starting with japan...

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Modesty and the Flushing Toilet--August 23, 2005


I first noticed it when using the bathroom at Tokyo's Narita airport. Head in a daze and too tired to care about my sticky, disoriented state, I was relieved to be off of the plane, on solid ground. We were told that the ride to the hotel would be close to two hours, so the time to take a pee was now. Fair enough. Now bathrooms in Japan come in two types: western and non-western. Westerd being the ones you and I are used to and non-western (rather, unmarked) are basically holes in the ground that have been porceleined (word?) over. Squating is necessary, apparently it is better for your internal organs. Not sure I am convinced, not that I know how I would be. Anyways, to get back to the point at hand. I ofcourse, due to both instinct and fear, use the western toilet. Basically identical to those low-flow toilets that often make you nervous of their ability to actually flush, this toilet (and many more I would later come to see) was also equiped with a set of buttons along one side (side=a little arm-rest type thing). Being an illiterate child in this country, I knew what none of the buttons were for (though I tried pushing most of them). However one button had the universal musical note symbol on it. Wow I thought, either this toilet plays music, or has a variety of different flushing sounds, much like the ring tones on a cell phone. Brilliant. So ofcourse, the button is pressed. To my disappoinment, nothing but a loud flushing sound ensued. Not the real thing mind you (for that, there is the slightly out of place, old-fashioned lever), just the sound. Somewhat puzzled at first, I realized that apparently the Japanese have come to terms with their modesty and have integrated the running water trick into their plumbing technology. Conclusion solidified after discussions with others. 

Later on at the hotel , I discovered that the pee-muffling trick comes in more than one form. Some toilets run water as soon as anything touches the seat. For this one, instinct is uselss and I am still deciding which one I prefer. In the meantime, I am looking to find the bowl that plays the hits. I don't think I will find it here in inaka though.

Koyasan—August 13, 2005






****note the date this was posted is inaccurate in reference to the event****
Yesterday morning I woke up at 5:45 to catch a 6:50 train headed towards Koyasan, located northeast of me. Japan has many many festivals (matsuri), but this time of year is the peak. And this month is Obon, the exact meaning of which I am not exactly sure of, but is a time when festivals that honor deceased ancestors are held. Koyasan, a town in Wakayama-ken, is the center of Shingon Buddhism (the main sect of buddhism found in Japan) and has one of the most well-known matsuri for Obon, the Candle Festival.

I boarded my local train at Gobo station and about a half-hour later, my friend Sean boarded as well in Minoshima. Not long after that another Wakayama JET named Kate hopped on and after making a few transfers, in Wakayama city and another town, Sarah joined us as well. The meticulously prompt trains in Japan make this sort of meeting-up possible. Koyasan is located in a mountain basin about 1,000 meters above sea level, so the last leg of our three hour journey was a cable car ride up the side of one of the mountains. Quite a sight to see despite the packed car, it would be nice to make the hike up the mountain on day. All of the mountains surrounding this pocket of peace and calm are thick with trees, so much so that from far away it looks like moss. And the way that the fog settles around the mountains, blanketing the valleys is, to be cliche, something you would find on a postcard. Speaking of which, very few postcards in Japan. Anyways...

Koyasan as I said is the center of Shingon Buddhism, founded by Kukai, now known posthumously as Kobodaiishi. It is the center of Japanese Buddhism and is essentially one large seminary, made up of 117 temples, 53 of which are residences or provide temporary lodging. We were lucky enough, on this very busy holiday weekend to stay at one of the temples for the night. A small and calm town, you can walk from one end of the other, stopping at temples along the way, some which now double as museums of sorts, others which are so unassuming, you might just pass them by. By far, the most stunning structure in Koyasan, because of its bright orange color and its tremendous size, is the Grand Stupa, or the Konpondaito Pagoda. It is massive, standing nearly 50 meters tall and jumps out at you as you walk along the sacred space. A tour of the main temples in Koyasan culminated with tea. What a treat, my kind of a place. And speaking of tea, although I knew that tea was so commonplace in Japan, I don’t think I realized the extent of its presence. I drink tea everywhere.

The candle ceremony began at 7pm, the time that it begins to get dark here. Hundreds of people entering the cemetery proved to be a smooth process. I was given three candles at the start, and already as I stepped onto the stone pathway surrounded by hundreds of tombstones shaped as deities of many sizes, fire already paved my way. People in front of me and in back, young and old, gaijin and Nihon-jin, some in Yukata, kneeled down occasionally to place their candles along the edges of the path, some stopping to pray as well, others quickly proceeding forward. And to tell the truth, it was not as sad of an event as I thought that a festival honoring the deceased would be. To be generic, it was more festive. We talked along the way, took pictures, found a huge toad, gawked at it for a while before moving on, leapt over the fire at times to get a different angle and possibly a better grasp of the massive procession that we were a part of. At one point I began talking to some Japanese boys, and tried to teach them the West Side hand signal (dumb really, but when spoken language provides little ability to communicate, hand signals are golden in making connections and having a laugh with people). Girl scouts passed out more candles. Not too sure where we were headed, how much further we would be walking, occasionally losing the group and then regrouping, we pressed on. Finally after two hours, we reached the point that cameras could not pass (unlensed that is). We had reached the bridge leading to the Okunion, the central sanctuary of Daishi faith. We had reached the end of the journey, or rather the culmination...

The next morning, waking up at 5:30, one of the monks and the director of the temple where we stayed, a man named Curt, explained to us some of the history of Buddhism and Koyasans place in that history. Curt, a man of not more than forty and probably in his late thirties, is very kind, one of those people that exudes intelligence and calm, a bit intimidating at first, but too friendly to allow the feeling to persist. He spoke with a German accent (I believe he is from Switzerland) and at first spoke to us in French when we arrived, thinking that we were part of a French group of tourists that came in. When we spoke English, he spoke it back, periodically stopping to tell someone else something in Japanese. Later I heard him speaking on the phone in Italian. He was quite a man, someone I would have liked to sit down and talk to, but there was little time for that. Busy weekend. Maybe I will be back and will look him up. Either way, he took the time before morning prayers and meditation to give us a briefing of what would happen. There were a few women studying to be monks at this temple, one who was not Japanese. I liked that. It felt very healthy and hearty to be there, if that makes sense, with communal bathing and vegetarian eating, comfortable bedding, tea and a wonderful garden. I left refreshed. The long journey, the three trains, was well worth the short visit, and I am thinking about heading back in the winter.

In Gobo--August 11, 2005


Let's see, it has now been about three weeks exactly since I arrived in Wakayama prefecture, Gobo-shi and Hidakagawa-cho specifically (neighboring towns; the first is where I live, the second is where I work). The jet-lag has worn off, no more waking up at 5am, and the initial shock has dissipated, but I still have my moments of "where the fuck am I?." Still though, I am learning to enjoy those episodes and becoming comfortable with the fact that any panic moment can quickly turn to excitement by something as little as a funny road sign, ridiculous t-shirt, or good conversation (especially those that involve me using my Japanese). 

Riding my bike everywhere, I have yet to fall in the ditches that separate the rice patties from the road, but I have surely tasted a fair share of mosquitos and dodged a few cicadas (semi) as well. Damn, them buggers are loud. Piercing to be exact. And unfortunately for me, the kids love to play with them. One of the two big things that I have learned living and working here, is that one, the bigs are huge and the kids have no fear of them. A typical afternoon at the preschool involves shaking the semi out of the trees, picking them up and shaking them so they scream. This along with chasing each other with the huge beetles with inch-long pinchers growing out of their heads like a rhino, is something I still have to get used to. The secong thing to beware of teaching here is something that is commonly known and accepted by all as "kancho". Kids all over Japan link their fingers together, with the two index fingers pointed out (like a play gun) and then proceed to try and stick their fingers up your ass. That is "koncho". They do it to each other,the teachers and I myself have had to avoid a few close encounters. It`s crazy. And everyone just laughs about it. No biggie, just kids being kids. Apparently the best thing to do is grab the little poker, turn him/her around and give his friends a free kancho opportunity. So if ever in the situation, now you know what to do. Beware of Kancho.

8/7/05—Osaka, Osaka, Osaka and the Universal Language of Fireworks



It was an Osaka kind of weekend. 24 hours filled with city sights, sweaty weather, new foods and experiences and some interesting observations about Japanese culture. On Saturday morning, I met up with Ayumi (my hip-hop dancing friend from Gobo) and headed to the Gobo trains station. Part of the difficulty in getting around and doing many day to day activities, is that everything for the most part (especially in small towns) is in hiragana, katakana and kanji. So, even when I know words and phrases, I cannot yet read them. This makes things as seemingly simple as getting on a train towards a certain city difficult (ordering food at a restaurant is very tricky as well). A bit like a child, I was very thankful to have Ayumi with me on this first train ride in Japan. We boarded a “limited express” train to Osaka, one that would only be making two stops. Apparently there are “limited express,” “express” and “local,” among others. I sat by the window, watching as we passed all the small towns on our way north, asking often for names and finally getting a better grasp of the geography and set-up of the land around me. We arrived in Tenoji station at around 1:30 and immediately sought out food. Above the station was a mall of ten floors, so we headed to the top to have some pasta. Now I figured that when Ayumi said “pasta” that we would be eating at an Italian style restaurant. I was wrong. Instead, I had my first taste of Japanese pasta (and I can happily say that it will not be my last). I never knew that there was Japanese pasta. After a bit of resistance and reminders to myself that it’s good to try new things, I had pasta (spaghetti noodles) with salmon, fish eggs and a mayonnaise, shoyu sauce, nori (seaweed) sprinkled on top. Sounds questionable, but it was great. After the huge meal we set out to do some shopping. Waiting for the check, Ayumi expressing her sleepy, full state of being, to which I responded, “I know, food coma.” “Food coma?” “Yeah, you know, food coma.” No, of course not. Why would she know? Not only is it an expression in a foreign language, but one that probably no other cultural equivalent, considering Americans may be the only people to eat themselves to this point. Anyways, the next fifteen minutes consisted of my sad attempt at explaining to her first what a coma was and second how it could relate to overeating. Somehow a consensus was reached, but not before I had somehow divided life into three distinct states of being: “you know, there is being alive, being dead, and being in a coma.” Ah, if it were so simple. 
Being in a big city, I finally got a better look at some of the fashion trends that are circulating. First off, the Miami Vice look is big. Light brown hair cut into a mullet, white sports coat and you’re ready to hit the town. Mullets of some form are also big on women. Most everyone has some top-heavy cut. Don’t know if I’ll be adopting that one. But as one of my friends recently put it, "you know you've been in Japan too long when the mullet begins to look good." I guess I will have to wait a little longer. Many of the women’s clothes are baggy; shirts that hang long, off the shoulder, bigger pants with heels. This is not to say that tight pants aren’t seen quite often as well though. But the baggy look goes along with the bohemian, knit, tie-dyed peasant look. Also layering, to my delight is pretty fashionable. 

After shopping for a few hours, we headed to Ayumi’s friend’s apartment in another part of town. Her friend is a hip-hop dancer (as is Ayumi) and she along with some others, were going to be dancing at a club later that night. We dropped off some stuff at the apartment left to walk around. This particular part of town had a lot of cute boutiques and coffee shops, a young, chill area. Ayumi took me to one of her favorite stores, a thrift shop, with a lot of used REI and Northface backpacks for 6,000 ($60) en, and up. Actually everything here was real expensive, cute, but expensive. Afterwards, we stopped and had some tapioca tea and beer at a tea shop/lounge and then headed towards the fireworks. 

Something that I noticed, while sitting on the sidewalk, helping pack the streets with hundreds of others to watch the celebration (fireworks for the sake of fireworks are big in the summer months), is that the language of fireworks is universal. Aside from the occasional “segoi (wow/cool/tight/etc)” and “kire (beautiful),” I could close my eyes and be anywhere. The “oohs,” “aaaahhhhs,” laughter and clapping at the sight of the exploding lights in the sky is common language and an easy one to understand. The fireworks were amazing and went on for an hour and a half, perhaps the longest set I have every seen. Ayumi and I sat next to a row of bicycles, sipping beers, attempting to capture the sight on digital film and enjoyed the Saturday night in Osaka. The finale came sadly at around nine o’clock at which time Ayumi was kind enough to guide my childlike, illiterate ass to meet my friend Megan whom I met at orientation and who was in Osaka for an office trip. I found her and some other ALT’s from Mie-ken along with two of their Japanese co-workers. Well, not co-workers in the traditional same office sense, rather people that work for the city in some capacity. One thing about living in a small town and working at the town hall or the board of education, is that you are the center of the show. The city funds your paycheck, pays for part of your rent, as well as office functions. You meet the mayor and many of the other head honcho’s (in the case of the school board, he is titled Kancho) and are pretty much a celebrity. I have already been in the paper twice. Not bad for being here two weeks. Anyways, point being that Megan and her friends had never met these guys before and the nice ass hotel that they were staying was basically free of charge. This job has many perks. 
Guided by the drunkest one, we launched a search for a Karaoke joint. This does not take long in any Japanese city and soon enough we were in our singing room, belting tunes and drinking beer. Karaoke was over in about an hour, tends to be around 2000 en each for an hour, not too bad. Megan and I decided to meet up with Ayumi and her friends at a hip-hop club near the hotel, where her friends were going to be dancing. 1500 en cover with a drink card, pretty standard I assume. The club was small, bar in front, dance floor and elevated DJ booth towards the rear, with some tables. The crowd consisted of what I would classify as hip-hop heads, Megan and I being the only gaijins (foreigners). Once we got there and had retrieved our essentially non-alcoholic drinks we made our way to the back, we saw that a group of girls were dancing. The dynamic of the women dancing and the mainly male audience struck me. It is not as though it was pole dancing or took place in a cage, but it was provocative hip-hop and the dancers were pretty scantily clad. The dancers were talented, but all were female, while most of the audience was men. Hmmmm. Anyways, the dancing having finished, the DJ took over and played non-stop American hip-hop, a good selection, which nobody really danced to. Instead, which I have now heard is how things are done here, anyone on the dance floor stood facing, watching the DJ. Any dancing was ever so slight. We stayed for a while, but I admit I was a little disappointed at the lack of energy among such a well-costumed bunch. So we headed out and on the way to the door noticed that the bathroom in this place came equipped with a nail salon. Man, had I known.

A Note on Japan and trash:

The Japanese have a very complicated, or rather intricate way of disposing unwanted and used goods. I cannot tell yet whether it is efficient or not, but it surely seems environmentally conscious. One cannot not consider what his/her trash consists of. There are several categories: Burnable goods, recyclable goods (plastic bottles, tin cans, glass), non-burnable goods, large burnable goods, large non-burnable goods and what I can only gather as hazardous waste. Every category has its own color and its own pick-up day, the color corresponding to symbols on the appropriate calendar for your area. And each category has a specific bag (colored accordingly) for the disposal of the said goods. I honestly feel like there should be a separate room in every house devoted solely to the sorting and storage of categorized waste. I have not experiences this yet, but apparently failure to sort your waste correctly may result in it being returned to you, so watch out. Berkeley has got nothing on this place.

Photo Booth Extraordinaire--July 31

Today I experienced my first photo booth, or pericura (I think, sounds like pelicula). Emi took me around the surrounding area today; we went to Mihama (beautiful beach) and Enjugahama (?) to see the ocean. Not much of a beach, a bit rocky, but it was nice to see the coast and get a gage for where it is. I can ride my bike there next time. We went further along the coast, to Mio area, otherwise known as America village because there was a big number of Japanese from this area that went to America, the continent that is. It actually refers to Canada. I did not understand the entire story, but apparently there were a large number of Japanese from the Wakayama area. So, at this particular sight that Emi took me to, there was a small museum devoted to this Japanese exchange with Canada, including pictures and accounts of the internment camps in Canada during the war. I had not realized that there were camps in Canada (not as many as in the U.S.), but there were about three and the Japanese from these camps went through a similar redress process as those in the United States.
After this, we went to Roman City to meet up with Emi’s friend Naoko. In a habitual fashion, we headed straight for the photo booth. The way it works here, is that you have a certain amount of time to take as many pictures as you can. The background changes automatically. When you are done, you choose which photos you want and then can decorate them, with words and pictures, shimmering symbols, etc. It is a process and a creation, much different from our stone-age booths at home.
Then like clockwork, we headed to karaoke, my first visit during the day, my first visit sober. It really is just another activity, done by all. Just like going to the movies on a Sunday afternoon, or having a picnic, Japanese all over the country, enter soundproof rooms, order food and beverages over the phone and sing, sing, sing. It’s nice, because ability to sing and the quality of ones voice seem to be irrelevant. Willingness to participate is all that matters. However, I think I am more of a night karaoke-er

*Side note: T-Shirt award of the day, yesterday I saw a shirt that caught my eye. The front read “Jingle Jangle Following,” and the back read “Pratinum Shine.” Classic.

Monday, August 29, 2005

July 28, 2005—Some Tokyo Observations and Events




1. The Homeless: There are homeless in Japan, no matter what may be the impression. But in contrast to many of the homeless in New York or San Francisco, many of the homeless that I saw in Tokyo were dressed fairly neatly and slept behind cardboard walls. Under the bridge in Shinjuku district, where the Keio Plaza Hotel is, cardboard partitions lined the wall. Inside the rectangle was a space big enough for sleeping and outside of many of these structured were a pair of sandals. One man was folding his clothes as I passed by. It is interesting how the manners and traditions of this culture transcend into a persons more separate situation.
2. Karaoke: I was in Tokyo for three nights and less than three full days, but in that time I managed to Karaoke twice. It is everywhere. Everywhere. And everyone does it. On the first night that I was at Tokyo orientation, my friend Megan and I went with her prefectural group to a Chinese restaurant that was underground. A gong outside of the restaurant had to be rung three times to be let in and after walking down a dark hallway, the restaurant opens up (somewhat) to a cavernous room with cage-like bars arching over a middle walkway and surrounding pods of tables. We met up with a guy that Melissa met on the plane, and his friends (one of whom was just finishing up JET) and their two Japanese friends. The group of us went to a Karaoke spot, after bargaining with a few different Karaoke promoters that walk the street and sang and drank away. Most places have some sort of a deal where every person pays a certain amount and you get a room for so many hours with free drinks. It’s pretty fun and very intoxicating. When our hour had run out, we crashed another karaoke room with some Japanese and danced and snag with them. I played one of the tambourines that they had. Apparently many karaoke rooms are now equipped with such instruments. Although a bit puzzled, they enjoyed dancing and singing with the gaijin it seemed. The next night entailed some singing as well, this time while eating and drinking all you could eat. MY prefecture went out for the night and took along with us one of the Wakayama prefecture government representatives. The title did nothing to hold him back, he sang and danced and stayed out until four in the morning with us. A trooper. How it should be.
3. Drinkers: I see where I may get it from. The drinking that is. The Japanese love to drink and based on what I saw in Tokyo, do it often. It is not rare to witness groups of business men after an evening of drinking, parting in a manner one does not see in the states often, but I wish we did. They will huddle together and sway side-to-side singing at the top of their lungs. When the singing has stopped, each man goes his own way. And I suppose this is an ideal ending to ones night, compared to two other examples I saw, both concerning men in suits and ties. The first occurred at the aforementioned Chinese restaurant, where a man ran into the bathroom, leaning over and puking the entire way, struggling to get his tie out of the path of the vomit. The next took place the last night that I was in Tokyo. Coming out of a hip-hop “club”, we were the only people there, we saw a man in a black suit and tie, completely passed out at the bottom of a small set of steps that led to a bar. Umbrella in one hand, briefcase in the other, he gave new meaning to the words “drink til you pass out.” Nobody around seemed to notice or care, except for us foreigners that is, and we of course did not miss the opportunity to take a picture with the sleeping man. I asked the government official whether the man would just get up and go to work in the morning, he seemed to think so. I guess he was ready to go.
4. Energy drinks and vending machines: First of all, there are vending machines everywhere, containing soft drinks, beer, cigarettes and ice cream. When in doubt at four in the morning, even the run down parts of town will probably have a vending machine. There is also a plethora of energy in nearly every convenient and grocery store that you walk in to. Many are packaged in small glass bottles, reminding one of medicine. And many of them are actually vitamin fortified, while other actually have nicotine in them, for those that can’t step out of the office for a smoke.
5. Games: The Japanese LOVE games and photo booths. Arcades are like Starbucks, one on every corner. My favorite game yet, the Taiko drumming game.

Friday, August 26, 2005

plane, trains and automobiles--July 27, 2005

It is amazing how jet-lag can completely cloud your brain. I have only now experienced the shock that ones body experiences after flying across the world for 13 hours, riding a bus for an hor and jumping straight into workshops, drinking, karaoke-ing, and dancing without taking a nap to catch up. Weak in the knees, slow in the brain and nervous in the heart. It honestly makes you feel like a different person...but this could also be due to the fact that my world has changed. I am now in Japan. Most specifically, I am in Wakayama. Unknown to most who I ask, it happens to be the birth prefecture of my great grandparents, and to be honest is pretty out in the middle of nowhere, from what I have seen so far. But this is also campared to Tokyo (more on that later, Im going on two hours sleep). I am realizing that this year is going to be a big change.

3 days--July 19, 2005

Well, the time is approaching: only three full days left until I leave these packed quarters and head off to Japan to live in near seclusion. Alright, not that secluded, but 12,000 is few enough for me. For a person that craves crowds, this adventure will be quite the challenge, not to mention that little thing I like to call a language barrier.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes or Notice of change of address

So, I began a blog back in the states, before I boarded the plane, before I landed, before I boarded another plane and then got in a car to come to Gobo, this place I now call home. But, now that I have been blessed with internet in my apartment by the rice paddy I realize that that other blog service, with whom I was previously, lets me do nothing without paying. No fun for you, no fun for me. So, this is now my blog base and I will now play a little catch up. The posting dates are not accurate (seeing as I am posting many things now), but entries are labeled chronologically (does this make sense?). Okay, tis all. Welcome, enjoy.

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