you are an interested party then please send me an e-mail (dbaxelson@yahoo.com) or leave a comment detailing why I should pick you. It’s not really a contest, but I don’t know whom to ask personally or who could swing it. If you are unsure of dates or anything like that then get a hold of me and we will work it out. Cool? Good. You think about it and we’ll make it happen.
Current Events:
Nothing much is new. The English department held a very nice welcome party for myself as well as another new professor. It was real nice n’ fancy-pants. It was a good experience for me as I really got to know the professor in my department as well as how to act in polite society in Japan. But from this experience came another new understanding of Japanese drinking. Party tip #1 if you are going to hold a Japanese fancy-pants dinner: don’t let a glass become empty. I think that it is perhaps bad luck in this country if one has to hold or be near an empty glass. Also, if you find yourself in Japan and you are asked, “what kind of liquor or drink do you like?” Try and mention only one instead of making a list of what you have had and what you liked. Reason: there was one point in the night when I had a glass of sake, show-chu, beer, and scotch in front of me at once. Wow. I am also pretty sure that this concoction of liquor can also be used in substitution for ex-lax if stuck on a desert island with a well stocked bar…but then again, the after effects may have been linked more with the foods that I ate at the meal; I am not sure whether or not western stomachs can truly handle sashimi (plane raw fish…which was tasty, but still…) within the first month.
But as I said before, and I will stick to it until the end, it was a great party and if any of you Professors read this, let’s do it again sometime…perhaps once a month. Thanks to all and to all a good day.
Ps The deadline for “Lost in my Bedroom” sweepstakes is the day before I leave this country. Sorry, no extensions as I cannot guarantee the accommodations. Peace.
10.21.2004
Funny Little Cultural Things
Official Greeting:
Today I was officially introduced to all of the faculty and staff here at Sapientia University. The meeting was a little overwhelming, with 50+ people in attendance, and I was asked to give a short little introduction. But of course there were people to meet personally beforehand. When I first walked into the room I directed over to an older priest, as this is a Catholic school, who was at one time the President of this fine institution. After being introduced he, as have many others, commented on my large size; the difference was this: where most have simply looked up at me and said, “wow how tall are you?” he took it a step further and added, “and he’s fat.” When Yamane Sensei, a professor and director of my area, said, “You mean big. That’s the way to say it,” he resoundingly disagreed and said, “no fat. From eating too much.” Ha. These crazy people, so kind yet so outgoing! I wasn’t really outraged or even insulted, I just agreed and said something to the effect of, “well, that probably explains it.” And laughed under my breath.
It wasn’t the first time that I have experienced something like this, but it was the most open and…I guess, “honest,” of my encounters. It’s odd here because so many people are not afraid to say what they think, and really none of it has been offensive. I guess that the people of Japan are just in the habit of looking out for the best interests of the group. Maybe it’s an archaic form of “tough-love.” Even if they are making fun, or berating me I can’t really understand what they say; so no real hard feelings, okay little guy?
My Mistake:
The other day I was riding on one of the many packed subways around here when I noticed that there was a pregnant woman standing directly in front of me, as I was sitting down. I then got up and gestured that she take my seat. She quickly turned it down; I then felt obligated that I had offered it to just her and not to one of the many people standing around me…so I offered it to anyone; and they all turned it down. I felt kind of confused. Why hadn’t any of them taken my seat? Did I smell? Odd.
For the remainder of the ride I found myself just looking around and at one time my attention was directed at the stomach of the woman in front of me. At this point I became happy that I didn’t speak Japanese, because if I had I might have originally asked the woman to sit down if not for herself then for the baby. Which she didn’t have; she wasn’t pregnant, she just had a pouch. Whoops.
Interesting habits of those utilizing mass transit in the country of Japan:
1. They sleep anywhere and in anyway. I have now seen men asleep not only standing up, but holding onto their belongings as well as the support handle attached to the ceiling of the train. Other, more common, methods of sleeping on the train usually entail the individual just sitting there drooling on themselves, or if you are lucky, the person next to them.
2. Drunk men. People often drink a lot after the work day, not at the college of course, but more often the business class. These men then have to get home somehow; so they take the train. While riding the train it is often to have them stare at, or if circumstances permit, grope the young women standing close to them (mind you, the trains are often packed). I have been told stories of these men also vomiting while making their way home (to a loved one that is no doubt oh so happy to see them).
3. Proper etiquette while riding a train is to mind your own business. Situation: someone falls. Common Reaction: Don’t help them. I guess that the thought behind this is that they have two legs, why not use ‘em? Again with the tough love.
4. Pornography is pretty common, not that anyone likes to talk about it, but it is (and no I don’t have any…). There are many different forms in which this pornography can come in; with the most popular being that of Manga, this is a type of illustrated or graphic novel. I guess that it may be a little harsh to call it “pornography,” but it is quite pornographic in nature. This I know because often while riding the train many business men have no problem in reading these publications. Maybe I am a little nosey, but I just like to think of it as truly observing the culture.
A quick note on Drinking:
As my good friend Kelly Cram recently pointed out on her own Blogger (http://bellavera.blogspot.com) places that allow one to take a drink with them or simply to consume in public are usually more fun, or at least you are not always tied down to one location. With this in mind I would like to point out a few interesting facts on drinking in Japan.
1. You can drink just about anywhere. There are vending machines on the street that sell anything from a can of beer, to a can of gin and tonic, to whiskey and water, to a liter of beer. All that is required is correct change. After you buy the alcohol you can crack it open and be on your merry little way.
2. To my knowledge, not that I would ever imagine thinking about committing such an act, there are no Public Intoxication laws on the island. I may be wrong but I am told by a Japanese peer that people do not get arrested for urinating or for vomiting in public (therefore the man on the train is not stopped, or corrected by anyone for yakking in public…interesting. Mike Boyle, this place would be some sort of strange asylum for you. Ha.)
3. Japanese don’t drink too much. Oh, they drink often, but they do not drink too much. Before coming here I was told that Sake, rice wine, was very strong and that I should be careful when consuming it. Bollocks. It is only 20% Alcohol by Volume, making it about the same as Baileys or any other liquor or wine. I am still cautious though mom, and I only have half a glass…promise. But then there was Sho-Chu, Sake’s big brother. This liquor is a combination of rice and barley malts and it is a little stronger, but still quite “maycha maycha oshea,” or very, very tasty.
Enough for today. I am sure that I will make many more note worthy observations but I think that this is enough for today. I hope that you all enjoy and I look to hearing from…someone. Just leave a comment or e-mail. I am starving for attention. So the three of you that actually read this please leave a comment or e-mail me…not to seem desperate or anything, I just want a little attention…come on what’s the problem? Don’t you love me? You said that you’d love me forever…it’s your fault they shot Old Yeller. Thanks so much.
Today I was officially introduced to all of the faculty and staff here at Sapientia University. The meeting was a little overwhelming, with 50+ people in attendance, and I was asked to give a short little introduction. But of course there were people to meet personally beforehand. When I first walked into the room I directed over to an older priest, as this is a Catholic school, who was at one time the President of this fine institution. After being introduced he, as have many others, commented on my large size; the difference was this: where most have simply looked up at me and said, “wow how tall are you?” he took it a step further and added, “and he’s fat.” When Yamane Sensei, a professor and director of my area, said, “You mean big. That’s the way to say it,” he resoundingly disagreed and said, “no fat. From eating too much.” Ha. These crazy people, so kind yet so outgoing! I wasn’t really outraged or even insulted, I just agreed and said something to the effect of, “well, that probably explains it.” And laughed under my breath.
It wasn’t the first time that I have experienced something like this, but it was the most open and…I guess, “honest,” of my encounters. It’s odd here because so many people are not afraid to say what they think, and really none of it has been offensive. I guess that the people of Japan are just in the habit of looking out for the best interests of the group. Maybe it’s an archaic form of “tough-love.” Even if they are making fun, or berating me I can’t really understand what they say; so no real hard feelings, okay little guy?
My Mistake:
The other day I was riding on one of the many packed subways around here when I noticed that there was a pregnant woman standing directly in front of me, as I was sitting down. I then got up and gestured that she take my seat. She quickly turned it down; I then felt obligated that I had offered it to just her and not to one of the many people standing around me…so I offered it to anyone; and they all turned it down. I felt kind of confused. Why hadn’t any of them taken my seat? Did I smell? Odd.
For the remainder of the ride I found myself just looking around and at one time my attention was directed at the stomach of the woman in front of me. At this point I became happy that I didn’t speak Japanese, because if I had I might have originally asked the woman to sit down if not for herself then for the baby. Which she didn’t have; she wasn’t pregnant, she just had a pouch. Whoops.
Interesting habits of those utilizing mass transit in the country of Japan:
1. They sleep anywhere and in anyway. I have now seen men asleep not only standing up, but holding onto their belongings as well as the support handle attached to the ceiling of the train. Other, more common, methods of sleeping on the train usually entail the individual just sitting there drooling on themselves, or if you are lucky, the person next to them.
2. Drunk men. People often drink a lot after the work day, not at the college of course, but more often the business class. These men then have to get home somehow; so they take the train. While riding the train it is often to have them stare at, or if circumstances permit, grope the young women standing close to them (mind you, the trains are often packed). I have been told stories of these men also vomiting while making their way home (to a loved one that is no doubt oh so happy to see them).
3. Proper etiquette while riding a train is to mind your own business. Situation: someone falls. Common Reaction: Don’t help them. I guess that the thought behind this is that they have two legs, why not use ‘em? Again with the tough love.
4. Pornography is pretty common, not that anyone likes to talk about it, but it is (and no I don’t have any…). There are many different forms in which this pornography can come in; with the most popular being that of Manga, this is a type of illustrated or graphic novel. I guess that it may be a little harsh to call it “pornography,” but it is quite pornographic in nature. This I know because often while riding the train many business men have no problem in reading these publications. Maybe I am a little nosey, but I just like to think of it as truly observing the culture.
A quick note on Drinking:
As my good friend Kelly Cram recently pointed out on her own Blogger (http://bellavera.blogspot.com) places that allow one to take a drink with them or simply to consume in public are usually more fun, or at least you are not always tied down to one location. With this in mind I would like to point out a few interesting facts on drinking in Japan.
1. You can drink just about anywhere. There are vending machines on the street that sell anything from a can of beer, to a can of gin and tonic, to whiskey and water, to a liter of beer. All that is required is correct change. After you buy the alcohol you can crack it open and be on your merry little way.
2. To my knowledge, not that I would ever imagine thinking about committing such an act, there are no Public Intoxication laws on the island. I may be wrong but I am told by a Japanese peer that people do not get arrested for urinating or for vomiting in public (therefore the man on the train is not stopped, or corrected by anyone for yakking in public…interesting. Mike Boyle, this place would be some sort of strange asylum for you. Ha.)
3. Japanese don’t drink too much. Oh, they drink often, but they do not drink too much. Before coming here I was told that Sake, rice wine, was very strong and that I should be careful when consuming it. Bollocks. It is only 20% Alcohol by Volume, making it about the same as Baileys or any other liquor or wine. I am still cautious though mom, and I only have half a glass…promise. But then there was Sho-Chu, Sake’s big brother. This liquor is a combination of rice and barley malts and it is a little stronger, but still quite “maycha maycha oshea,” or very, very tasty.
Enough for today. I am sure that I will make many more note worthy observations but I think that this is enough for today. I hope that you all enjoy and I look to hearing from…someone. Just leave a comment or e-mail. I am starving for attention. So the three of you that actually read this please leave a comment or e-mail me…not to seem desperate or anything, I just want a little attention…come on what’s the problem? Don’t you love me? You said that you’d love me forever…it’s your fault they shot Old Yeller. Thanks so much.
10.19.2004
Weather report for the greater Asian Pacific Region: Rain, and a lot of it.
Well I am not sure if a low pressure system is coming in or not, but I do know that if I were in Guam right now I would be having to suffer through a tropical depression…but since I am in Japan all that I get is the depression part. Oh well. “Two tears” right Lady Chablis?
So if anyone was keeping a pool, or if you were just wondering, I have finally succumb to a little bit of the homesick blues. Although I do know, and trust, that you all are caring individuals and that you are surely supporting me on this endevor I still have to ask, “what’s it all for?” At least that is the question that I know find before me. Why would I want to, or why have I come to Japan? It’s not like it is a horrible place or anything like that. It’s actually quite the contrary. I have truly enjoyed seeing the sights and I have really been enjoying my company as well as the food and culture. But why? What is the point?
Okay, enough self-loathing. Let’s be honest and open about this. I think that this whole adventure is obviously going to pay off one day. I think that most of this little fit have been the result of CNN, which is one of the two channels that I can understand here (the other being the BBC, which is comical if watched in small doses, but after a while I can only think of Hugh Grant and futball…you know, soccer). As I sat sequestered in my room I got tired of reading and switched on the television. And there before me was one of the last sights that I saw when at “home.” The mighty Water Tower Place, you know, that old castle looking building on Michigan Ave. in Chicago. I guess that CNN is doing a week in the windy city. Now for the real kicker, I don’t really care that much about Chicago; it has never been my home per se, but it is still a place that doesn’t have some foreign language tattooed all over it (which doesn’t bother me…but to see something that I understand is automatically a sanctuary for me these days) nor does it constantly smell of fish and cabbage. While watching the show I had to perform one of my new morning rituals: remind myself that I am in a foreign country. I kept finding myself thinking that I was at home in my bed just waking up as I watched the morning edition of CNN, as it is night here (darkness) and it is early morning there (darkness). See where the confusion may have come from? I certainly did. But anyway….
Speaking of television in Japan:
Did you know that Rolex runs television commercials? Neither did I. But then I started watching the international version of CNN and their oh so interesting programs on Yachts and the wonderful world of Yacht Racing as well as other mind blowing and immensely interesting evening programs. I felt as though I was watching the Robb Report channel (for those that do not know, Robb Report is a magazine published exclusively for the Affluent, or at least those that shop at Walden Books at the mall. It’s really a great magazine; you can buy stuff like Lamborghini’s and small Islands in through the adds in the back. Also if you are ever in the market for some ivory cuff links, antelope antler chandeliers, a pet white lion or any other small item, check it out). So I either get to pick CNN for international bankers, BBC for British businessmen or the native channels…so of course I pick the native channels. They are chalked full of programs that you could never see in the states; you couldn’t even imagine. Jealous? Well you should be. I mean I get to watch such great things as, “The New PACHINKO Machine” Hour, or maybe I could take a gander at “Super Great Bloopers and Practical Jokes from the Making of Super Power Rangers.” Oh but wait, it’s even better. I once sat and watched a show where they sat and filmed people playing some sort of gambling machine until that person won. In order to entice more viewers they surrounded the guy with some scantly clad females. Watch out “Survivor,” Japan’s got…I don’t know what it was called. I can’t read the characters yet. Needless to say it was a blast. I would tell you what the radio stations were like here but I just figured out how to flush the toilet…so you are going to have to wait.
Well…dry your eyes/time will fly/one day I’ll look back and sigh/oh how I’ll miss these days/so filled with hours of confusion and dismay/but it’s better this way/at least I did it myyyyyyy way…a little Frank Synatra. It was his cousin. He only performed in Reno. Take it easy and I love you all. Ps. Send me some pictures of fall. I’ll send you some pictures of spaces filled with people smaller than Mary Heckard and really big buildings (in perspective). Fun fun fun.
So if anyone was keeping a pool, or if you were just wondering, I have finally succumb to a little bit of the homesick blues. Although I do know, and trust, that you all are caring individuals and that you are surely supporting me on this endevor I still have to ask, “what’s it all for?” At least that is the question that I know find before me. Why would I want to, or why have I come to Japan? It’s not like it is a horrible place or anything like that. It’s actually quite the contrary. I have truly enjoyed seeing the sights and I have really been enjoying my company as well as the food and culture. But why? What is the point?
Okay, enough self-loathing. Let’s be honest and open about this. I think that this whole adventure is obviously going to pay off one day. I think that most of this little fit have been the result of CNN, which is one of the two channels that I can understand here (the other being the BBC, which is comical if watched in small doses, but after a while I can only think of Hugh Grant and futball…you know, soccer). As I sat sequestered in my room I got tired of reading and switched on the television. And there before me was one of the last sights that I saw when at “home.” The mighty Water Tower Place, you know, that old castle looking building on Michigan Ave. in Chicago. I guess that CNN is doing a week in the windy city. Now for the real kicker, I don’t really care that much about Chicago; it has never been my home per se, but it is still a place that doesn’t have some foreign language tattooed all over it (which doesn’t bother me…but to see something that I understand is automatically a sanctuary for me these days) nor does it constantly smell of fish and cabbage. While watching the show I had to perform one of my new morning rituals: remind myself that I am in a foreign country. I kept finding myself thinking that I was at home in my bed just waking up as I watched the morning edition of CNN, as it is night here (darkness) and it is early morning there (darkness). See where the confusion may have come from? I certainly did. But anyway….
Speaking of television in Japan:
Did you know that Rolex runs television commercials? Neither did I. But then I started watching the international version of CNN and their oh so interesting programs on Yachts and the wonderful world of Yacht Racing as well as other mind blowing and immensely interesting evening programs. I felt as though I was watching the Robb Report channel (for those that do not know, Robb Report is a magazine published exclusively for the Affluent, or at least those that shop at Walden Books at the mall. It’s really a great magazine; you can buy stuff like Lamborghini’s and small Islands in through the adds in the back. Also if you are ever in the market for some ivory cuff links, antelope antler chandeliers, a pet white lion or any other small item, check it out). So I either get to pick CNN for international bankers, BBC for British businessmen or the native channels…so of course I pick the native channels. They are chalked full of programs that you could never see in the states; you couldn’t even imagine. Jealous? Well you should be. I mean I get to watch such great things as, “The New PACHINKO Machine” Hour, or maybe I could take a gander at “Super Great Bloopers and Practical Jokes from the Making of Super Power Rangers.” Oh but wait, it’s even better. I once sat and watched a show where they sat and filmed people playing some sort of gambling machine until that person won. In order to entice more viewers they surrounded the guy with some scantly clad females. Watch out “Survivor,” Japan’s got…I don’t know what it was called. I can’t read the characters yet. Needless to say it was a blast. I would tell you what the radio stations were like here but I just figured out how to flush the toilet…so you are going to have to wait.
Well…dry your eyes/time will fly/one day I’ll look back and sigh/oh how I’ll miss these days/so filled with hours of confusion and dismay/but it’s better this way/at least I did it myyyyyyy way…a little Frank Synatra. It was his cousin. He only performed in Reno. Take it easy and I love you all. Ps. Send me some pictures of fall. I’ll send you some pictures of spaces filled with people smaller than Mary Heckard and really big buildings (in perspective). Fun fun fun.
10.18.2004
An Essay
What I did this weekend.
An Essay by Daniel Axelson
Awaking early on a Saturday morning has never been my strong suit. Often I procrastinate the process of getting out of bed on the weekend; but this weekend wasn’t like any of the others, for it was my weekend to perform as the Master of Ceremonies, or MC, of a speech contest that was to occur on my campus. I was oh so excited.
The basis of the speech contest was to get people from all over the country to come to our small campus and see what we might have to offer them in regards to a future. It was to be the sixth annual Sapientia Cup English speech competition and Spanish/French Recitation; oh boy, so much fun in one small space! I had no idea what to expect, but I was sure excited.
After getting up bright and early I then prepared myself a small breakfast of cereal and juice; as breakfast is the most important meal of the day and I wouldn’t want to suffer any, and let those that depended on me suffer as well, because I didn’t have enough energy. Upon finishing breakfast I then set to work preparing myself for the duties at hand. I showered myself, applied fragrances, and got dressed in my best Sunday attire. I even brushed my teeth! It was time to go. So I walked one block and set to work helping everyone prepare for the huge event.
After everyone pitched in and got things all settled we were ready to begin. It was at this point that the students began to arrive. As they filed into the room they began to acquaint themselves with their new surroundings. They did this by lining up with about six or seven of them at the front of the room and then they all began speaking. Ouch! This hurt my ears. The whole situation reminded me of when I was in 6th grade and took part in my school’s choir and just before we went on there was a strings section that played and they made everyone cry because mom said that it sounded like they were skinning a cat alive. But at least they were all practicing; and practice makes perfect (authors note: it is for that very reason that Michael Howerter is the king of “Self-Improvement”).
All of the excitement was coming to a head and you could just feel the tension as the time grew near. Finally the judges came into our room and announced that it was time to begin. It was now my time to shine as I stood before a room filled with Japanese high school students, teachers, and parents. I wasn’t nervous at first, because I had practiced my lines. Thing were going smoothly until I went to pronounce one of the judges names and butchered it like a small Chinese puppy…oh no! I was thrown of quickly, but don’t worry, I found my way again and didn’t make another mistake until it was time to pronounce tezukayama, that was a tough one, and I screwed it up really well. But it didn’t matter because the young woman from that school was the last speaker. Speaking of speakers, some of the speaker’s speeches were really interesting. For example there were many speeches on the possibility of the country of Japan raising up an army and renouncing the pacifist qualities of their constitution; mostly because the Prime Minister wants Japan to become permanent members on the UN security counsel. Many of the speakers that spoke about such topics enjoyed bringing up such facts as, “Since we (Japan) are a country that has had two nuclear bombs dropped on us we should be against war.” It was interesting to hear such honest perspective from a 16 year old. I was happy that I did not have to judge the speeches because I do not know what I would have said to them, maybe something like, “good point Jimmy,” or maybe, “sorry about that Jimmy.” I really don’t know. But there were other interesting speeches as well; such as “The Perfect Handbag” the life and times of CoCo Chanel, or “The perfect solution for the aged,” this was a speech about the benefits of the island of Okinawa (which not only boasts being the home of LA maintenance man and Karate Sensei Mr. Miagi but also has the longest life expectancy in the world). In conclusion they were very good and diverse speeches about what interests Japanese youth (which surprisingly was something…they don’t seem to like, or really dislike, anything. They’re a lot like purgatory, “eh…it’s not bad, but it’s not real good. It’s so so (Green, Seth. To Live and Die in the South. Family Guy. Fox Entertainment. 2001.)”
When the contest was over we had a party in the cafeteria. It was fun and we had little sandwiches that tasted like cabbage and fish; which are the two most potent and popular smells/tastes in all of Japan (the whole country would love America’s nursing homes, especially those with a concentration of German-Americans.) When the party was over my Spanish friend Andres and I took fruit and juice back to my room and we made punch. Then we went out and had something to eat and to drink at a local establishment. Then we went home again and drank the punch with some more friends then we watched the ceiling for a while, as it was around 1am and it had begun to spin a little. It was fun.
Sunday morning I didn’t do too much. It was hard to get out of bed. But eventually I crawled out and cleaned my room and began to do some laundry, as I have not done any since arriving here. In conclusion, my weekend was so-so. The speech contest really helped me to gain a better understanding of the Japanese culture and it’s youth (I also know that CoCo Chanel had many lovers and started out as a Dancer…who-da thunk it?)
*Break*
Okay, so anyway. Those that made it this far in the Blog I hope that you have enjoyed my essay. I felt as though I needed to do something a little more “academic” for those intellectuals out there. How was your weekend? Please let me know. If you could either post a comment at the end of this blog (really simple and convenient) or let me know in an e-mail: dbaxelson@yahoo.com…either way would be great as well as appreciated. I like feedback and I would like to know if anyone is actually reading this thing or if I am wasting my non-precious, yet important, time. Ari-got-o-go-zy-mass (thank you very much) now you say, dough-e-dashi-massh-ta (your welcome). Good job!
An Essay by Daniel Axelson
Awaking early on a Saturday morning has never been my strong suit. Often I procrastinate the process of getting out of bed on the weekend; but this weekend wasn’t like any of the others, for it was my weekend to perform as the Master of Ceremonies, or MC, of a speech contest that was to occur on my campus. I was oh so excited.
The basis of the speech contest was to get people from all over the country to come to our small campus and see what we might have to offer them in regards to a future. It was to be the sixth annual Sapientia Cup English speech competition and Spanish/French Recitation; oh boy, so much fun in one small space! I had no idea what to expect, but I was sure excited.
After getting up bright and early I then prepared myself a small breakfast of cereal and juice; as breakfast is the most important meal of the day and I wouldn’t want to suffer any, and let those that depended on me suffer as well, because I didn’t have enough energy. Upon finishing breakfast I then set to work preparing myself for the duties at hand. I showered myself, applied fragrances, and got dressed in my best Sunday attire. I even brushed my teeth! It was time to go. So I walked one block and set to work helping everyone prepare for the huge event.
After everyone pitched in and got things all settled we were ready to begin. It was at this point that the students began to arrive. As they filed into the room they began to acquaint themselves with their new surroundings. They did this by lining up with about six or seven of them at the front of the room and then they all began speaking. Ouch! This hurt my ears. The whole situation reminded me of when I was in 6th grade and took part in my school’s choir and just before we went on there was a strings section that played and they made everyone cry because mom said that it sounded like they were skinning a cat alive. But at least they were all practicing; and practice makes perfect (authors note: it is for that very reason that Michael Howerter is the king of “Self-Improvement”).
All of the excitement was coming to a head and you could just feel the tension as the time grew near. Finally the judges came into our room and announced that it was time to begin. It was now my time to shine as I stood before a room filled with Japanese high school students, teachers, and parents. I wasn’t nervous at first, because I had practiced my lines. Thing were going smoothly until I went to pronounce one of the judges names and butchered it like a small Chinese puppy…oh no! I was thrown of quickly, but don’t worry, I found my way again and didn’t make another mistake until it was time to pronounce tezukayama, that was a tough one, and I screwed it up really well. But it didn’t matter because the young woman from that school was the last speaker. Speaking of speakers, some of the speaker’s speeches were really interesting. For example there were many speeches on the possibility of the country of Japan raising up an army and renouncing the pacifist qualities of their constitution; mostly because the Prime Minister wants Japan to become permanent members on the UN security counsel. Many of the speakers that spoke about such topics enjoyed bringing up such facts as, “Since we (Japan) are a country that has had two nuclear bombs dropped on us we should be against war.” It was interesting to hear such honest perspective from a 16 year old. I was happy that I did not have to judge the speeches because I do not know what I would have said to them, maybe something like, “good point Jimmy,” or maybe, “sorry about that Jimmy.” I really don’t know. But there were other interesting speeches as well; such as “The Perfect Handbag” the life and times of CoCo Chanel, or “The perfect solution for the aged,” this was a speech about the benefits of the island of Okinawa (which not only boasts being the home of LA maintenance man and Karate Sensei Mr. Miagi but also has the longest life expectancy in the world). In conclusion they were very good and diverse speeches about what interests Japanese youth (which surprisingly was something…they don’t seem to like, or really dislike, anything. They’re a lot like purgatory, “eh…it’s not bad, but it’s not real good. It’s so so (Green, Seth. To Live and Die in the South. Family Guy. Fox Entertainment. 2001.)”
When the contest was over we had a party in the cafeteria. It was fun and we had little sandwiches that tasted like cabbage and fish; which are the two most potent and popular smells/tastes in all of Japan (the whole country would love America’s nursing homes, especially those with a concentration of German-Americans.) When the party was over my Spanish friend Andres and I took fruit and juice back to my room and we made punch. Then we went out and had something to eat and to drink at a local establishment. Then we went home again and drank the punch with some more friends then we watched the ceiling for a while, as it was around 1am and it had begun to spin a little. It was fun.
Sunday morning I didn’t do too much. It was hard to get out of bed. But eventually I crawled out and cleaned my room and began to do some laundry, as I have not done any since arriving here. In conclusion, my weekend was so-so. The speech contest really helped me to gain a better understanding of the Japanese culture and it’s youth (I also know that CoCo Chanel had many lovers and started out as a Dancer…who-da thunk it?)
*Break*
Okay, so anyway. Those that made it this far in the Blog I hope that you have enjoyed my essay. I felt as though I needed to do something a little more “academic” for those intellectuals out there. How was your weekend? Please let me know. If you could either post a comment at the end of this blog (really simple and convenient) or let me know in an e-mail: dbaxelson@yahoo.com…either way would be great as well as appreciated. I like feedback and I would like to know if anyone is actually reading this thing or if I am wasting my non-precious, yet important, time. Ari-got-o-go-zy-mass (thank you very much) now you say, dough-e-dashi-massh-ta (your welcome). Good job!
10.15.2004
Thoughts and facts on Japan that are more random than my grandma at a Phish Concert.
Bicycles in Japan:
Well, everyone thought that the people of Japan were just very ecologically concerned but in all honesty the place just isn’t big enough. Observation: Many people in this country ride bicycles; and I’m not just talking about a few little kids and pre-pubescent teens; I’m talking about everyone and almost anyon...which is difficult for me to count because I only have 32 appendages...and there are supposed to be over one million people in the city that I am living in; which is about the size of a quarter of Rockford. That’s a lot in a little.
So back to the ecology of this little island: because there are so many people here (about half the population of the U.S.) living on an island the size of California (or which only 20% is livable because the other 80% is too mountainous to call home…maybe “hill” but not home…) many do not drive cars.
Other Deterrents: every 100,000 kilometers car owners have to take their cars in for mandatory check-ups. At these inspections the mechanics are then to fix everything so that the car is in the best running shape possible. This means that the car owner then has to pay an outrageous fee to get the car fixed...no matter what kind of shape it is in. Also, when you purchase a car you have to prove that you have a parking space available at your home. This is rather difficult considering the fact that many people do not even live in their own homes but instead live in apartments or other space-conserving housing; therefore parking spaces are difficult to come by…even for your bicycle (side note: at train stations you have to have a parking permit to park your bike within a prescribed distance from the station, if you do not have a permit your bike may be fined and taken away). Weird. Therefore the reason that these people seem so ecologically sound is mainly due to the fact that they have no other choice. As for the size of the Japanese themselves…I think that they are so short because a long time ago someone decided that Japanese ceilings should only be so high, and this individual was obviously vertically impaired. Therefore all of the buildings in old-world Japan adhered to this standard and now the people do not grow above a predestined height due to evolution…no matter how many foreign men attempt to breed this characteristic out (mostly those dirty Australians…”g’day sweetheart.”
Author’s note: all statistics/facts compliments of Professor Martin Weatherby. He’s pretty dang smart…he went to Yale, which is no Loras…but at least he made due with what he had. Ha. So, all of this is true unless you want to prove a Yale graduate wrong. Go ahead, test those waters…you’d be swimming with sharks my friend. As far as the bit about the Australians...I just thought that it was funny and it's kind of a conclusion that I have reached.
The Yellow Scourge: No I am not turning into a huge racist, but I do find the term to be appropriate when talking about these horrifying little creatures that are constantly annoying the pants off of me. They are horrible. They just come and go buzzing in your ear in their harsh tones and strange noises. I thought that they were bad at home; but now I am convinced that I have never experienced such horrible and offensive creatures. I have done all that I can and I am at my wits end. They just keep flocking to me and although I swat at them and occasionally resort to simply yelling at them the mosquitoes continually attack me. It doesn’t matter if I am in my room tucked away in my bed with the air-conditioner set at a cool temperature or if I am walking around in the standing soupy air that is my new home they continue to pester me.
The mosquitoes here are much like the ancient race of samurai that used to roam the same land. They are quick nimble and able to render immense pain and torment. Plus they are about the same size as the cars in this land (but alas, I can not fit into the mosquitoes either). I have been told by those that call themselves “my friends” that they will soon be dying off and eventually be gone for the season, at least the people at the shops around here have gotten rid of their mosquito killing devices for now. But I do believe that just as we thought Japan would never back down in the great war numero deuce these mosquitoes aren’t going anywhere. Just the other day I think that I saw one wearing a North Face parka in preparation of the cooling temperature ahead; they are advanced and they are not about to give up. Wish me luck and dad please send me my gun. It’s open season. Love you all and I hope that you haven’t wasted too much time on my ramblings. Talk to you soon. Love Danny.
Well, everyone thought that the people of Japan were just very ecologically concerned but in all honesty the place just isn’t big enough. Observation: Many people in this country ride bicycles; and I’m not just talking about a few little kids and pre-pubescent teens; I’m talking about everyone and almost anyon...which is difficult for me to count because I only have 32 appendages...and there are supposed to be over one million people in the city that I am living in; which is about the size of a quarter of Rockford. That’s a lot in a little.
So back to the ecology of this little island: because there are so many people here (about half the population of the U.S.) living on an island the size of California (or which only 20% is livable because the other 80% is too mountainous to call home…maybe “hill” but not home…) many do not drive cars.
Other Deterrents: every 100,000 kilometers car owners have to take their cars in for mandatory check-ups. At these inspections the mechanics are then to fix everything so that the car is in the best running shape possible. This means that the car owner then has to pay an outrageous fee to get the car fixed...no matter what kind of shape it is in. Also, when you purchase a car you have to prove that you have a parking space available at your home. This is rather difficult considering the fact that many people do not even live in their own homes but instead live in apartments or other space-conserving housing; therefore parking spaces are difficult to come by…even for your bicycle (side note: at train stations you have to have a parking permit to park your bike within a prescribed distance from the station, if you do not have a permit your bike may be fined and taken away). Weird. Therefore the reason that these people seem so ecologically sound is mainly due to the fact that they have no other choice. As for the size of the Japanese themselves…I think that they are so short because a long time ago someone decided that Japanese ceilings should only be so high, and this individual was obviously vertically impaired. Therefore all of the buildings in old-world Japan adhered to this standard and now the people do not grow above a predestined height due to evolution…no matter how many foreign men attempt to breed this characteristic out (mostly those dirty Australians…”g’day sweetheart.”
Author’s note: all statistics/facts compliments of Professor Martin Weatherby. He’s pretty dang smart…he went to Yale, which is no Loras…but at least he made due with what he had. Ha. So, all of this is true unless you want to prove a Yale graduate wrong. Go ahead, test those waters…you’d be swimming with sharks my friend. As far as the bit about the Australians...I just thought that it was funny and it's kind of a conclusion that I have reached.
The Yellow Scourge: No I am not turning into a huge racist, but I do find the term to be appropriate when talking about these horrifying little creatures that are constantly annoying the pants off of me. They are horrible. They just come and go buzzing in your ear in their harsh tones and strange noises. I thought that they were bad at home; but now I am convinced that I have never experienced such horrible and offensive creatures. I have done all that I can and I am at my wits end. They just keep flocking to me and although I swat at them and occasionally resort to simply yelling at them the mosquitoes continually attack me. It doesn’t matter if I am in my room tucked away in my bed with the air-conditioner set at a cool temperature or if I am walking around in the standing soupy air that is my new home they continue to pester me.
The mosquitoes here are much like the ancient race of samurai that used to roam the same land. They are quick nimble and able to render immense pain and torment. Plus they are about the same size as the cars in this land (but alas, I can not fit into the mosquitoes either). I have been told by those that call themselves “my friends” that they will soon be dying off and eventually be gone for the season, at least the people at the shops around here have gotten rid of their mosquito killing devices for now. But I do believe that just as we thought Japan would never back down in the great war numero deuce these mosquitoes aren’t going anywhere. Just the other day I think that I saw one wearing a North Face parka in preparation of the cooling temperature ahead; they are advanced and they are not about to give up. Wish me luck and dad please send me my gun. It’s open season. Love you all and I hope that you haven’t wasted too much time on my ramblings. Talk to you soon. Love Danny.
10.12.2004
My Birthday
My Birthday:
With yesterday gone I am now one year older, one year wiser, and one day closer to never wanting to have children.
From the beginning of this trip I have held to the belief that the Japanese individuals have been most kind and caring. I also thought that the entire country had bound together in honoring my presence through declaring my birthday to be a national holiday. They have called this holiday “Sports Day,” since I am quite the sportsman and all. So with this kind gesture I quietly and calmly thanked them by desiring to sleep in on the day of my birth, as well as the day of no school due to “Sports.” However I soon learned that I had been deceived and that “sports day” was none other then “shrill-voice-on-the-loudspeaker-day-while-children-laugh-and–scream-in-‘in-pubescent’-voices-while-Danny-is-trying-to-sleep-on-his-Birth”-day.
Now for a little background information: my room is on the edge of our little quaint campus, tucked neatly away next to a wall which blocks in a little Catholic elementary school, a school in which there is no God (and if he is there then I must have been very bad this year…which I may or may not have been, so I would like to withdraw the comment. God is alive and well in “Our Mary of the Screaming lil’ booger-chan Elementary School,” thank you Lord in advance for forgiveness). So as I awoke on the morn of my 23rd year on this earth by the screams of delight and amazement of many little Japanese saints outside of my window I was alarmed and thought that perhaps there was some sort of criminal effort going on across the way. But then I heard the bass begin to pump as the squeals ascended towards the heavens and “Sports Day” was underway. The whole event reminded me a lot of the different scenes from various WWII films in which people of Jewish decent were forced to run about a courtyard while music was blared over a cheap PA system. However Sports Day did not end with gratuitous deaths or anything of the sort; just cheap ribbons and a lot of little tykes sleeping like pet rocks later that night. So overall it was good for the kids but not for the wicked. I don’t think that any of this was assisted by the alcohol that I had drunk the night before in celebration of twenty-three wonderful years; I love you mom and don’t be mad at me…it was Andres, those crazy Spaniards will do anything to get an honest and innocent youth to partake in the devil’s sweet ambrosia…Well my friends I hope that some of this makes sense and that you are enjoying my little observations. If you could please take a moment and make a little comment so that I can write things that make you happy and feel good inside…or at least make you laugh a little bit more. I don’t want to be boring or waste any of your time…but I do want to share my experiences. I would also like to take this moment to recognize the Union of my Cousin Heather, the new Mrs. Kyle Markhardt…or Markhart…or Markedhart….er, Markhartengerhouser…er, Mrs. Markymarkandthefunkybunch…Mrs. Kyle. There, that has a nice ring to it. I have heard that everything went off great and I am very excited for the two of you. I would have personally delivered this message, but I don’t have any of your personal information. So for what it’s worth good luck and go get ‘em. Oh yeah; I would also like to add that I am going to kick your booty in “SceneIt” when I come back to the United States Mr. Markharderheart, or Kyle as it were. G’Bye.
With yesterday gone I am now one year older, one year wiser, and one day closer to never wanting to have children.
From the beginning of this trip I have held to the belief that the Japanese individuals have been most kind and caring. I also thought that the entire country had bound together in honoring my presence through declaring my birthday to be a national holiday. They have called this holiday “Sports Day,” since I am quite the sportsman and all. So with this kind gesture I quietly and calmly thanked them by desiring to sleep in on the day of my birth, as well as the day of no school due to “Sports.” However I soon learned that I had been deceived and that “sports day” was none other then “shrill-voice-on-the-loudspeaker-day-while-children-laugh-and–scream-in-‘in-pubescent’-voices-while-Danny-is-trying-to-sleep-on-his-Birth”-day.
Now for a little background information: my room is on the edge of our little quaint campus, tucked neatly away next to a wall which blocks in a little Catholic elementary school, a school in which there is no God (and if he is there then I must have been very bad this year…which I may or may not have been, so I would like to withdraw the comment. God is alive and well in “Our Mary of the Screaming lil’ booger-chan Elementary School,” thank you Lord in advance for forgiveness). So as I awoke on the morn of my 23rd year on this earth by the screams of delight and amazement of many little Japanese saints outside of my window I was alarmed and thought that perhaps there was some sort of criminal effort going on across the way. But then I heard the bass begin to pump as the squeals ascended towards the heavens and “Sports Day” was underway. The whole event reminded me a lot of the different scenes from various WWII films in which people of Jewish decent were forced to run about a courtyard while music was blared over a cheap PA system. However Sports Day did not end with gratuitous deaths or anything of the sort; just cheap ribbons and a lot of little tykes sleeping like pet rocks later that night. So overall it was good for the kids but not for the wicked. I don’t think that any of this was assisted by the alcohol that I had drunk the night before in celebration of twenty-three wonderful years; I love you mom and don’t be mad at me…it was Andres, those crazy Spaniards will do anything to get an honest and innocent youth to partake in the devil’s sweet ambrosia…Well my friends I hope that some of this makes sense and that you are enjoying my little observations. If you could please take a moment and make a little comment so that I can write things that make you happy and feel good inside…or at least make you laugh a little bit more. I don’t want to be boring or waste any of your time…but I do want to share my experiences. I would also like to take this moment to recognize the Union of my Cousin Heather, the new Mrs. Kyle Markhardt…or Markhart…or Markedhart….er, Markhartengerhouser…er, Mrs. Markymarkandthefunkybunch…Mrs. Kyle. There, that has a nice ring to it. I have heard that everything went off great and I am very excited for the two of you. I would have personally delivered this message, but I don’t have any of your personal information. So for what it’s worth good luck and go get ‘em. Oh yeah; I would also like to add that I am going to kick your booty in “SceneIt” when I come back to the United States Mr. Markharderheart, or Kyle as it were. G’Bye.
10.10.2004
Occurences so Far
Sorry. I know that I have not gotten to this Blogger in a while, but I have been having a little trouble…so less excuses and more fun, right?
Typhoon Incident:
It was a calm cool evening and it had been raining all day, but only a slight drizzle. However throughout the entire day I kept hearing various people’s warnings about the incoming storm or typhoon. I blew it off thinking that it was just going to be a slight downpour…nothing too bad. My esteemed colleague and friend, Andres of Leon, Spain, and I were simply sitting in the student lounge around 6 when we realized that there was only one beverage left in the moderately sized case of 6 that we had bought earlier. It was time to act. So I, unaware of the true prowess of a typhoon, decided that I would go and purchase another moderately sized package of bieru as well as some “otsamommi” or food that is consumed while drinking (yes, they have a word for such things. It was through such terms as this that I realized the truth: I may not be able to fit into their cars, but I can fit into their culture just fine). As I went out into the storm I thought to myself, “my self, it really is raining pretty hard,” but I advanced like our confused youth in Iraq and thought to myself that I had a fairly righteous mission ahead of me. And the store was only a few blocks away. Upon reaching the store I knew what to grab as far as drink was concerned, but I was unsure about the food. After trying to communicate with the locals by attempting to drink a fake beer and simulating eating, they just shook their head at me and waved their hands at me indicating that it was time to pay and leave; which I did. But my stomach was not about to let me retreat home only completing half of my mission. So I trudged on through the rain to the nearest vendor of delectable dried squid and the such; which was about another five blocks away. When I reached the “7-11” I was leaving a wake of puddles behind me throughout the store. Finally having purchased the vittles I made my way back home. When I reached the lounge Andres looked on in amazement and excitement. We then retreated to our housing and dried off. I found that all of my clothing, every layer (including my under-roos) was soaked. But the mission was a success and we were then able to join the surrounding ground in getting a little “wet.” Typhoons are the Asian equivalent of a blizzard, they really do have everything in this country.
How to Practice the Zazen, or how to gain enlightenment through the process of confusion and pain.
When asked if I would like to “go to temple,” I thought that it would be a good picture opportunity. I had wanted to see a temple and perhaps take some pictures of these Buddhist landmarks. So I agreed; what a mistake. I was to go the following Tuesday, which was October 5, the instructor who asked if I would like to go then informed me that a student would pick me up and assist me in getting to the temple on time and exactly where it was. The student that he chose was Makoto, a young woman who was studying Spanish. Therefore, she was not able to assist me at all having only experience in two languages that I could not speak at all. When the time came that we were to leave it dawned on me that I had no clue what I was going to be doing. It could have been a prayer, a party, a sacrifice; I had no clue, but when on anyway. After navigating our way through rush hour traffic at a few different railway stations and switching trains a few times we arrived at the temple. Now I don’t know about you, but I had always thought that areas of enlightenment would be a little different; not that there was anything wrong with this place, it just wasn’t what I had imagined. I had thought that it would be a very bare, clean, fresh-smelling place filled with incense and smiles. As it is it was filled with stern faces and smelled of a musty church basement (you know, institutionalized cleaner and the slight smell of week old baked goods; pleasant yet not what I expected). Soon after arriving I was taken up towards the sanctuary, or the place in which I was going to pray the Zazen, which is the ordinary practice of most Zen-Buddhists’. It was there that I was asked whether or not I knew how to pray the Zazen, to which I answered honestly and with a little astonishment, “nope, not at all.” After receiving a little look of confusion (I’m sure that this stranger was thinking the same thing that I was, “what on Buddha’s sand garden is this kid doing here,”). I was then given a quick orientation of what I was expected to do, which was to sit with my legs tucked under me in “lotus” position and stare at the wall. I was not told what the prayer time entailed, such as the simple facts of how long was I supposed to sit here, what was I trying to attain, and what is going to happen? The answer to such questions was not on the itinerary for the orientation, just how I supposed to look. So when the time came and the instructor who invited me arrived it was time to assume the position; which I did. And there I sat for one hour while being periodically startled by the sounds of a gong and by the chants of those around me. The chants were nice. They came about forty-five minutes into the sitting. At first I thought to myself, “self, this isn’t too bad.” But then they carried on for fifteen minutes. The only comparison that I can give to you, the reader, to better understand the situation would be to have you sit in the back seat of a very small car, perhaps a Volkswagen, and have someone first poke at your legs to render them useless and then have someone blare ambient noises at you that will only startle and confuse you…but do not listen to anything that you could possibly understand or eventually appreciate. Perhaps a chorus of food processing devices played at different levels. And that my friends, is how one achieves enlightenment.
Authors note: none of this is meant to be rude, it is simply an attempt to illustrate the difficulties of being in a foreign country and having a very limited understanding of the culture. I am happy that I went to the temple, because now I know to avoid it. The people that were practicing the Zazen appeared to be enjoying it immensely, which is a wonderful thing. Spiritual enlightenment of any sort is great for any individual, and I support that. However, it was not for me. Sorry Mr. Buddha, but I don’t get it.
Typhoon Incident:
It was a calm cool evening and it had been raining all day, but only a slight drizzle. However throughout the entire day I kept hearing various people’s warnings about the incoming storm or typhoon. I blew it off thinking that it was just going to be a slight downpour…nothing too bad. My esteemed colleague and friend, Andres of Leon, Spain, and I were simply sitting in the student lounge around 6 when we realized that there was only one beverage left in the moderately sized case of 6 that we had bought earlier. It was time to act. So I, unaware of the true prowess of a typhoon, decided that I would go and purchase another moderately sized package of bieru as well as some “otsamommi” or food that is consumed while drinking (yes, they have a word for such things. It was through such terms as this that I realized the truth: I may not be able to fit into their cars, but I can fit into their culture just fine). As I went out into the storm I thought to myself, “my self, it really is raining pretty hard,” but I advanced like our confused youth in Iraq and thought to myself that I had a fairly righteous mission ahead of me. And the store was only a few blocks away. Upon reaching the store I knew what to grab as far as drink was concerned, but I was unsure about the food. After trying to communicate with the locals by attempting to drink a fake beer and simulating eating, they just shook their head at me and waved their hands at me indicating that it was time to pay and leave; which I did. But my stomach was not about to let me retreat home only completing half of my mission. So I trudged on through the rain to the nearest vendor of delectable dried squid and the such; which was about another five blocks away. When I reached the “7-11” I was leaving a wake of puddles behind me throughout the store. Finally having purchased the vittles I made my way back home. When I reached the lounge Andres looked on in amazement and excitement. We then retreated to our housing and dried off. I found that all of my clothing, every layer (including my under-roos) was soaked. But the mission was a success and we were then able to join the surrounding ground in getting a little “wet.” Typhoons are the Asian equivalent of a blizzard, they really do have everything in this country.
How to Practice the Zazen, or how to gain enlightenment through the process of confusion and pain.
When asked if I would like to “go to temple,” I thought that it would be a good picture opportunity. I had wanted to see a temple and perhaps take some pictures of these Buddhist landmarks. So I agreed; what a mistake. I was to go the following Tuesday, which was October 5, the instructor who asked if I would like to go then informed me that a student would pick me up and assist me in getting to the temple on time and exactly where it was. The student that he chose was Makoto, a young woman who was studying Spanish. Therefore, she was not able to assist me at all having only experience in two languages that I could not speak at all. When the time came that we were to leave it dawned on me that I had no clue what I was going to be doing. It could have been a prayer, a party, a sacrifice; I had no clue, but when on anyway. After navigating our way through rush hour traffic at a few different railway stations and switching trains a few times we arrived at the temple. Now I don’t know about you, but I had always thought that areas of enlightenment would be a little different; not that there was anything wrong with this place, it just wasn’t what I had imagined. I had thought that it would be a very bare, clean, fresh-smelling place filled with incense and smiles. As it is it was filled with stern faces and smelled of a musty church basement (you know, institutionalized cleaner and the slight smell of week old baked goods; pleasant yet not what I expected). Soon after arriving I was taken up towards the sanctuary, or the place in which I was going to pray the Zazen, which is the ordinary practice of most Zen-Buddhists’. It was there that I was asked whether or not I knew how to pray the Zazen, to which I answered honestly and with a little astonishment, “nope, not at all.” After receiving a little look of confusion (I’m sure that this stranger was thinking the same thing that I was, “what on Buddha’s sand garden is this kid doing here,”). I was then given a quick orientation of what I was expected to do, which was to sit with my legs tucked under me in “lotus” position and stare at the wall. I was not told what the prayer time entailed, such as the simple facts of how long was I supposed to sit here, what was I trying to attain, and what is going to happen? The answer to such questions was not on the itinerary for the orientation, just how I supposed to look. So when the time came and the instructor who invited me arrived it was time to assume the position; which I did. And there I sat for one hour while being periodically startled by the sounds of a gong and by the chants of those around me. The chants were nice. They came about forty-five minutes into the sitting. At first I thought to myself, “self, this isn’t too bad.” But then they carried on for fifteen minutes. The only comparison that I can give to you, the reader, to better understand the situation would be to have you sit in the back seat of a very small car, perhaps a Volkswagen, and have someone first poke at your legs to render them useless and then have someone blare ambient noises at you that will only startle and confuse you…but do not listen to anything that you could possibly understand or eventually appreciate. Perhaps a chorus of food processing devices played at different levels. And that my friends, is how one achieves enlightenment.
Authors note: none of this is meant to be rude, it is simply an attempt to illustrate the difficulties of being in a foreign country and having a very limited understanding of the culture. I am happy that I went to the temple, because now I know to avoid it. The people that were practicing the Zazen appeared to be enjoying it immensely, which is a wonderful thing. Spiritual enlightenment of any sort is great for any individual, and I support that. However, it was not for me. Sorry Mr. Buddha, but I don’t get it.
10.02.2004
First Week
Well things are going well...as could be expected. This blogger is now going to be my baby. I will do all that I can to update this as often as possible; and along with these updates will come pictures, stories, and a lot of entertainment. So please be sure to check on me and my adventures...if you want to. So be sure to save the page in your favorites or just remember, http://koretabetai.blogspot.com (koretabetai is one of the first phrases that I learned in this blessed country, it means "do you want to eat this," and it is usually said while waiving a fist in someone's face...whatta country). Alright, well I will now go out and take pictures and jot down fun and interesting thoughts and occurances to make it all worth your while. Thank you very much.
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