osaka

I traveled to Osaka with my friend Michelle yesterday. We left Tokushima on a bus early in the morning and left Osaka late at night, about 10 or so. Fortunately for us, it rained lightly the entire day, and we were soaked for most of our trip. There is not much to recount, but we did have a good time. Most of our time spent was searching for places, such as a vegetarian restaurant i found online and some English pub we found in the travel book. Firstly, after much trial, we found the vegetarian place to eat lunch, and I thoroughly enjoyed my veggie ham and spinach pasta with soymilk cream sauce and my soy green tea latte, finished off with a carob and honey brownie. It reminded me of eating in the city with cynthia, and the atmosphere reminded me of vegan potlucks with friends back in binghamton. The interior was mostly wood, and country music played in the background (unlike those potlucks at amy's, when KMFDM was more likely to be played), and i actually found a honey dispenser for tea--a food anomaly in Japan. Afterwhich we walked to Osakajokoen (Osaka castle park), and after going the wrong way three times and looping every way but the right one, we finally penetrated the two inner circles, past bridges over both wet and dry moats (filled with vegetation), and entered the castlegrounds, which contained some souvenir shops and a few takoyaki (fried octopus balls) stands. The castle was magnificent to behold: green curving tiled roofs, gold lining beneath the eaves, golden tigers stalking prey above the top windows. The castle of today was rebuilt after WW2, as most of it was destroyed besides the castle walls in bombing raids. But it was meticulously modeled after the original, which was refurbished numerous times throughout history but was originally constructed on orders from Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who unified Japan after a long period of feudal wars. Although the interior was more of a high-tech museum with holograms and short movies, with the exceptional samurai sword or armor on display, it was enjoyable to be inside. After the castle, we got a bit lost again but eventually found a subway terminal, and jumped inside, as we were a bit tired, and Michelle, on account of her deformed leg and her necessary limping, had trouble walking around so much. The subway system was quite impressive, although not as hip as the NYC metrocard system, and i saw a record of no hobos, which made me disappointed, although we did see some in the Osaka railway station, one of whom had a long pointy beard and a bald head and stared straight ahead as he smacked his lips (he looked wise and i wish to look like him when i am homeless and old). The search for the English pub, humorously called "The Pig and Whistle", took a good hour or so of traipsing around the same area over and over, asking a myriad of people along the way, even French cosmetic hotel attendants and convinience store workers, and finally ended in the first good answer of the night, courtesy of a young man who worked for a downstairs bar: "It's closed. It used to be right here." After this debacle, we came upon a sign with a jolly leprechaun clutching a pint of Guiness, saying "The Blarney Stone--6th floor". Naturally, after expecting to find an English pub for an hour, we settled for Irish and dashed upstairs. We ordered pints of Guinness and I got a veggie burger (i couldnt believe i was eating a completely vegetarian veggie burger in Japan, the land of fish extract and beef bits) while Michelle got her fish and chips, which she took great joy in eating, being from England and all. We got chocolate too, because at this point, nothing else would have lifted our spirits as well. After leaving, we headed back toward the station and walked around a bit to waste time. We ended up in a luxorious Hilton hotel and i asked a woman behind the counter how much the rooms were, and if i was wearing what would be considered "smart casual"; she replied that i was not, and i then inquired if it was considered "stupid casual", which made her laugh. I also requested to see the various furnishings in the rooms and whether or not i could enjoy a cigarette with my American-style breakfast. I was feeling a bit silly at this point, probably delirious from exhaustion, and also prompted by Michelle's doubts that i would have the nerve to ask such questions. And so ended the day when we got on the bus that took us back to Tokushima, whereupon we both rode our bikes home and collapsed on our respective futons.

the same no more: a one-act tragedy

It's been a while since my last post. Reasons why: lack of inspiration, numbing monotony of day-to-day existence remained unbroken, frequent godzilla attacks. In the meantime, i purchased a used mountain bike from a Hawaiian guy who just got divorced from his Japanese wife and is leaving Japan. It's in great condition, and now i don't feel like a circus dwarf riding a bicycle, nor do i feel the urge to jump through hoops of fire. I singed all my dress pants doing so, and i need to hide my rear from the students during work hours or risk getting terminated. It is a challenge rising from my seat post-lesson.
I also committed the most heinous act that man can commit. I purchased a cell phone plan. Yes, i now possess mobile communcation and can make phone calls at all hours of the day from anywhere i want. All the freedom i never knew i wanted. But it sure as hell put the convinience meters up the charts. Mine has never been so high, well at least never as high as when i finally learned to walk.
So... bike riding, cell phone, eating dairy and eggs, not being a hipster... what have i become? I am not the same person anymore. Will i be forever altered and corrupted by the modern contrivances of computer-age man? First it's two-wheeled self-propelled locomotion contraptions, next it's flying saucers.
Well, i'm on my way to self-destruction, or at least corruption. Wish me luck.

bizarrely wonderful day

It all began when i saw a sign for a japanese homestyle cooking class for 500 yen. I knew that this class was but one of the many possible landmarks on the road that we call destiny. Naturally, i decided to sign up, but my decision was not anticipated by my procrastination, and i came too late. I was told that the class was full, and my heart sank deep within my chest. I howled aloud, but there were no sympathetic ears. So i emailed the woman in charge and she told me that there was nothing they could do--the class was indeed full. But perceverance gets the best of old fools like me, and i biked my way down to the community center. Needless to say, i charmed my way in, using a golden chain watch, elementary hypnosis, and masterfully executed gaijin ignorance. The class was excellent, and the teachers were so accomodating that they even let me prepare my own food when the recipe was not vegetarian, mainly because of stock reasons that were easily altered, just so i could eat with them. We cooked up: sauteed burdock root with carrot and green pepper, miso soup with kombu stock (for me) and wakame and shitake mushroom, sweet potatoes with rice and black sesame, and last but certainly not least, the infamous "toufu steeki". My toufu steeki was drenched in a mushroom sauce using three different mushrooms--enoki (long and skinny with small white caps), bunashimeji (hearty white stems with brown caps), and shitake. The lunch was fabulous, and we ate persimmon for dessert, a delicately sweet fruit i had not previously enjoyed.
Aferwards, i biked around the park a bit and chatted with two girls from the class who i happened to find there. Some young boys were fishing in a green pond below thick branches covered in thin shoot-like epiphytes. There is a small mountain in the middle of the park, and the last time i was walking up its stone steps with matt we found some land crabs that surprised us with their size and the brilliance of their colors.
As i biked home after posting an ad for my bike (its too small and i want something a bit faster and not built for dwarves), i passed the bridge and heard, of all things, bluegrass. I walked around the stage and found a bluegrass band composed solely of Japanese men, one of them singing in twangy, cracked English. There were four banjo players, two mandolinists, two guys on bass, and two gee-tar players. I found a British girl i knew sitting down and i sat with her and expressed my astonishment, whereupon she related hers, and we both agreed on our jubilation. Her boyfriend soon joined us, and i learned that he is a mandolin player, and is heavily into bluegrass. I must say i never liked bluegrass before, but after hearing it in a foreign country, let alone in japanese (yes, some songs were in japanese), it triggered something inside me, that part of me that longs to embrace his roots (well, both as an american and a jew), and i felt comforted hearing the music, much like, i assume, a japanese person would feel if they randomly heard a live performance of traditional japanese music. So now i have a new and budding interest in bluegrass, all thanks to these musicians carving out yet another foreign genre into the already crowded japanese music interest. The girl's boyfriend said he would burn me some music, and i reminded him that i like the hardcore stuff, ie. scratchy voices and barnyard-quality recording. I asked him if he knew Will Oldham, but he didn't. He is my new musical deity.
over and out

primodial soup

It was under my drain. It took a while to clean it all out. My nose shall never forgive me. It seems it was not cleaned or even observed for a good number of years. At least the bacteria were happy, that is, until i subjected them to boiling water and soap.
In other news, i am now off "probation", which is NOVA's nice way of saying here's an extra 100 bucks a month. Oh, and maybe we'll let you teach little kids in a month or two.
Mike and i have been pretending that our roommates don't exist. We both essentially live alone, with the occasional apparition floating in and out. If ignored, it doesn't make much noise except for the occasional laugh followed by pig snort. Yes, he does do that.
A nice little home we have--one in which ignorance literally is bliss. And, of course, utterly essential. Home sweet home.

soybean products

I am consuming a record high amount of soybean products, even moreso than when i was an angelic vegan. Let me list some that just come off the top of my head: miso, white soybeans, edamame, tofu, soymilk, soy sauce, natto (fermented soybeans), and i even ate some tofu pudding tonight. Will the soybean madness ever end? Or will i persist in spiraling downward into an addiction to a food helpfully containing all of my essential amino acids? Down we go!
Everyone should look up and research natto. It seems to be a miracle food for vegetarians, and everyone in "the club" should think about gorging themselves upon it. If only i knew where to get it in the states. Probably the Chinese supermarket. Natto is sticky, smelly, and crawling with bacteria. When removed from its packaging, long strings of mucus cling to the styrofoam like spider webbing. Bon appetit!
Speaking of tofu, the other day i cut off a slab from the block and ate it raw, and loved it. It's things like these that remind me i am a true vegetarian.
There is a dish here called Toufu Suteeki (tofu steak), which i like because it's funny they call it a steak. The funny part is that everyone takes the name quite seriously, and no one laughs at it. No one laughs because it tastes good.
Ah, the soybean. Will you ever not be healthy?

the rabbit with the tutu

Whilst a friend and i were sitting on the second floor and mulling over our expensive cafe drinks, i a 600 yen caramel frappacino and she a 480 yen orange juice, we watched as an old man beckoned to a rabbit dressed in a tutu in the street below. The rabbit was hunched down beneath the pillar of a store building, and the old man gestured to her with his hands and spoke words to her, making sure to peer around in all directions to check for people walking by. When they did happen to pass, he turned around and gazed up into the air, flailing his arms yet ignoring the rabbit, smoking his cigarette. When they were out of sight again, he fell back to speaking to the rabbit and making it quite apparent how discouraging the process was becoming. After much deliberation, just about 10 minutes worth, he finally bent over and scooped it up expertly, then gave it a swift bop on the head and scolded it verbally. He then proceeded off down the road, stopping only to swear at a van that rolled by him, his face full of tired anger.
I decided that i must find this man and befriend him, because no one could ever amuse me more.

and once again there are two

Matt the Tasmanian left today because of personal reasons, to return to his marsupial-infested homeland. This is sad because he was a very nice roommate to have. Now once again it is me versus the conservative gay Floridian. It is quieter than it was in days of yore. Unfortunate as this all is, we must go on with what we do best, and this is teach English and cook miso soup.
I consumed okonomiyaki for the first time the other day. It is called "Japanese pizza" by some, but this is a horrendous misnomer. It is actually a bowl of raw ingredients, consisting of an egg, flour, and various foodstuffs of your choice. You mix like there's no tomorrow, and then you pour it all out onto the heated grill that is the table. You then proceed to probe and poke it with a spatula until you are satisfied with its punishment, then eat it. I put Japanese mayonnaise (yellower and mustard-flavoured) and nori (seaweed) flakes on mine.
In other news, I joined a ping pong club in the city gymnasium, swam in the youth center pool, wrestled with a tanuki for a red bean cake, and learned some more Japanese. I figure i'll be an ambassador to Japan in no time.

still disenchanted

Unfortunately, i still remain disenchanted. Japan is not the wonderland i thought it would be. Tokushima has some beautiful features, like temples, mountains, forests, rivers, yet there is urban sprawl as far as the eye can see outside my balcony, most of the water is horrendously polluted, garbage litters the streets, older people are constantly rude and scowling. The younger ones are not rude, and i have actually befriended some Tokushima kids, but most of them like to pretend gaijin don't exist. Yes, i do know what it is like to be an outcast in society. Perhaps if i relocate and see a different part of the country, things will be different enough to change my mind. Or perhaps it will be very much the same wherever i go here. It is a bit depressing to think that all the fantasies we have in the u.s. of purer or more beautiful lands are simply farses. There must be a place like this somewhere, overlooked by "progress" and industrialization. Japan, obviously, is not a good place to look for virginity and innocence.