Japan Wrapup

I've mostly decompressed from the trip home, but I'm still not sure if I can put a god cap on the whole Japan experience. It's my own fault really. If I had been regularly blogging while I was there, I think I would be better arranged mentally. That is, after all, what this whole blog was all about in the first place. Anyway, I'll do what I can with a free-form bullet list, just to have an official Japan roundup post.

• The food was just what you would expect - very yummy, and mostly expensive. The noodle bars were cheap, but everyday got a little dull. Even though I am a sushi noob, I thought the sushi was great. The best restaurant was a little 4-foot wide shop that had homemade gyoza. No air conditioner and you sat cafeteria style anywhere there happened to be an open seat, but oh, so yummy - and a little pricey.
• Weather - holy crap. I can say that I truly loathe the Japanese summer. Stifling heat and humidity like Houston or something, plus the added joy of a close personal acquaintance with a couple hundred people every day on your subway car (which in view of the weather is often refrigerated to pneumonia-inducing temps. The worst thing, which reminds me of growing up in the mid and southern states, is that it doesn't cool off at night. Well, I mean, it does, but not enough to actually be comfortable. Oh, and you might think it would be better when it rains. Nope. Hot. Sticky. and you've got to carry the umbrella around all day. I've always said I'm all for four seasons, but maybe I'd actually just prefer three.
• Stereotypic Japanese weirdness - This might make me sound like a hypocrite (I defend myself by saying that everyone's got their kink), but the weirdness is a special kind of weirdness, it's true. The ubiquitous porn shops sell hard core porn, but then again, so do the regular stores (think about finding 'the 100-person orgy' at your local Borders or Best Buy). The kink-porn is there too - bondage, dress-up, hetro- and homosexual (although interestingly, the male/male gay porn seems to be of the impossibly cute boys variety marketed at young women kind of like the lesbian porn marketed at men in the US), and the truly disturbing violence and pedophilia porn too. Again, all in the local version of your Tower Records.
• Book culture. Oh, the books. There was an absolutely incredibly wonderful 'book-street' very nearby my school. It was about 3 long blocks worth of new and used bookstores. Most shops were tiny and specialized in a certain kind of used books, history, photo, art, pop fiction, Chinese, and even a really amazing English used book store that specialized in what seemed to be mostly 70's-80's era literature criticism, as well as a healthy used collection of the standard classics often large hardbound editions. yum.
• A sidebar to the book culture are the stationary shops. To be honest, most of my favorite shops were run by Korean folks, which I wouldn't note except for a racial tension that still exists over there, especially between other Asian folks. Anyway, the stores. Oh, my friends and neighbors who covet through the Levinger's catalog, Oh, my peers and kind readers who can easily spend 100 dollars at the Office Depot, Oh hie thee to Japan and roll around naked in the aisles of a stationary store in Japan. Ok, well, maybe not that last bit, but still. Think about endless shelves of pencils and pens in every color and size (from .25 to 1.!). Think wide varieties of paper in notebook, stationary and loose leaf, and oh, the folders and binders and markers and highlighters and such! Ah... good times...
  
• Language - Ok, My Japanese stinks. I mean, it's better than it was, but it's still pretty bad. Nothing beats being in the language environment to help though. The problem is that I haven't had to tackle a grammar heavy language in a very long time, and if Japanese has one thing, it's grammar, and grammar in spades. And then there's the politeness levels. For those who haven't looked into it, think about being able to say the phrase "Please buy an umbrella." in (at bare minimum in daily usage) through three entirely conjugations based on your relationship with the people who are listening to you. Now don't get me wrong, I love Japanese. One of the coolest things about learning a new language is learning all the subtleties that are native to it. The first time I realized that I was being called Overread-sama instead of Overread-san at certain places and what that entailed, I was thrilled with the discovery.
• Quick takes
• Subway - 85% awesome. Why can't we have that here?
• Onsen - 99% awesome. Why can't we have those here?
• Right wing xenophobic nutjobs 100% not awesome. Why do we have those here too?
• Yasakuni Shrine - gorgeous but tainted. At least Arlington doesn't have war criminals

Ok, that's huge. I'll leave it there for now. There are some things that really bothered me there, but I really had such a wonderful time. There's so much that I didn't get to see and really want to go back.

Well Hello There

Fancy meeting you here. I hear that this place used to post blog entries. Well, that's the rumor anyway.

Ok, ok, I've tried to keep up with the 365, but the word-blog has gone down the tunes - as Optimus Prime says in quite possibly the worst-written movie big-money movie ever, "My bad."

So, one of the reasons I haven't been posting is that for the last couple of days I've been trying to get home. It worked, and I'm home again, but getting ready and fishing up everything over there was a big drain on my blogging time. I hope I'll have time to post some thoughts about it all a bit later, but as you can tell from my flickr stream, I had a blast.

I did get the postcards out, so I hope those are arriving soonish, there are perhaps a couple of goodies for a fishy blogger out there - although I should apologize in advance, I could not overcome my shame in order to buy one of the little 12-year-old 38DDD micro miniskirt-wearing schoolgirl figurines. You'll have to go there and get that yourself.

My bad.

Surf the Earth

Woohoo felt this one too!

Another Interlude

I just got ahold of some postcards. Anyone want one? If you do, email me your address and I'll send one out to you from the land of the disturbing tentacle comics. I'll follow the Profgrrrrly model and swear on a stack of figurative copies of the Harry Potter series that I will do no evil with the information and will delete your email and forget your name and address after I mail off the postcard.

Some of the postcards are pretty cool, too :) If you want a specific kind of postcard, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Oh - note to family members who have recently moved: I need your new address. :P

ETA: whoopsie! Emails can be sent to Overerad(at)gmail(dot)com

The Internets Are Difficult

Quick note to say that all is well except my continuing trouble with consistent internet access. More of the story to come - I know you are all on the edge of your collective seat.

Also, was that another earthquake again? Godzilla must be drunk or something.

A Long Road to The Festival (The King's Festival!?): Part Two of a Continuing Saga

To take a step back, we got on the subway to get to the Asakasa area where there is a huge Buddhist temple and a lot of photo-ready gates and pagodas and the accompanying commercial detritus. That’s where the fireworks were going to go up. Again, this sounds like a lovely idea. Such a lovely idea it was that the larger portion of the Tokyo population agreed and decided that they might as well come out to join us. They’re friendly like that.

I’ve written about the subway and its horrors, but to tell the truth, I’ve found a few ways to minimize the crush during rush hour.

Top 5 Ways Not To Get Crushed During Rush Hour on the Tokyo Subway:

5. Sneak in as far away from the doors as possible. Lots of folks worry they won’t be able to get out when their stop comes, so they fight for position around the door. Slide past these folks into the middle between the doors and you’ll earn yourself a inch or two of breathing room.

4. Avoid the express trains. You might think – oo! Express means faster! Faster means less time in the crush – all to the good, right? Well, kinda. Most everyone also thinks that though, so the expresses are much more crowded than the locals. And ya know what? I live an hour away, and the difference between the express and the local is a whopping 8 minutes. Feh, I’ll trade the 8 minutes for the joy of an un-collapsed lung, thanks. You can make your decision though.

3. Ride the female car. Now, I’m only suggesting this based on the story of one guy’s story about accidentally getting on the females-only car and finding it much roomier. Now that I think about it, the women were probably all staying as far away from him as possible. Ya know, only guy on the women-only car. That probably wasn’t so smart. That being said, I you happen to be blessed with the right chromosome pairing, I say give it a try. Even if it’s just as crowded as the other cars, my experience shows that you’ll end up with better smells, and I imagine most people would prefer a car with less fear of the pervy folk.

2. Carry a bag. This is actually a bit rude and I’m sure it’s cheating, but I play dirty. I’ve got one of my big pannier bags with the strap crosswise against my chest with the bag directly in front. This way I always get a little space in front of my face because no one can get closer to me than my bag. This is cheating because I usually see people put their bigger bags up on the luggage rack. I may get dirty looks, but I’ve got my nose in a book, so I usually don’t see them. Like a house elf, I bonk my head in contrition, but I still do it anyway. Bad, bad, rude Overread. Dobby would understand.

1. The Golden and Most Important Rule – Get out earlier. The difference between the 6:57 train and the 7:00 train is massive. I’ve even seen people able to open up a newspaper on the 6:50 train. I haven’t tried the even later train that we tried that first day again. Shudder.

It really is amazing how easily I get distracted, isn’t it?

I brought all that up because the ride to Asakasa that night was on a par or even maybe a bit worse than the first day I tried to ride the subway. Crazy crushed. There’s a picture of one of the cars from the outside, but it really doesn’t do the situation justice. It’s hilarious when you are smashed up against some random stranger, forced to take particular interest in the mole of the back of his ear for 5 minutes, and then you pull into a station.

You giggle a little bit thinking with a touch of schadenfreude about the poor saps who have no chance to get in the car. Maybe they’ll climb on top like they do in those old pictures from India you think with a superior chortle. A quick note – don’t actually laugh out loud. The exhalation of air from your lungs will give others a chance to squish closer. Well, that night, the joke was on me. The train pulled into the station, and there were lines of people politely queued up with hopes of getting on. Having already used my pseudo-joke about quantum train experiments and physical bodies occupying the same space, I really have no words to describe what happened next. I can only report the result. They all got on the car. I have no idea how. Although it is worth saying perhaps that there was serious consideration about how to lift one of our crew and put him on the luggage rack. Alas, we couldn’t move our arms, so the idea went nowhere.

Exiting the train was more of a panicky mass disgorging than anything else. If you’ll pardon the image, it really seemed like a birthing. People pushed with sudden urgency. I held my breath and struggled forward against the living walls around me. There were the indecipherable mumblings of the intercom voice, there was even a woman yelling out, “Itai! Itai! [It hurts! It hurts!]” I never did find out what happened to her, as I was pushed and pushing along the human surge. Finally, I was pulled gasping into the light where a man stood wearing a surgical mask. He slapped my butt and I cried.

Ok, well part of that last bit might not be exactly accurate.

This is truly becoming epic. More later.

Fireworks and Karaoke Part the First

Karaoke will do strange things to people.

I guess I should start at the beginning. Japan has a lot of holidays. I’m absolutely sure that they are or were once very important for what they represented, but just like Labor Day or President’s Day, they’ve now simply all become an excuse to party or BBQ or get drunk. Preferably all three. My evidence here is twofold. A couple of weeks ago there was a major bank holiday. It was explained to me as “Sea Day.” I was quite sure that I had misunderstood until the fourth or fifth person confirmed it. Nothing would be open because of “Sea Day.”

“Well, what do you do on ‘Sea Day?’”

“You should go to the ocean.”

“Are you going to the ocean?”

“No one goes to the ocean. It’s too crowded.”

I’ll let that little paradox twittle around in the posting area without comment.

My second piece of evidence was uncovered when we got an email from one of the groups in charge of some of us. The email said that there would be a proper booze-up and group outing to watch the fireworks. A follow-up email apologized for not arranging for us to wear costumes. This sounded great! I eagerly asked a Japanese friend what the holiday was for. Then I asked another. Confused with the answers I was getting, I asked several more, never getting much more than, “It’s summer, right? Everyone needs to wear the summer kimono and we’ll watch fireworks.”

I was a bit confounded, and frankly, I’m sure a consultation with Dr. Google would fix me up in no time, but I’m kinda of warming to the idea that there should be a “Sea Day,” and that occasionally, you should just stop worrying about why, and put on your summer kimono (called a yukata – never say this blog ain’t educational) and go watch fireworks.

The first part of the plan went fairly well. Our fearless leader failed to show, but an underling was ok to take charge and lead us into the bowels of the subway to our goal. At first it was kind of exciting – Oooh! Look at that girl in that beautiful kimono! Isn’t it gorgeous? Damn… I’m sorry about this, but at the risk of turning this into another War and Peace of a blog post, I feel I need to digress for a moment.

Again, I’m no fashion plate, but here we go. The kimonos were almost uniformly beautiful – I even got a couple on film up on flickr. Some were subtle and clean, some were a riot of summer-y colors and patterns. I saw one that I particularly liked that was nearly completely solid in a creamy off-white with a flower curled around the hem – very classy. They were set off with elaborate hairpins in elaborately coiffed ‘dos and broaches, matching bags and sandals – just gorgeous. Then, there were the… others.

First off, full points to the guys accompanying the young ladies in kimonos who bothered to wear one themselves. The male version of the summer kimono looks great and can match well with the woman’s. They look masculine and very stylish – frankly they are a lot more aesthetically pleasing than anything that the poor corporate salarymen wear during the week. Well done gentlemen – you are doing your best to make the less-fair sex less pathetic. Also, a well done goes out to the gaggles of gals in kimono (kimonos?). Very often quite the lovely sight.

The standard guy-gal couple was however, let’s say, less aesthetically pleasing. Alas, most often the male of the species sported a t-shirted and blue-jeans. (You should all know that my little glass house has major structural damage due to, let us say, ‘velocitized geology’)

However, my full scorn is aimed toward those among the Japanese youth, men and women, who A) think that 80’s hair bands were really on to something and we need to give their stylings one more shot. B) think that tan-in-a-bottle should be applied like Tammy Faye’s mascara (too soon? Too soon.) C) Well, ok there’s really only those two, but they were usually combined in the same person. Go ahead – try googling gunguro – well, I think that’s how you spell it anyway… You’ll see what I mean.

Ok, digression over.

Oh, for crying out loud. I haven’t even gotten to the fireworks or the karaoke bit yet. Not even time to proofread. Hmmph. This’ll have to be a serial post. More later.

It's Like Mad Libs, But Not!

Hopefully I'll have a couple of more substantial posts coming soon, but until then, I invite you to write your own captions! I found a couple of signs that look fun, and rather than translate them, I think we should all write what they ought to say instead on the notes over at flikr. See? Fun for all, right?

Some signs:
1.
2.

Adventures in Banking Part the Second

We all know that Citibank is awful, right? I didn't need more proof myself, but they happily provided it. Suffice to say that even the lovely Citibank office down in Ginza couldn't help me turn my card on. They helpfully suggested that I could get a cash advance at any bank in Tokyo by providing two forms of ID with the card. Quite friendly. Entirely untrue, but friendly nonetheless. Another option they suggested was to mail me a card (dispite them having yet to prove they can mail anything to me over here) on which I could write down my favorite numbers, send back in to them and they would magically turn those numbers into a PIN for my card. They said that it would only take two weeks after they recieved the card back from me to get it activated. By which time I would no doubt be back in the US. Still, neat trick though.

Oh, and my bank card locked up on me too. I wonder where one goes to apply for a Japanese sugar mama?

Did The Earth Move For You?

The typhoon was a real letdown. A washout, if you will. Little bit of rain, little bit of wind - nothing to stop me from wandering off to the museum and a temple - pictures are uploading now. We have been getting a few earthquakes though. We had a little bit of a shudder shudder a few days ago at about 5:30am, and then another pretty decent one this morning at 10:30 or so. Funny thing is that I've lived in a lot of earthquake-prone places and never felt one for sure. To here in a few days was pretty cool. Very fun as long as they don't get any bigger.

I looked online and it looks like this morning's was a pretty big 'un. 6.7. Ya...

I Just Want To Bang On My Drum All Day

I don't have a big post here for today, nor do I have the photos aranged for Flickr - this not having internet thing is really not cool at all. Just a quick note to say that there's a typhoon coming to ruin my weekend and that I have blisters from Taiko drumming today. hehe. Taiko drumming. Fun. Another lesson learned - I have no rythym whatsoever. Actually I kind of already knew that, though.

If You Want Something Visual, That’s Not Too Abysmal

Just about every guide book you see about Japan seems to fall over itself to tell you that Japan is a country of contradictions. It’s become a cliché to be sure, and I think that it’s also become overstated. Yeah, there are a lot of different kinds of people in Japan, but to point Japan out as special in that way is to ignore that humans everywhere are different. Oooo Japan struggles with modernity while keeping traditions alive, give me a break. Nobody else anywhere does that?

Ok, I’ll concede that some of the contrasts are maybe more visable here, given the fundamental changes of the Meiji period and the post-war period. I’ll also admit that the contrasts are sometimes more apparent because space is so constrained – Japan ain’t that big, after all.

This was pretty much the theme of my trip to Harajuku last Sunday. See, Harajuku has a park where all the wanabe rock bands hang out and play. Well, that’s also where the beatboxers and breakdancers and drum groups play too. Oh, and the runners and the skaters – they hang out there too. And the guys who dress up like extras from Grease. They look like they’ve been there since Rock Around the Clock was topping the charts. But there are two other main draws to the area.

The one that’s definitely going to be in your guide book is only about a two or three minute walk from the doo-wop dudes. It’s the old Meiji Shrine. Like most pre-war buildings, everything was destroyed in the bombings, but it was rebuilt in the 50s. It’s grand and beautiful, set in the middle of a forested area that looks like it was basically let run wild. The Shinto penchant for purity and serenity is very much to be appreciated after the chaos of the Tokyo streets and subway.

I was there on a Sunday, too, which meant I got a chance to see part of a Shinto wedding ceremony. It was a wonderful procession, with the bride and groom and a few others in traditional dress, trailing members in tailed tuxes and alas, women mostly in pantsuits – only a few kimono. Photos over at flickr, you’ll forgive me for not capturing the pantsuits.

Nearby, there was a railing set up around a huge tree where you could post a board on which you had written your wishes. These were really interesting. In all sorts of languages, but mostly Japanese, Chinese, Korean and English, people wished for health, happiness, love, and even a ‘mo chill time in Japan.’ The one that struck me the most though, was the one that wished that the soldiers and sailors of both sides in the Great Pacific War may rest in peace. It struck me because not so very far away is another more famous Shinto shrine, Yasikuni, that houses the spirits to the Japanese war dead, including most notoriously, several war criminals. I’ve also already seen the right-wing propaganda trucks that tool around town with people giving speeches on top. I wish my Japanese were good enough to understand more of what they said. All I can hear is a lot of ‘fathers,’ ‘mothers,’ and ‘children.’ Perhaps it’s my overactive imagination, but that sounds like it would fit well with good old down-home xenophobic populism to me. The rise of nationalism in Asia is very disturbing to me, and I was very disappointed to have the reflection break into my bucolic reverie. I may write more on this later.

Leaving the shrine, I ran into the other most famous sight of Harujuku, the Cosplayers – ‘Cos’ for ’costume.’ They are also called Loli-goths – the ‘Loli’ is short for ‘Lolita.’ Wouldn’t Nabokov be proud? (I should say that I’m pretty sure they aren’t encouraging pedophilia. I’m fairly sure that Lolita has the same readership rate among the pre-college folk here that it does in the US - that is - next to nil.) I’m sure you can kind a wealth of information all over the web about these folk, and the couple of photos I’ve got might help, but briefly, imagine that the Rocky Horror Picture Show folks didn’t have a movie. Mix liberally with the Emo kids. Put them all in costumes made from the reimaginings of Gothic horror and Manga. Give them one day of celebration per week on Sunday where they can gather and seek the affirmation that they don’t get from their peers in school by allowing a horde of photographers to ask them politely if they might take their picture. I hope that doesn’t sound too harsh. As a former Rocky Horror Picture Show and drama geek, I imagine that, were I to grow up in Japan nowadays, I might be out there too. They generally seemed really happy, too, so maybe the Emo thing doesn’t fit. Perhaps a wondering Googler can enlighten me.

In any case, the costumes of the cosplayers and the do-wop guys along with the costumes of the wedding ceremony (both kimono and tuxedo) seemed to encourage a confirmation of the ‘Japan is a country of contradictions’ blather. I still don’t buy it. At least if you are going to claim that Japan is a country of more contradictions than other countries. Yeah, sure they’ve got east and west and past and present, but who doesn’t? Ever been to a renaissance festival in the US? Ever seen a clutch (gaggle?) of non-Asian folk at a Japanese anime screening at a US university? Ever seen photos of a Star Wars wedding? To me, it’s just another way of saying that Japanese folks are fundamentally different from others, and I really don’t think that serves anyone very well. To cover my ass, I don’t mean to say that there aren’t cultural differences and social issues unique to Japan, of course there are, and I’ll happily write about them, too. I guess I just got a bit miffed after looking at all the exotic–ized Japan in the guide books I’ve been looking at.

I Can Post A Title Today!

More photos up at Flickr. Please be aware that I have no image editing software here (I thought Photoshop made the migration to the laptop, but alas, I guess it did not). And darned if Japan isnt a first world nation that generally refuses to flaunt international copyright and intellectual property rights openly in stores, unlike sooome nearby countries.

(Two notes - this evil cafe-computer wont let me edit the title, and the formatter has gone wonky. Gah! I:m in one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world and I can:t get online! Second -For the record, the Kiwi Kit Kat was pretty good. It also has the added advantage of being fun to say. Kiwi Kit Kat Kiwi Kit Kat Kiwi Kit Kat - come on! Try it! For the hard core Kit Kat Fan, take a look at this guys photostream)

And now we return you to your regularly scheduled blather:

One of the absolute best things about travelling is that you immediately become an expert. For example, now, I can say I’ve been to Japan. When I meet you at a conference or a party, or perhaps on a sidewalk somewhere in the bad side of town where I’ve taken up selling Chiklettes and collecting aluminum cans, (note to self: Selling Chick-lit might be more profitable. Look into garish pink paperback covers) I’ll be able to say, “I’ve been to Japan.” You, gob-smacked by my worldliness, will be forced to accept every following word as gospel. That is unless you’ve also been there, in which case I will ask you if you might be interested in a slightly worn but well-loved copy of Bridget Jones’ Diary.

At least this is how I’ve seen it work elsewhere. In my experience of living in unfamiliar cultures, there are a few phases. In the first few days, there is a general sense of being overwhelmed. It usually depends on your natural outlook as to whether this means that you are happily overwhelmed or unhappily so.

Example - See if you can figure out which of the following two travelers is being happily overwhelmed:

“It’s so cool we found this little restaurant – we’ll never be able to find our way back here. I can’t believe how delicious this bizarre dish is! I’m not even sure I know what’s in it! Was that a fruit or something? I’ve got to get the waiter to write its name down so I can get it again.”

“You damned people don’t know shit! I said light foam! And they call this a Starbucks!”

The most fun phase, however, follows after the overwhelmed phase. It generally lasts from the end of week one to up to a year or so (or more if the traveler is particularly dense). This is the expert phase. You may notice that people who have lived abroad for a very long period of time rarely call themselves experts about the land or culture in which they live. They have become wise and know it is foolish to attempt. Those just freshly out of the overwhelmed phase know not such wisdom. They have figured ‘those foreign people’ out. They are the ones who tell you where the ‘real’ or ‘authentic’ restaurants are and refuse to eat at lesser establishments. These are the people who roll their eyes at the tourists (they might do it twice if they think you didn’t see them the first time – it’s best to acknowledge the eye roll quickly, lest their eyerolling dislodge a contact)*

In the spirit of the expert phase, I mention that I have been in Japan for almost exactly one week. Gather around and I shall impart my expertise.

The Subway

Everything you’ve heard is true. Except that one thing. That was a misunderstanding. I swear it was all a misunderstanding. So, right. Almost everything you’ve heard is true. The Japanese subway is both a marvel and a monster.

I actually live on the border of Tokyo and Yokohama, so to get to my school, I travel about an hour by train/subway. So I’m an expert now.

The first day we tried out the subway, it was a weekend. Oh, we laughed. We transferred and missed trains and chatted in the cars. Ah, it was so long ago. I was so young and naïve. The subway is a different beast on the weekdays. On Monday, we boarded a 7:15ish car into downtown. Oh, for a muse of fire. The thing is that people apparently start getting on the subway in India at 10pm to get into Tokyo for a morning shift. That’s the only reason I can think of for the sheer mass of people. Like I said, I’m about an hour out of Tokyo, and when the train arrived at my station, it was already full. Now, I’m not saying that there weren’t any available seats –that’s a given at any time of day, as near as I can tell. I’m saying that there was no room for myself and the several others with me to get on the train. At all.

Luckily for us, we were at the front of the line to get on, and there were several hundred people behind us who I’m guessing missed the subway in Delhi, and were angry that they had to take a plane to get this far. In any case, they very helpfully shoved us in the backs hard and fast enough to prove conclusively that two solids can occupy the same physical space in the quantum subway car. So we did all get in, smashed together, trying to keep in one clump as the raging eddies of suit and tie threatened to whisk us off to who knows where. Finally the doors slid closed, shaving their way across the chest and face of the poor sap who was half-in half-out.

Then the real struggle began as it would pass every day for the rest of the week. Later I traveled by myself so I could get on the train earlier – that made it a little better, but not much, but it’s always the same. Once everyone gets their place, they need to arrange themselves. But of course nobody can move their body – only pieces, and only in small efforts. Legs shift out in hopeless attempts to lower centers of gravity. Hands stretch up to find that all the hand-holds were taken long ago. The truly amazing thing is that more people get on at every stop. There almost always seems to be a way for them to smash in.

As the train rumbles from station to station, the entire car of people pitch and sway together. Those lucky enough to hold straps or supports are silently tasked as the pillars of the crowd. The short or strapless have no recourse but to fall into the person next to them when the train jolts. It’s not really a fall though, more like a lean. Everyone is leaning on them too. It becomes a bit hypnotic after awhile. There’s the rhythmic light tap of the arm that’s bumping into your shoulder, the macro-view of the guy’s ear in front of you, and even the cool blast of conditioned air that does a nice job of blow-drying your hair. Many people close their eyes and some even nap. In general, no one speaks, no one even laughs nervously when shoved. There is something amazing about so much humanity everywhere around you. You are literally surrounded by people actively pressing against you, not in aggression, but simply as everyone is pressing and pressed. Personal space really doesn’t enter into it.

Finally, as the car gets past the first major stop that heralds Tokyo proper, there are people who leave. With a ‘’scuse me’ and a surprisingly forceful shove, someone from the middle of the train can cut through to the door in time and be spit out of the car before the doors close again. Eventually, a little room materializes.

First to appear from bags and pockets are the cell phones, then the video games and books. Then the newspapers. All without a sound. Everyone with the same expression, now texting away, or reading to themselves as if just five minutes ago they weren’t intimately connected, nose to neck and more. It’s a bit of an anticlimax at the end. You get out, and the mush of humanity rushes on.

There are a couple of rider-types that I’ll identify. In my capacity as expert, I am fully licensed to make broad generalizations and categorize people without remorse. You can make out a chart and bring it with you like you might on a birding trip.

Fauna of the Tokyo Subway:

Salaryman: These come in many shapes and sizes. Most often asleep for the entire trip but magically awake when it comes time to exit the train. When able, he (the female of the species is so-far undiscovered. More exploring is required) will expertly unroll a newspaper and fold it into a rectangle so that he can read it in the smallest area possible. Dark suit, white shirt, salt and pepper hair.

Salaryman –youth: Very similar to the standard Salaryman, but occasionally with more colorful plumage – still within the black to natural-brown range. The clothing will also occasionally be more colorful. A slightly less dark suit or a mildly pastel shirt is common. This version will often have a comic book rather than a newspaper. Do not be alarmed if this man’s comic book is covered with nearly nude women in bondage gear. Or completely nude women without bondage gear. Or perhaps with tentacles. While not entirely common, it has been witnessed by your guide more than once.

OL: A possible counter to the Salaryman is the ‘OL’ or ‘Office Lady.’ Your guide is not sure whether the name seems as slighting in Japanese as it seems to me in English, and isn’t entirely sure what position they hold in the cooperate structure, but in the subway, they are generally not elegant, but seem expensively dressed, and never seem to be over about 35. Perhaps it is a pre-marriage thing? Beware of pointy tall heels.

Students: the youth of the subway wear school uniforms during the week. Blue skirts and white blouses and sometimes sweaters (!?) for the women and blue slacks and white button-downs for the lads. As with any uniform, the key to differentiating the individuals is in the subtle details. The young lady out to make herself unique might load her cellphone down with 90kg of dangling cute things. The young man out to look like a boy-band version of a thug might unbutton his shirt down to his navel and show off his skeletal chest. Sek-say.

*The expert phasers are not to be confused with those ‘gone native’ who, although it is perhaps counterintuitive, are a subcategory of tourist even though they may live there for decades. They are actually categorized in this way only in order to piss them off. These people actually do everything they can to become a local and renounce their homeland. While patently absurd and absolutely impossible, it’s fun to watch them make fools of themselves. If American, they have a particular hatred for McDonald’s, Hollywood and often Coca-Cola, for example (it’s fun to point out the paradox that many locals truly enjoy a Coke at McDonald’s after a Hollywood blockbuster). They also very often identify themselves with a certain narrow cultural group of the local population, claiming that they and said group are more ‘local’ than most of those others actually born in the area. Examples range from the Pseudo-French Art Snob, the False-Mexican Teotihuacan, the Wannabe-Russian Communist and the Ersatz-Japanese Otaku. They are universally mocked.

Where There is Smoke, There Must Be...

It:s clear from the last post I:m also without a spellcheck. I:ll leave the grief there as a mark of my shame, as I:m sure to make more mistakes anyway.

Just another brief update today. I:ll try to put together something a bit more substantive later. I loaded some pictures on a thumbdrive and brought it in to the internet cafe, so there will be a little bit up on flickr and hopefully the 365 blog too if I have enough time.

Also a note that putting a little no smoking sign on my computer does not prevent the smoke from the guy next to me (at a smoking allowed computer) from wafting over. Gak.

Adventures in Banking

No time for a full update, as I:m still internetless at home and having to deal with internet cafes and apparantly a keyboard with no appostrophy. Odd.

n any case, I thought I should share the joy of Citibank:s reply to my request that they send my credit card infro to my new address in Japan so I can, ya know, eat and stuff.

They:d be happy to send it to my home address

ok - I:ll change my home address to Japan. I wrote them my new address and here is the reponse in all its glory:

We are unable to change your address as requested as we are limited to 24
characters on each of the first two lines and 20 characters on the third line,
including spaces. Please provide us with an abbreviated or alternate address.
You may send your change to the above address or call us.

Hmmm... So it:s only ok to live in places with short addresses. Unfortunate. I:m now wondering if I drop the prefecture off the address if it will still get to me. Adventures in banking, indeed.

Day 2: The Quickening

I woke up early, energized and ready to take on the tasks at hand: #1 Money. #2 Sheets & Stuff #3 an ethernet cable and other sundry doodads. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

It turns out that most ATMs all over Japan only handle domestic cards. I would have known that if I had just bothered to check a Lonely Planet or any other guidebook. Sad, but something I should have been on top of. However, post offices were said to hold magical ATMs that would take international cards hooray for globalization and all that. So, I check a very sketchy map that they had put out in the common room last night and headed off into the early morning sauna.

Oh, did I mention it’s kinda warm here? I left the hotel at about 7. I passed a big digital readout on the way that said it was 28 degrees. That’s over 80 for those of us still stuck in the stone age of Fahrenheit. At 7 in the morning. Now, that’s actually not hot enough to combust crows out of the sky (lots of crows here), but it’s hot enough. Add to that, of course, a very very high humidity that feels a bit like Houston in the summer, and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, after a good stretch of walking, I’m well beyond the glistening phase, and closer to the basting phase. I have never really handled heat well. I am more of a artic kind of guy.

I actually love walking around a new place. For me, it’s the best way to get my bearings, and Japan seems to be fairly walker friendly. Like I said earlier, my hotel is in a very residential area, and it takes a good 7 or 8 minutes of hiking (we’re kind of on the top of a hill, too) to get out to the main roads. A little bit further and you’re to the train station. A bit more and you’re to the home furnishings store (it’s still closed though – too early). A bit more and you’re… where exactly? A bit more and… hmm wasn’t the post office supposed to be around here somewhere? Nice walk though. I ended up going well past the post office (it was down another street and there was a sign, but it was tiny). Sooo, I turned around and found the turnoff and went down a lovely tree covered road to a very blocky and imposing building that claimed it was the post office. In fact, the first sign that said post office (in English, I should have known better) turned out to be the cleverly named ‘Post Office’ corner shop. Alas, as I had only a couple of yen to my name, I left in search of a more suitable post office. As a side note for confusion’s sake, there was an ATM at the Post Office corner shop – domestic cards only.

One door down was the actual post office, with actual post office boxes and such, and thankfully I giant sign with an arrow pointing to the right with big blocky letters (English again, I should learn to be wary) saying ‘ATM.’ Good and nice. Unthankfully, the arrow pointed directly to a giant metal garage-door looking wall with a neatly stenciled notice in Japanese saying that the ATM was open only from 9-12 or so on Saturdays.

So the ATM was closed. Now, I’m not sure I understand the workings of banks or post offices, to say nothing of the post offices that act like banks and corner stores that seem to inhabit Japan, but isn’t it kind of the idea that ATMs are available 24-7? Isn’t the basic concept that because live tellers cost wages and benefits and such that ATMs are used to take care of basic transactions when and where you can’t afford to place tellers? Well, show’s what I know. Apparently, the labor laws in Japan are strict. Even the machines get time off. Shows what happens when you give too much authority to the robots.

Anyway. It’s 8. The ATM doesn’t open until 9. Harrumph. Well, let’s just walk around a bit more.

It’s another of those things that shouldn’t surprise me but does. Japan is a very green place. There are trees and bushes and plants – there are even a couple of posts given over to gardens inside the residential area. I’m a bit more happy than I should be to find vending machines everywhere. They are almost always drinks, and occasionally smokes. Alas, to date none have had the mythical Cucumber Pepsi, also I guess I’m not in the right area for used panties in a tube. Fret not, I’ll go into Tokyo proper soon.

A good deal of walking and the settling of a vaguely distilling image of the area in my mind later, I return to find, almost anti-clamactically, that the ATM works like a charm. Zip-zop, thousands of yen in my pocket. The side story to this is that usually when I do these kinds of outings, I have to do them on a credit card because I never get my funding money until I get back, sad but true. The problem is that I can’t seem to use my credit card for a cash advance there. I’ll have to try again maybe somewhere at a Citibank or something. The downside is that, of course, using my debit card eats away at money I need to fight beasts back home – rent, sundry other bills, and I simply don’t have enough cash on hand for this trip. Stay tuned. I could end up a shopping-cart pusher in downtown Tokyo! It’s probably as financially rewarding as grad-school work.

The rest of the day muddled along slowly. I found an electrical converter (they use the same plugs as in the US, but none of my sockets in my room have a grounding socket – and I thought I had that one covered!), ethernet cable (fun and flat, not round like in the states), bedding (try to imagine shopping for bedding when you don’t know how to say any of the following: Single, Double, Twin, mattress, mattress cover, sheet, duvet, duvet cover. Oh, and you also aren’t really sure what the size of your bed was to begin with. Fun!) I also picked up a selection of snacks (lovely candies I remember from the last time I was in Asia, lovely crackers I remember from the last time I was in Asia, debatably lovely ramen noodles – oh, and some juice, tea, a cup, bowl, and some chopsticks). It’s also worth noting that I really really really do support stores not giving away free bags, I really really really wish I had known that the grocery store didn’t do so, because juggling all that stuff on the way home (plus camera bag) was less than joyous. All of the purchases were basically reasonably priced, but when taken together, they put a fair dent in my walking around money. We shall see how this goes.

There are updates to the purchases.

When I got home another manager suggested that the ethernet cable was probably not worth it. The internet at the hotel has gone bananas, and isn’t reliable (and costs a monthly fee). I may still use it because, let’s face it, I’m an addict, but I’ll probably hold out for a couple of days to see how available public internet is.

While typing this, a very kindly older gentleman knocked on my door and delivered a mattress pad, a duvet and a pillow… and something else that looks like another mattress pad, but made out of what seems to be a towel-type material. Oh, and a pillow case. Of note there is no sheet or sheet-like items, save the pillow case. I did talk to the manager-guy about this, and the whole bedding thing seems to be a mixup on the schools end. They generally provide all this stuff before the students arrive, but didn’t this time around. Frankly, I’m still glad I got my own stuff. Oh, I forgot to mention that I also bought a towel – with a giant playboy bunny logo on it. Har, har. Photo-worthy, no doubt. I should hang it on the wall to decorate my swingin’ pad.

So, it’s getting late on day two, and although I don’t feel jet-laggy, I’m a bit tired, so I may just saunter down and see if I can log on to the public computer and post this, and then maybe head to sleep. We shall see.

Day One

It:s actually not really 24 hours though - time zones and datelines - who knows how long it was.

my appologies for formatting and such - I am using a public Japanese computer mostly cut-n-pasted from my laptop, and I am not really sure what I am doing.

General news if you don`t want to read the whole thing (it is really long): life`s good, I will get pictures up hopefully soon-ish :)

Well, I made it. I’m here in Japan, and I shouldn’t be surprised, but things have been both wonderful and wonderfully frustrating already. So - beginning the beginning.

Now we’ve already covered the whole idea that I’m not a respected scholar hosted by a fine academic institution here. I’m just a traveling student barely a step above the backpack and youth hostel crowd. Actually, maybe a step below. More on that under the ‘wonderfully frustrating’ heading in your hymnal. Because I had to get the ticket at such notice, I didn’t really get my first option for flying. That would be first class on a direct flight from my front yard to my hotel here. I had to settle for a coach flight from Hub of Doom to Taipei, then a connecting flight to Tokyo. It’s fun to look on the map and see that my plane flew very nearly over Japan on its way to Taiwan. If only I could have gotten a hold of a parachute I could have saved many hours off my itinerary. Also as a side note, I paid about the same price (within $50 I think) of the price offered three weeks ago. And I bought my ticket around 12 hours before wheels up. Fun, eh?

Props for the airline, even though we fly jets mainly now. China Air (not to be confused with Air China – next time I’ll make sure the shuttle bus driver understands the distinction) had monitors in the back of the seats, each of which was wired to a little video controller that slid out of the armrest. Hours of entertainment could be had playing poker, shoot-‘em-ups as well as various and also such games. I chose the movie channel. I got to see The Namesake (good but a bit muddled, even though I think that was the point), The Curse of the Golden Lotus (just awful, but quite pretty to look at. Maybe I should have turned off the audio), and Words and Music ( ?) (Very cute, and just what you’d expect it to be – mediocre mind-fluff)

All is well at the Taipei airport. I got a nice congee with peanuts and cucumbers and then set off to the plane switches were made with minimum fuss (although we were security screened again after we got off the first plane – eh?). I was off the ground again and on my way to Narita airport in Tokyo.

Now, I write that last bit as a joke. The airport codes might lead you to believe that Narita is in Tokyo, but that’s a cruel joke. Narita is hours away from Tokyo, but I get ahead of myself. I came in at about 12:30, cleared customs – a bit frightened to realize on completing the entry paperwork that I only had $12 in cash on me, and got my bag with only a minor kerfluffle (bag was - like Amazing Grace - thought lost, but then found. However, still to my knowledge cannot see). There was suppose to, but wasn’t anyone there to meet me. Or rather she was there, but at the wrong terminal, although I didn’t know that at the time. No, worries though, right? They’re probably late I’ll just hang out here for a while. A while goes by slowly. I’ll just call the school and let them know I’m here and they’ll figure things out. Except I don’t have any yen. No problem, I’ll find an ATM. All of which seem to be for domestic cards only. Ah ha! At last a Citibank ATM appears and I get some cash, buy a phone card (and a Coke – no cucumber Pepsi to be found yet) and call.

Why yes, she is there, she’s paged you a few times already and getting worried. Hooray! After an hour-long comedy of errors in which I’m convinced that she’s in the wrong terminal and she’s convinced she’s not, we get everything straightened out through the good offices of the information booths and a lot of paging. Thing is, she’s picking up some others over in that terminal. Apparently, that’s why she was over there in the first place. Sigh. No worries, I’ll wait over here until you pick them up.

Good thing I had a book, right?

Tah-dah and she arrives, leading me to a little café where I can sit and meet the others she has gathered while she goes off to find another wayward duckling. The crew so far is a big beefy Bahaman wearing a suit which miraculously is in perfect shape after about 20 hours on planes and even – gasp! – going through ATL, a tousled Hong Konger who once opened a snack shop in Shanghai – ‘it went pretty well while it was new and exciting, but the new wore off and then it didn’t do so well,’ and me. I learn that our poor guide isn’t the one normally tasked to do this and she’s really afraid she’s screwed the whole thing up.

In fact, she’s done quite well in shepherding the last of our gang, a French man who speaks flawless English with only a hint of an accent, to our table. Then we strategize on how to get to the hotel. Our Japanese is abysmal, but her English is passable, so we eventually tease out our options. It’s now about 4pm-ish, and we can take the ambitiously-titled ‘limousine bus,’ which she worries will be hopelessly caught in traffic, or we can take the train, which she worries will have too many transfers and ‘maybe there won’t be any escalators.’ I should mention that at this point, the idea that we’ve got another 3-4 hours of travel ahead was not cheer-inducing.

In any case, no one seemed to have any strong opinions on the matter, so because I’m nearly always a fan of trains when I can be (I’m looking at you Amtrak), I say let’s take the train, and whoosh, we’re off. The train was actually really nice. There were only two transfers and fairly easy ones, although there was a little squishing and shoving on the last train – nothing worse than in NYC though, and it was mainly because of our luggage. After the last train, we get out at the station nearest our hotel and because it’s getting dark, and starting to drizzle a bit out intrepid host springs for a couple of taxis for the rest of the trip.

Now, all this time I’ve been calling it a hotel, but it really is more like a student hostel or a foreigner commune. It’s nestled in a very residential area about a 10-15 minute walk from the station. Pretty cozy, really. However, there are some unexpected surprises. First – no sheets. No towels. No pre-wired internet. Bathroom down the hall and shower downstairs. Now, honestly, most of that isn’t a big problem with me, but the thing is I didn’t know about it beforehand. So I didn’t bring sheets or towels or anything else – hangers? Who packs hangers?

The manger on duty seemed a bit surprised that we didn’t know about all this, so I’ll lay the blame on the school for not getting the info to us. The other downside is that it’s already 8:30 and everywhere that we might have been able to get such sundries is closed. And in any case, my last yen went to pay the deposit for the room (that one was my fault. I was told about the deposit before). The manager very kindly lends us some sheets (but no towels are available – no shower tonight after nearly a full day in the air for you!), and while the rest of our merry crew heads out to get a bite to eat, I’m feeling oh-so tired (I did a 4 mile run before I realized I was going to be on a plane that same night – not such a good idea as it turns out), so I crash on my borrowed-sheet-clad bed.

...Pre-Flight. Zero Hour, 1am...

Ok, Since I'm as packed as I'm going to be (read: whatever I've forgotten to pack is already forgotten) and It's a bit early to head to the airport - a little more info about the trip.

This was the summer trip I mentioned a long time ago that was very pending on me finding funding. Then about 2 or 3 months ago, the main school I was heading to filled up and I was on the wrong side of the waitlist line. There was another school that I could go to (and still use the partial funding that I had finally gotten), and bonus - they accept late enrollment. Hooray for the enablers of procrastination!

Then things got weird. er. So I applied to attend a July 2nd to August 27th class, but there was a problem with my application and then I applied again, but the class I applied for was full, but then I realized the class they tried to put me in was not the class I needed to be in because I needed to be in that class over there, which suddenly also was full, but they could get me in the same class but shorter, starting July 17th.



But then, this morning I get an email saying hey - remember that class you're taking? You can take the one that starts on the 17th like we arranged, but someone canceled out of the one that starts on the 2nd. Do you want that one?

Yes and thank you I do.

Oh, but you need to be here Friday before close of business because the place you're staying won't be open to check you in if you get in late.

So. That's how I get the 1am plane tonight. So I can get there noon-ish on Friday in time to check in before everyone goes home for the weekend.

So I get a weekend in Tokyo before class starts.

Did I mention that I know nothing of Tokyo and my Japanese is awful? I'm pretty sure I haven't. I think I'd remember if that had come up in the past.

For Scrivener: The Humanities is (are) a harsh mistress. She teases me with summers in Tokyo, and then crushes me with the black patent leather spiked heel of un-hirable-ness. On the other hand, I got my poetic license on the cheap so I can make up words like 'un-hirable-ness'

For Brightstar: Well, in all honesty, a lot of it is my own blasted fault, so I really don't have a whole lot of room to be miffed. In the end, I'm going to Tokyo almost entirely on grants and fellowships (I'll still be in the red when I come back, I'm sure, but not as badly as it could have been. My department even ponied up a little bit - yeah department!). I'm pretty happy on the whole. Ask me again after a bazillion hour plane flight.

For Ianqui: I will most certainly be on the lookout for Engrish. It will be so much fun not having to hide where I am! I'll be in Japan! Can't really hide that :) On that topic. I took a really freaky-amazing photo today, but it's freaky-amazing in a 'Only in X' kind of way. Alas, I won't, because it would seriously give me away, but ah, sigh...

My apologies to all for being a bit dodgey and not talking about the trip, but it really was touch and go for a while, and I didn't want to get my own hopes up my writing too much about it.

Wow. That was a really long post. Did you actually read it all? Yeesh, especially that 3rd paragraph. Who let me into grad school?

Change in Plans

Original plan: Go to Tokyo to start a summer class on the 17th.

Changed plan: find out this morning plans drastically changed. Find out this afternoon plans have dramatically changed. Class now begins on the 2nd. Of July.

Tonight: Pack and get on a 1am flight to Tokyo so I can check in to the student housing on Friday - damnable international date line.

Where to start?

Needless to say, I'll be a little off on the 365 shots and blog. On the plus side, I should be getting some great photos over there :)