tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12277632391501732682024-03-20T20:37:00.645+09:00Ray in JapanRayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-44472695003945232012-09-04T16:58:00.000+09:002012-09-04T17:00:11.817+09:00Back, and feelin Prime<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Here follows my thoughts on my day of arrival in Japan.</i></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">(Here will follow many a logical
progression. I’ve been awake for almost
17 hours, so my brain’s not quite right. Hold on to your butts)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I almost can’t believe I’m here.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">What’s more is I can’t believe
the feeling I’m currently feeling. But more on that later.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Let’s deal with the first
statement. Where am I? At present, I’m on the highway about 10 minutes out of
Narita airport and fiddling around with the supposed wireless internet that
this limousine bus is supposed to have. I’ve given up and decided to write this
instead while the feelings are still fresh in my mind.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">A good question to ask at this
point is how I got on a bus from Narita bound for Haneda, the smartass answer
to which is that I walked up to the ticket counter and purchased a fare. The
more detailed answer is somewhat more interesting.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’ve returned to Japan for yet
another stint of “Let’s teaching English.” Why? Yet again, simple answers. I’m
a firm believer in simple answers. They make life less complicated. In fact,
I’m reading a science fiction book right now called <i>Voyage from Yesteryear</i>
that is dealing with that very idea; I highly recommend it and I’m not even
finished! Back to my simple answers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">You see, on my first stint in
Tottoritown, I fell in love – twice. One was quite generalized and one quite
localized. If you’re reading this, chances are, you know who I am. And in
knowing who I am you know there are a few things I love more than just about
anything in the universe, which include (not exhaustively) Star Wars, cookies,
video games, my family, George Carlin, and, of course, Japanland. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tottori, being the place I spent
most of my time, was the place that nurtured and cemented that love, and I’m
not just talking about the beautiful, beautiful kanji of its name. The amazing
nature, fantastic food, relaxed lifestyle, and last but not least, the
incredible people all came together in a delightful combination that caused me
to surrender completely and hopelessly in love.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It is also Tottori that
introduced me to the second love: a
seemingly ordinary, cheery young woman who turned out to be nothing but (she’s
so much more!). During my time there, I got to know her first as a friend, then
as something more, then as something much, much more. She’s caused me to
examine aspects of my life and the world around me that I’ve never considered
before and has (and is) continually forced me to grow as a person – not due to
threats (though there’s a fair share), but from a genuine want of myself to do
better. I am lucky to have found her and have her in my life.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Which brings me back to my
original statement and its implication: what am I doing here? Well, after I
returned to Canada in 2009, that fantastic young woman took it upon herself to
move to Toronto for a year, simultaneously satisfying two lifelong ambitions:
to travel and even live in a foreign land, and to endlessly torture an
unsuspecting young man. I dare say that she succeeded on both fronts, and after
that year ended this June, she returned triumphantly to Japan.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Where did that leave me? And she?
And us? Even before she came in 2011, the question we were getting from just
about everyone was, “So what’s gonnna happen when she leaves?” “So what’s gonna
happen when she leaves?” I’ll tell no lie – I don’t think either of us truly
knew what was going to happen. We both had aspirations and hopes, shared and
private, but we didn’t 100% have a game plan. That was how it was until this
May.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I came across a position on the
grapevine, a teaching gig in Tottori, no less. It was (almost) exactly what I
was looking for, one of those one-in-a-million opportunities. In a nutshell, I
applied, and, after some tribulations with (getting to) the (online) interview,
I got the job. I sprung it on her nonchalantly one morning as we enjoyed a
breakfast by a river surrounded by mountains in Alberta. The look on her face
was some of the best few seconds I’ve ever experienced. It’s really a thing to
completely and utterly floor someone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">So that’s it! I gots me a job,
and have returned to my favourite place to be with my favourite person. Can’t
get more simple that that. Got a job, rode a plane, changed currency (man, the
rates suck for coming this way), bought a bus ticket, here I am.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">That brings you up to speed, to
the minute, with where I am in life. I’ve not forgotten to talk about that
feeling I mentioned at the start.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It’s hard to put into words.
Since the Big Return of ’09, I’ve been back to Japanland twice on vacation, and
I told people upon return to Canada about how natural and familiar it felt as
soon as I got off the airplane. It has been about 18 months since my last
visit, and that sentiment hasn’t change one bit. In fact, it’s gotten stronger!
When I walked through Narita airport, I felt like I was in Pearson – nevermind
all the Japanese people and language around. Then I got on the bus.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was like I was just here
yesterday. And not that nostalgic “oh, feels like yesterday”-yesterday, but
ACTUALLY yesterday. As in the day before, 24 hours prior. Nothing feels exotic
or missed. It all feels100% familiar and natural. The rice patties, the
pachinko parlours, the love hotels, all normal, as if life couldn’t be any
other way. (By the way, I’m now passing Tokyo Disney).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Did the last three years happen?
That’s probably the best way to articulate the feeling. Of course, I remember
everything about Toronto, and I should because I was there 12 hours ago. But,
as strange as it sounds, everything around me right now feels natural and
Toronto almost feels like a distant memory, as though I have to reach back to
recall life there.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1227763239150173268" name="id.gjdgxs"></a>I’ll
probably make more sense later, once I’ve slept. But don’t count on it.</span></span></div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-90236366465759401402009-04-13T23:49:00.002+09:002012-09-04T16:59:45.945+09:00The Way of the Force meets The Way of the Bow<div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;">Those who have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span></span> and who stalk me on a whim will see from my display picture that I am currently taking <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">kyudo</span></span></i> - Japanese archery. I've been taking lessons for the last several <span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">months </span>here in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tottori</span></span>. I find it a great way to clear the mind, particularly after a long and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">grueling</span> day of limbo and English. It has become such an enjoyable activity for me that I've even decided to purchase the equipment and clothing that I may continue to practice when I return to Canada.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Its relaxing nature is a huge appeal for me. On the one hand, it is quite demanding to remember dozens upon dozens of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">minuscule</span> details as well as to use considerable force to push the bow apart. The trick is to work on one aspect at a time so that it becomes second nature, and then work on another, and another. Eventually, the entire process becomes so seamless and effortless that one doesn't even think when picking up the bow, and before one knows it, an arrow is embedded in the target and one scarcely knows how it got there. That time when your mind is clear and your focus concise is what many strive for in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">kyudo</span></span>. More to it, it allows for the taking in of one's surroundings and a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">more</span> general awareness of self. I think that some of my best memories will be shooting at targets 28 meters away while a gentle, silent snow gracefully falls between us, or practicing while noticing the blooming cherry blossoms out of the corner of my eye.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Most everyone who knows me knows that I have one of the worst memories in recent times. Most everyone who lives with me in Japan will know that I have a terrible memory when it comes to Japanese names. After a year and a half, you'd still be surprised at the sheer number of teachers whom I work with every day whose names I still have no clue about (I really just should study the seating chart...). Hence, it should come to no surprise to those at my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">kyudo</span></span> club - if they knew these two facts beforehand - that I still don't know most of their names. A few I do because I talk to them regularly, but most of the other 15 or so members I haven't got a clue about. Then and therefore, my brain being the idle yet creative machine that it is, my friend (who also practices with me) and I have constructed a mechanism for identifying the lovely people we train with - we've given them Star Wars labels. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">While he (perhaps) may not delve as in-depth as I do into the universe of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Skywalkers</span></span>, we keep it simple enough so that anyone who knows the story even a little can pick up on who we're talking about without missing a beat. Here is a short list and description of those individuals (Real names removed to protect the innocent).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Yoda - A short and quirky man, Yoda was and is our main instructor. Like from the training of a young <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Skywalker</span></span>, from day one, we were put into intense training that was constantly being critiqued and refined. He is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">knowledgeable</span></span> about all things <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">kyudo</span></span> and regularly oversees everyone at the <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">dojo</span></span></i> (training hall). His endearing qualities include a penchant for speaking in ways that confuse most (including himself at times) as well as <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">possessing</span> an infectiously unique laugh, which is used often and at the slightest of things. I might almost go so far as to say that he likes to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">laugh</span> more than he does to shoot. Don't let his charming personality fool you, though. When he picks up his bow (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">lightsaber</span></span>), he'll nail ten targets in a row, then sternly come down on himself for not having <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">perfect</span> form.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Vader - If anything, I'd almost call him a combination of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">quirky</span> little 9-year old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Anakin</span></span> as well as the imposing and Dark Side-fuelled Lord of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Sith</span></span>. When watching him draw, you almost wonder how he could be a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">kyudo</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">practitioner</span>, just as one looks at the sandy-haired <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Anakin</span></span> and thinks, "You're going to be Vader in 13 years? Ha! No way!". He's an older gentleman (though not too old - perhaps in his 60's. Still has a dark head of hair), and when he draws, his arms shake to such a degree that one might think the bow to snap him in two. You'd never believe he was as skilled as he is, just as you'd never believe that a slave from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Tatooine</span></span> could have the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">highest</span> midi-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">chlorian</span></span> count in the galaxy (Ugh, midi-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">chlorians</span></span>... What a bad move. /Sidebar). And full folly you to think such things, for just when he is about to release, the trembling stops and this moment of focus consumes him as he put the arrow right through the target, such that I'm surprised that neither the arrow or target doesn't explode due to the raw, surging energy. He'll then hit another target. And another. And another. And another. Such that one might wonder if the force is truly with him - such a force that smacks with the dark side, for no one can be THAT good.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Mace <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Windu</span></span> - What can we say about Mace? He's just a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">badass</span></span>, through and through. There is no one else in Hollywood who should be given a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">lightsaber</span></span> than Samuel L. Jackson. Such qualities found shine through <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">exemplary</span></span> in this gentleman at the <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">dojo</span></i>. He moves here and there, instructing and giving advice to all those training, much like a second-in-command. Only when <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">everyone's</span> looking good and refined will he casually pick up his bow and just nail a few targets before pointing something out with another student. His serious, yet calm attitude, as well as a casual sense of humor just exudes <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">badass</span>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Obi-Wan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Kenobi</span> - We named Obi-Wan Obi-Wan because he starts off (going chronologically) as a student before moving on to teacher and then master. This guy possesses the qualities of all three. He practises each and every aspect of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">kyudo</span> process with intense focus (master). He will also receive a few tips and pointers from Yoda or Mace on occasion (student). Very rarely will he give advice to the other students, myself and my friend included. However, when he does, one would be wise to listen as what he says usually is of a minor imperfection that will have major shooting ramifications later on (teacher). He is very focused and intense, and has that wisdom-beyond-years that only Alec <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Guinness</span> could bring out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Count <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Dooku</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Dooku</span> was just recently named, actually, as we couldn't think of what to call one gentleman. He possessed this maverick quality that we just couldn't quantify. The only person who would come close would have been Mace <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Windu</span> - a name we had already given away. It was only when we considered the Dark Side that we did land on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Sith</span> Lord. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Dooku</span> is a man of words and action. He'll draw in the other students with distracting yet captivating conversation, yet he also has the power to back it up as he elegant and graceful style will make an arrow happy to be sitting on the bow. As with Vader, his uncanny powers also reek strongly of the Dark Side.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Boba</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Fett</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Boba</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Fett</span> has qualities similar to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Anakin</span> in that you may think that such a cute kid would be incapable of unspeakable acts upon the targets, but charade will you be when you see him bust out his own personal <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">arsenal</span> of bows and arrows. He almost strikes you as a hunter, who if prey does escape him (or hitting the target escapes him), he'll soon be back like the Empire to rain shot after shot upon it. His pursuit of a hit may elude him at times, but it never has far to run.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Aunt <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Beru</span> - This delightful woman has all the qualities of a grandmother or older aunt: She's always giving the kids compliments and teasing the other boys. One look @ her and you just think, "Auntie!" While she may not own the targets as much as the other Masters, her form is exquisite and shows that she means business.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Wedge - Wedge was a tough one to cast. We couldn't think of any other Jedi or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Sith</span> to label him as, so we instead realized that he was like the steady <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">wingman</span> that you'd want to have beside you any day. He's always talking to and supporting us. Usually, we'll just idle time away chatting about this and that. His easygoing manner has the air of a hotshot pilot just home from taking down a Death Star.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Palpatine</span> - The ultimate in the Dark Side. In the movies, he's shown to be on par - if not slightly better - than Master Yoda; just on the opposite side of the coin. In reality, their affiliations are both of the light, but in terms of skill, this description isn't far from the truth. I believe he was there when we first arrive, but went away for a long hiatus. When he did return, it was as though he were a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">mysterious</span> stranger who just walked in one day and starting hitting targets like it was his job. My immediate reaction was Dark Side from him. And while he looks like the oldest of us, the Force Lighting springs from his fingers to make it look like his arrow were possessed. His form and technique leave very little to be desired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">At present, we're still trying to cast <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Padme</span>, Leia, and Han Solo. We're still deliberating, so updates will come after a few more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">practices</span> and we test out their monikers in person.</span></div>
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Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-21818722431728217352009-03-27T15:46:00.008+09:002009-04-15T09:26:45.994+09:00I was just going to buy a pillow...<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Went out today to get a pair of pillows after having a discussion with a friend of mine regarding not getting a decent night's sleep and us thinking it had to do with our sleeping equipment. Then and therefore, we went to the store last night to check out new pillows. Finding the selection somewhat lacking, we planned to go the next day to a larger and more stocked store. I also got it in my head to pop by the shoe store down the street as I desperately need a new pair of kicks (the store is somewhat far by foot and too cold by bicycle, so having my friend and his lovely car takes care of that problem).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">At lunchtime today, maybe four hours ago, off we went to the local home centre. We did indeed succeed in locating new pillows, however he got it into his mind to pick up a new mattress pad while he was at it, thinking it could only do more good than harm. My idling while he </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-family:times new roman;">unwrapped and test-slept in several pads led me to unintentionally locate a pad the same size as my bed - at a good price, too.</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-family:times new roman;">Ching</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">-</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-family:times new roman;">ching</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">. Extra purchase count: 1. The selection of pillowcases, though, was not as plentiful, so we decided to go back to the same store we were at the previous night to have a look. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Oh by the way. I decided to get one more pillow than I needed to. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Extra purchase count: 2.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Next stop was the shoe store. Perhaps the only shoe store to carry larger than a size 28 in a select number of models (To give you an idea, a Japanese 28 is about an American/Canadian 9.5 or 10. I typically wear 11, so that nets me a Japanese 28.5 or so). No success on locating anything good there, so we thought about going to the shoe stores in the mall that has the aforementioned no-pillow-selection-but-possibly-</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-family:times new roman;">pillowcases</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> store.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Arrival @ the mall. We go to the first shoe store, whereupon I locate a nice pair of runners. I found a great burgundy runner/dress shoe combo, however they didn't have my size. Nevertheless, the idea of brown/burgundy shoes stuck in there. My friend also saw shoes that he likes, but decided against them at the moment of truth: When he was at the register. However, now, he was also of the mind to buy shoes (that he didn't need).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">From there, we got to the no-pillow-selection-but-possibly-</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-family:times new roman;">pillowcases</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> store. He didn't find shoes, but I found pillowcases. Since one of the those pillowcases was for the pillow that I didn't need -> Extra purchase count: 3.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">On our way out, we pass the second shoe store, which at first glance appeared to be only women's shoes. At the last second, the vaunted corners of our eyes did spy some men's shoes. Ray in a shoe store + having it in Ray's mind to buy shoes + locating a pair of brown shoes in his size = Extra purchase count: 4.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">ALMOST at the exit to the mall, my friend decided to look at his first cancelled pair of shoes one more time. Five minutes later, he had them in a bag in his hand.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">So let's have a recap.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Original mission: </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">1 pillow @ $9.80.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Actual Results: </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">2 pillows @ $9.80</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">1 mattress pad @ $35</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">2 pairs of shoes @ approx. $60 each</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">=</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Excess purchase amount of $164.80 = Fail</span></span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-18921983344917514062009-03-12T18:48:00.001+09:002009-03-27T16:13:59.019+09:00And... We're back<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Ok, so just yesterday I had to get a facebook post bemoaning me for not putting up a new blog in three months. I’ll totally concede that I have been lazy (busy, bored, unmotivated, unimaginative, etc.) over the last several weeks; strangely enough even, I even started an entry yesterday with the intention of putting it up by evening. However, with the kick to my butt swiftly delivered, I shall now give a quick taste of these past three months in a nutshell.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">The biggest and most relevant news is already known to a few, so I may as well enlighten the rest so we’re all on even playing field. I’ve decided not to renew my contract with JET and thus I will be returning home to the True North, strong and free this coming summer. I’d like to say that it was an easy decision, but I can’t. Instead, I’ll say it was a simple decision (If you didn’t know by now, I’m an English teacher). It happened when I was talking to someone and they became the 9,000th person to ask me, “So are you going to stay another year?” Before I had the chance to give my detailed outline of an answer that indicated that I hadn’t, my brain shut down. Every thought evaporated, every image flickered out. I think I may even have forgotten to breathe for a few moments. During all of that, a single sentence remained both audible and visible in my mind’s eye, alone in the darkness: “You are going home next year.” Returning from my cosmic trip to the Astral Plane, I dwelled on the ramifications of such a vision, and every cell in my body lifted a pint to chime its miniscule approval to the course of action. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">When I got the forms on which to indicate my choice, it was a very quick and painless thing to mark an x in the corresponding box. That was that, and for many weeks I didn’t even give it a simple thought. It was only January or February that a number of reasons for staying hit me like the wave that flipped the Poseidon. Salary, fun and excitement, studying Japanese… I suddenly found myself searching for the ctrl+z combination that would bring me back to October in a frantic panic and mini-breakdown. A few good talks and/or pints later, I came to realize – and still do – I think – that I have made the right choice in deciding to come home.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">NOW the question has changed from “So are you going to stay another year?” to “So what will you do next year when you’re back?” For the first time in my life, I have no plan for the future, and I have no shame in saying that it scares the hell out of me. My only inkling into what I’ll get accomplished is that I’ll take a few weeks to get re-acclimatized to Canada again. This includes spending time with my family, looking up old friends, visiting places I haven’t seen in years, and eating tons of bad-for-me foods. Once all that’s done, I’ve got choice aplenty before me, and no compass to point me to the quote-unquote right choice. Now, there are a great number of people who seem to take delight in telling me that I’m young and have all kinds of time and nothing to tie me down to anything and that the world is basically my oyster. That’s all well and good to say, but I’d much prefer to not be ignorant as to my future, thank you very much. Now, I’m not saying that I’d like to know it all and be led by the hand by fate, but to have SOME idea, not matter how vague, would help to assuage some of this trepidation. Oh, by the way, giving some thought to becoming a teacher. Ha, there ya go. </span><br /></span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-33315528940316103082008-12-02T22:12:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:26:14.636+09:00"Of all the onsen, of all of Japan, you had to walk into mine..."<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Happened to find myself in an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">onsen</span> town this weekend. An <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">onsen</span> town is almost like a resort - building upon building as far as you can see (which isn't very far since this is a town we're talking about) and all of it either <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ryokan</span> or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">onsen</span> (Japanese-style inn and hot sprint, respectively. If either of these terms is radically unfamiliar, I would direct you to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">wikipedia</span> for details). It's the kind of place that Japanese people escape to to be Japanese for a few days. They thrust off the shackles of work and home life and spend a weekend wearing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">yukata</span> (think kimono, but much less elaborate) and eating traditional meals. I was just there for the day to take in the leaves and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">onsen</span> and relax from a busy week of two days' work.</span><br /><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ><br />So eventually I found myself in the changing room of one such <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">onsen</span>. Looking around, I noticed that everyone had a small wash towel with them to either spread water around or hide their shame. I had a quick look around and didn't see from where they had gotten the towels. I thought that perhaps they received them when they paid for admission, but as I was not properly dressed at this point, I dismissed that as a thing past. By the time I was good and read for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">onsen</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">ing</span>, I felt slightly defeated and confused, and so decided to ask someone. </span></div><br /><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >A much older gentleman was changing beside me and I noticed that he had one, and so I gently tapped his shoulder and said, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Sumimasen</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Sono</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">taoru</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">wa</span>..." (Excuse me, but about that towel...). The gentleman straightened up and replied, "I brought this towel with me from my hotel," - <em>IN PERFECT ENGLISH</em>. Before my initial shock wore off and I could think of what to ask him next, he continued with, "What hotel are you staying at?" Instinct still held me and so - being in Japan - I replied with "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Ichi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">nichi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">juu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">dake</span>" (Only for today). "Oh, I see," was his reply, "If you were staying, they would issue you a towel. But I guess you're out of luck, I'm sorry." I'm still reeling that this man, looking older than my grandfather, was relaying this info to me in grammar and pronunciation that would make a British linguistics professor squeal with delight.</span><br /><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><br /><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >His curiosity continued on: "Where are you from?" "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Tottori</span>," I replied, at this point in English. "I see. But where are you from in the world?" "Oh. Canada." "Canada, eh? (He said 'eh', and not in a patronizing matter) Toronto? Vancouver?" "Toronto. Very near to it, in fact." "Ah, Toronto. I've been once. Only for a few days though. Wonderful city." All this while we were continuing the conversation from the changing room into the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">onsen</span> proper and then into the bath itself. To be honest, I don't know what surprised those watching more: The African-looking fellow walking into the bath, or the Japanese man speaking perfect English. Whatever it was, we seemed to entrance everyone's attention. He explained that his English had become so good as a result of business trips. He had been working for a cotton import company for more than 50 years and in that time had been to more than 50 countries across every continent except for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Antarctica</span>. "No cotton there," he said with a laugh. He was by now chairman of the company and his son was president, running the show. He mostly just attends meetings, which isn't bad for a 79 year-old.<br /><br />He eventually excused himself and headed out of the bath, leaving me to contemplate. Of all the people I could have spoken to in all of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">onsen</span> in the city, I happened to speak to someone who'd reply in <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">pera</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">pera</span></span> (fluent; natural) English - who also happened to be probably one of the oldest people in the bath that evening. Furthermore, I had taken an entire course of Japanese Business and learned about the runaway economy of the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and here I got to speak with someone who was first-hand at the forefront of it. Add to it the stories he told me of being all around the world while historical events were taking place. It just goes to show that there are surprises under every nook and cranny, every corner that Japan can fit into its California-sized borders. I'm just glad that I gave him another chance to practice his flawless English.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNV7TnBa0o7uVYe9Iy3D3tqgH2O3n8s4Aa-YXExg_sZGHkch4oOIqCytDIe79RfA44feVkoqF-r-i8dP-GDV5857erG0uwYIBGEk1KxYyT2FiyniSxjG90MSF1RQjyDV6AWttw1fZUXu8/s1600-h/CA380027.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275186112844634562" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNV7TnBa0o7uVYe9Iy3D3tqgH2O3n8s4Aa-YXExg_sZGHkch4oOIqCytDIe79RfA44feVkoqF-r-i8dP-GDV5857erG0uwYIBGEk1KxYyT2FiyniSxjG90MSF1RQjyDV6AWttw1fZUXu8/s320/CA380027.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-34395690387411905132008-12-01T22:47:00.002+09:002008-12-02T22:45:22.730+09:00The World of Balance<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >This could be the mother of all late posts by this kid. The events of this happening occurred in mid-September. I started the post and then saved and forgot about it. A half hour ago, I rediscovered it, and can now finally finish it. It belongs in the September pile, but I figure that no one would notice it there, so here it is, albeit late. To make up for tardiness, I put lots of pictures.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Preemptive sidebar: If you can identify which Final Fantasy game this is from, you get ten points.<br /><br />What do random rides in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BMWs</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">, howling baboons, and love hotels have in common? This weekend.<br /><br />It's funny that one can get cabin fever being in an entire prefecture. But this was my case up until a few days ago. Since my family's visit in mid-June (which I REALLY should write about...), I haven't been so much as across the border in a neighbouring prefecture in almost two months. All and all, it's not such a bad thing since I have many things around me to keep me busy. However, the patient realization of it all sort of hit me periodically like a metaphysical ton of bricks. Then and therefore, when I got the call from one of me favorite birds Renate to mission out for a long weekend, I gave it the green light and headed out me door.<br /><br />A terribly oppressive morning later at 5 AM, I found </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">meself</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> on an express train bound for </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Himeji</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">, which was then followed by a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">shinkansen</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> over to Nagoya. I was rather excited to be riding the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">shinkansen</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> as I had been looking forward to such a thing since I arrived. The </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">badboy</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> was much more crowded than I expected and so we were forced to stand in the hallway for about half the trip. Once the train started off and we went to full power, I must admit that found it somewhat... underwhelming. Granted we were moving at an incredible speed, I was imagining us to be going so fast that the view outside would resemble the streaks of light you see going at warp speed on <em>Star Trek</em>. This was sadly not the case, and so it was more a measure of time than visual cue that told me we'd made a long distance in a short amount of time. What seemed like only thirty-five minutes or so later and we found ourselves almost three or four hours by car from where we were.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxckPbOd6vWfDG8JJneMouTlIZ3AjLTNHx5Kxw8unYIcOQzhxiCbNXCNK7Sol3zao6r8N_eLXC41JU5jk6q0VsY-x9O1LZb5f_fEff1leI_oljs3LBwPydPYCFC1jcy0KWDUKm1JgJg8/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxckPbOd6vWfDG8JJneMouTlIZ3AjLTNHx5Kxw8unYIcOQzhxiCbNXCNK7Sol3zao6r8N_eLXC41JU5jk6q0VsY-x9O1LZb5f_fEff1leI_oljs3LBwPydPYCFC1jcy0KWDUKm1JgJg8/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274815121059784146" border="0" /></a>We went straight from there to another city north of Nagoya called </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Inuyama</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">. I myself would never have heard about it all all were it not for Renate researching and finding it. We had two reasons for going there. The first was the Monkey Park. No, I haven't been in Japan too long to not realize what I'm writing; yes, you did read that right. The Monkey Park. Essentially a zoo filled with various species of monkey. On paper, I thought her mad to seriously suggest such a place, but in the end it turned out to be quite fun. Especially because of the unexpected bonuses that came along with it.<br /><br />For one thing, there were the kids. Being a place filled with monkeys, naturally many families were keen to bring their </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">lil'un's</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> to run around and see the animals. Thus, everywhere you went there were kids, kids, kids. And to say that a single Japanese child is two levels beyond cute is an understatement. But when you enclose a space with hundreds of them, your cute meter goes right through the roof and you're put into this lolly-pop, fairy tale, cloud-9-dreamy, euphoric high brought about by seeing all the happy and bubbly kids. Anyone having a bad day need only to go to the Monkey Park for five minutes and your mood is instantly improved - you don't even need to see a single monkey.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoztcGBLNdQQiP0wp0OTbKutgfw34lQlEsyVWcVH4zNNYzCNFzudgEWvHiI1WGwtiV8qrwsJvsR_MiyL8h2Ic2dQNFxFGlRlVB1_2ItEqbP98GNzROX1u8MckXUBC44gTy-UEsq_QTgPE/s1600-h/1+%2821%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoztcGBLNdQQiP0wp0OTbKutgfw34lQlEsyVWcVH4zNNYzCNFzudgEWvHiI1WGwtiV8qrwsJvsR_MiyL8h2Ic2dQNFxFGlRlVB1_2ItEqbP98GNzROX1u8MckXUBC44gTy-UEsq_QTgPE/s320/1+%2821%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274815870977221394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">After monkey madness had taken us over, we walked to </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Inuyama</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> castle - which is more like a 25 minute walk as opposed to the ten minutes that is advertised. I thoroughly enjoyed it as it is still one of the "old-school" castles and not one of the modern renovations that has removed the interiors and instead rebuilt them as museums. As we buy our tickets, the lady behind the glass asks my friend whether we'd like an English interpreter to accompany us. We agreed, and not a minute later a woman comes darting down the path breathlessly. How in the world did she know? Beats me. Japanese telepathy, perhaps. She mentioned that she'd studied English for a year in Nebraska, which caused the both of us to tilt our heads slightly and wonder why someone from Japan would seek out Nebraska as a place to learn English. (Prove me wrong, Lincoln, prove me wrong!)<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmpueTjEugFDC-II3I7qu7wRgPkJxn_NxZtOLj-AnzX3VMnYPlwXZr09pjnmg4Mxm59wOJvekPsgDEmFTM4b3Tm3vPrt6Mqej1v8yUyTJOLDDfYDqBDx9huktr0D4mTkrKrVCpULBrAQ/s1600-h/1+%2862%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmpueTjEugFDC-II3I7qu7wRgPkJxn_NxZtOLj-AnzX3VMnYPlwXZr09pjnmg4Mxm59wOJvekPsgDEmFTM4b3Tm3vPrt6Mqej1v8yUyTJOLDDfYDqBDx9huktr0D4mTkrKrVCpULBrAQ/s320/1+%2862%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274816425125722882" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Lunch and a wee bit of shopping later, we trained it back to Nagoya and finally to our hotel just outside of the city centre. Throwing fatigue to the wind (by this time [late afternoon], we'd been up 13, 14 hours), we went back the way we came into the city to hit up an orchid garden that Renate had found in her research. I must admit that I was a touch reticent to explore this one at first since I'm usually a "look and move on" person when it comes to flowers.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />The next goal was to try and track down a Moroccan restaurant that existed somewhere in the city. By this time, we was mad hungry, but decided to stick it out for the hopes of trying something new. One helpful subway worker later, we did indeed manage to find the place. Dinner came with a show as a rather nimble belly dancer made her way out about half way through dinner to wow the crowd with moves that would make many a </span></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" >clubrat</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> blush.</span> </span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Stomachs satisfied, we returned to the hotel to partake in the spa. Our hotel fees covered a trip to a spa/</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-size:130%;">onsen</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> resort that happened to be conveniently attached to the hotel. It was nice to be able to relax after a long day by taking a dip in a pool of steaming hot, skin-scalding, can't-breath-'cause-it's-too-humid water. However, I'm convinced that the blissful visit later reeked havoc upon my system. Perhaps it was the raised body temperature coming into contact with the air-conditioned room, I'm not sure. But whatever it was, Ray's body was not feeling good the next morning.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />Next day, bright and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style="font-size:130%;">genki</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, was Nagoya castle. Two castles in one trip? Can we risk it? I think so! Now again, I love Japanese castles. You take one look and can almost feel like a medieval warrior being scared </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" style="font-size:130%;">spitless</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> and looking up at his own impending doom on orders to scale the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" style="font-size:130%;">badboy</span><span style="font-size:130%;">. For me, though, it's such a treat to see the original structures as they were laid out all those years ago. Nagoya, due to earthquakes, fires, and wars, was a reconstruct of the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" style="font-size:130%;">original</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> splendor. Therefore, the interior was a modern museum, complete with AC, stairs, the whole nine years. Don't get me wrong, every castle is a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" style="font-size:130%;">mindblow</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> and walking the grounds alone is worth the trip. Sue me, I'm just a historical funny pants.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKtXM-5Rdmx1n5rLHbLlUGujSuAZPDmiVDt62KbmTZruxajw8tBadmI0cfH-hKCiSIvCgJ2BhTgzt7KEf6wwjBVSFLPaIpEUZI5qz7UGUU-4492bZOqqAwpXuBbV3i9FHgEFw3hMPtw0/s1600-h/1+%28129%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKtXM-5Rdmx1n5rLHbLlUGujSuAZPDmiVDt62KbmTZruxajw8tBadmI0cfH-hKCiSIvCgJ2BhTgzt7KEf6wwjBVSFLPaIpEUZI5qz7UGUU-4492bZOqqAwpXuBbV3i9FHgEFw3hMPtw0/s320/1+%28129%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274816778098516434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">After departing the castle, we </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" style="font-size:130%;">happenstanced </span><span style="font-size:130%;">upon a Noh theatre just outside the castle. I had done a paper on Japanese drama, in particular Kabubi, however I was still nonetheless fascinated by Noh. Noh, for those not familiar, is a dramatic form hundreds of years old - a thousand, if I'm not mistaken. Everyone moves about painstakingly slow, wears masks and speaks in tongues I couldn't even fathom. Nonetheless, it's traditional, so everyone loves it. Back from the tangent, so we couldn't enter the theatre proper as it's only open during performances, but we could still see exhibits showcasing the theatres history, Noh in general, and famous plays.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqQ0YUu-jkkFy_6LX9L8ZyUFNArZX-T6JCsvONEZm4zJ5W-Q4vLx2nelVGr358N7YWZ7vGKgSLFlyuPQdIB83EMtrSd1zjSHNqezGi-8c_87HqGWDVE3itri2h3kExsHJFa_5rgyUINw/s1600-h/1+%28145%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqQ0YUu-jkkFy_6LX9L8ZyUFNArZX-T6JCsvONEZm4zJ5W-Q4vLx2nelVGr358N7YWZ7vGKgSLFlyuPQdIB83EMtrSd1zjSHNqezGi-8c_87HqGWDVE3itri2h3kExsHJFa_5rgyUINw/s320/1+%28145%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274817050533726418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">After wandering the mean streets of Nagoya for another hour, we decided to hit up Ise at Renate's suggestion. Ise is a city a ways around Ise bay from Nagoya, taking about two or so hours by train. She had studied about a famous shrine located there that only the Emperor and a select few high ranking priests were allowed to enter. Commoners were (and are) not allowed to even see it; it's hidden behind a wooden fence surrounding all but the roof. I had no clue what any of it was about, but I was nonetheless gungho. We arrived in city and caught a cab ride from yet another infamous talk-your-ear-off Japenese taxi driver, who was quite endearing in his enthusiam, actually.<br /><br />One more shrine up and down with, we soon found ourselves with the trouble of finding a way back to the train station. We'd discovered that the last bus was in about a half an hour, so we sat down in the shelter next to a young Japanese couple. Out of nowhere, an older Japanese man appeared and started talking to the couple. He was relating to them that the bus takes a good 20+ minutes or so, and how if they walked up one or two stops they could save a dollar or two on the fare. All the while we (Renate and I) were listening but making no indication that we could understand. He soon started talking about driving them to the station instead and asking their opinion. They seemed a little undecisive, and at this point the man metioned the "other people sitting there," - reference to my friend and I. I looked at him at this; he asked me if I could understand him. I told him that I did and that gave him further cause to press him point of driving. In my head, I figured that he was a taxi driver, however he wasn't wearing a uniform or anything and appeared to be quite casual. Doing the math in my head, I found it to be almost the same price split four ways if we took a taxi, so I said that I was willing. The other couple agreed and so we headed over to his car.<br /><br />I was expecting to see one of the usual black, homogonous Japanese taxis that seem to be the standard in every city in the country. Instead, we roll up besides a brand new BMW sedan done up to the nines. NOW I'm thinking that this is some sort of limosuine thing that will cost us more. Starting to regret my decision, but I made my bed, so I figured I may as well lay in it. I popped in the passenger side and we were all off. I immediately noticed that there was no meter. Was it a flat-rate service? The whole way back the man was chatting me up, asking me where I was from, if I knew about the shrines in Ise, what I was doing in Japan, my life's story, basically. He was incredibly friendly and more than anything was curious about my home country and how I came to be there. Before I knew it, we arrived at the station. I figured that the bill was coming now, so I got out of the cab and drew my wallet, asking how much to pay. The man smiled and said (In Japanese), "Oh, no charge at all. I was just glad to talk with you. Have a good night!", and with that he climbed back into his car and drove off with a wave. Dumbfounded by the turn of events, I turn to the Japanese couple who up to this point hadn't said a word. The man looked at me and said (In English), "Lucky", and with a nod he and his lady walked off into the night.<br /><br />We caught a train from there to Osaka where we decided to spend the night. Renate had made arrangements for us to grab places in a capsule hotel. An... interesting experience, to say the least. Yes, it had enough space for one person to be ok. Not luxurious by any means, but it gets the job done. If I had my call, I think I'd do an internet cafe next time. Leather couch and free drinks wins out. The reason that I mentioned love hotels in the preface was that this capsule hotel seemed to be in Love Hotel Central. Every building around it for blocks around was a love hotel. In my masculine immaturity, I'd take a look at a couple walking into one and think, "Ha! I know what you're up to!"<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4bojOpXAmUnOfgOOjdSA4yBsWEdVCblTKHTFM24hQrWPmKWl4vnkBtnXjffq5uD1ca_gCZDlo9eh2w_cPy8DMapBUYX2TCrydxjN734du5_VK1K9vBVefY_jyj2YLwi_Cs6ygQ9FiJM/s1600-h/1+%28182%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4bojOpXAmUnOfgOOjdSA4yBsWEdVCblTKHTFM24hQrWPmKWl4vnkBtnXjffq5uD1ca_gCZDlo9eh2w_cPy8DMapBUYX2TCrydxjN734du5_VK1K9vBVefY_jyj2YLwi_Cs6ygQ9FiJM/s320/1+%28182%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274817456813943282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Shopping and walking followed the next day. Not too much excitement for those who know Osaka up and down by now. If I could put the weekend into a nutshell, it would be that monkeys are loud, Nagoya is a lovely city, and one should never underestimate the kindness of strangers in Japan.<br /></span></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-29431981925578148232008-11-10T22:12:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:26:42.247+09:00Arie: A Taste of Home<span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >For those who may not know, I've recently made the official call to return to Canada at the end of this JET year. Come next August, I'll lose my semi-ex-pat status and be among those called 'Canadian' once again. And y'know, it's funny. Now that the return plans have been etched in stone, I find myself becoming that much more nostalgic about the people and places I left behind, thinking about them more and more. Luckily, however, my melancholy state of mind has been curbed by the delicious, delicious events of yesterday.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >One of my two schools had school festival yesterday. The theme of day one of three was food. Cooking, selling, producing, etc. Therein, I assisted one of the classes with the preparation of a somewhat familiar dish: Jerk Chicken.</span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266886605410157026" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4IMhYbFEb8U5wRZi1wwpjBrR_11rHbPkVtdx7HGuEyKiNxFJ25yrCygd4VVHAYL3f2hjvAtmZH0NX7MzlBnOQvQcRCBpZ9dic4QAH92LF9ssZVkV2Cb-0tlHyccHuy56OfLANKBwBxU/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><em><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >Background: One of my students has quite a love and appreciation of West Indian music, particularly reggae and the like. Very nice boy who never speaks English to me, but often has me listen to the latest song he's bought or asks me a random question about Jamaica and my family. As school festival approached, his class decided to do jerk and, being the only one around who knows anything about it, I was asked to lend a hand. So I had some bottles shipped in from Canada and told them how to make it.</span></em><br /><em><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span></em><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >There was a small hiccup at the start as the fire for the barbecue wouldn't light, so I started to get a little apprehensive. However, assistance from one or two teachers soon had us with supercharged charcoal before we knew it. No sooner had we thrown the first few pieces on the grill did we attract the attention of students and local townspeople alike. It was almost a steady stream of selling pieces and throwing new ones on. I was a touch worried that we'd have leftover by the end of the day, but a good hour before the food stalls were to close, we'd sold the last of the 120+ pieces we'd prepared. What's more, I was a little worried that the taste and/or spice wouldn't agree with people, and yet I heard 'oishi' 's (JPN: Delicious) left, right, and centre, and marvels at 80 year olds tearing through it like it was nothing. It left me feeling quite pleased that I could pass on a bit of my own culture to people who may or may not have known much about it before. And I've learned that the best way to effect grassroots internationalization is through the stomach.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266886918977795570" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyHhj8gQcim9HtzBTYdafABWtc-gNP9YNobfz9yi_r_AA75TsXqbpEJ7ehnoJ00qPdTRO1bOAaQapLH9_nDnthkRRjiVbzLwCokFZM2VuUhr3iT4DqICJmJhIpi4OujVYvH6Iqx-xibo/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ><em>Footnote: Of course, I was taking little bits of chicken as the day went on. Even when a piece hit the ground, and it was the only one left at the end of the day... Hey! The other side was still good.</em></span></p>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-44085663722310654752008-11-05T21:42:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:26:59.369+09:00How My Students would decide the US Presidental Election<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Hats off to one of my JTEs. Truly. This woman is like God in Japanese, English-speaking, teaching form. Senator Obama been declared President-elect not one hour prior, and yet she had already designed a worksheet and lesson on the fly for her next class. Upon completion, she asked me to accompany her as we had been talking about it all day up to this point and she wanted me to explain to the students what the election meant for America, Canada, and indeed, the world. I happily obliged, but not before donning my Obama campaign button that had been oh so kindly given to me many months before by one Heath.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >And so apporximately one hour after the 270th vote had been posted, I found myself in front of a classroom of high school students and explaining to them how the American election system worked (A shock to me, more than anyone. I can barely explain how the Canadian one works). The highlight of the lesson came during the explanation of how the voting worked and the states having electoral votes. One student asked, "So what happens if the two candidates are tied?"</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >A girl immediately replied, "Janken?"</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >...</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >Arguably, the literal fate of the world being decided by a round of janken.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >...</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >After recovering from my spout of laughter, a thought entered my head: "Would playing janken to decide global socio-economic politics really be that bad?"</span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-14834362253962147932008-10-03T21:57:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:27:16.999+09:00Should Students Spend Time Earning Money?<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">This happened in class not 30 minutes ago. Long story short, a student gave a great answer to a question asked in class, so much so that I feel compelled to post it. Also, this should be that much more impressive for those who have ever taught a class in Japan and know the tasking effort of asking a student to give his or her opinion.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Note: I can't remember what was said verbatim, so this is just as close as I can put it. Also, names are changed to protect the innocent.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Teacher: So let's practice making rebuttals. I will take a sentence from the passage (a short essay that he made on the topic 'Students should spend three months earning money') and make a rebuttal about it. Then Ray will make a rebuttal about my sentence. After that, you will make a rebuttal about Ray's sentence. OK, here we go. "The author says that students may waste the money that they earn, but I think that earning money by themselves will help students realize the value of money."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">After hearing this, I had no clue how to rebut that because I agree with it. However, I had to play devil's advocate and so I came up with.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Ray: "I see your point, but I believe that some students still won't know the <em>true</em> value of money."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Not the best thing, but I simply couldn't come up with anything else. We then gave the students about one minute to think about it and form a rebuttal.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Teacher: OK, so today is the third... Who is student number 3.... Ah, Rina. Please give your rebuttal to Ray's sentence.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Rina: I see your point that we may not know the <em>true</em> value now (she emphasized 'true'), but I disagree. When we start earning money when we are 20 or 21, if we make a mistake or get into trouble, there will be no one to help us. But now, since we are still students, if we have any trouble with our money, our family or friends can help us. So it is a good idea to learn the responsibility now so that we are prepared when we are adults.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">In our heads, my teacher and I have our mouths held open aghast in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">stupefaction</span>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Teacher: 素晴らしい! (Eng: Incredible; amazing; wonderful)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Again, for those of you who know what it's like to ask a student their opinion on something - even in Japanese - I think you'll see the significance.</span></span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-1096433034777523302008-06-19T20:43:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:28:12.110+09:00Arie<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >As if the surreal hadn't happened enough in this twilight zone, yesterday I had to have my teacher turn to me while conversing with a student (who quite fancies reggae music) and ask, "Excuse me Ray, but the student has a question. What is a bong? I can't find it in my dictionary."<br />So I explained. Fully.<br />...<br />Yeah. Fun day.</span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-44267198063123093892008-04-10T19:32:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:28:37.000+09:00Videos, Videos<div style="font-family: times new roman;"></div><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >I've little by little been amassing a small collection of videos that I've as of yet been unwilling/unable to post here for all to see, until just recently when I noticed the small little "post video" button that's always been beside the "post picture" button.<br />Apologies for my boneheadedness.<br />I'll list the associated blog entries with each one.<br /><br />So please, grab a popcorn and enjoy a few sights and sounds from Japan.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><p align="center" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy8bT1Og4gFzdPy9e7xJ5Da_2Ih332-2Kll3J2phHnY4eudfPT5yRFVdi9h8naakSb_2fa0Fi9QZeivZQ0Imw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></p><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Written just after "</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;" href="http://raymondinjapan.blogspot.com/2007/08/did-that-just-really-happen.html">Did that just really happen?</a></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >"</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >: </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">This is Shan-Shan festival. It's an umbrella dance that happens in the first week of August that originally was an appeal for rain during a drought. Now, we just watch the dances all day and eat all kinds of insanely good food from vendors that line the route down the main street of the city.</span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx81kjH6QOZOZSkQ-57JsOn9y3xqANlB0U46nWlNBQU4IvZDfeV2LvnvOYZSPw9TWt7IGbheRfud9AlUFZj1w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >From "</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" href="http://raymondinjapan.blogspot.com/2007/12/mochi-mochi-mochi-i-made-you-out-of.html">Mochi, Mochi, Mochi, I made you out of rice...</a></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >":</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> This is the process of making mochi. The lady is an English teacher from one of my schools, and the man striking the rice is a gym teacher from my other school. They are fraternal twins. Cosmic, no? It also helps explain the trust for one another that she isn't afraid that he crush her hand.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx5IiHJJoh-2YD6ns-_eHfL4C6SBd9ijtr7kKn_Fml0JS36UgvCZ79U-3DZksn7ySi1-Bz2jEjtRqUZ214eXA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >From "</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" href="http://raymondinjapan.blogspot.com/2008/01/welcome-2008.html">Welcome 2008, あけおめ</a></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >":</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> This is Shibuya crossing, possibly the busiest pedestrian crossing in the world. I took this at about 9 or 10 AM on a Sunday morning during vacation when much of the city was more empty than usual. Yet it was still busy as all this. Could you imagine it at 9 AM Monday morning?<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw-VjXHloQ8H33x1zKINi3c_HDwu-nTC0yLjVZpjOTX9jcnwWt0ny5SsfH6dLvM4rYTBpjBuU7EHPVEaBsWdg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Entry forthcoming:</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Sumo. 'Nuff said.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwbYlMdHCtQ8NyEvKVbBK38Fea1TySkGQfxY5und2uRJYGSMNbM2Zvmc9eSKbIMr8aPk8ZZqzB-a3EX2D5sHQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >From "</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" href="http://raymondinjapan.blogspot.com/2008/03/yazu-ko-fighto.html">Yazu-Ko FIGHTO!!!</a></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >":</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> One of the cheers that we did during our baseball team's first game. Our team was batting, and we're chanting the batter's - Yuusuke - name. See if you can pick it out.<br /></span></div></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-8684767448840415272008-03-27T21:41:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:28:59.082+09:00Yazu-Ko FIGHTO!!!<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Background: <em>Before I even get into this one, I must explain both baseball in Japan, and Koshien. First off, to say that baseball in Japan is big would be one the grossest understatements of all time. So much that it makes me laugh. So much that reading the sentence I just wrote caused a giggle. Baseball is to Japan as hockey is to Canada as football is to America as football (the original; get it right) is to Europe as... Well, you get the idea. Games sell out days and weeks in advance, and TVs across the country light up when a match is played. </em></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><em><br />Now, you might think that since high school teams are naturally of a lower plateau than professional ball that they wouldn't be as popular. Wrong. If anything, they're even more so. It continues the prevalent theme here of being cool by association. Just as the high school/university you go to, city that you live in, and job that you hold have important ramifications for self both externally and internally, the high school baseball team is just one more extension. It's a way to rally the community together as well as provide for identity for the person: "MY school is the best in the prefecture. Nwah!"</em></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ><em>Second part of the prelude is Koshien. Hanshin Koshien Stadium is the 73 year-old badboy that's holds the annual high school baseball tournament. It is also home to the Hanshin Tigers professional baseball club, but the high school tournaments carry such weight that the Tigers' schedule will be rearranged to have away games during said times to make room. That should give you some indication as to how insane these tournaments are. A tournament is held in spring and summer, with the spring one being invitational (Usually one team from each prefecture or region; about 36 teams) and the summer one involving a team from each prefecture (two from Tokyo and Hokkaido each; 49 teams). Conquering your inner demons, slaying the Emperor and bringing balance to The Force... I mean, beating the other teams in your prefecture is enough to get you a trip to Koshien. Just being able to go is an honor in itself. Even if you're out the first round, when you get home, you can still rub your nose in anyone within about 50 km's face that you're better than all of them. And if you win... Well, you're basically God for the rest of your life. You can tell everyone, "Yeah, me and my team won @ Koshien in xxxx," and olive branches will drop to your feet.</em></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >Wouldn't you know it. The year I start in Japan is the year we make it to Koshien. Huzzah! Now, @ the first, I was just kinda "meh" about the whole thing since I'm not a huge baseball fan to begin with, however enough hoopla around here about just what it means to everyone @ school and the community gave me a bit of genki-ness on the matter. Not to mention that I've watched the baseball team train every day (even weekends) really hard for each and every game, so I thought it a great chance to see them in action. Finally, my desire to see a Japanese baseball game in action and all the associated insanity would be satiated by this chance, so that sealed it.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >A Tuesday ungodly wakeup of 4 AM and being @ school for 5:15 AM and on a bus by 5:45 AM later, we found ourselves arriving just outside of Koge around 10:30 or so. You know that this was the place as there were high school kids aplenty about. And what rocked was the number of local residents of our town that made the 3 hour mission to come and cheer the team on (See above - RE: Community Rally). We all 500 or so of us swarm the stadium to find it relatively full of people, something I was a little surprised by considering it was the middle of a Tuesday morning.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw09apHxUE19pHPwcV9UypeUZSkJFD4sq3gj1G7sChtUQMMkEazInp0gFEgKGRM6wwKqJYMj6_jTci-FdwTcqUSk3PeVWOIlFHCAHEH8XrculNK9qZpDjutdJy_-hKNiZzLmg5qhvvqxg/s1600-h/CIMG1984.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw09apHxUE19pHPwcV9UypeUZSkJFD4sq3gj1G7sChtUQMMkEazInp0gFEgKGRM6wwKqJYMj6_jTci-FdwTcqUSk3PeVWOIlFHCAHEH8XrculNK9qZpDjutdJy_-hKNiZzLmg5qhvvqxg/s320/CIMG1984.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182327060963874674" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczGizvosyRupaSX1pGMHeNq1ycAt29oURqQHpOkIlFcgnlZBOf2rxYSlnC17heR8kSezf-jqqMptTQPXC79qRyURVjJcxMhhyphenhyphenF3OheFOWGmsvQkkpyZ7BW6niIj3KAToaI5oTwE4uqOI/s1600-h/CIMG1985.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczGizvosyRupaSX1pGMHeNq1ycAt29oURqQHpOkIlFcgnlZBOf2rxYSlnC17heR8kSezf-jqqMptTQPXC79qRyURVjJcxMhhyphenhyphenF3OheFOWGmsvQkkpyZ7BW6niIj3KAToaI5oTwE4uqOI/s320/CIMG1985.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182327353021650818" border="0" /></a></span><div><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >Both teams have their schools come out to egg them on, but don't think that it's just sitting in the stands and cheering. Oh, little Japan, just have to one-up us in any and everything. We bring with us Oendan. Oendan is like a cheerleading section, except that everyone is a cheerleader. Like, y'know? There are several people @ the front who lead all of us in a cheer, and the crowd responds and yells and makes noise and whatever. There are actual cheerleaders all up and down the aisle to complement us, and the school band provides the music. And we do nothing but cheer. When our team is up to bat, we include the name of the batter in the cheer, and cheer until our side is retired, then we can chill, but when we make an out while playing the field, we do a special out cheer that includes the name of whoever made the out. All and all, you're actually exhausted by the end of watching a baseball game here.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrLDlcOQklVvybFq4o7RHghl-C9mrR4oY4tEXuDdC8zz2_nPfdteQ2fSGvA4NC51irsuxH7hmLKzAb5Q7KYXlCPde2CiTRHH1_Hj-pSK0DCkHiEy1AlGwJ847ddFcDSwPma-U0kVrRyA/s1600-h/CIMG1992.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrLDlcOQklVvybFq4o7RHghl-C9mrR4oY4tEXuDdC8zz2_nPfdteQ2fSGvA4NC51irsuxH7hmLKzAb5Q7KYXlCPde2CiTRHH1_Hj-pSK0DCkHiEy1AlGwJ847ddFcDSwPma-U0kVrRyA/s320/CIMG1992.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182327967201974178" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >After the warm up, the game starts with little fanfare - no anthems, no first pitch, just a bow and go time. Cheers erupts, outs are made, bats crack. Actually, our defense was awesome. A foul caught going into a dugout, a diving catch from behind the back, double play... (I'm not making these up; they actually happened). When all was said and done, we walked out of there with a 1-0 victory. The crowd goes wild as the home team runs over for a bow. So much more madly exciting than Canada. And let me tell you how when we went back onto that bus to go home, all 40 of us dropped out faster than post-Thanksgiving dinner.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZX5_Izm3gqq0qCda1QcPuT0SIxXPgxMNvVUJNOuncGSSvbybMgExxoSe03FF0LKfnmpIIjT23bi_5gwAj21yk5YYTBYLa2Ibi9WdbZIzqjHH3cRwjtRLJGMT7_UfPN1WBJa0usmuzyw/s1600-h/CIMG1996.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZX5_Izm3gqq0qCda1QcPuT0SIxXPgxMNvVUJNOuncGSSvbybMgExxoSe03FF0LKfnmpIIjT23bi_5gwAj21yk5YYTBYLa2Ibi9WdbZIzqjHH3cRwjtRLJGMT7_UfPN1WBJa0usmuzyw/s320/CIMG1996.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182327688029099922" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >This is how work days should always be spent.</span></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-59269308169480536262008-03-13T00:59:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:29:25.461+09:00Hate Love, Love Sweets, Sweet Sweets<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >To continue my theme of trying to make up for lost blog time, I'm going to write one that I should have written on February 15<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >So Valentine's Day in Japan. Now, ordinarily my feelings towards contemporary Valentine's Day itself range from indifference to stupefied contempt. For years, I was preaching that this was a holiday who's purpose was to screw men over by an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">overstimulation</span> of the economy and our women's joy meters - The whole day a superfluous attempt to convince us that there need be one specific day on which to show <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">someone</span> that we care lest we be put into the doghouse. Here, things are different.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >On Valentine's Day in Japan, the tables are turned: It is in fact women who buy things for men. Usually it is something small, most often being chocolate. Also, it doesn't have to be confined to that special someone; women will sometimes give something small to a boss, coworker, or friend, just for the hell of it. Well, it's to foster improved relations <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">vis</span>-a-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">vis</span> other people, I suppose. She's not compelled to give something to everyone male in the office, however; usually just a close friend or two will do.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >Whatever the reason, I mind not. For on my day, I cashed in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">bigtime</span>. It's not to say that my desk looked like a Laura <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Secord</span>, but I did get a few little chocolates here and there from teachers, students, and even one mystery (Scandal @ school - who are you, mystery-chocolate-giver?!). Now, this gives rise to a puzzling internal dilemma. On the one hand, the slightly obligatory but nonetheless personally volitional nature of the chocolate causes me to side with my standing mindset on the issue, namely that it's a commercialized trap. However, the joy-joy feelings imbued from getting said chocolate tends to push those feelings aside. So brand me a hypocrite if you will, but I was quite happy with - for the first time - having the tables turned and being the one to reap benefits from yet another manifestation of the decline of Western <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Civilization</span> (I wonder if this is how women feel on Valentine's day...).</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >One thing to note: This isn't the end of it. Oh no. In fact, in March, there's a day called White Day in which men are expected to repay those who gave them gifts on Valentine's. Three-fold, in fact. And THIS day was completely created out of the blue, purely for the expressed purpose of generating revenue. Nevertheless, most ladies who were generous a month prior find themselves in a Valentine's Day stupor when they're surprised with even better chocolate than what they gave.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >So for men here, I guess there really is no such thing as a free lunch.</span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-4653691863829856122008-03-04T20:56:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:30:43.184+09:00Kanpai!<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Laments and apologies to all. I know that I have taken quite the hiatus amidst promises of updating regularly, and have received a number of complaints re the quality and quantity of the blog. Therefore, I'm coming back to it full steam with a few new posts delivered at rapid-fire pace. The next few will go in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">descending</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">chronological</span> order however, so raise too many eyebrows at seeing a post for Valentine's day in the middle of March. I'll start with a topic that's fresh in me mind as I experienced it just 12 hours ago.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >Japanese cultural lesson for today: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Enkai</span></span> - </span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >宴会</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >This roughly translates as a banquet, but it boils down to being a work party. You know how <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sometimes</span> you and a few friends get together after for a drink or two to unwind? Well, an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">enkai</span></span> is basically the same thing except that you more or less have to go. And the few friends is all the teachers in the faculty/grade/school. And a drink or two is several or more. That's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">enkai</span></span> in a very small nutshell.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >There are more serious and formal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">enkai</span></span> that follow the important events at school, such as start/end of the school year ceremonies, graduation, end of the term, end of the year, and so on. Rule of thumb is that if there's a ceremony of sorts at school, or a long vacation is about to start, then there's going to be an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">enkai</span></span> that night. These usually include the entire school, including the principal, vice-principals, all teachers, office and grounds staff, and sometimes even PTA representatives or members of the school board. Beyond that, there are any number of smaller <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">enkai</span></span> that can be held for any number of reasons by any number of people. If the third year teachers prep for a month for a demonstration class for the school board and it's now over, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">enkai</span></span>. If the science teachers finish a very large and important unit that required them to work more than usual, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">enkai</span></span>. All the first year teachers want to get together right after the new year to have a mini pep rally, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">enkai</span></span>. So on and so forth. These can range in size, but anything smaller than maybe five or six might just be considered dinner. Also, attendance isn't mandatory at any of them. However most everyone goes. They're more often than not quite fun, and it's a good way to foster good relationships with your fellow teachers.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Enkai</span></span> begins with sitting in your assigned seat, or drawing a table or seat number from a hat. The principal or next highest up will make a short speech to commemorate whatever it is we may be celebrating and then a toast follows, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Kanpai</span></span>!" We are then fed... everything. Plate after plate after plate of the most interesting foods you'll ever see. Mostly fish. It looks like each plate was storyboarded by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Da</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Vinci</span></span>, cooked by Wolfgang Puck, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">sculpted</span> on the plate by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Michelangelo</span>. In this manner, maybe five or six (or more) plates will meet you over the course of the evening, though only perhaps three or four will be fully devoured (I'll explain why in a minute).</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >And after that first cheers, that's when the drinking starts... These <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">enkai</span></span> are nearly always all you can drink, in that we don't have to order - the bottles are just brought out as fast as we can drink them. Therefore there's no need to baby a drink for a long time, or worry about the next round costing an arm and a leg. I've got to explain something about Japanese drinking. The glass is never half empty or half full here because it's always full. Customs here is that when you're out not by yourself, you pour the other person's drink. So if I notice that my friend beside <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">me's</span></span> cup is getting empty, I have to jump and top it off lest I be seen as rude. If <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">someone</span> fills their own drink the whole table we all @ the table realize it and collectively sigh in realizing that we've failed another of life's little tests. So after every bite it seems, you take a notice of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">everyone's</span></span> class, and if even a sip is missing (a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">pseudo</span>-exaggeration), or even if it's someone across the table, you get up, walk around there and pour in the 5 millilitres that are missing.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >Eating and drinking continue for a while until people decide to take a bottle in hand and go visit other teachers to shoot the breeze. During said shooting, everyone seems to stop eating amidst the delicacies <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">surreptitiously</span> placed in front of us as the night goes on. Topping and polishing off bottles at Olympic marathon speeds, things quickly move from being a quiet dinner to raucously loud and open conversations about nearly everything under the sun. This gets <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">louder</span> and bawdier until about two hours have passed when, on the stroke of the minute, everyone promptly gets up and departs. But oh no, the fun doesn't end here. More often than not, a second (or several distinct second) brew ha ha will informally convene with a smaller group of friends at a nearby establishment to basically keep the party going. Third parties are rare, but do happen amongst the saucier teachers.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >That is the short and skinny of what an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">enkai</span> is. It ends not here, though, for what blog update would be complete without demonstrating how this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">vainly</span> relates to me own life. Especially since I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">attended</span> an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">enkai</span> last night and thus can offer first-hand application details.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >After the bottles really start to be popped with alacrity, we move to the stage that I like to call "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Partytime</span>" but like to think of in my head as "Let's Practice English Time". It's around here that I discovered that - lo and behold - quite a number of my teachers can not only understand but can quite skillfully speak English. Someone will sit down beside me with a bottle in hand to top me off, and then bust out a, "So? You enjoy beer? So do I. What kind of things do you drink in Canada?". As my eyes retreat back into my head, my response will then foster a rather <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">coherent</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">lengthy</span> conversation about everything under the sun, invariably looking and Canada and/or Japan in some way. The interesting thing about "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Partytime</span>" is that teachers whom I never speak to, or who will rarely even acknowledge that I come to their <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">school</span> will all of a sudden find the (liquid) courage to not only approach me for a conversation, but will also do so in English. Going beyond that now, their English is frequently much more better than my feeble Japanese. In theory, I could pass a whole day @ school with hearing 50/50 Japanese/English if everyone all of a sudden developed a "We Love English" attitude.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >The only downtime to "Partytime" is that being the ALT seems to act as a bullseye for teachers with bottle in hand. You're targeted and prompty approached for a topoff, which you CAN refuse in theory, but seldom do in practice as to be polite. And a topoff itself isn't so much a detriment to one's state of being, but several rapid topoffs, by several people, over several minutes, over the course of the party will rapidly accumulate to several pints being consumed with realtive easy. And this is before even mentionning sake or several other Japanese alcohols (If you're discovered to be able to drink Japanese alcohol, you may as well just take an instant-hangover pill and go home right then and there).</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >"Partytime" also rocks because it affords a glimpse into a seldom-viewed world. You'll often see some certain coworkers @ their desks Mon-Fri 9-5 (More like 8-7) doing nothing but work, often not saying more than a few words, and being in all ways unassuming. And by the end of an enkai, those same busybees are talking ears off and becoming the life of the party. And odder still is seeing them back to their quiet, hardworking ways the very next morning as though nothing happened. It's refreshing to know that there is life beyond the office. Which brings me to the next point: The next day at work, we all act as though nothing happened. No matter how crazy or awesome or scary things get, no matter what is said or done, who's insulted or startled or amazed, it's out of sight and mind by 8 AM. Truly, what happens at enkai stays at enkai.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >So that's a work party in a nutshell. We hope that you've enjoyed this cultural lesson. </span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >We do hope that you'll give this a try yourself as on any given night in Japan, somewhere, someone is having an enkai. Well, there are probably any number of thousands each night across the country, so find one today and crush a cup of sake!</span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-61143162958859053842008-01-17T00:01:00.000+09:002008-01-22T08:20:37.847+09:00Welcome 2008, あけおめ<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">What do bad Japanese, The Matrix, and Michael Jackson have in common? My trip to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Tokyo </st1:city></st1:place></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">for New Year's.</span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I had NO definitive clue as to what I'd be doing for the winter break for months – there had been plans made, canceled, remade all across the board, but none seemed solid enough to convince me. Talking with my friend Nicole from high school, who was in country teaching at an English conversation company, I learned that she had no plans either. Coupled with the fact that she'd been here almost four months and I hadn't seen her yet, I thought it a good move to go and catch up, and at the same time take in some of <st1:country-region st="on">Japan'</st1:country-region>s largest city, of which I'd barely caught a glimpse of five months prior: <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Tokyo</st1:city></st1:place>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">But the approach would not be easy. Getting there would be akin to the journey from <st1:country-region st="on">Canada</st1:country-region> to <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Japan</st1:country-region></st1:place> in that it'd be about a 10 hour trek. Cheapest way we could think of to get from here to there would be an overnight bus that would depart in the evening and arrive in the city very early the following morning. In truth, it sounded longer than it actually was. Good thing about the bus was that all the windows were curtained; even the front portion of the bus where the driver sat was cordoned off so it was incredibly dark in the cabin. The seats reclined a fair bit, and we were all given blankets. A few more degrees of incline and I almost would have sworn I was in bed. The only con was we stopped every few hours for pit stops. This was great for those with no bladder, but for the vast majority of the bus, being roused from deep REM sleep by lights and a large booming voice was akin to a continual near-death experience.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Arrival in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Tokyo</st1:city></st1:place> hit just shy of 6 AM. I'm still surprised by the number of people up and about in any given city before sunrise. It's no wonder that vampirism is on the rise these days. Getting in touch with Nicole was easy as she was still awake and in town from the night before (<st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tokyo</st1:place></st1:city> partying for ya), so we hastily returned to her place (as fast as one can go on a 45 minute commute) for some sleep and food, both of which we desperately needed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, my guide and I embarked to take on <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tokyo</st1:place></st1:city> by storm. Day one was probably the longest and the busiest, in that we saw the most things. We started in Shibuya, which is this sort of trendy party/shopping district – fun for both day and night. We observed the famed crossing from a lofty height in Starbucks – such crossing is apparently one of the busiest in the world. Too bad we hit it up on a random Sunday at 9 AM. Still cool nonetheless.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywRop4vDKhK5fAtJOkaftEuM1sbnExJ38tqKRFM9SF3rY0nQtHWiz9uyDtLLg-YX0NSig-Awyq01Y7lBtfqEy9Lkesh0hDL9vHpseIEcoNu0SkhuWhZaV5ghAkGxHMZfIDT72P3murSA/s1600-h/CIMG1405.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156091585340106130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywRop4vDKhK5fAtJOkaftEuM1sbnExJ38tqKRFM9SF3rY0nQtHWiz9uyDtLLg-YX0NSig-Awyq01Y7lBtfqEy9Lkesh0hDL9vHpseIEcoNu0SkhuWhZaV5ghAkGxHMZfIDT72P3murSA/s320/CIMG1405.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">We then moseyed our way on over to Harajuku where sure enough there were people out in all sorts of anime/goth/just plain insane costumes to delight the tourists and get pictures taken. Truth be told, I've never fully understood it meself, but it didn't stop me from getting a few pictures taken with them. Navigating the endless and narrow streets gave witness to some of the most interesting and bizarre fashions I ever have seen. How on Earth some people walk buy and think, "That'd look good!" simply defies me. That being said, the businesses sure seemed to be thriving.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRtlWVJJyy2Th8XgS3VMdgHsOsSS2vXOFRe_syWsXr81HGAjUDgfHZFdBeQutEu03dE1FH-Cp_iGG5OSu6FaA8HyW_6wWBBE8mjbZxfhRRXh3hCX6J5CzFU5BpyLbjX4GJP7WmyVUkWQ/s1600-h/CIMG1416.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156092044901606818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRtlWVJJyy2Th8XgS3VMdgHsOsSS2vXOFRe_syWsXr81HGAjUDgfHZFdBeQutEu03dE1FH-Cp_iGG5OSu6FaA8HyW_6wWBBE8mjbZxfhRRXh3hCX6J5CzFU5BpyLbjX4GJP7WmyVUkWQ/s320/CIMG1416.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Later that evening, after passing the maddeningly expensive boutiques of Estee Lauder, Yves St. Laurent, and others, we found my friends @ the Gap, but declined an offer for dinner as we’d just eaten. Being far too tired to paint the town red that night, we visited the apartment of a few friend's of Nicole's and vegged to Japanese TV.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The next day following a wonderful sleep in, Nicole took me to Asakusa, which was host to <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Sensoji</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Not too sure what the story was behind this one other than it was very big and very crowded. A plus was that I was able to get a few more little Christmas presents for some people back home (Those keeping up with continuity will note that this is all taking place several days after Christmas).<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDoMnmwbjAg4fcoS6aRd31c6ez0tTYRJuaBmQfK0Tsbn1bu5Hx27jVLgztYgJn6MiGOo6Qzc4jo84UGnCsptDuiWnOPW2kcoavwvYHKRQBL6ut1E_28FK2DEn8ZKcg6ChYIDj_29yFe8/s1600-h/CIMG1428.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156092495873172914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDoMnmwbjAg4fcoS6aRd31c6ez0tTYRJuaBmQfK0Tsbn1bu5Hx27jVLgztYgJn6MiGOo6Qzc4jo84UGnCsptDuiWnOPW2kcoavwvYHKRQBL6ut1E_28FK2DEn8ZKcg6ChYIDj_29yFe8/s320/CIMG1428.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The best part of this though was Nicole's foray into Japanese. I can't remember how it came up, but I had told her that during my solo trip to Himeji that I was forced to teach myself how to ask someone to take a picture of me in Japanese (Which I'm quite proud to say I thought of correctly all by myself). She wanted to know what it was so I taught her, sufficient that she had it memorized. Not content to let it just slip away, I told her that we must test it out to make sure that she had it committed to memory. Thus, to the first "Japanese" people that we saw approach us – a young couple – she walked up and said, "Sumimasen. Shashin o tottemo ii desu ka?" (Excuse me, can you please take a picture?), done with hardly a mistake. The young man smiled and replied – In flawless English – "Sure, no problem." Not only did he speak English, but it sounded native, with no accent or hesitation @ all. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that he was either a tourist visiting <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region> as well, or someone who had lived abroad for MANY years. Needless to say, it was quite amusing that Nicole had to ask the one person who'd understand her in either language.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGTx7rgGXR1IJXtvppwYMdqYNptl2tkR1o_VXC8ERq-_-9o60uB9MALLHPR7VSxYsJ-LH-NWL2Ktlug5YxKd_mtHHPVYzOlUlF8YqlEkWmCUH1Rbl4I2Ep-IjvvDQaZfI5hBgrX8unEQ/s1600-h/CIMG1433.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156092955434673602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGTx7rgGXR1IJXtvppwYMdqYNptl2tkR1o_VXC8ERq-_-9o60uB9MALLHPR7VSxYsJ-LH-NWL2Ktlug5YxKd_mtHHPVYzOlUlF8YqlEkWmCUH1Rbl4I2Ep-IjvvDQaZfI5hBgrX8unEQ/s320/CIMG1433.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Oh, also, another thing to mention. Many people ask me how expensive it really is in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region>, and I tell them that on the average things are either the same or only slightly more expensive. On the average. On the other hand, it is possible to find things for much less expensive, as evidenced by our shopping around Sensoji. We found several shoe stores that were offering dozens of styles for about $20 CAD. And I'm not talking knock-off sneakers or anything. I mean full dress shoes and heels and just about any kind of shoes that you'd want. Needless to say, $50 and 3 pairs of shoes later, I was a happy boy. So don't let the image of omni-expensive <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region> fool you.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Shopping and donuts later, we returned home to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Yokohama</st1:place></st1:city> to prep for the night – New Year’s Eve. After prettying ourselves up, we grabbed a few drinks (Amen to being able to drink in public and on the trains), and headed back into <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tokyo</st1:place></st1:city>. We met up with a large group of Nicole and Audrey's (another friend from high school who was living with Nicole. They came over from <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Canada</st1:place></st1:country-region> together) friends in Shibuya, along with countless other thousands of Japanese and foreigners alike. I swear, it felt more like <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Toronto</st1:city></st1:place> to me what with all the different ethnicities in the same place. Aside from the signs in Japanese and the public drinking, I would have thought I was back home for a minute.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTaRdc8PI7FrbcMBqZlXFS6sWTBeN6spD9UQ458_iGfCWkoh66N-2iGiHU5OOeTL0-B-8rAVdH3I_mg-IOvhmEqYR8KG19-H-USK3ABp434zZBiFb39PJK68VtM75pb-9WH1v3C_APLU/s1600-h/CIMG1469.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156093492305585618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTaRdc8PI7FrbcMBqZlXFS6sWTBeN6spD9UQ458_iGfCWkoh66N-2iGiHU5OOeTL0-B-8rAVdH3I_mg-IOvhmEqYR8KG19-H-USK3ABp434zZBiFb39PJK68VtM75pb-9WH1v3C_APLU/s320/CIMG1469.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The countdown occurred on a randomly passing bus. We screamed. We hugged. We kissed. Such was the entrance into 2008. Next, after many deliberations and varied delays, we made it to a club around 1 to dance the year away. We somehow bartered the doorwoman to let us in for only $15 when the cover that night was $40, and I somehow kept drinking for free by recycling the one drink ticket that I had. Won't bore you with the details, but it was a fun, albeit tiring night. Audrey, her boyfriend, and I left after 4; while Nicole and a bunch of Australians hung around until 7 or 8 (The clubs don't really close here. You can dance all night if you want). Hats off to the subways being open all day that night. I think it was close to 6 when I finally passed out, a pile of exhaustion and exuberance.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p>Maybe... 2 the next day, I struck out alone to view a few more places. Among them, Akihabara. This is the famed district in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tokyo</st1:place></st1:city> where you can get any electronic known to man. Now, I was originally under the impression that one would be able to find things five years ahead of Canadian standards for five times less the price. The reality of the situation is that all and all, you're going to pay about the same, however the quality is better. Thus, what you'd spend for a top of the line camera from Futureshop is what you'd spend here, but the one here is probably that much better than the Futureshop one. If you were to get the EXACT same camera, then you'd find it a cheaper price here as it'd probably be "older". To that end, I didn't see anything that I NEEDED, but did pick up a game or two for my DS and almost got a cordless keyboard for me laptop. All and all, what I DID want or need I could probably get back in Tottori.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzMJSy_flszkY9YDeeb3Vq05adXHV68dmRMrlj9zPHF2zLQpQUoqIHez3-4wdLawqFOMSultBA1rBeRg6AVbE9VgzwM-bsnu0-B4FQf2z4B3SSCWLC6XKt7NGFZZMBWiUMPL490bvSHI/s1600-h/CIMG1480.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156093792953296354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzMJSy_flszkY9YDeeb3Vq05adXHV68dmRMrlj9zPHF2zLQpQUoqIHez3-4wdLawqFOMSultBA1rBeRg6AVbE9VgzwM-bsnu0-B4FQf2z4B3SSCWLC6XKt7NGFZZMBWiUMPL490bvSHI/s320/CIMG1480.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">On the train ride back, it stopped in Shimbashi, which I'd studied about in textbooks, and I thought, "I'm not rushing anywhere. I have the time. Why not?" So I get out and walk around. I think that a few hundred years ago it was a pleasure quarter of sorts. Now, it's a major business center. <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">Think Bay Street</st1:address></st1:street>. That being said, on New Year's Day, at 8 PM. It was empty. And I mean EMPTY. There was maybe a five or ten minute stretch where I saw no one @ all – no cars, no pedestrians, no one. And this is in one of the biggest cities in the world. I thought that I'd walked into a B-movie and zombies were going to appear out of the alleyways. As I'm walking along, I come to an intersection and notice <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Tokyo</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Tower</st1:placetype></st1:place> somewhat distant to my left. The "Why not" thought crossed my mind, and I decided to walk towards it. For the next 45 minutes or so. Lovely view, by the way. I highly recommend going @ night – can't see as much detail, but it's beautiful.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXGbMd1GN7U3QwtBxKxyqTeB_FzhZ9ieJhoT48nwAws_DgQ7dtoOQUTUVOKnd9PDRAWl4BKXkaLzYoPBY-JAEEXJbz_wRkCllbykjH25rlqlRWj84NyoQITr5n-aFJS-f9P0K0igMN90/s1600-h/CIMG1494.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156094265399698930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXGbMd1GN7U3QwtBxKxyqTeB_FzhZ9ieJhoT48nwAws_DgQ7dtoOQUTUVOKnd9PDRAWl4BKXkaLzYoPBY-JAEEXJbz_wRkCllbykjH25rlqlRWj84NyoQITr5n-aFJS-f9P0K0igMN90/s320/CIMG1494.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Next day! We hit up <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Kamakura</st1:place></st1:city>, city that held the effective executive power of the country for a few hundred years. This mission in and of itself was daunting; took up almost two and a half hours from the apartment to getting off the last train. Transport in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Japan?</st1:place></st1:country-region> Efficiency, yes. Timely, no. At one point during the trek, the train made a funny movement that caused Audrey to almost fall. But this almost fall was in bullet-time. It was like watching it happen in slow motion. Her vain arm movements, the expression on her face, the speed at which she was moving... It was as if someone has set the movie to slo-mo just to scrutinize every moment in agonizing detail. Amazingly, she didn't even fall in her seven second voyage towards the floor.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">We only had time for a few places as I had to be back to catch my train, so we saw the Daibutsu (Literally, Big Buddha) and another temple whose name escapes me. Crowded, crowded, crowded as everyone was at the temples to pray for the new year. We couldn't join as the wait was something like two hours, so instead we just ate from various vendors around the temple and became fat from so many Japanese foods.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjj8VuY-vpouNGZSVKsOrVJ5e6pXbbDgcpL8MtKXxgjhpPB6FW-R1E1IRvCd-nJpFy59uDLoJJWC_6165nSS4QatshGoYKJ_6Yf-1mn8g4NiqWtSwWxqlpj1vlvztFGLM3prvD2PSJoe4/s1600-h/CIMG1535.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156094660536690178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjj8VuY-vpouNGZSVKsOrVJ5e6pXbbDgcpL8MtKXxgjhpPB6FW-R1E1IRvCd-nJpFy59uDLoJJWC_6165nSS4QatshGoYKJ_6Yf-1mn8g4NiqWtSwWxqlpj1vlvztFGLM3prvD2PSJoe4/s320/CIMG1535.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRn-aLMnuibwZz5O5isnVTCHyQhKjwf8n3BIO2ODBcx5JoCYQ7qBc66ykCw_j5Yi1dwQvvpCj_LmWLaVbu7ghzbgawbXALOg5QM0S5ZKrp5sd0W05ES4-jADrH7vkds7z544tOfDHi3Qg/s1600-h/CIMG1571.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156095437925770770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRn-aLMnuibwZz5O5isnVTCHyQhKjwf8n3BIO2ODBcx5JoCYQ7qBc66ykCw_j5Yi1dwQvvpCj_LmWLaVbu7ghzbgawbXALOg5QM0S5ZKrp5sd0W05ES4-jADrH7vkds7z544tOfDHi3Qg/s320/CIMG1571.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Thus, at this point, I had to bid farewell to me friends and hightail it back to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tokyo</st1:place></st1:city> to make my bus, which! I did with perhaps one minute to spare. Though when I got there, I found out that my time was just the boarding time, and that the bus wouldn’t leave for anther 15 minutes. Ugh... Funny thing happened when I got on. A man in front of me turned back and said, "Same bus" a few times, which I took to mean that it was the same bus that we'd come to Tokyo on (which I knew it wasn't). He eventually explained that it we had rode on the same bus to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tokyo</st1:place></st1:city> together four days prior. He said that he remembered me because I reminded him of Michael Jackson. *Insert eye roll here. Needless to say, that brought a smile to me face. So long as he was referring to Jackson 5 Michael.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Weirdest thing about the trip was that towards the end, I was actually looking forward to coming back to Tottori. Big city living and all that as it was, I thought it all a little too... busy? Hectic? Fast-paced? I'm not sure how to coin it. But whatever it was, it had me longing for the relaxing air of the country. Or it could just be that in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tokyo</st1:place></st1:city>, I'm just another common foreigner, while in my city, I'm Michael Jackson.</span></p>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-58428532469938647512007-12-20T00:53:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:31:20.245+09:00Beauty in Every Fallen Leaf<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >This one may take top prize as the latest entry thus far: three weeks. I don't know where to begin to describe the sheer volume of time-consuming activities that render our lives here busy beyond belief - and thus I won't endeavor to. I'll just say that "I've been a little engaged," and leave it at that.<br /><br />So! Last (3) weekend(s ago), decided to crack one of the biggest eggs that Japan has to offer: The 1000+ year old city that is Kyoto - seat of emperors and cultural hub of the whole <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">shebang</span>. It's probably the one city that I've wanted to visit for as long as I've known about Japan. It's always held a piquing interest to know of the history that walks the very streets; that many a person since very long before I was born walked the same ones - It's fascinating.<br /><br />First stop was Kinkakuji. This temple dates back some 800 years or so, however the actual building that we see is less than 100 years old itself. Nonetheless, it doesn't take away from the marvel of what it once was. And the nice thing about the compound is the surroundings of nature. The whole area is this sea of red and gold and green that frankly makes Canadian fall seem like just another season.</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphHyiclBF0BFp5kXYECXbAWm-WR1hOgFfyRwDL3SJHucmeXUxMFzUEH-T6jYjXuX_pywJ-M1cW_fBpl_eRrhb6vXumxikMqJ_HMw2dHwK08IyldLbOYKiO3lq70DH1ioZIBr0zFYA7ZU/s1600-h/CIMG0770.JPG"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145898687348860098" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphHyiclBF0BFp5kXYECXbAWm-WR1hOgFfyRwDL3SJHucmeXUxMFzUEH-T6jYjXuX_pywJ-M1cW_fBpl_eRrhb6vXumxikMqJ_HMw2dHwK08IyldLbOYKiO3lq70DH1ioZIBr0zFYA7ZU/s320/CIMG0770.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145899013766374610" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTHzcuZB5abFAb4RCFBF0GsBwEjnnly7EYuklRyPrpzijgq37JBJ8P7TlRRQUQNguvB12Qwi7Qelvy40uN6i_Z1kKqb0vVIGFNduuuF5Q_BzVzinCjvKEf_XnQ5fOckyym5b3849GuTqU/s320/CIMG0778.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145899456148006114" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZn42XWgDsmHHoB5NmqV9XpgPnqqJFx00kYmO69hQKmddcx-qUl-ScCu_6R-8JPUioTwCZyEeMBigGNV6iz-b27sjq3gekDByxaUwbn83oOOaj0FZ83R86181-uDMpHWbxiKtppn82xg/s320/CIMG0786.JPG" border="0" />The afternoon continued on with a destinationless wandering around the backstrees and alleyways of the city. One really gets that "lost in time" feel when they're going down streets that have changes very little over the course of centuries.<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145899645126567154" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh7OuqJXh-dVRV89If96ySI2lPjICyPKdZEZkt-wWBVwkIL8NvtwjhUYbDwBoex9KeUR-h6GW1Lo0gsDdJU8n6Q7VKMCFswviuqRyuHc2Q6uqSaKUnGtt11PXHyxXE2GnRoS_yaNL-Gw/s320/CIMG0805.JPG" border="0" /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145899756795716866" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEyO_iUfexfdMDGQ1dvwUccaE7F5Ptk6XfQB-S08YxV4SLZI7lNY1RD3D3ralD-orsDHkeCx_WRaVSixwaDjZ7ZnDfGdYBUDnMbxua7x9XX3oxu8QoWoqbOFnIad997Q8cHUXrFttg7k/s320/CIMG0812.JPG" border="0" /> </span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145899911414539538" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQhjmF-8VF9-DPNlGJyT9DRW5ZrJ7S_6Jr8vRNXWAqyTjGGxkPDiMGeMOHIjMgGyieWN8qYmxOGgK2RFNUmQXjsgMOCh68xaDGaZrq9-t_bkdYepusI3MfFIjomkCn8_PwbHwdUkDHLM/s320/CIMG0813.JPG" border="0" />The following noteworthy stop was Kiyomizu-dera, a Buddhist temple with over 1,000 years of history, and whose buildings date back almost 400 years. Truth be told, didn't take advantage AS MUCH of the cultural aspects of the temple, but, as it seems everyone else there was about, taking in the views from the temple was what it seemed to be about. Looking out over the forests and parks to see Kyoto in the background surrounded by mountains with the sunset approaching... No words of mine nor pictures that I could have taken could do it justice. It is such a sight that there is no ifs, ands, or buts about me returning to do it all over again. Simply incredible. When the ancient Japanese were designing a city, they certainly had their game faces on.<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145900104688067874" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoLZ12NUKReLo6Ecg4mBrUlmnrmXQGmHpRosCb1MlL7si931E_J-g2NDp0UosyYZWzu3w9z3EnhS5v4XxtfNTqKvGx3i7_bxY-0BUsfuvU-MsZBwmnkQG5Q3lgsxPtnkino_QWV99qW0/s320/CIMG0818.JPG" border="0" /> </span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145900263601857842" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbSMT5mxs2J2QZ2dglkoRgdqOgTal-_HodzRHY-lu8unRLP2AXbQzej7uPhyphenhyphenjvJcl-i4gNTbhK7YSI93z1zpsxVvfnhQ8e3nthOLx7peB16cSgTkCWrS5e1hSK4XpXh2s1oNmhW-jDc8/s320/CIMG0820.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145900847717410146" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQpKK0OtZHOp-msQQbyCY37GB_XWNRa5vqaxkBP8ue__2a5ASdbN_Yr6FS5qbHIiToRYuTPfDJax43GFA-UGiUL5nr1OYjFKC26l4R4MVgN5nR4OHF5MbRwhxVDYW-OhacWmPmaNGk48/s320/CIMG0839.JPG" border="0" />All and all, the trip was short, but sweet - Lasting only that day. It can be said with certainty that I will be heading back there will all due speed, hopefully in the spring when the cherry blossoms come in. This city did not fall short in any capacity and as captivated me to seek more. Although it goes without saying that if one ever visits Japan that they must visit this city, I can now put my official endorsement behind it with all urgings that descriptions are understatements and it must be seen to be known.<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145902698848314754" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7wiY6OMS3W2Fzuh8lfT4CjoIBacSab4GlbVGpYOlYH98yKSpWase54-RlM32UBE_L8GwgNZ-1pjguvCnd0UnK3OBaGE4DtwdTKerVESGxKlp6kfK_crBDz2G5kPdYAUG7OvIVHH5bQs8/s320/CIMG0846.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-38268133292513759202007-12-18T22:07:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:31:50.455+09:00"Do you agree with the idea that housework is for women?": A Student's Perspective<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >In my second year writing class, the students are doing a unit on housework with overtones of gender roles. They had a short assignment in which they had to evaluate the question, "Do you agree with the idea that housework is for women?", and respond with their own opinion. The following is one student's response that caused me to laugh for quite the while because I was picturing his situation in my mind. The spelling has been corrected for sake of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">legibility</span>, but the grammar and word order are exactly as they appear on his paper.<br /><br />I disagree with the idea. Because now, many Japanese women is working. My father very tired when finish father's works. But, my mother too. My mother and my father many mouth battle. But, they start the home work as soon as finish mouth battle. For example, my mother is wash the dish and clears the table. My father is smoking and eat a ice cream. My mother say "Hey you! You wash the your sox for yourself!" My father say "Yes, yes."</span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-4494022856351382742007-12-17T01:17:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:32:38.052+09:00Mochi, Mochi, Mochi, I made you out of rice...<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I've recently discovered a new form of therapy designed to relieve stress and keep you in shape all at the same time. It runs along the same lines as punching bags and stress balls: Make mochi.</span><br /><br /></span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiGR0X5HMooopjaqUB4pT0w5H6Ayf38PT7uSa8d3NLK6irXL_puCjJAtuLWnS5aqhfBMFdgVz197O4y6nmJ3Y3GiD8TPgK-YU9mv1nX9zwF7RP0xSiXIIg6uoODf-g-K_PTBmXPegR4s/s1600-h/CIMG0855.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144968861289014370" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiGR0X5HMooopjaqUB4pT0w5H6Ayf38PT7uSa8d3NLK6irXL_puCjJAtuLWnS5aqhfBMFdgVz197O4y6nmJ3Y3GiD8TPgK-YU9mv1nX9zwF7RP0xSiXIIg6uoODf-g-K_PTBmXPegR4s/s320/CIMG0855.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">One of my JTE (Japanese Teacher of English) from one school invited me to make mochi with her and her family (Including her twin brother, who happens to be a JTE at my other school) last Saturday.<br /><br />For those of you not familiar with what mochi is: It's a rice cake made from really sticky rice. You pound it into a paste, as indicated here, then break it into smaller pieces and mold it. You can get it anytime, but it's usually a New Year's food. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mochi">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mochi</a><br /><br />You cook rice in a thicker-and-stickier-than-usual manner to get the right consistency, then you toss it all into an usu (type of big mortar) and mash it all together with kine (pestle - think high school science, but about 20x as big. And with handles. Once it's sufficiently mashed, that's when the therapy/fitness aspect kicks in. You have two people working on it: one to bash and the other to fix. The one bashing uses the kine in overhand strikes to beat the rice into paste; the one fixing keeps their hand wet with water and smacks the rice. This is done both to keep the rice from drying out, and also to indicate where to hit next. When the basher is breaking through all the way to the bottom, the fixer has to grab and end and fold it over to ensure that there's always a thick layer of rice to pound. Crazy thing is that this is done in between the strikes, so the fixer has about a half second in which to either smack the rice or grab and end and fold it over. Rhythm is key because it is very easy for the basher to bash fixer's hand, which no one wants to see happen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGl_7pzbKZTaC-50WjWJBLAGbN_m4UtZNDfFUI-fLlbE1Tl9CADm_sx2Tj4ucjIN1bFforeBfGGUrsGGz1xYXi1mL5po_WcAwGIh0FYutnuxSkgpZBgrcoFIJYSNri51BcQwiyWoG96cE/s1600-h/CIMG0857.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144969307965613170" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGl_7pzbKZTaC-50WjWJBLAGbN_m4UtZNDfFUI-fLlbE1Tl9CADm_sx2Tj4ucjIN1bFforeBfGGUrsGGz1xYXi1mL5po_WcAwGIh0FYutnuxSkgpZBgrcoFIJYSNri51BcQwiyWoG96cE/s320/CIMG0857.JPG" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQciTC8QBzc0lUifvSHoHNXI1Asvdvam0nPqFoYWQ_lGA_23vpMofEQGhWoWg9TSF31q4f7cBEdvLCygArwbhNzsWTouuuqyr3qGKhXWPBs5oAjNdi82_i0QHX_Vb02L0rbIPAbLZGq8/s1600-h/CIMG0886.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144969711692539010" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQciTC8QBzc0lUifvSHoHNXI1Asvdvam0nPqFoYWQ_lGA_23vpMofEQGhWoWg9TSF31q4f7cBEdvLCygArwbhNzsWTouuuqyr3qGKhXWPBs5oAjNdi82_i0QHX_Vb02L0rbIPAbLZGq8/s320/CIMG0886.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Once the rice is no longer rice and instead becomes sort of a white, homogeneous paste, it is placed on a wooden board with flour and separated into smaller pieces. These are then worked out by hand into disc-shaped portions that are left to cool. Once that's done, eat! It's a traditional New Year's food here<br />(Mid-sentence aside: New Year's here is where it's at. Christmas isn't really celebrated other than to give gifts, that being because more than 90% of the country is Shinto/Buddhist. But! New Year's is the spiritual time to let go of the current year and hope for good luck in the coming year. Very family-intensive. I make it that Japan's New Year is analogous to the West's Christmas in terms of family-time and sentimental meaning.)<br />and so it's often bought or given out as gifts. It's also used in the home as offerings at shrines, and and charms meant to bring good fortune.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl35tjaDiGn_f_f25Zctqlyb5Xy5wez2E22DCl_nVA7p43goiQn4M51SdpJQRW0is1_nZog_SuGSCDsQMGWhk3VYbGazT7LgOKfbGvL-VkU29bzDJ6DQz_vpZsANWFy_KddPP20-06jcM/s1600-h/CIMG0866.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144970055289922706" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl35tjaDiGn_f_f25Zctqlyb5Xy5wez2E22DCl_nVA7p43goiQn4M51SdpJQRW0is1_nZog_SuGSCDsQMGWhk3VYbGazT7LgOKfbGvL-VkU29bzDJ6DQz_vpZsANWFy_KddPP20-06jcM/s320/CIMG0866.JPG" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMLpHQCOPGFE9afnHDpWH6N3nig4cn5m6Na4nQMHvwq4apaqrc_vI9kbSIG66DIqECS9JGVFeVVV1VYCLbL797bdPIOwKqFIAWn1j6EZ6zjzlKd8bPYpl0KZ3U1w7za6KcDOgskznqYo/s1600-h/CIMG0870.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144970441836979362" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMLpHQCOPGFE9afnHDpWH6N3nig4cn5m6Na4nQMHvwq4apaqrc_vI9kbSIG66DIqECS9JGVFeVVV1VYCLbL797bdPIOwKqFIAWn1j6EZ6zjzlKd8bPYpl0KZ3U1w7za6KcDOgskznqYo/s320/CIMG0870.JPG" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEaScUsNh-TMhaam7KrNcwqbNHAnhLiuRNOVZo3S9QAPKvo1T6WxFvv2MsDecMiDVEoXPBRynGit1aFEVmtk8L3Tv72zzre5siWktH0T7tldkGirm6rY2UoWeeiVGAfPolWnj1sELP2Wg/s1600-h/CIMG0873.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144970721009853618" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEaScUsNh-TMhaam7KrNcwqbNHAnhLiuRNOVZo3S9QAPKvo1T6WxFvv2MsDecMiDVEoXPBRynGit1aFEVmtk8L3Tv72zzre5siWktH0T7tldkGirm6rY2UoWeeiVGAfPolWnj1sELP2Wg/s320/CIMG0873.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">That all being said, it's quite relaxing to picture someone's face in the rice while you're beating it to high heaven. Not only does it turn it into paste faster, but it feels oh so good. I think that gyms should start stocking striking apparatuses - they work wonders for both the body and mind.<br /><br />One bale of rice is more than enough to tire one out. So you can imagine my resignation when I learned that we were making six. Our rapid swings and devastating blows expended on the first bale soon gave way to haphazard hacks and snail-paced rhythms towards the end, and the time that we needed for break in between increased arithmetically.<br /><br />After many a tired and grueling hour later, we all enjoyed lunch together, at which it seemed that my glass of beer could never be filled fast enough after the smallest sip. My JTE and his infant daughter had the right idea with a nap, and it goes without saying that as soon as I got home, I followed suit.<br /><br />I'll be spending the next 11 months, 30 days training for next year's mochi-making day. I'll need every day, believe you me.<br /></span></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-48940184007968015452007-12-13T22:57:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:32:47.926+09:00Delicious Multiculturalism Goes International (Or, They call me Mr. Tibbs!... er, Mr. Levy)<span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">As the law of averages will oft tell us in life, everything tends to have a way to even out. We hear it all the time: "Can't have the good without the bad", "Can't enjoy victory without knowing defeat", etc. Yesterday, I had one of those high days - the ones you get out of bed for and make work worth going to (At least, so much as one would want to go to work as opposed to spending all day in bed).</span> </span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Day begins with the discovery that my afternoon classes are cancelled. For whatever reason, my one school has cancelled afternoon classes from now until the end of the semester. So the kids can go home at lunch. This nets me with just one class. Huzzah. Spend the first period making eggnog with one or two of my teachers for the first time. I never knew how easy it was to make. I highly recommend for those who have ready access to milk and eggs. After the time warp that accelerated me past my class, enjoyed lunch, and then prepped for my afternoon. </span></span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Today, we made Nanaimo Bars.</span></div><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I'll have to explain why. So, maybe a month ago, the librarian approached me and asked of I could prepare a Canadian dessert for some students in December. I can't remember what the reason was - perhaps it was just an internationalization thing wherein I do something Canadian and talk with the kdis about it. I replied that I would and at once set to think of a sweet that screams "Canada". All I can say is amen to Wikipedia, because within five minutes of searching, I discovered the joy that is Nanaimo Bar. I've been slowly learning how to make it over the last month - even testing it out on friends during Thanksgiving Dinner. And yesterday was show time. </span></span></div><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaPiZiUEYCMbasnlB-7QwaA26U3ei1HLelKPSA6uay7Hy83XKI0GsXugSA72mzxW-0I6dsmSuxheu5ebihGlfNMNZhzmSnl1KrPsH2Ua4XrL8mi_OAbDMNgkTKB7EW4Z3PgSNTaHrD2w/s1600-h/DSC00008.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143447229145861618" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaPiZiUEYCMbasnlB-7QwaA26U3ei1HLelKPSA6uay7Hy83XKI0GsXugSA72mzxW-0I6dsmSuxheu5ebihGlfNMNZhzmSnl1KrPsH2Ua4XrL8mi_OAbDMNgkTKB7EW4Z3PgSNTaHrD2w/s320/DSC00008.JPG" border="0" /></span></a></span></div><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><div face="times new roman"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><div style="font-family: times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaO-d97alKowPsCNpLU8_MpJ_5XK38NQomu8E5EnZV8UbI9Or2VpxPSqeztuKbCAHbkXNkXkBU8TAkIHzwpJ8DmpyfRZJeHwvfi-NtKTAMqpmUG8z20GNYM2lJc1ZWGd_fF98T4BtY7s/s1600-h/DSC00014.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143447551268408834" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaO-d97alKowPsCNpLU8_MpJ_5XK38NQomu8E5EnZV8UbI9Or2VpxPSqeztuKbCAHbkXNkXkBU8TAkIHzwpJ8DmpyfRZJeHwvfi-NtKTAMqpmUG8z20GNYM2lJc1ZWGd_fF98T4BtY7s/s320/DSC00014.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigt2NaUDtQarJ-orj6LZuTdBqmXeBio_pVtPj3whxappZ009V2I26b9SrRIf8NULL6v4s00BMD7Hbt-BbbGIOWrnPp99Lfs_IafyFZBOxsY024Or0-rltjAC13HAvffrLRW8l8ND1WCfA/s1600-h/DSC00018.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143447735952002578" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigt2NaUDtQarJ-orj6LZuTdBqmXeBio_pVtPj3whxappZ009V2I26b9SrRIf8NULL6v4s00BMD7Hbt-BbbGIOWrnPp99Lfs_IafyFZBOxsY024Or0-rltjAC13HAvffrLRW8l8ND1WCfA/s320/DSC00018.JPG" border="0" /></span></a></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >So for a week or so, there were ads around school saying, "Let's cook with Raymond-sensei!" I was expecting perhaps a half dozen students to show up; imagine my surprise when a good 20+ kids were in the room waiting for me, in addition to about six or so teachers. In a short and skinny, they made it all while I - the quote-unquote expert - supervised. They did a great job, and all turned out well. Afterwords, we ate and drank tea. The aforementioned eggnog was a surprise for them, as I didn't tell them that I'd be making it. All and all, it was a fun experience for me, but the best came at the very end.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Most of the students reluctantly tried the eggnog, reluctantly especially so after I told them that it was made from eggs. Some flat out refused. I got a few smiles from it and a few interesting expressions, but all and all they just seemed to quietly enjoy it. When we were all done and cleaned up, and the students had left, the teachers and I were talking when another student entered the room. She was a quiet girl who also attended my Jack O'Lantern demonstration a few months back. She apologized that she was unable to attend due to some unavoidable circumstance. The teachers gave her a piece of Nanaimo, and I also offered her a cup of eggnog to try. She took one sip, then looked up with widened eyes and exclaimed in a quiet voice, "Oishi!" (Delicious), after which she quickly finished the rest in a few quick gulps. Most of the other students just took it down without too much expression, so perhaps her genuine reaction stood out in my mind. I don't know why I thought that that was meaningful, but it really made my day when she thanked me for the delicious "Canadian" drink.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD-dN5wtaGB0gD3eHh1w_5-4BIb216lSOXKyvKaiHOGc98W4m0yY2S_0T5uGjWPdsldyKUD_lhcCTA6LdzOXORItwpz6vmjPJuvm_T0oEX6gVb-Qw_7tjk91alQGO4s7fYiBUCy1aUKo/s1600-h/DSC00033.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143448680844807730" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD-dN5wtaGB0gD3eHh1w_5-4BIb216lSOXKyvKaiHOGc98W4m0yY2S_0T5uGjWPdsldyKUD_lhcCTA6LdzOXORItwpz6vmjPJuvm_T0oEX6gVb-Qw_7tjk91alQGO4s7fYiBUCy1aUKo/s320/DSC00033.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV4eRmJaUmqARNU2m8gp0M0ecRzS58flDa7p_7QhOWfiL-8ZqEHY0PEpTuusNr1sOQI5sEsDqnUT59PVqp3RcfsSYD-FP-LOMmkYOASFktJbwlwfbZuTbQB6u2G__xm4P1Qb8p5hgS5A/s1600-h/DSC00030.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143447933520498210" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV4eRmJaUmqARNU2m8gp0M0ecRzS58flDa7p_7QhOWfiL-8ZqEHY0PEpTuusNr1sOQI5sEsDqnUT59PVqp3RcfsSYD-FP-LOMmkYOASFktJbwlwfbZuTbQB6u2G__xm4P1Qb8p5hgS5A/s320/DSC00030.JPG" border="0" /></span></a></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >They've asked me to do this sort of thing again in the spring, but this time make a Canadian food typically found at lunch/dinner. Any ideas?</span></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-57935875328139790852007-11-30T02:40:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:33:28.874+09:00Fancy Seeing You Here<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Another wonderful Japanese long weekend. Perhaps I should just stay at home and catch up on my sleep, do a little cleaning, maybe leisurely see some friends and catch up.</span> </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">...<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">No, that'd be too easy. Instead, let's go traveling. After all, it's a long weekend.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Fun thing about traveling here is you just kind of think to yourself, "Hmm. Where's a city I have visited yet? Okayama? Well then! Let's go!", and off and away you go. I get the feeling that that’s how my friends decided this weekend: Throwing darts @ the map, and then playing Janken to decide the winner (I could write an entire blog about Janken [And in fact, I think I may in the future], but for now http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janken). Just like that, Okayama beats out Hiroshima, and we're off!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Strangest thing I found about being in Okayama was how it reminded me so of Toronto. The size of the streets, the buildings, and, of course, the streetcars. Okayama is one of only a handful of cities in Japan to still feature streetcars. And so seeing it made of think of it as Japan's TTC. It was quite surreal to walk the streets, but they carried with them that nostalgic and melancholic feeling all at once.</span><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: times new roman;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1k2c0vaGzmLnHl5wLrge2qJ5Fhflu-UcWIwLRj113VQGnnnaGHmhRWGZdgieT3GhC-dfMa7qlSFwPA12OALFKoVQBi8WF_T5WCucYBtXHEaYWXGHdg5tJIkFeVR_GH4mr30JlWObvCg0/s1600-r/CIMG0707.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139298655810145762" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWFG9m5DIIRHM0fudR5UUBFci9DZDnRuloE6x2SN3QXZmHPdKRaRVKUsDkmWVKoffSVpN6htts4Km7LYgnmvD0VNtr8yYJx7URelk_tq8crMlG-fDGDu1RcyVP-gDA_UF_cVjIHN93S0/s320/CIMG0707.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">First thing: The park. The park was incredibly lovely, and was juxtaposed to other Japanese parks in that it had large expanses of grass, which apparently here is unheard of. It any event, it reminded me greatly of home. Funny thing happened in said park. As we're meandering around on a hill, we happened to spot two other foreigners way across the field. You may think, "Oh, always on the lookout", or something, but you have to realize that being here amongst millions of black haired people causes blond to stick out like a pink elephant – One's eyes are just drawn to it, I suppose. Anyway, we innocuously thought nothing of it and continued on. Minutes later, we were walking passed them when we realized that we knew that blond! @ least, one of them. It was a friend of ours from Tottori, but one who lives on the other side of the prefecture and we rarely get the chance to see. She was showing her Australian friend from Shimane around before the latter returned to the Land Down Under in several weeks' time. A whiles of catching up and we moved off to check out the castle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">It was no sooner that we were not five meters from exiting the park, when I caught the immediate gaze of yet another foreigner walking right passed me. We stared at each other for what seemed an eternity before we pounced upon one another like a pair of oppositely-charged magnets. For you see, this particular girl – a Canadian I might add – was a friend of mine that I had met on the airplane sitting across the aisle. We hung out all during Tokyo orientation and that was the last time I saw her. We talked over MSN, but since she lives north of Tokyo, and this several hundred kilometers from me, I knew it would be the longest while before I saw her again. And so you can imagine my surprise @ running into her at a random park leagues from both our houses as she was down for the weekend visiting her friend.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: times new roman;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnK9MSrDFhyhh0JbnK13U4rpCC14B56GiKg5TahLUxphG9bR1TcpFXZRj43ss44xA42oUb4jgfo2v3D3kZ-kTfi1uteGbOU5txPEOAWPTD5r2lCQtQNRT5x9MLKPcbeQOq1xp1_f-GuI/s1600-r/CIMG0717.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139295898441141698" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDAsphOQZKICDezphOaft_Zp8OAp1dKp6oKxY1midnZ3zCnK1d-k_VvyW21pGMvP2KlcsARVJWlO99yTkV-rRnD9XVIRMxpDvPNVjpxyfXHLN7V5xRGybjCDhGkbmdkJVmVCz47NsouQ/s320/CIMG0717.JPG" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: times new roman;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaqRZFsyuxVvvdA33deurxa08h86x-saH6np1XA1fK7UBrU8vupOzPTkkWXt1RF-oEn7wlcXPiYOMfUUOVQlP-vOOyOxMny8MFoaMQkuJpBXzKO-MyAhu9tKpFAFHIvI7DshB0gpf9rk/s1600-r/CIMG0720.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139294472511999410" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlezXlryOW3kY5FQnXaZD6rnOv63Hl8tpNe9io_AknvdJCy8DcRiD4kHupZ6sBMr9zUzHWgY7LoS8S3tP4lNurc1Q3M4Ulk77wAoaY_woqCY4sDcJABu82s9guV8JqnXjdk9EPZoUC2o/s320/CIMG0720.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Nothing particularly noteworthy thereafter – walked around the shopping area, ate bbq-esque burgers, and sat @ Mister Donut for several hours. The girls went the internet café to sleep (I’ll explain in a minute), and I met up with my friend and her best friend for drinks at a Canadian bar. Thereafter, retired at aforementioned internet café. Now, this is not such a phenomenon – we have them back home too. But! The scope of which they're going on here is something else. So... you can rent what are basically private rooms at which you can watch more movies than do exist or read more manga than are contained books in a university library. A few places – this one in particular – allowed for one to rent a room overnight.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">So for ¥2000, we got a "room", about the size of a sofa plus leg space, a TV with maybe 10 channels, a PS2, a DVD player, a computer, and unlimited internet. And from this you could choose to watch literally thousands of movies all for free and immediately onto the comp. Considering they also throw in breakfast in the morning, a blanket for you to use, and a towel should you wish to use the shower (They have shower facilities), it all isn't bad for $20 CAD when all one wants to do is rest their head for a few hours.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: times new roman;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDeA21xc3W8AMB5ytGlcxnyArvP3CIWDG4ddYefcGxnrXU8pUZC8NfmsJst6YQzcgB8rwBfWDKclGwXQwHQgs0pi-DPzxjHF7K1LxFrkBhqCAEqO5fVTCQcyEpg29HivSvb0vvrcKzrk/s1600-r/CIMG0749.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139296349412707794" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dddL4LUvJ5wQU87wbh5ITPPZp9lCbIaQyElqFhA_Zz8z18FyE2mx3fsU2x2nfhPYY_25FbVkWHyWShE1sLle00oLRKRLsXwcnV226BjbJAOFqdhw-ZOuATwl5YR6_hTkv3RrJDKhvb0/s320/CIMG0749.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Next morn, we did the Okayama Prefecftural Museum of Art, which was featuring work done by local artists in the area. I tell ya, the human mind still amazes me that people can come up with some of the things that they do. Simply stunning they were.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">And as fast as it began (both the trip and the blog), it was just about over. Nevertheless, I do intend to hit it up again in force come spring when the parks are in full bloom.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">(Short entry this time. Ray's 疲れた [tired])</span></span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-52037599591840605352007-11-19T01:09:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:33:37.679+09:00Sit Here, and The Universe as you know it ends<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >In order to write this blog, you should be aware of the duress it took to convince my hand to release the exothermically pleasing cup of coffee that is providing the same effect as a micro-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">kotatsu</span> (It would take me far too long to explain <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">kotatsu</span>. Please visit the following for more detail: </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kotatsu"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kotatsu</span></a><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >). My extremities have been taking a beating lo these few weeks, and more is yet to come. But for now, I suppose that they can endure the cold in the name of relating yet another Japanese life-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">experience</span> to the interested, the polite, and the just plain bored.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-w5sicQaRk282a_hbkVHW-u3xYqOZmhgTGzsjdkdq7S-CMYDg2kH3EoRXwV54apoTpvrV145sTNi6K-83snLcA3DHsuCL2R4p_MCqn0vN4ASEcoBo83VCeCB8YLwUKcS4gJfmRbsKx0/s1600-h/CA380039.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-w5sicQaRk282a_hbkVHW-u3xYqOZmhgTGzsjdkdq7S-CMYDg2kH3EoRXwV54apoTpvrV145sTNi6K-83snLcA3DHsuCL2R4p_MCqn0vN4ASEcoBo83VCeCB8YLwUKcS4gJfmRbsKx0/s320/CA380039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138278049283821426" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Musing on my ride in this morning, I've decided to compose a quick blurb on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">train's</span> social conventions. Now, I can't speak as to whether or not this happens on the commuter trains back home, but I know that it doesn't happen on the subway or the bus. </span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >So every morning, the lot of us pile on the same 7:31 train on track 4. I use the lot of us in the sense that it's the same people: The same students heading to the same school, and the same adults heading to the same jobs. The cool thing about it is the regimentation of it all. There are three cars to the train, and everyone always rides in the same car. The people who took car three yesterday are taking car three today as will take car three tomorrow. And more to it, they sit/stand in the same spot day after day. I can close my eyes right now and describe just who's sitting in what box of four at any point in my car. This applies to sitting more so than standing because in the mad rush to make the door in the last minute or two, people will just cram on. That being said, in one <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">arrangement</span> or another, the people who were standing yesterday are standing today as will be standing tomorrow. The regularity of it is such that if someone is missing, or is not sitting where they should be, you can actually notice it. This is a thing to say considering that I've only been riding this train three months and do not spend each morning actively memorizing the order. </span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >It ends not here. When we arrive at the stations, you know just which people are getting off, and just which ones will be getting on. More to it, the people waiting at the stations know just where to stand so that as the train pulls up the door will be right in front of them. You don't just arrive at the station and wait for the train - you wait at your spot. And as getting on and off goes, occasionally seats will open up here and there, but unless you sit there matter of course, don't even think about it. Vacant places will remain so until arrival at the appropriate station, at which time the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">appropriate</span> body will occupy it. </span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >The whole commute is a thing of beauty, actually. One cannot help but marvel at the sublime simplicity and order of it all. What's odder still is that this does not repeat in the evening - most likely on account of everyone coming home at different times. You'll notice the same people getting on at certain stops, but we all sit very much where we please. </span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >All said and told, today something out of the ordinary happened. In all sense and purpose, it was nothing - An occasional <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">passenger</span>, someone I do not usually see, happened to sit in one of the box seats that opened up. Now, while there is certainly nothing wrong in the least with sitting in a paid-for seat, this seemingly innocuous act set off a chain reaction that was detectable only by those trained to see it. By sitting in the seat, a group of boys who usually sit there was forced to occupy another seat/stand up. This forced two other girls who normally occupy the seat taken by the boys to sit next to me. This in turn caused a group of boys who usually take the seats beside me to stand, and the added standing contributed to further standing congestion that made the train – to me, at least – noticeably seem fuller than any other given day. It was just one of those moments when you kind of feel a spark hit you as though something is not right in The Universe; like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad. I found it remarkable because it just goes to show that I've been here thus long that something as the seating of a train would cause me to go, "???"</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >This blog should be testament to the morning train commute. Such that I would devote an entire entry and several minutes of my life towards a relatively minor and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">circumscript</span> affair is testament to how profound such a minor perturbation can leave such a resonance later on in the day.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >That, or my mind was just so idle that it created a mountain out of a molehill.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ></span><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >NOTE: The actual positioning varies +/- 1 meter, 19 times out of 20.</span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-38433349518579964462007-11-14T03:41:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:33:45.391+09:00Super Fun Happy Pumpkin Day<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >***YES, I know how late this is. YES, I've been putting it off. YES, I've been lazy. YES I've been busy. Have we established that I'm a putz now? Yes? We can move on? Great! Please enjoy.***</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRe4IkXx1LCo258ZEVu12-yx9A0Gz12Plalc51cUIxTQ3LGGsh6wgmRhEwsaetGTNA8YYePZ9WhyKiwXOq0rRpvCk0ejzLAr4Qwq9_VoTlGGhRso0U9KOXkoItzrY-_g8uiscbBltVb1k/s1600-h/CA380003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRe4IkXx1LCo258ZEVu12-yx9A0Gz12Plalc51cUIxTQ3LGGsh6wgmRhEwsaetGTNA8YYePZ9WhyKiwXOq0rRpvCk0ejzLAr4Qwq9_VoTlGGhRso0U9KOXkoItzrY-_g8uiscbBltVb1k/s320/CA380003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132651674410014386" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Right-o. Japanese Halloween. Guess this day was coming. It's more or less the same as Halloween anywhere else. </span><br /><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Except no one - adult or child alike - dresses up in costume. And there's no trick-or-treating. And no one decorated their house. And no one gives out candy. And no one carved Jack O'Lanterns (Because there are no orange pumpkins in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region>). And no one has Halloween parties (sorta). But yes sir, in all other ways, it's just like being back home.<br /><br />One thing that is lacking here is the costumes during the day. No one goes to work or more importantly school dressed up. I can recall - oh, so long ago it seems - going to high school and the flock of teachers would be dressed up as I don't know what. But here, it's all about the professionalism. I even had the bright idea for a costume as dressing up in the kids' uniform; I think they'd have gotten a kick out of it. But sadly, the dream is gone. And as for the kids? Inconceivable. They effectively sleep in their uniforms. If they're going to school at all, even if it's to get something from their desk on a Sunday afternoon (School's are open 7 days a week here for activities on the weekend), they have to be in uniform. So it's just not in the cards for them to be dressed down for something as trivial as Halloween.<br /><br />But this is not to say that the Halloween spirit was absent from school that day. After the first class, a few kids came to my desk chiming, "Trick-or-treat!"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Sidebar: On Monday, I did a presentation about Halloween to a few classes detailing the highlights of our wonderfully nonsense holiday. Throughout the entire thing, I had perhaps two of thirty sets of eyes upon me while the rest were doing just about everything they could not to listen. By the end, I'd thought that perhaps one or two kids heard my explanation of Trick-or-treat. How wrong I was.<br />/Sidebar</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >I had bought some candy the night before because I'd expected a few kids to know about Trick-or-treating, but imagine my surprise when dozens of kids made their way to my desk throughout the day with their hands outstretched and a slightly-incorrect-but-nonetheless-adorable version of "Trick-or-treat". That was but one side of the coin. The cool part of "Trick-or-treat" @ school was the teachers who participated too. Here and there, one would ask what I was doing, and I'd poorly explain in Japanese. When finished, I'd tell them to say it, and reward them with a piece of candy accompanied by this little twinkle of five year-old gleamed in the corner of their eye. </span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvkGVhGRnJjsdNnNNHveuxXbQyn7JYt_kFgHYh_zC3rMyGvvphpMVymbpch6xs6cnag7YnVsRNiyscN24dt9uqvqantXg8AcsGyUA2pbifLBo_Xbo1YXcYxhjfQwl_KuVvJ4Vazwj4AQ/s1600-h/CA380020001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvkGVhGRnJjsdNnNNHveuxXbQyn7JYt_kFgHYh_zC3rMyGvvphpMVymbpch6xs6cnag7YnVsRNiyscN24dt9uqvqantXg8AcsGyUA2pbifLBo_Xbo1YXcYxhjfQwl_KuVvJ4Vazwj4AQ/s320/CA380020001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132653396691900098" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><o:p>The day tears on. For all my classes I did a powerpoint on Halloween. For the most part, they seemed only mildly interested in our weird traditions, and only slightly more so when I showed them pictures of costumes. The highlight came when a picture of a guy dressed as a bottle of lotion and an innocently indicative arrow came on the screen. Most of my classes didn't give it a second thought, but one student raised his hand and asked me about it. I played it off as, "Oh, I don't know. People sometimes wear weird costomes," and it was then that my teacher chimed in with an oh-so naive, "Oh, it appears that it says hand lotion on his costume. He must be a bottle of lotion." It was all the willpower I possessed to keep myself for bursting at the seams. I then devoted the only mental channeling that I had spare - which was very little save I explode with chuckles - to pray to God not to have either her or the student follow up. Someone was awake @ the switch that day, because they both dropped it, and I was but too happy to quickly continue on.</o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><o:p>After school that day, we had English club and today we were making Jack O'Lanterns. This is a huge deal because there are no pumpkins in Japan. Well, that's not entirely correct. It would be more apt to say that there are none of the huge orange pumpkins that we see in abundance that time of year back home in Japan. The pumpkins here for the most part are green or beige, and fit in the palm of your hand. Thus, it was with a stroke of luck that I just happened to be placed at an agricultural school, where one teacher just happened to be growing huge pumpkins for a competition, which also just happened to be judged the day before. Therefore, he had no futher use for the two 20+ pound pumpkins that he grew, and they were ours to destroy.</o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><o:p>The thing I liked about it all was that there was as many teachers as there were students. Because A) Halloween isn't celebrated here as it is in the West, and B) There aren't any Jack O'Lantern-esque pumpkins to be found, most people in Japan have never carved a pumpkin before. So for these 30, 40 year-old teachers, this was a first for them. I almost felt like a proud pappa teaching his son to fish and then watching him reel in a bass on the first cast. 'Cause an hour later and we had two of the biggest Jack O'Lanterns that I've ever done, and they did it all themselves. I was incredibly proud and happy for them 'cause everyone was having a great time - teacher and student alike. Even the principal popped in to take a few pics of himself with the smiling orange faces.</o:p></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHY1LB7BcMQLP_DYqER0KSYygKori5K8uPob8mVTiNUHtBIkKju0TkebGgDP2W8v2qbkIbIPslig0mUEFZvnnCrv5t3WC9iXTQMWgPZZ4cLZQscL8BdZGirVi5sgkEgxfuu0U4roJ5VZw/s1600-h/CA380019002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHY1LB7BcMQLP_DYqER0KSYygKori5K8uPob8mVTiNUHtBIkKju0TkebGgDP2W8v2qbkIbIPslig0mUEFZvnnCrv5t3WC9iXTQMWgPZZ4cLZQscL8BdZGirVi5sgkEgxfuu0U4roJ5VZw/s320/CA380019002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132653632915101394" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><o:p>So even though I didn't get to dress up as I usually do by day and party the night away later on, I would definately mark this Halloween up there as one to remember.</o:p></span></p>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-66010014239659106752007-11-05T02:22:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:33:55.583+09:00Canada, by a Canadian, for Japanese, written about by a Canadian<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Tumbling down the daily rabbit hole that is my high school day in Japan, I chanced to find myself in the library, and there stumbled upon a book written about Canadian life for those who know either little Japanese or little English. The following is a few passages that I found quite interesting. I'm wondering what kind of mindset we're now seen in when a Japanese is asked about Canadians. I am well aware that they are taken out of context and are not meant to patronize. I simply found it amusing some of the aspects of our culture that were chosen to be highlighted.</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Coffee Craze</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">"For many people, the coffee shop is the first stop of the day. We can't seem to function without that first cup of coffee. It is a staple in both our business and social lives."</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Dating</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">"Most Canadians begin dating in junior high school. This relationship usually consists of holding hands, thinking you are in love and... breaking up after three weeks. This continues into high school, the only difference being at 16, most people get their driver's license. It's a parents' nightmare, especially dads. Now the boys are picking up the girls usually in a beat-up car with a stereo that costs more than the car."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">"Nowadays Canadians are waiting until later to tie the know. After all, we are only young once. Our twenties are the best time to have fun!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><strong>Dressy or Casual?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"We love being comfortable even at the cost of looking like a slob."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"... when given the option, a lot of us would most likely choose jeans and a T-shirt over dress pants and a shirt. Therefore, when traveling to Canada, designer goods and high heel shoes are best left at home."</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Exercise</span></strong> </span><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >"... If you get a chance, you may want to check out a gym. You can work off a little stress and laugh while learning about people we have come to call "muscle heads." They are the guys who flex in the mirror. This is done for their own benefit although they may feel that they are benefiting the entire gym."</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Family Holidays/Turkey Dinner</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"No matter what the holiday is, you can expect to see a turkey on the table and turkey always means leftovers. It's delicious, but in the end of the following week when we are still eating turkey sandwiches, turkey soup and mom's turkey hash, we're happy that the next family holiday isn't for another two months."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">The Great Outdoors</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Many people survive the workweek knowing that they are going to their cottage on the weekend to relax."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">(About hunting and fishing) "Usually these activities are enjoyed by Canadian men. It's a guy thing! It gives them a chance to feel at one with nature and more importantly, a chance to brag to their friends if they should happen to catch something."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Japan in the Eyes of Canadians</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"We imagine everyone rides bicycles, eats rice, and knows Karate."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"In general, we <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">believe</span> that Japanese <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">people</span> are very smart. They provide some of the world's best cars and technology."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"For me (the author) ... The biggest mystery is sleeping on the train. All Japanese people fall asleep on the train and wake up immediately at their stop. Not before and not after. This never works for me."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Hockey</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Nothing gets Canadians more riled up than a good game of hockey."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Party On!!!</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Canadians love to party."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Basically any situation is a good situation for a party."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"If you're looking for a party, it won't be hard to find and don't worry if you drink too much and make a fool of yourself. Your friends may make fun of you all week until next weekend when they make an even bigger fool of themselves. This behavior is quite common in Canada."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Public Drinking</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"For a country that enjoys drinking, the rules as to where you can buy liquor and where you can drink it are quite strict."</span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Smoking</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"One could almost admire the determination of a Canadian smoker who braves the -20 degree weather in the dead of winter just to have that cigarette."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Sense of Humor</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Most Canadians are sarcastic by nature."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Sensitive to Being Called Americans</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"We don't like it when we are mistaken for our southern neighbors, whose reputation is markedly different from ours."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Achieving success at the cost of Americans, especially in the world of sports, helps us maintain our national pride."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><strong>Vegetarianism</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"There is also a group of people who have no better reason other than "everyone else is doing it" or "maybe I will lose some weight." They usually stick to the diet until the first summer barbecue."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><strong>What You See is What You Get</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Japanese may spend extra time trying to make a good impression, but keep in mind Canadian manners are quite different. In Canada, what you see is what you get."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><strong>Which Way to the Beach?</strong></span><br /></span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >(About Polar Bear Swims) "Wading in is torture. You will be okay once you survive the initial shock."<br /></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Winter Blahs!</strong><br />"Apparently university classes are more important than your life and you should brave the storm."<br /><br />"The sight of snow makes us sick and we being asking, 'What the hell am I doing here?' "<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-47946223179108035942007-10-30T00:17:00.000+09:002009-01-09T15:34:04.979+09:00You Put Your Down Down and Thrust Your Pelvis! Uh!<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >week·end (wēk'ěnd') [week-end, -end]<br />–noun<br />1. the end of a week, esp. the period of time between Friday evening and Monday morning.<br />2. any two-day period taken or given regularly as a weekly rest period from one's work.<br /><br />Rest? Pfft. Not for the weary...<br /><br />I'll introduce this update in a style that one of my friends here enjoys: So, what does Hard Gay (wikipedia it if you don't know:<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hard_Gay">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hard_Gay</a>), narrowly making/missing trains, and logs set ablaze have in common? This weekend.<br /><br />So the weekly exodus of Tottori people took us far from home, over the rainbow to the other side of OZ a.k.a. the Greater Yonago Area. Specifically, it's a little town called Kishimoto that is quaint and quiet and out of the way. That is, until the foreigners descended upon it. We were in town for the birthday party of our Trini girl Simone, who had graciously opened the doors to her home to allow us to trash it. I mean party and sleep there. Such parties are great times for us Tottorians because they bring us all together from far and wide to one place to catch up and shoot the breeze.<br /><br />Just getting started was quite the missions, as I arrived at the station to leave with perhaps three minutes to spare. I was to travel with Michelle, Stephanie, and Renate; however they were making food for the party/train ride, and as I had to go to the bank first and would therefore require more time, I decided to leave a few minutes before them. Just as I walked in the entrance of the station, Meredith breathlessly came running up and all but shoved me along to the ticket counter, up the escalator and onto the train. We made it on with perhaps 30 seconds to spare, and I desperately tried to call the girls to apprise them of the situation. I succeeded in reaching Michelle, who informed me that they were just buying the tickets then. No sooner did the words leave her mouth did the doors to the train close and we were on our way. It was fortunate for the girls that there was another train in about twenty minutes, and, though their journey was a bit more eventful than mine (missed a stop), we did through one way or another all arrive at the party by day's end.<br /><br />The icing on the cake of this party was the shadow of Halloween cast upon the weekend. Believe you me; you don't want to ask a group of JETs to use their imaginations, especially when it comes to costumes. I’ll... let the pictures speak for themselves.</span> <div><div><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128085726400806530" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPUmTx0F1vcxSgkC1PTAWdkuocCNAZyw2spJNXoubfKDM8dEix4hdcWtpKl7YJ0Mg8_gLknyFeX_RwYEuj9WyonTZs8By1iGv93okYqFzu_qEXCBJ7ae5f1bG7OUmzvjOELlFx_lXlnY/s320/Group+Halloween.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128086069998190226" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnoYz3fkZ3TvKrf3hL70g4Zz7wzlYMpknxwfPJzDCQkNgU7ENGJVctwycMGR-6mkOKiUme1MNe7vv-jH9CIg18xOlemb6nBAj4LMLSB5SmSAGtETzpvjvojmmrtjH3D7L6zDINH-FVds4/s320/n10734185_36013995_7909.jpg" border="0" /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >In any event, it was quite the evening of Panty Dropper (A Jesus Juice-esque mélange of random liquors, juices, and fruits), winding in the dancehall (formerly the living room), and one outlandish costume after another. But oh, it ends not here. Afterwards, we're heading to the bar in Yonago! Suffice it to say, drinks were had, dances were made, fun was done. All and all, a good night.<br /><br />The next morning we decided as consensus to stop it at Mitoku on the way home to attend the Fire Festival. For those not familiar with Mitoku, it is the mountain/Buddhist temple that we had missioned to in the first few weeks. The one with the temple perched on the side of the mountain? Oy... read the blog more, people.<br /><br />I'm not sure the specifics of it, but from what I gather the fire is sacred and is supposed to cleanse you of impurities. By literally burning them off of you. We don't actually walk ON fire, or on burning hot coals, but rather on logs that are on the fire, so it isn't so bad, actually. I did get a tiny burn, but I suppose that's the same as someone saying that they got a little wet while going swimming. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128086907516812978" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hg9iqWN2t-hmmfRGPoAl8g3ytdqVcwlG44tBLahsCYzY6B_B3SwpMig72prW0xjf1A5h6IOKnA9MoZWZ4mEeg3oa-RNLV_aP5G8TIfNm9wng-zGPXcl19nGVqC17haTJKLvNSaJ9zjk/s320/Festival.jpg" border="0" /> </span></div><div><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128087710675697362" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPN0py1zZYP4XMbmsvFilsHMXFistmnTZH9oUM7q9QOjJ2Vh6PFy-DxQywpt0YivcgLmAnQDrnq9-rVSuflKmtDPrmQCYlCkWrQU_MFX8513CnzV00hjgt-XOyAfwNDBQQcpula_w7UN0/s320/Sake.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128086641228840610" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_rTP37-57bRJYbiRZYB6dvvCB474IHEyvbjb4iVMGQ7xptMHVonq8ncoir0nBkDj73eNBxhPHr9q3IW7H2F1gsfLxQN21OnW1yTLcQQq5fK8yHs8nmO_dgJkAqdY4mUvCoMyXSqH12Fc/s320/Fire.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128087908244192994" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOrXE3Xv0Op41xURCdGgyWJrPCqNAdOZNTTZo8PpJ6lAEUl8JERpOAOIW96MT4am5XDWXdIIOLROl1dTligKfiw_1BX3sd3UGois2Z3LA_1q0vEUdZO8tQRzKtrceXmI60Uch_ANl_iE/s320/Group+Festival.jpg" border="0" />After the festival, Ayden drive Renate and I to the train station and we made the mutha with 10 seconds to spare. Quite literally. Well, not THAT literally as when we got to the door someone in a wheelchair was getting off, so that took about 30 extra seconds or so. But if it wasn't for that, it would have been a photo finish.<br /><br />So while it was nothing that was the hallmark of the Japan odyssey, it was the paragon of just the sort of random, exciting, sleep-deprived weekend that is the norm here in the merry ol’ land of Japan.</span></div></div></div></div></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227763239150173268.post-80259238785271558662007-10-24T00:55:00.000+09:002007-10-30T10:31:58.090+09:00A Weekend Out of Time<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">FOREWARD: So out of an alternating combination of sloth and perpetual busyness, I haven't written this for two weeks, so here it is now. When you see "this weekend" or "today" or "yesterday", think that it happened two weeks ago.<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">So many a time, a single decision puts us on course for one destiny or another – the slightest of determinations can drastically and irrevocably shape our fates in profound ways never before imagined. An entire life can be thrown on tangents fantastic and terrifying on a whim.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This was not the case this weekend. We simply made the choice to go to Matsue lest we be bored at home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Renate, Meredith, and I, on the whim of a moment, decided that we needed to get out of the city, and in fact, out of the prefecture entirely. One of the girls decided that we should do up the neighbouring prefecture's capital as it was not all and all too far away. The plan really took shape when we decided that on the way back we could stop at <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">Mt.</st1:placetype> <st1:placename st="on">Daisen</st1:placename></st1:place> and give it a leisurely climb. Smug and content with out battle plan, we strapped on our armor, ready our weapons, and went to wage war with Saturday and Sunday (We got some clothes together, stopped at the bank, and drove off in the car).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">The scenery once you leave the city is quite lovely – and stark, too. One moment you're passing the mall, and the next you're surrounded by mountains and valleys all around you, interspersed with tiny villages here and there. It would be a nice drive on a lazy afternoon – If only gas wasn't so expensive.</span></p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7Z8si4tazwqmdKWiiFC6ZXWeJrrg2zsuGzwBNJOnu3frT5xw7DNbzf76BhQ2odCgEfxB-51557z5IoSdeZ-0-5c4SIinGVqe4L4Pb2obUjSeTPYaH9MK1u7AdjGkmwMODsUxS75Cmew/s1600-h/1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124411358216855282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7Z8si4tazwqmdKWiiFC6ZXWeJrrg2zsuGzwBNJOnu3frT5xw7DNbzf76BhQ2odCgEfxB-51557z5IoSdeZ-0-5c4SIinGVqe4L4Pb2obUjSeTPYaH9MK1u7AdjGkmwMODsUxS75Cmew/s320/1.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">NOTE: By the way, gas here is equivalent to about $1.50 a litre, so quit your complaining, <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Canada</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Of course, some of the tanks are smaller, so the fill-up is about the same cost, but... yeah.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Three and change hours and one toll booth later, and we have arrived in Matsue, the capital city of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Shimane</st1:place></st1:city> prefecture. Matsue in many ways reminds me of Tottori, but with subtle differences. Perhaps it's the abundance of older architecture; the "Old Japan" feel if you will. Just carried a "Japanese" air about the place, if that makes any sense.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">In any event, we decided to hit up <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Matsue</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Castle</st1:placetype></st1:place> first. Matsue is one of 12 castles in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region> that is still in its original skin. That is to say, it hasnt been besieged, burnt down, and reconstructed. As such, the walls, roofs, beams, etc., actually are 400 + years old. And as most castles in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region> are prone to having, it was replete with artifacts belonging to the castle lords, armor, swords, painting, scrolls, and many other things making it a veritable museum.</span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgrsaQbXp5VmwwLo5pRtUDDTGZmidMu1bqtfOvu3V_pN7-OMxS1vqQj_R4aD1MROtRX0hwqkrs19zVx0hxRyHqXV0k4mpyDya8l5GHYg3IiEtN-_D7T6-bSj27OP_RF5N6xPoCT21A7c/s1600-h/8.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124413269477302034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgrsaQbXp5VmwwLo5pRtUDDTGZmidMu1bqtfOvu3V_pN7-OMxS1vqQj_R4aD1MROtRX0hwqkrs19zVx0hxRyHqXV0k4mpyDya8l5GHYg3IiEtN-_D7T6-bSj27OP_RF5N6xPoCT21A7c/s320/8.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmF5QAx5HTj-k4ofaXwgV8Rx6bUiHZYQbThDryGuM0ySm48h-u2rXsbOBJX-BjMnQVklKzDUlvda5QTMybV4g9glVuQsX12IbjObm46aHB6Y4O1-xywaJNfkHUXg3gTfbuv5hQgucZTQ/s1600-h/16.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124414064046251810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmF5QAx5HTj-k4ofaXwgV8Rx6bUiHZYQbThDryGuM0ySm48h-u2rXsbOBJX-BjMnQVklKzDUlvda5QTMybV4g9glVuQsX12IbjObm46aHB6Y4O1-xywaJNfkHUXg3gTfbuv5hQgucZTQ/s320/16.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHDgHsDAwjckF6JjGVdbkkij1vP68M5p9uf7TF03x6ztNDkE6HlpTkkwV0XxWPBVQna0LWW6LOnKn3UoE7mAPTth13fX-c5BeMCinOAkVQf9bPQ07RR0js9CdSvia5x1pxF8UQ_TydJ0/s1600-h/20.JPG"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124415060478664498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHDgHsDAwjckF6JjGVdbkkij1vP68M5p9uf7TF03x6ztNDkE6HlpTkkwV0XxWPBVQna0LWW6LOnKn3UoE7mAPTth13fX-c5BeMCinOAkVQf9bPQ07RR0js9CdSvia5x1pxF8UQ_TydJ0/s320/20.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><o:p></o:p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">After the castle, we hit up a samurai residence. Just as it sounds, it was a house that was occupied by a samurai family about 200 years ago or so. I really enjoyed it there because I thought it was interesting that people actually lived in this place, going about their daily lives oblivious that some time later people would be admiring it and taking pictures of it and such. It made me think if there were any buildings that I see everyday that could one day be tourist attractions: A police station, a restaurant, my friend's house. Hey, you never know. After all, I'm sure that if I time-traveled back and told someone at the house of its future popularity, they'd be quite surprised – And not just because of the fact that a black dude was talking to them in English during the middle of 19<sup>th</sup> century isolationist Japan.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhaVLgCbgDveckFjncNaJAZ22rnAxIhqxFpfHztlGWo9c7ocy7aGkg8UKIMWb0_F_ku_2nUX0Rfouh3rNi9D6_XnDCPyJZ-ldm3aobcY68vdHbxCbWRIevEpWUMrdJSkvXkV5ECUxpWdE/s1600-h/27.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124415700428791618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhaVLgCbgDveckFjncNaJAZ22rnAxIhqxFpfHztlGWo9c7ocy7aGkg8UKIMWb0_F_ku_2nUX0Rfouh3rNi9D6_XnDCPyJZ-ldm3aobcY68vdHbxCbWRIevEpWUMrdJSkvXkV5ECUxpWdE/s320/27.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">We then missed a little boat cruise by a few minutes at around <st1:time st="on" hour="17" minute="0">5 P.M.</st1:time> (much to the girls' disappointment), and so decided to find us some food as we were starving. This led us to drive and then walk to a place that had a distinctly Western-restaurant feel to it (Think Kelsey's, but more done up). The service started great in that Meredith got her food only minutes after ordering it, but then things took a downward spiral. Almost 15 or so minutes later, Renate got her food. And an almost unprecedented 20 minutes after that, my culinary delight finally arrived (By which point Meredith was long done, and Renate was on the hind legs). Bone-headed us, we decided to order dessert, and that took I don't even remember how long to reach us. Needless to say, while the staff was very friendly, we were left wondering whether the servers also doubled as the cooks.<o:p></o:p><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Dinner in belly, we bid our Matsue farewell, and then back into Tottori prefecture. The next stop found us in Yonago, which is the second biggest city after Tottori city. We humbly asked a friend if we could crash at her place because, as we wanted to do Mount Daisen and it was only about 30 minutes from Yonago (As opposed to two hours from Tottori), we felt it the prudent choice. Our friend graciously allowed us the use of her floor and many futons, and we fell asleep almost immediately.<o:p></o:p><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Sidebar: MAD love to Kira (Upon whose floor we slept). There's one more place in the (Tottori) shi to crash if you're ever on this side of the prefecture. (Shi is a prefix attached to names to indicate that they're cities. We here use it as a diminutive to refer to Tottori city: Tottori-shi = <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Tottori</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">City</st1:placetype></st1:place>; Yonago-shi = <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Yonago</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">City</st1:placetype></st1:place>).<o:p></o:p><br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Early on the next morning, we gave out much love to our friend and set out for Daisen. Renate's car – which she has affectionately named Mitsurugi – barely made it up the mountain despite the fact that she had her pedal literally to the floor and the poor ol' boy was still barely making 40. But! We made it. A quick inspection led me to believe that I may have underestimated the mountain, as everyone around was in hardcore hiking gear (Clothing, equipment, backpacks, etc), and I was just chilling in my jeans and t-shirt. I gave it no more than a passing thought and we began our odyssey. Even getting to the stall to pay was a mission and a half as the concourse up to it was a good 30 degree incline or so. There was a few shrines and temples on the way up – a few hundred years old each – and then the actual climb on the path began.<br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0xxGXSLyOC5E3cVrv4cqT7WvXP4CZDNAUuBvNriwE8cfX1fuveKzyhN0_HGW-_FefVUJwtD20TmdgUpBeamj8W0urrK6Q-XmmSel2DZm7yq2fSwR2O3PuJV36Z4jpyfq8YI8ZGYbG7o/s1600-h/29.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124416379033624402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0xxGXSLyOC5E3cVrv4cqT7WvXP4CZDNAUuBvNriwE8cfX1fuveKzyhN0_HGW-_FefVUJwtD20TmdgUpBeamj8W0urrK6Q-XmmSel2DZm7yq2fSwR2O3PuJV36Z4jpyfq8YI8ZGYbG7o/s320/29.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Before I talk about the climb, please keep in mind that I'm really, really... really out of shape. P.E. and me don't see clearly. Please just bear this in mind. So there was two legs to it. In the first leg, it wasn't so bad: The trail was inclined, but fairly constant and the terrain was relatively good. Then we hit a dam – literally. A series of obsolete dams at which we could catch a reprieve as it was a very flat and open space. Then the second leg began. </span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">...</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p>...</o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p>...</o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Renate will vouch for me on this one. I think it's safe to say that I've never been so physically exhausted in all my life and I hyperbolize not. Ms. Über-fit Meredith we bade to go on without us as we were being deadweight. And so the two of us were going at the snail's pace, one foot in front of the other, and taking breaks every 20 meters it seemed. Where there were stairs, I was taking it one step at a time – Nothing in the universe existed to me except for that next step that was barely in my field of vision. I think that at one point I actually saw my life flash before my eyes. Conversely, I remembered a few things that I've got to apologize to a few people for. :P It was about at this point, perhaps 1400 meters up, that I got my second wind. From whom I stole it, I know not, but however I did it, I was still winded, but able to continue more easily.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKv0KAUiOeso5QqLs1XwR5BGAh7NNR_rGu3pzY47QS3s-PrkEywwXapZ_N1bUxyuZ7X1NDjPQmw1Ow7G6_LZr460pKV0W5dNpowfEFOkA9kW0pnQWe6PfOkBhSA2cRzO2jmxFA4Cxqlus/s1600-h/38.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124417809257733986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKv0KAUiOeso5QqLs1XwR5BGAh7NNR_rGu3pzY47QS3s-PrkEywwXapZ_N1bUxyuZ7X1NDjPQmw1Ow7G6_LZr460pKV0W5dNpowfEFOkA9kW0pnQWe6PfOkBhSA2cRzO2jmxFA4Cxqlus/s320/38.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><o:p></o:p></p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Something cool about the climb was that EVERYONE who passes you, either going the same way or, more often than not, coming back down, will say <i>konnichi wa</i> to you with a smile. A few will even offer you encouragement, such as <i>gambatte ne</i> (Good luck!) or <i>muzukashii ne</i> (It's difficult, isn't it?), and I found these little bits to be rather fostering to my determination to pwn the mountain.<o:p></o:p> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">We did in fact summit, at which point I understood the reason for the crazy climbing gear as the temperature dropped a good ten degrees, and add to that flowing air currents that might blow over a small child. But it made for a great view and a very fulfilling sense of accomplishment to finally make it up there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">A friend of ours is going to do the mountain four times over the course of two days – twice a day. We think that he's mad. But to him, I bid <i>gambatte!</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05908379067685207345noreply@blogger.com5